#I'm usually all about theming when it comes to names

[thestrongestkikufuku]

a business proposal, p. 8

» series masterlist - ⟡⋆˙

» contents - ⟡⋆˙ fluff, slight angst, crack, au, satoru gojo x f!reader, ceo!gojo, suggestive themes, jealousy, mutual pining, kissing, gojo being a lil shit, gojo and reader being cute!!!

» word count - ⟡⋆˙ 7.1k

» notes - ⟡⋆˙ FINALLY PART 8 HAS ARRIVED!! RAAAAAAA!! i had so much fun writing this one 😭 it had me giggling and kicking my feet 🤭 also, this part is the longest one in the series so far, i got kinda possessed while writing this lolololol i'm sorry it took a bit longer than usual, today has been hectic and busy but here it is! thank you so much for reading and for keeping up with this series, happy reading and enjoy! love y'all (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) also feel free to leave a comment/private message to be added to the taglist!! :D<3

» m.list - ⟡⋆˙

“Just imagine how surprised she must’ve been,” Gojo sighed heavily, running his fingers through his white locks. “So I told her I’d give her some time to think.”

“Right,” Geto replied calmly, his gaze fixed on the road ahead as he navigated the familiar streets leading to their workplace. “That’s honestly the only thing you can do. To give her time.”

“Yeah, but…” Gojo began tentatively, “how long does it usually take to make such a decision?”

“It depends from person to person. Everyone processes things differently.”

Gojo fell silent, his impatience simmering just below the surface. He gazed out of the window, watching the city pass by, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The memory of your smile, the way you laughed, your gentle touch, your voice—it replayed in his mind like a cherished melody. His heart ached with longing, aching to reach out to you, to see you again.

After a moment, he turned back to Geto, his voice tinged with frustration. “So I shouldn’t call her first?”

“No,” Geto confirmed without hesitation. He glanced briefly at Gojo at the rearview mirror, gauging his friend’s turmoil. “Pushing her now might not help. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”

“You really think she’ll come around?”

Geto’s expression softened. “If she feels the same way about you, then yes, she will.”

Gojo nodded reluctantly, the weight of Geto’s advice sinking in. He knew deep down that rushing things could ruin everything that he hoped to build with you. Yet, the ache in his chest persisted—a yearning that threatened to consume him. He shifted in his seat, unable to find comfort in the familiar sights passing by. Every passing moment without you felt like an eternity.

—

The familiar hum of the appliances working, the quiet rustle of baking sheets, and the soft clinking of utensils surrounded you, but it all felt distant, like background noise to the storm of thoughts in your mind.

It had been a few days since Gojo’s unexpected confession, but the weight of his words still hung heavy in the air. His words echoed relentlessly in your head. 

“I have feelings for you, [name].” 

“And I cannot keep pretending that I don’t.”

You replayed that night over and over, trying to make sense of it all. His earnest admission, the raw vulnerability in his eyes, and the overwhelming flood of emotions you felt—it was all too much. 

‘He has feelings for me?’ The thought slipped into your mind.

You glanced at the dough in front of you, your hands kneading it absentmindedly. You had been at it for the past hour, unable to focus on the task at hand. Every time you tried to concentrate, your mind drifted back to that night, to his confession, his expression, the way he had looked at you with such sincerity, affection, and vulnerability.

You sighed, leaning back against the counter, your eyes unfocused. The confusion and conflict within you were palpable. On one hand, there was the undeniable connection you felt with Gojo, a bond that had grown stronger with time, transcending the boundaries of your fake relationship. Despite the initial pretense to convince his grandfather, the moments you shared, the laughter, the lingering touches—it all felt real. You couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through you whenever you thought of him, whenever he was near, and the way your heart seemed to recognize his presence even before your eyes did.

But on the other hand, there were the complexities and risks that came with acknowledging these feelings. The fear of vulnerability and potential heartbreak loomed over you. And it wasn’t just about the fact that he was your boss—an inappropriate relationship in the eyes of many—it was also about what his grandfather would think. The facade you had both maintained had been for a purpose, to meet the expectations of his family. Admitting to these feelings now felt like a betrayal of that initial agreement, and the consequences seemed overwhelming.

Your mind kept replaying his words once more, the earnestness in his eyes, the tremor in his voice. It all started to slowly break down the walls you had built around your heart. 

You felt trapped, the depths of your heart held a whirlwind of emotions— your affections for Gojo, fear of the repercussions, and an overwhelming sense of sadness at the possibility of what might never be. The rational part of you screamed that it wasn’t going to work, and that cutting contact with him would be for the best. But your heart, ever so foolish and yearning, couldn’t help but feel hopeful and long for him. 

Just as you sank deeper into your thoughts, the sound of the bell chiming above the door snapped you out of your trance. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing someone was at the door.

“Oh, hi Kento,” you greeted him warmly, your movements coming to a stop from kneading as you dusted your hands gently. “I didn’t expect to see you here today. Anything I can get for you?”

The blond smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Actually, I’m here to see you. It has been a while since we talked.”

His suggestion caught you off guard, but a small smile tugged at your lips. Spending time with him could provide a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions surrounding Gojo’s confession.

“That’s very kind of you,” you replied, grateful for the opportunity to shift your focus. “Just give me a moment, and we can go.”

—

“Are you sure about this, Satoru? Is now really the best time to talk to her?” Geto glanced at him briefly at the rearview mirror, concern etched on his features. 

Gojo didn’t respond. Instead, he pushed open the door of the car and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The familiar scent of freshly baked goods enveloped him as soon as he entered the bakery, momentarily soothing his nerves.

A wave of relief washed over him when he spotted you sitting at a table. Your face lit up with a wide smile, laughter bubbling out—a sound he had longed to hear. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, the warmth of your presence pulling at him.

But as he approached, his relief quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of disappointment and confusion when he saw you talking and laughing with a man he didn’t know. You seemed so close... So comfortable together, sharing a moment that made Gojo’s stomach twist with unease.

Who is this man? And why are you talking to him like that?

He stood just a few steps away from your table, unnoticed for the moment as his mind raced with thoughts. He couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that gripped him. Despite his determination to talk to you and sort out his feelings, seeing you with someone else stirred up a whirlwind of emotions—doubt, longing, and a fear of losing you before he could even truly have you.

Gojo’s daydreams of a tender conversation with you faded into the background, replaced by the harsh reality of seeing you with another man. He felt a knot form in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him.

“Satoru?”

Your sweet voice pulled him back to reality. There you were, staring at him with wide eyes, shock flickering across your face.

“W-What are you doing here?”

Gojo stood there, conflicted and uncertain. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between the desire to talk to you and the turmoil stirred up by seeing you with that man. A heavy silence settled between you, broken only by the faint murmurs and soft humming of the machinery.

For a moment, Gojo struggled to find the right words. His mind raced, grappling with the rush of emotions—jealousy, disappointment, and a deep-seated fear of rejection. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His gaze flickered between you and the exit, uncertainty clouding his features.

“I...” Gojo started, his voice trembling slightly. He took a hesitant step backwards, breaking eye contact with you. “I... I should go.”

The words hung in the air, tinged with regret and indecision. Without another glance in your direction, Gojo turned on his heel and quickly walked towards the door. Every step felt heavy, each one a painful reminder of what he couldn’t bring himself to do.

“Satoru!”

—

Days passed, each one heavier than the last for you. Gojo’s abrupt departure from the bakery left you bewildered and hurt. You replayed the moment in your mind countless times, trying to make sense of his actions and your own feelings. Confusion stirred along with a dull ache in your chest as you wondered why he had come, only to leave without a word.

Work became unbearable. Every day, you navigated the familiar routines with a sense of unease. Gojo was conspicuously absent, leaving a void that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment. But you weren’t any better. You made excuses to steer clear of places where you might run into him, opting to focus on tasks that kept your mind occupied. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to bury your thoughts, they kept resurfacing—memories of his confession, the warmth of his presence, and the confusion of that last encounter.

Friends and coworkers noticed the change in you, the tension that seemed to radiate from your every movement. Concerned glances and hesitant inquiries followed you throughout the day, but you offered only vague smiles and assurances that everything was fine. But inside, you were anything but fine. You longed for clarity, for closure, yet each day without a word from Gojo deepened the sense of unease within you. Had he regretted his confession? Was he avoiding you deliberately, as you were him?

Alone in the copying room one afternoon, you tried to bury yourself in the mundane task of organizing paperwork. The hum of the copier filled the small room, providing a dull background noise that matched the numbness you felt inside. Sheets of paper slid out one by one, each landing with a soft thud in the tray.

Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly sorted through the documents, trying to find some comfort in the mindless repetition. But the unresolved tension with Gojo weighed heavily on your mind, refusing to be ignored.

Finally finished, you gathered the neatly stacked papers into your arms. As you turned to leave, your heart skipped a beat when you saw Gojo standing right behind you, his presence unexpected and startling. 

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, startled both by his sudden appearance and your own clumsy reaction. The papers slipped from your grasp, scattering across the floor.

Gojo’s expression mirrored your surprise, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the scene before him. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You stammered, hastily bending down to collect the scattered papers. Your fingers trembled slightly as you tried to gather them, avoiding his gaze.

Gojo moved closer, kneeling down beside you to help pick up the papers. His touch was gentle and his movements careful as he gathered the scattered sheets.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He murmured.

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, the proximity between you stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—relief at seeing him, anger at his absence, and anxiety of his sudden appearance.

Finally, the last paper lay between you, and you both reached for it simultaneously. Your hands brushed together again, but neither of you pulled away immediately, too caught up in a moment of longing and hesitation. Then, you suddenly withdrew your hand, immediately breaking the spell that had momentarily enveloped you both.

You stood up quickly, putting down the neat stack of papers on the counter as you avoided his gaze. The silence stretched between you, the atmosphere felt suffocating.

“You have been avoiding me.” Gojo finally spoke, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

The admission hung between you, heavy with the unspoken truth of your avoidance. You could sense Gojo’s gaze on you, searching for a response, for a glimpse into your thoughts and feelings.

“I...” you began, your voice wavering slightly as you struggled to find the right words. “I didn’t know how to face you after... Everything.”

Gojo nodded slowly, his expression a mixture of regret and understanding. “I understand. I’ve been... Processing things too.” He sighed heavily before continuing. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. It’s just… Seeing you with someone else—”

“H-He’s just a friend.” you stammered, your voice wavering. “There’s nothing going on between me and him.”

The words spilled out before you could stop them, surprising both yourself and Gojo. Why had you reassured him? You had been deliberately trying to maintain a sense of distance between you, to protect yourself from the turmoil of your feelings. Yet, here you were, offering him reassurance, as if secretly wishing to bridge the gap between you.

Gojo’s gaze flickered with surprise, then softened with a hint of relief. “A friend,” he echoed softly with a soft smile. “I see.”

“I-I should go—”

“Wait,” Gojo gently grabbed your arm, sending another spark through your body. “Can we talk?”

You sighed, closing your eyes tightly. “There’s... There’s nothing to talk about.”

His grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly. “Please,” he urged softly. “Just hear me out—”

“Please, stop,” you started, turning around to face him. Surprise flickered across his face at the sight of your distressed and sad expression. “Just stop.”

“Why are you—”

“This could never work between us, Mr. Gojo,” you murmured softly. He visibly winced at the mention of his last name. “Y-You should forget about what happened, about me, and continue to go on blind dates to find someone else.”

“Are you… Rejecting me right now?” 

You stood silent before him, nodding slightly.

“What’s the reason?” His voice was firm and steady yet filled with a desperate longing for understanding.

You let out a small, bitter chuckle. “There’s a lot of them actually,” you began tentatively, your voice wavering. “What would your grandfather say if he knew about this situation? Not to mention the other employees—”

“I’m not asking about the others,” he interjected smoothly, taking a step closer as his eyes bore into yours. “I only want to hear what you think.”

You swallowed hard, his proximity stirring a whirlwind of conflicted emotions within you. The ache in your chest tightened as you searched for the right words.

“It’s the same,” you finally whispered, meeting his gaze with a hint of sadness in your eyes. “I don't... I don’t think it would work out.”

He blinked, his expression faltering for a moment before he gathered himself. “Do you really not have any feelings for me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. 

“I understand,” he said softly, though determination tinged his words. He closed the distance between you, your breath hitching as he approached. “But you should know that I will never give up. I will wait for you, until you finally like me back.”

Your heart ached at his words, the depth of his sincerity piercing through your defenses. You struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto the reasons why this couldn’t work. But in that moment, with his hand against yours and his eyes searching yours for an answer, you couldn’t deny the pull of your heart.

“Why… Why do you keep trying?” You took a shaky breath, conflicted emotions swirling within you. “I-It’s obvious that I’m not the right girl for you. So please… Stop liking me and stop trying to get close to me.” You insisted softly.

As you try to pry yourself away from his grasp, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his grip slightly, pulling you gently back towards him. The proximity between you intensifies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“What you’re worried about will never happen, I can promise you that,” he reassures you, his voice earnest and unwavering. “So please, stay by my side.”

You stand there in silence, torn between the allure of his words and the weight of the fears and uncertainties that this relationship could bring. Confusion clouds your thoughts as you try to make sense of the conflicting emotions within you. His presence is magnetic, drawing you closer despite the rational voice urging and screaming at you to think things through. 

Without fully comprehending your own actions, your gaze drifts to his lips. The air crackles with tension as you lean in, hesitating only briefly before pressing your lips against his. The kiss is tender yet charged with unspoken desires and the depth of your emotions. Gojo’s response is immediate, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, igniting a fire that neither of you can deny.

For a moment, the world around you fades away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the taste of his lips against yours. You allow yourself to surrender to the vulnerability of the moment, letting go of the barriers that kept you apart. It’s a moment of clarity amidst the chaos of your emotions—a silent confession of the feelings you’ve both tried to resist.

When you finally pull away, breathless and overwhelmed, you meet Gojo’s gaze.

“Can I consider this a positive response to me asking you out?”

A wave of panic washes over you as the reality of what just happened sinks in. You hadn’t planned on this. You were supposed to be composed, in control. Yet here you were, vulnerable and exposed, grappling with feelings you had tried so hard to deny, and your lips still tingling from his touch.

“Uh, n-no!” You quickly pull yourself away from him, waving your hands nervously. “That’s not— that was not supposed to happen—”

“What?”

“T-This was a mistake,” you manage to stammer out, your heart pounding in your chest. “I-I’m sorry, sir, bye.” You bow briefly in apology before turning and scurrying off. 

“Wait, [name]—”

But you had already disappeared down the hallway, leaving Gojo standing there, stunned and alone.

As you hurried away, panic and confusion swirled within you. The taste of his lips lingers on yours, a vivid reminder of the moment that had just passed. You can’t shake the intensity of your own actions, nor the flood of emotions that had momentarily overwhelmed you.

Meanwhile, Gojo stands rooted to the spot, his hand absentmindedly touching his lips where yours had been just moments ago. His mind races as he replays the kiss in his thoughts, trying to make sense of the mixed signals you had sent. 

“She says it was a mistake,” he murmurs to himself, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “But she kissed me first.”

—

Later that evening you found yourself hunched over your laptop, trying to distract yourself with work. The events of the day had left your mind racing, the memory of Gojo’s unexpected appearance and the kiss that followed replayed incessantly in your mind. Each time you closed your eyes, you felt his touch lingering on your lips, igniting a rush of conflicting emotions—longing, guilt, and a profound sense of unease.

“God, why did I do that?” You whispered to yourself, shaking your head as if trying to dispel the memory. 

It was reckless, impulsive, and very much unlike you. You’ve always prided yourself on being rational and composed, yet in that moment, your resolve had faltered. 

“So stupid, [name].” You muttered under your breath, fingers tapping against the keyboard with more force than necessary. 

You were supposed to keep your distance, to maintain the boundaries you had carefully constructed. But one look, one touch from Gojo had shattered those defenses, leaving you vulnerable and questioning everything.

With a sigh, you minimized the documents on your screen and rubbed your temples, trying to ease the tension that coiled in your body. The weight of your actions hung heavy in the silence of your room, a reminder of the consequences of letting emotions dictate your decisions.

Suddenly your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You hesitated for a moment upon seeing Gojo’s name flashing insistently, unsure if you were ready to confront the tumultuous events of the day. After a deep breath, you answered reluctantly.

“Hello?”

“Hello, [name],” Gojo’s voice came through, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. “I’m outside your place. We need to talk.”

Your heart skipped a beat, panic creeping back into your voice. “Mr. Gojo, I… I’m really busy right now. Can’t this wait?”

“No, it can’t,” he insisted firmly. “I won’t leave until we’ve talked.”

Before you could protest further, he hung up. You sighed heavily, knowing that delaying would only prolong the inevitable. With a mix of apprehension and resignation, you made your way downstairs and out of the apartment building.

There, sitting in his car, was Gojo. He looked up as you approached, his expression unreadable. You hesitated for a moment before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. The silence between you was unbearable, each moment stretching out until Gojo finally broke it.

“About the kiss—”

Your heart raced, unsure of how to respond. “I-I’m so sorry, that was a mis—”

“Why do you keep saying that when you were the one that initiated it?” He interjected, his gaze searching for yours intensely. “If this was a mistake then why did you kiss me?”

“I-I, well…” You stammered, your cheeks flushing as you searched desperately for an explanation. “W-We kissed because… Because we were standing so close to each other! So we just bumped into each other, like a… A Fender-bender!”

“A fender-bender?!” Gojo exclaimed, incredulous. 

“Y-Yes! Exactly like that!” You nodded vigorously, trying to sound convincing despite the absurdity of your analogy. “It was just a collision of lips, totally accidental.” 

Gojo blinked at you, clearly unconvinced by your flustered attempt at explanation. “You know, that’s not how kisses usually happen.” 

“I-I know!” You blurted out, flustered. “I mean, I didn’t mean for it to happen that way. It was… Unexpected.”

“Is that what you really believe?” Gojo asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “So, what? Are my lips some kind of column for you to crash into?”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands. “No, no! T-That’s not what I was trying to say…”

Gojo sighed. “Well, whether it was a mistake or not. You initiated the kiss,” a mischievous glint flickers in his eyes for a brief moment. “So you should make up for it, right?”

“I…” Your voice trailed off as you sighed, nodding slightly. “Right, I’ll… I’ll do what I can to take responsibility and make it up to you.”

Gojo turned away for a moment, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Then he turned back to you. 

“Very well.” He started the engine of his car. “Buy me dinner to pay me back for kissing me.”

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his unexpected request. “W-What?!” 

—

“How can you ask a commoner to buy you something this expensive!?” You blurted out, your voice filled with incredulity as you scanned the menu.

“You said that you were gonna make up for it.” Gojo said casually, his eyes on the menu, though a teasing smirk played on his lips.

“You—” you exhaled sharply. “That kiss wasn’t just all me, you know?! You kissed me back! L-Like a total player!”

Gojo slowly sets down the menu, looking at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “So what you’re saying is that you’re not the only one at fault here?”

“Correct.”

“Well, I told you I have feelings for you,” Gojo says in a matter-of-fact tone. “How could I just stay still when the woman I liked started kissing me so aggressively?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Aggressively? I was not aggressive! You make it sound like I attacked you or something!”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Well, if you didn’t want to attack me, you could have fooled me. Your lips seemed pretty determined.”

The flush deepens on your face. “Well, I—”

“How about this then?” Gojo started, leaning back on his chair. “You can pay me back in another way.”

You felt a glimmer of hope, wondering what he could mean. “What other way?”

“I prefer to pay people back with exactly what I’ve received from them. Eye for an eye. A kiss for a kiss.” He said with a smirk.

Your eyes widened even more, and you felt your heart race as you slap your palm over your mouth. “What?!”

Gojo’s smirk grew wider, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Exactly. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

You were completely flustered, your mind racing as you tried to process his words. “I-I don’t think that’s necessary—”

Gojo chuckled, his amusement evident. “Oh, but I insist. After all, it’s just a kiss, right?”

“I’ll pay for the food.” You blurted out, desperate to steer the conversation away from the topic of kissing.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his amusement deepening. “Alright,” he said, nodding. “If that’s how you want to handle it.”

As you both started eating, you couldn’t stop your mind from tumbling back to that kiss. Every time you glanced up at him, there it was, the sight of them – those perfectly sculpted, tantalizing lips – moving as he ate. You weren’t even sure if he was chewing or casting a spell with them, but you were enchanted either way.

The memory of the kiss kept hitting replay, over and over, like a broken record that you didn’t mind listening to forever. The urge to kiss him again gnawed at you, louder and more insistent with every bite of food. 

Suddenly, the whirlwind of thoughts became too much, and you slapped your hand over your mouth as if that could hold back the tide of emotions. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you blurted out, your chair scraping against the floor as you hastily rose up from your seat. “Be right back.”

Gojo watched you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, an eyebrow slightly arched as you bolted towards the restroom. 

Once you reach the bathroom, the sound of your heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, drowning out everything else. You splashed cold water on your face, hoping to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. How could one person have this effect on you? It was maddening and exhilarating all at once.

“What are you doing?!” You whispered sharply under your breath. “Snap out of it! Get it together, [name].”

After taking a few deep breaths, you composed yourself and made your way back to the table. Gojo was still there, of course, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you return.

“Feeling better?” He asked, his tone teasing.

“Much better.” You replied, trying to sound casual as you sat back down.

Gojo leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “if a simple kiss has you this flustered, I can’t help but wonder what else might drive you crazy.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, making you choke on your drink. “We should finish eating,” you said, your voice wavering just a little. “I don’t want the food to get cold.”

You forced a smile, focusing on your meal. The food was delicious, but you could barely savor the taste due to being distracted the whole time. Every time you looked up, you found Gojo’s eyes on you, a knowing smirk on his face. And every time your gaze fell on his lips, that maddening urge to kiss him again surged within you.

Finally, the meal came to an end and the restaurant staff approached your table. 

You turned to them with a sheepish look on your face. “Excuse me, is it possible to pay in six installments?” You asked, hoping to manage the cost.

The staff member smiled politely. “Oh, there’s no need for that ma’am. Your companion has already paid.”

“W-What?” 

Your eyes darted to Gojo, who casually rose from his seat, a smug smile playing on his lips as he began to walk away.

“Thank you,” you give the staff a quick bow before hastily gathering your things and hurried after him. “Why did you do that? I was supposed to pay.”

Gojo turned to you, his expression unreadable. “I thought about it and decided I didn’t want you to pay me back for a kiss with an expensive dinner.”

You sighed, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Then what do you want? An even more expensive dinner?”

He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or you can pay me back with something else.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you realized his implication. Quickly, you slapped your hand over your mouth, shaking your head quickly. 

“No way!” You mumbled through your fingers. "I’ll just buy you a more expensive meal next time.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he replied in a joking tone. He then started walking away, talking to himself just loud enough for you to hear. “What should we eat next time? Steak? Omakase?”

Panic surged through you as you followed after him. “Wait, wait! Those are so expensive!”

Gojo glanced back over his shoulder, a playful smirk on his lips. “Well, you did say more expensive,” he teased lightly, “Don’t worry, [name], I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

You groaned internally, knowing he was thoroughly enjoying this. “You’re impossible.” You muttered under your breath, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

He continued musing aloud, deliberately ignoring your distress. “Hmm, or perhaps a high-end French restaurant?”

“HEY!”

—

The next day, you found yourself walking through the entrance of a theme park, the excitement of the place bubbling around you. Bright colors, laughter, and the hum of roller coasters filled the air. As you scanned the crowd, your eyes finally landed on Gojo, who was leaning casually against a railing, a playful grin on his face.

When you approached him, you couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you ask me to meet you here?”

Gojo straightened up, his grin widening. “What do you think? I want a payback for that kiss.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, looking around the surrounding area. “Well, I don’t think there’s any good place to eat around here…”

He waved off your concern with a dismissive hand. “Forget about eating. Spend the day with me as payment.”

“What?” You blinked, completely taken aback.

Gojo’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and anticipation. “You said I shouldn’t make a commoner pay for an expensive meal, so I’ll buy your time instead.”

His words both shocked you and sent a flutter through your heart. You stood there for a moment, trying to process his offer. He wasn’t asking for a meal or any extravagant gesture; he simply wanted your company. The simplicity of it, combined with the underlying tension, made your heart skip a beat.

Gojo reached out, gently taking your hand casually. “Come on,” he said, leading you towards the nearest ride. “Let’s have some fun.”

As the day went on, you found yourself relaxing more and more in his company. You rode roller coasters, played arcade games, competing fiercely in air hockey and racing games, each match accompanied by Gojo’s competitive yet infectious laughter.

Amidst rides and games, you stumbled upon a charming shop brimming with vibrant headbands. Gojo insisted on buying matching ones — bright neon colors that clashed wonderfully with both your outfits. Laughing at the absurdity of it all, you both wore them proudly for the rest of the day, drawing amused looks from passersby.

Later, you stumbled upon a hidden photo booth tucked away in a quiet corner of the park. Gojo eagerly pulled you inside, and for a delightful half-hour, you posed and made exaggerated faces, letting the camera capture your playful antics. The resulting strip of photos grew sillier with each frame.

As daylight faded into evening, you sat at a table, observing the park’s lights twinkling to life under the settling twilight. It wasn’t long before Gojo approached, balancing a tray of drinks. He set them down with a grin, then slid into the chair opposite you, his expression brightening the dimming surroundings.

“I’m hungry, do you want to eat?” You asked, starting to rise from your seat. “I can go buy some—”

“It’s fine,” Gojo interrupted smoothly, leaning back against the chair. “Just spend your time on me. I’ll spend the money.”

His words caught you off guard, stirring a mix of emotions within you. It was a gesture both endearing and unsettling, leaving you unsure whether to accept or insist on contributing. As you hesitated, Gojo’s unwavering gaze held yours, his expression inviting you to simply enjoy the moment without overthinking.

“No, I can’t do that,” you replied quickly, averting his gaze from his. “I’m here to repay you for that kiss. So, what do you want to eat?”

Gojo seemed to consider this for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Well, there is something I want to eat,” he finally said with a playful glint in his eyes.

Curiosity piqued, you followed him through the park until you found yourselves tucked away in a quiet spot. There, under the soft glow of fairy lights strung overhead, you sat side by side on a bench, sharing corn dogs from a nearby vendor.

“Okay, this better be an insanely good corn dog.” You raised an eyebrow, taking a skeptical bite. 

Gojo watched you expectantly, his eyes bright with anticipation. 

“It’s just a normal corn dog.” You deadpanned, your voice laced with feigned disappointment. “You should’ve at least given me one with more filling.”

Gojo chuckled at your reaction, shaking his head slightly as he took another bite of his.

Intrigued now, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “Did someone tell you that you had to get a corn dog if you go to an amusement park?” 

Gojo smiled softly, his gaze momentarily distant as he seemed lost in memories. After a brief silence, he spoke up, his voice gentle yet tinged with nostalgia. “Actually, I used to eat these with my parents when I was younger.”

Your playful expression faltered for a moment, a wave of empathy crashing over you as the weight of his words sank in. Of course, you had known about the tragedy Gojo had endured as a child; it was a piece of his story you had learned during the early days of your fake relationship.

“They tasted really good back then,” Gojo continued softly, a wistful smile touching his lips. “Sometimes, when I think about it, I come here and have one by myself.”

“You must have been really happy then,” you murmured softly, offering him a small smile. “It’s nice to eat food that you’ve had in the past. It makes you recall all of the happy memories from back then, and makes it tastes even better.”

A knowing smile formed on your lips as you continued, your voice tinged with nostalgia. “For me, it’s these little cakes my dad used to make for me whenever I had to go on field trips as a kid.” A soft chuckle escaped your lips upon remembering those moments. “Each time he would draw little faces or symbols on them.”

“You really are something else, aren’t you?” He said quietly, his voice carrying a mix of appreciation and admiration. 

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze returning to the twinkling lights of the amusement park. “Whenever I bring up my parents, people usually don’t know what to say. So they just end up telling me that they’re sorry,” he confessed quietly. “That’s why I’ve never been able to open up about it, despite it being one of my fondest memories. Even to my grandfather.”

You sat beside him quietly, your heart aching with empathy as he slowly opened up to you.

“But, sometimes I just want to talk to someone about my parents,” he said softly, his gaze flickering to meet yours, gratitude shining in his eyes as he smiled warmly at you. “So thank you [name], for letting me talk about it.”

—

As you gathered your belongings, preparing to leave after a long night’s work, echoes of yesterday’s events and heartfelt conversations with Gojo still resonated within you. The warmth of his laughter lingered in the air, and the sincerity in his words replayed like a soothing melody in your mind. The memory brought a tender smile to your lips as you contemplated the genuine bond that had quietly grown between you.

Lost in your thoughts, you stepped into the elevator, ready to head home. The doors began to close when two people entered, their voices carrying a hushed conversation that immediately caught your attention.

“I heard Gojo’s got a blind date tonight,” one of them whispered eagerly, the excitement palpable in their voice. “Heard that the woman comes from a super rich family.”

“Yeah, I heard that he’s been planning this for a while,” the other chimed in conspiratorially. “Do you think it’s serious? Could they end up getting married?”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, leaving you breathless, a mix of shock and sadness washing over you. You stood there, frozen in place, trying to process the implications of what you had overheard. Could it really be true? Has Gojo been orchestrating this behind your back all along?

You couldn’t help but wonder why Gojo had confessed to you in the first place, considering he had been arranging this blind date for quite some time. Was it all just a game to him? A way to keep you hooked while he pursued someone more suitable? Or had he genuinely cared but decided that someone from a wealthy family offered him a better future? 

For a moment, you felt the feeling of regret creeping in, like a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp ache in your chest. Regret for your defenses, for not laying bare your own heart sooner. Perhaps if you had been more open, more willing to show him how deeply he had touched you, things would have unfolded differently.

The gentle chime of the elevator reaching the lobby jolted you from your thoughts. Without hesitation, you hurried out, your mind spinning. You waved frantically for a taxi as you fumbled with your phone to dial Gojo’s number, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

To your surprise, he picked up almost immediately.

“Hello?” 

“Get out of there now!” You blurted out as soon as he picked up. “Please, Satoru, don’t do this—”

“Do you even know where I am?” He asked casually, his voice calm and collected.

You felt a surge of frustration. “On that blind date! I-I heard— how could you do this to me, Satoru?” The words spilled out in a rush, tinged with hurt and betrayal. “Y-You made me fall for you, you stupid bastard! A-And now you’re going on a date with someone else? You… You can’t do that!”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. “Y-You tell me that you like me— and then I hear this... I just... I can’t believe you’d do this.”

There was a pause, and then Gojo spoke again, his tone tinged with amusement. “You know, it’s kinda funny to see you act so jealous.”

“What are you—”

“I’m not on the blind date, [name],” he interrupted, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Do you really think that lowly of me?” There was a teasing edge to his voice.

“But I heard—”

“I’m right in front of your house.” Gojo revealed gently. “I was going to ask you out again today.”

You were left speechless for a moment, trying to process his words.

He then continued, “it’s a good thing I came.” 

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in. The taxi continued its agonizingly slow journey towards your home. Impatience gnawed at you as every passing minute felt like an eternity. Finally, the taxi slowed to a stop, and you hastily paid the driver, your hands trembling slightly as you gathered your belongings. Stepping out into the cool evening air, each moment felt charged with anticipation and uncertainty, your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest.

Standing just a few feet away from him, you witness the way his smile broadened and the way his eyes sparkled with tenderness. In that moment, all the tension that had gripped you just moments before melted away, replaced by a flood of warmth and affection.

Taking a tentative step closer, you felt the magnetic pull drawing you towards him. But before you could take another step, Gojo gently interrupted. “If you come any closer, I don’t think I’ll ever let you go again.”

Your smile softened, a small chuckle brushing past your lips. And without hesitation, you continued towards him, and Gojo mirrored your steps, drawing nearer until you were within reach of each other’s touch.

“I think it’s time I repay you for that kiss.” You whispered softly.

And with that, you leaned in, the world around you fading into insignificance as your lips met. It was a kiss born of longing and unspoken feelings, a culmination of emotions held back for too long. The sensation was electric, each touch of your lips igniting a fire that had smoldered for far too long.

His arms enveloped you, drawing you close, and you responded eagerly, pouring all the emotions you had been holding back. The taste of anticipation along with the sweetness of reconciliation, creating a moment that seemed to suspend time itself.

In that embrace, every doubt and fear that you had melted away, replaced by a comforting warmth of shared desire and affection. The kiss held a promise—a promise of connection and a future intertwined, filling you with the readiness to step confidently into a new chapter of your relationship.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy from the intensity of the moment, you found yourself locked in his gaze. 

There was a playful glint in his eyes, a hint of humor lacing his voice as he spoke. “You’re not going to say that this was a mistake too, right?” 

You shook your head, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you met his gaze with unwavering certainty. 

“No, definitely not a mistake.”

» taglist - ⟡⋆˙ @megumisthirdog, @inluvkai, @ieathairs, @roscpctals99, @laviefantasie, @snwvie, @sanriosatoru,@cc1306, @pinkprincessglitterzombie, @keaugh, @eolivy, @peachesnoranges, @indicatom, @jayhyunglover, @lunasolac, @iheartlinds, @fortunatelyfurrygiver, @devils-blackrose, @luvsymai, @reiiydained, @miizuzu, @mimiyuuuuuh, @blindbabycadder, @darlink-xoxo, @reagan707, @jonesmelodys, @hrtswinter, @hrtswinter, @pattyence, @j2upiters, @stxrrielle, @ixqiix, @sunnydays25, @yozora7154, @catarinemirandax

[raidergamerspice]

So a while ago, I made a post inciting a discussion about Twilight's age (I'm still in the "31/32 years old" boat btw). But of course, probably the thing we all want to know the most is what Twilight's real name is.

I'm still interested in seeing if it actually gets revealed in the future. Naturally, many fans have their own ideas as to what it could be, though some opt for simply referring to him as [REDACTED] for fanfics.

But I did think of something recently.

Since there are a few allusions to James Bond already (I mean, Bondman?), it's no surprise that some fans are theorizing that Twilight's name could be James (I'm partial to this as well; I even had an idea that he and Yor could name their son James if they had bio children). But after looking up some names - particularly German names - on one of my favorite name sites 20000 Names, I stumbled across Lukas, which means "from Lucania", which itself possibly derives from "lux", meaning "light". I thought it'd be funny if his real name had a meaning related to "light", since he becomes Twilight.

And then I did some more digging to find a suitable last name for him. I stumbled across the German surname "Rosenfeld", which means "field of roses" (at least according to where I found it). And because I'm Twiyor trash, I thought it'd be very fitting for him to have a last name related to the woman he marries ('cause Yor's Thorn Princess; aka, roses have thorns, in case you couldn't figure it out).

So in short, one idea I have for Twilight's real name is Lukas Rosenfeld.

But once again, I'm merely thought rambling lmao. What do you think? What ideas did you have for what Twilight's real name could be?

My next Spy x Family ramble post could be about Twiyor having twins, so watch out for that, maybe 💀

(EDIT: I forgot to mention this, but the reason I made Twilight's initials LR is because it's very notable that most of his fake names began with either an L or an R, so I figured the reason for that is because they'd derive from the initials of his real name. That's just one idea, of course 🤷‍♀️)

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and�� pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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[ichorai]

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly. 

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow. 

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence. 

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard. 

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best. 

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him. 

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto. 

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you. 

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!” 

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air. 

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view. 

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless. 

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples. 

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense. 

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.” 

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained. 

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.” 

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression. 

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!” 

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out. 

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence. 

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur. 

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him. 

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier. 

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal. 

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip. 

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face. 

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps. 

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.” 

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!” 

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?” 

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited. 

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago. 

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips. 

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?” 

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite. 

“Oka—mmph!” 

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper. 

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you. 

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you. 

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

[baronessvonglitter]

Pretty Please

QZ!Joel Miller x f!bookworm!reader

Word count: 2,746

Summary: your roommate Joel Miller is stressed out, and you offer a creative solution to ease that frustration

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, slight bullying (name calling - from Joel), reader is a bookworm and wears glasses, no age description for reader, Boston QZ, friends with benefits, oral sex (f receiving), soft!Joel, sub!Joel, dom/sub themes, edging, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, Joel loves nerdy girls, reader is *shaved*, no use of y/n

Author's Note: I know that we all love a good strong DOM Joel, but I wanted to wade in the waters of the Ocean of Possibilities and see what a more submissive Joel would be like. Just like those CEO/investment banker types who visit dominatrices at the end of a long workday just to be treated like lesser than and hand over the reins of power for a bit. Maybe there's a part of Joel that likes being put in his place 🤫

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚

It's just past curfew in the QZ and you're curled up with a good book. The new (to you) apartment you live in came with a great collection of literary masterpieces and your only delight in this cold, cruel world is reading by flashlight, at least until your surly, sourpuss roommate Joel Miller comes home.

The front door opens and slams shut loudly, making the thin walls vibrate. You sigh. He's back.

Joel walks in, looking tired and cantankerous as usual. You quickly shut off your light but not before he sees it. "What have I told you about wastin' the batteries?" he puts his hands on his hips, glaring at you.

Not in a mood to argue, you mumble a quick "Sorry" and scurry past him, but he catches your shoulder. "Just 'cause I can get stuff doesn't mean I will. You need to be more careful with our supplies.. what's this stuff you're readin' anyway?" He makes a grab for your book which you quickly hide behind your back.

"Just some Shakespeare," you lie.

Joel narrows his eyes as if detecting your fib. Suddenly he pulls you toward him and takes the book you're hiding. Eyeing the cover, he visibly blushes and swallows hard. "What's a nice girl like you readin' trash like this for?"

You find it impossible to meet his eyes as your heart roars in your ears. He has your copy of romantic erotica, an old book written decades ago about a woman who trains her lover to be her sex slave. You think to yourself there's no way you can finish it now that he's judging you.

"All right, Bookworm. Out," Joel says, nodding towards the hall before he settles in with a stiff whiskey drink.

Sighing you go to your room. Ever since you moved in a couple months ago after your former QZ was abandoned, Joel has treated you like little more than an imposition. His seemingly affectionate nicknames of "Bookworm" or "Four Eyes" on account of your fondness for books and your need of eyeglasses, respectively, has you wondering if he even cares to remember your real name.

Putting your book away you contemplate another existence. In your story a young woman brings a powerful man to his knees. Had the world not changed so irrevocably, would you have had the fortune of living a life like the characters in your books?

A shower is in order. Once you wash your hair and shave your legs (with shampoo and razors that Joel begrudgingly smuggled for you when you'd politely asked) your spirits are lifted. Hair towel-dried, you put on an oversize tee and some panties and start down the hall where you bump into Joel. He takes a look at your sleepwear and you can see the blush creep up his neck. "Can you put somethin' else on? I can see right through your shirt."

You look down and see your nipples, two puckered points through the cotton of your tee. "I'm just going to bed. Besides, I can wear what I want," you say in an unusually defiant tone.

Joel gets quiet, his body language clearly showing he's getting annoyed. "I just don't want to see you half-naked, Four Eyes." His frustration comes through clear. "Don't you have anything else you can wear?"

You sigh and walk past him to your bedroom closet and pull out a thick flannel shirt. You change with your back to him, feeling his eyes on you like two burning holes in your flesh. His breath hitches, eyes glued to his old shirt he'd let you borrow a time or two. Something primal awakens in him, which he quickly squashes.

"I'm all out of clean pajama pants," you shrug.

"Find some," he says sternly. "That shirt's gonna ride up on you. It's inappropriate."

"No." You stand your ground. "I'm not changing again." You take a moment to look at him, really look at him. He looks stiff, the veins prominent in his neck and forehead. You imagine his warm flesh beneath your kiss, and part of you softens towards him. "You really need to relax. You look stressed."

"Yeah, like you really give a shit," he mutters, looking away.

Studying him more intensely you realize he's not frustrated because you're not obeying him. From the bulge in his jeans it's evident he's turned on by you. Joel Miller is a good-looking guy when he's not being a full-on jerk. Hell, he may even be good-looking then. You take the situation into your hands and approach him, your tongue gliding over your lips. "I could help you relax.. if you want."

Joel freezes and you notice his breathing quicken. "What.. what do you mean by that?"

"You're upset with my lack of 'decent' clothes because I'm a distraction to you. Even if you don't like me, you're still attracted to me."

He gets flustered and it gives you satisfaction to see how much power you have over him. "Maybe.. no. I don't want to. I mean it. I have no interest in anything like that with you."

"Really? Your jeans are having a different reaction."

He looks down quickly, embarrassed and a bit surprised. "It doesn't mean anything," he looks askance.

"Do you want to touch me, Joel?" You start to unbutton your flannel shirt.

"You're my roommate. It's wrong," he says, yet his large, strong hands are reaching into your shirt. His fingers are rough and calloused but damn they feel like heaven as he cups your breasts, runs his thumbs slowly over your nipples.

"Don't think anymore, Joel. Just feel. Just be here with me."

He's unused to following his purely bodily instincts, having to live on his survival instincts for so long. But your skin is so soft and you're so warm and clean from your shower. "God, I want you," he whispers.

You take the lead and kiss him, filling in the space between you. Joel doesn't hold back, cupping your ass in his hands and pressing you to his need, his bulge in direct contact with your clit. Your panties dampen in response. Realizing how far he's taken it, how far he wants to take it, he mumbles an apology. "S..sorry."

"No. No apologies. I want this. Don't you?"

"God yes," he growls, meeting your eyes. He watches, rapt, as you slowly unbutton your shirt and remove it. He's speechless as you go to sit on the edge of the bed, knees parted. You beckon him with one finger.

"I know you've always wanted this," you tell him. "You fantasize about eating me out, how good I taste on your tongue."

As he comes to you he wonders where the shy, docile woman has gone. But he likes this new version of you. "How do you know what I think about?" he asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of your panties. You lift your hips as he eases your panties off. What he sees makes him growl with yearning. "You shaved."

You rest on your elbows, satisfied with the look of sheer gluttony on his face. "A girl's gotta have some luxuries in these trying times.." you smirk and run your fingers delicately over your clit and your smooth folds. Joel moves your hand away. Keeping his eyes on you he laps his broad tongue over your delicate womanhood, then swipes his tongue side to side over your sweet little clit.

You moan loudly at the intimate contact, threading your fingers through his hair. Joel devours you, and the little moans he makes reverberate through you, fill you with vibrations. While he's sucking your clit he slides two fingers in, crooking them so they rub your G-spot, and this combination makes you squirm with delight until you're pushed over the edge. He doesn't stop there, lapping up your honey, holding your thighs as they quake around his head.

"I've wanted this for so long," he growls against your belly, kissing his way up, divesting himself of his clothes. He feels your body heat radiate against him and teases your opening with the tip of his cock, spreading your slick onto him. He kisses both breasts, nuzzles your neck before claiming your mouth again, lining himself up with you. Out of habit you remove your glasses but he stops you. "Leave them on," he whispers. "You look so damn hot, like a naughty schoolgirl.." He watches as you put them on again, your eyes big and bright behind the lenses. Keeping his eyes on you he lets himself sink into your heat, slowly, letting you get accustomed to his size.

"Fuck," you whisper in awe as he fills you, starts to move against you.

He revels in the feel of your soft body underneath his, the snugness of your cunt that dares to take every inch of him. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, taking in the clean scent of your freshly washed skin, the natural fragrance of your arousal. With each press forward he elicits moans, sighs, gasps. Your heart thunders within when you feel how deeply you're joined.

"I need more," you tell him. "Please.."

"More?" His voice is shaky with desire.

"Harder," you gasp.

A dark growl gathers in his throat as he sees this new side of you begin to reveal itself. "You sure you want that from me?"

You nod. "I want you to release all your stress out inside me. Just use me. Please." You look up at him with innocent eyes. "Just for tonight, Joel. Tonight I'm yours."

His body looms large over you. "That's a big request, y'know."

"And I can handle it. I'm a big girl."

He nods, excitement flowing through his veins. "If anything becomes too much, you tell me. Okay?"

Your heart flip flops when he tells you this. Despite this random hookup, he's proving to be a caring gentleman. "I'll tell you, I promise."

Joel can't help but smile and he kisses your forehead. "Good." With heavy breaths he uses all his strength to fuck you into oblivion. He takes out his frustrations on your willing, eager body, his thick, large cock plunging into your tight cunt. "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart," he mutters.

His rough way with you takes your breath away, makes you tremble. Joel doesn't hold back, ruts against you, mouth watering as he watches your breasts bounce with each thrust. "God, you're gorgeous," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you.

You whimper as your mouths meet again, tongues dancing against each other. "Joel.. you're so fucking good."

Grunting in response, he presses against you deeper, harder. You gasp, your body accepting every movement, stretching you more than you thought possible. "You feel too good," he moans.

"You're in.. so deep," you sigh. "Just a little more, I'm gonna--"

"Wait!" he groans, pulling himself away from you. "You're making me.. almost.. I can't hold back," he breathes heavily.

"Shh.." you climb onto his lap. "Let me help you. I'll do all the work," you promise. "All you have to do is grab my hips or touch my breasts," you instruct him, lining up his cock to fit into you again. Joel watches himself disappear between your swollen pussy lips.

"God.. slow.. please," he grunts, grabbing hold of your hips, moving his hands all over your body, exploring every inch of you.

"Yes," you agree, sighing sweetly. "You feel so good.. I like seeing what I can get out of you, Miller."

He lets out a short moan, gripping your hips tightly, running his fingers up the insides of your thighs. His touch is ubiquitous as you ride him slowly and thoroughly. "Please don't stop.. please don't stop." He tries to make it a command but he's so caught up in you that it comes off as begging. "God I want.. please, I need.." he can't even finish his sentences for how much his lust and need has taken over him.

"I know what you need," you moan, moving faster, slamming your hips down on his. The sounds of your colliding flesh fill the room.

"God damn it!" Joel grunts, unable to continue his line of thought. He starts to growl and groan, gritting his teeth.

You smile, biting your lip as you watch him coming apart, completely helpless beneath you. "I'm gonna tame this beast," you tell him boldly. "No one else can do it but me."

"I won't let anyone else handle me," he growls, trying to say something more meaningful, but his brain is overwhelmed. He's just handed over all control to you and it's making him crazy. "Just.. please.."

You stop moving altogether, staying still. "Please what?" you tease him from finishing.

He's about to blow but he can't even get a full sentence out. "Please," he repeats, shaking now just from the feel of you. "Don't stop.."

You remain still. "Say, 'pretty please.'"

"No," he groans. "You.. you won't get me like that." But there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh," you pout. "That's a shame. I was getting so close and I know you were, too." You start moving slowly and teasingly.

Joel's breath is faltering, pulse dangerously rapid. "Not like this.. wait.. I'm gonna.."

You stop again, a stern look on your face even though you're utterly enjoying dominating this big strong alpha male. "No. You're not," you command him.

Only able to communicate in grunts and groans, Joel thrusts upward, needing the relief that would make you both find release. You gasp, your cunt clenching around him. It would be so easy to just let him keep going, but you hold your hips firmly in place. "'Pretty please,'" you remind him.

"I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum," he whines, desperate now, his fingers tightening on your flesh.

You remove his grip and pin him down. "'Pretty. Please.'" Your lips are millimeters from his, and you can see tears start to well in his dark eyes.

He's losing it now. He's right on the precipice, pain and pleasure mixed as one while you edge him. "All right, okay, I'll say it.. pretty please," he grunts out, voice cracking.

"'Pretty please with sugar on top,'" you smirk. "Say it."

Joel shuts his eyes in frustration. "Pretty please with sugar on top."

You give his lips a tiny lick. "Good boy." Sitting up again you start riding him. You've won but you're both going to reap the benefits.

"God, keep goin'," he moans, eyes still shut, breath labored as he pushes against your hips.

"I'm gonna fucking break you, Miller," you growl, riding him at top speed, without mercy.

Joel is at a complete loss of self, having lost any semblance of control. "Do it.. please," are the only words he can manage among incoherent sounds and grunts as he rises up to hold you.

You feel the friction between you like lightning as you satisfy yourself on his generous cock. "Joel Miller, you're such a good boy for me!" You move against each other in desperation, seeking the moment that will bring you to cum together. You feel him start to twitch and just then your climax hits like a tidal wave. You scream his name as you feel his copious release inside you. All Joel can say is your name, your real name, uttered in an entreaty of gratitude as he buries his face in your neck.

"Sorry if I got a little rough with you before.." he mumbles into your skin.

"I like your roughness," you tell him as you ruffle his soft grey hair with your fingers. "You had a lot that you needed to let out."

He lifts his head and softly kisses the side of your mouth. "Just so you know, I don't intend on stoppin' at just tonight. I have a lot of stress that needs releasing."

"Stressful times we're living in.." You trace his beard with your fingertips and he quickly moves in to kiss your palm.

"Damn right. And it looks like you did tame this beast."

You grin. "Does that make me Beauty?"

"Maybe that's what I'll call you from now on.."

"It's a lot better than 'Bookworm' or 'Four Eyes'."

"I'll still call you those things, from time to time," he grins, and your entire body is warm from his smile.

You are delicate with him now, knowing this man will probably steal your heart just as you've already stolen his.

[yanderambling]

omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[kpop]

K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

[kissforyouu]

sanrio shopping with jungkook!

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff

a/n : this fic was inspired by those "hello kitty shopping for my gf" videos on tiktok!! (i turned out to not like this very much but eh i'm posting it anyway😭)

unedited.

'"ah? then what happened?" jungkook hums to his phone.

"gguk, turns out, they were talking about the same guy! can you believe that? we all were flabbergasted. i can't believe he managed to fool both of them like that." you babbled.

"oh— oh!—and you know what? that guy, whatever his name is, apparently he has his own girlfriend. my friend found out." coming to a state of shock, jungkook suddenly gasps. and because he gasps, you gasp. out of habit, you guess.

that makes jungkook giggle a little. "cute", he thinks.

"how'd he manage to fool everyone? does his girlfriend know?" his tone is curious.

"mh, don't know. i'll find out and let you know!" you exclaim.

"find out?", jungkook is in disbelief, "how're you gonna find out, baby?"

"oh, i have connections. can easily find anything out, just need to ask someone or just check instagram!" you felt as if you were spilling a super confidential secret to your boyfriend. it made you mentally giggle.

"what? so you're saying you can find all the gossip out?" he scoffs, grip tightening around the wheel to make a turn.

"uhhuh! ...i mean, anything within my reach. you just have to search a little."

"okay, baby detective." he says with a small smile on his face.

"pfft!" you shout through the phone.

jungkook grins, eyes rolling jokingly.

"by the way, baby detective, i've got to go. just arrived at the convenience store. also, want anything?" he asks you like he usually does.

"mmmm...", you take a few seconds to think, "just want the usual." you answer.

"okay baby. a strawberry milk and those cookies. got it." jungkook makes a mental note to go buy those as well while he bids goodbye to his pretty little girlfriend who was across the line.

the man groans, getting out of the car with a small stretch. jungkook walks in the convenience store as he goes through each aisle, piling his cart with everything he needed, but also making sure to buy you your little snack.

once he was done, he leisurely gets his groceries checked out at the cashier and then loaded into the trunk of his car.

while humming some random tune, jungkook happily restarts his engine to get on the road again. but instead of going back home, he makes a turn to drive to his favourite shop.

that stop onwards, jungkook stops at various shops with sanrio items and all sorts of cute stuff his girlfriend likes.

"childish", he would call you each time, but he couldn't help but love the way the corners of your eyes would crinkle up whenever he bought you something, or the way you'd have the biggest prettiest smile on your face and how your eyes would sparkle. his favourite was the little rewards you'd give him after, the countless amount of little kisses being planted on his face!

his pretty little girlfriend (you;)) would giggle while doing so and that would make him giggle even louder back. nothing better than a happy girlfriend. anything to see your smile.

so he buys a bunch of pink plushies, sanrio plushies—mainly cinnamonroll and my melody, your favourites, a random pair of hello kitty socks, necklaces and all sorts of kinds. his favourite purchase being the pink hello kitty football.

why did he even buy that? what would you even do with a football? you don't enjoy sports, you'd rather read a book while listening to music. sometimes he'd wonder what was the reason for all these "unnecessary equipments". seriously, why does it have to in be some sort of a theme? why can't you just use a normal football? but when it came to his girlfriend, though, he'd buy her a pink themed island if he could.

what a caring, sweet, considerate boyfriend he is!

*beep!* *beep!*

the cashier's machine beeps, displaying the amount to be paid on the screen. jungkook pulls out his wallet, fully black with a pink shaped heart pin with the description "I ♡ my gf" stapled on to it, which was obviously given to him by non other than you.

another thing about jungkook was the fact that he'll always keep these little charms you would give him. true, he'd joke around saying he'll throw it away but oh god, knowing jungkook, who was on his knees whipped for his girlfriend, would never ever in a million years throw away something his girlfriend gave him. jungkook will make sure to keep it with him always. whipped man.

with a swift movement of his credit card on the card machine, the cashier hands jungkook back his card as well as the items he purchased. your boyfriend's already thinking about the big smile you're going to have on your face as he gets right back inside the car, finally making his way home. meanwhile, you also make sure to spam the man on messages asking him where he was and that you missed him.

by no time, jungkook was already at your place. he quickly opens the trunk, taking out all the stuff he had gotten you. both his hands were occupied with carrying the bags as he made his way inside your house, greeting your parents with a smile and a bow then entering your room.

and there you were, his pretty baby, writing something on your notebook while hugging your legs upto your chest while being seated on your chair.

"jungkook!" immediately, you squeel, just happy to see your boyfriend.

"y/n/n!" he squeals back to match your energy.

jungkook walks around your room to place the bags on your bed. curiously, your eyes follow the mysterious (read:not) bags and his hands, already recognising the logo of the bag. your favourite sanrio shop!

a cheeky smile creeps upto your face when you realise what's inside. jungkook notices it, almost cracking up a laugh, but shuts down fast enough. you both give eachother the eye, paralinguistically communicating.

"...gguk..." your nose was scrunched slightly, lips in the form of a duck's and your eyes were lit up.

"yeah, yeah", he rolls his eyes playfully, "come look at what i got you", he snickers.

excitedly, you get up from your seat and make your way to sit next to your boyfriend with a shy smile.

you weren't normal this much shy around him. i mean, you were, to a certain extent, but whenever he got you something you'd get all giddy and shy like a little girl having her first crush. you never pressure him into buying you things, though, he just always insists on buying you this and that. you've given up on telling him no. plus, i mean, if he really wants to...hehe.

"got you these uuhh...plushies. this guy's your favourite, yeah." he pulls out the cute cinnamonroll plushie, throwing it at you.

you catch it immediately, hugging it closer to your chest and snuggling into your boyfriend's meaty arm.

you take the bag from jungkook, digging it and pulling out all the goods.

your lips tremble, a loud laugh bursting out of you the moment you find the hello kitty football.

"what's this? this is so random?" you laugh.

"to be honest, i don't know the purpose of this, it's useless. why a hello kitty one? just buy a normal football?" he rolls his eyes, leading backwards while balancing his body with his forearms.

"mhm, then why'd you buy it?"

"cause you'll like it." his answer melts your heart.

you throw the ball at him, watching it bounce away effortlessly.

"awww, gguk." you coo at him.

you pull your boyfriend closer by his ears, then planting a big fat kiss on his forehead.

here comes the kisses, my favourite part, — jungkook thinks.

"my babyyy!" you pull him to your chest, fingers ruffling his hair while you planted kisses on the top of his head. jungkook loved buying you gifts, just for this reason. it's not like you never showed him affection without him buying you gifts, you most certainly did, but he just can't forget that big fat smile on your face whenever you unbox your gifts. plus. he always believed that it was important to buy your girlfriend everything she liked. that was just his point of view. and he stood by that.

"you know damn well you're the baby here—" his voice was muffled by your chest while you were aggressively kissing all over him. fingers tugging onto his socks locks, you pull on his hair as well, just full on baby-ing your boyfriend.

well, you most certainly would not harshly pull on a baby's hair and aggressively kiss them, but eh, close enough.

"god, y/n—"

"muah, muah, mwah, mwwaah!" wet kisses were being planted all across his face.

you push him down to the bed, his body fully laid back on the bed now with you on top of him, repeatedly kissing his face everywhere.

jungkook held you by your waist, letting you do whatever you wanted. this is why he did it anyway.

you place one last kiss right over his eyebrow, pulling away with a big smile.

"mmm, one more..." his eyes are closed, lips in a faint smile as he points at his face.

"mmm," you coo, "okay, where?"

"on my dick."

you groan at his words, turning around and about to get off of him before jungkook catches you, his happy laugh laugh being heard before he pulls you back to his chest.

"joking, joking." he reassures you.

your body was laid on top of him, face inches away from his. jungkook brushes away a few strands falling onto your face and tucks it behind your ear. you soothe into his touch, absolutely loving this feeling.

"here." he taps his lips.

happily, you grab his face with your palms and lean in to deliver a big fat kiss just the way he wanted.

[meanbossart]

Pin!

Hi, I'm RJ (Male, 27 years old) I'm a -usually- horror oriented artist and collaborator alongside my partner and better-half @barbatusart, though I'm currently on a Baldur's Gate 3/DnD streak with both my art and writing, specifically centered around the Dark Urge I created for my campaign and his antics, so that's most of what you will find here!

I want to leave a warning right here that I occasionally venture into delicate topics in regards to character lore and history - though none of it strays too far from what the game already delves into and I try to give a heads-up ahead of time whenever I feel like something might catch someone off-guard otherwise.

PATREON WHERE I POST WIPS, SKETCHES, UNRELEASED ART, ALL OF MY NSFW CONTENT, ETC : patreon.com/meanbossart/

BLUESKY WHERE I PUT UP FULL VERSIONS OF *SOME* OF THE NSFW THAT I CAN'T POST HERE: bsky.app/profile/meanbossart.bsky.social

TWITCH WHERE I STREAM SOMETIMES: twitch.tv/meanboss14

PSA: I get a lot of asks and I'm slow to go through them, please don't take it personally :U

Anyway, here's the guy of the hour:

🚨FAQ BELOW🚨

Q: Does your Durge have a name? A: Nope! I named him "drow" when I played the game because I didn't feel like thinking up anything special. His lack of a name has become part of the character's lore and you will find him to always be tagged with "DU drow", or referred to as The Drow or just Drow.

Q: Where can I read your BG3 fan-fiction? And what is it about? A: Right here! The main plot follows DU Drow, Astarion, and Shadowheart on a new adventure that fractures into a couple of different directions, but mainly focuses on the aftermath of the spawn that Astarion has released and the personal development of the main cast, alongside a number of original characters that get involved in the narrative. My goal was to create a kind of "DLC" experience, so you can expect a lot of themes that parallel the main game.

Q: Can I draw one of your characters, a scene from your story, or any of your characters interacting with mine/other characters? And can it be NSFW in nature? A: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN, AND I'LL BE DELIGHTED TO SEE IT IF YOU CARE TO SHARE. I'm equally fine with NSFW as long as everyone involved (in the art and otherwise) is an adult.

Q: What drawing software/tablet/brushes do you use? A: I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22, using Clip Studio Pro. I switch around brushes quite often but most of what I use comes from the DAUB super-bundle by Paolo Limoncelli.

Q: Where can I find more of your work? A: You can find mine and my partner's comics here, but please bear in mind that most of it is highly violent stuff and you should read the content warnings on the store page carefully before making any purchases - if in doubt of whether or not any of it could be detrimental to your mental health, DON'T BUY IT. Stay safe!

Q: Do you take commissions? A: I am not currently taking any new commission inquiries, sorry!

[fooled-around-and-fell]

MORE CARMY PLEASE!

Can I please please request Carmy and reader having the HIGHEST sexual tension?? But no smut! I like to edge myself and the audience 😈

well you're a dirty little devil aren't you 😂 how can i say no to this request lol enjoy!

summary: you're a tailor, and carmy urgently needs a suit for tonight's event. just so happens that he needs a date, too.

pairing: carmen berzatto x female reader

genre: fluff

warnings: sexual tension, sexual themes.

Masterlist

-----

"what do you mean you're going to the event in that? you're covered in grease and sauce for goodness' sake." richie points out.

carmen shrugs, "it's just a small event, it's fine."

"small event??" richie scoffs, "cousin, they're going to announce the chef of the year, and you're nominated for it. at least look the part, will you?"

carmen waves him off, not really paying attention to what he's saying.

right on cue, you enter through the bear's back doors with a neatly pressed suit richie requested yesterday. carmen frowns, checking who just barges in like that, and ducks almost immediately when he sees it's you.

"amazing work, as usual." richie compliments. "aaaaalso, could you possibly get me one more suit? for tonight? please?"

you sigh. "really? another last minute request?"

"come on, it's for my cousin, carmen. you know him, right?"

at the mention of carmen's name, your ears perk up and your eyes widen in interest. "u-um, yeah. i've.. met him a few times."

richie has to physically drag carmen away from his station -- where he was wiping an already clean spot to look busy, and basically presents him to you.

"hi." you awkwardly lift a hand and immediately drop it.

"hi." he says back in a thin smile.

great, he thinks you're weird now. you curse yourself.

"alright cousin, just go with her and get a suit. it won't take long, so just go." richie pushes both you and carmen outside of the restaurant, and you're both awkwardly standing there.

"go!!!" richie has to shout from the window before you two finally march on to your shop.

the walk there is obviously silent, and while you try your best to come up with a good conversation starter, carmen notices you taking glances at him and tries his best not to smile.

he's had a crush on you for a while now. well, less of a crush and more of a burning desire. you'd come to eat at the restaurant sometimes and carmen would purposely approach you to give you a menu, go back to the kitchen to make your order, and serve it to you. he doesn't care how inefficient it is.

you, on the other hand, have made it a habit to come to the restaurant a few times a week. just to get a sneak peek at carmen and get some extra time with him. it sounds stalker-y, but something about carmen just shuts you up and you don't know what to say to him. all you can ever muster up is your usual order, a please, and a thank you.

at this point, carmen's memorized your order and always has it warm and ready for every time you walk in the bear. he still takes your order just in case you might get something different, and also to hear you say please. it does something to him.

"so, um," you start, "do you have any type of suit in mind?"

carmen snaps out of his trance, looking at the rows of suits around him. "not really, i'm.. not really good at this stuff."

you nod and pull out a few suits you think will fit him. "well, this one is always a classic, or we can go for something that looks a little classy. this one's navy blue, i'd say this is more of a casual-classy look, it's not plain like the black suit but also not too out there-" you realize you're rambling and clear your throat. "um, yeah. so... preferences?"

carmen smiles a little when he can see your face flush -- and his smile makes it worse, actually. he bites his lip and points to the navy suit, "let's try this one."

"o-okay," you hang the suit in the changing room with a white button up shirt. "you can try it on in here."

while carmen is getting changed, you can see a little opening from the curtains not being closed properly. and you're guilty of peeking through that opening and not looking away... until carmen catches your stare with a smirk.

of course he left that opening on purpose.

once carmen says he's done, you go into the changing room and he scoots over to make room for you and so you can see the suit on him. he looks amazing.

"i think i might need to alter the pants and sleeves." you say, "i'll measure and shorten it."

you take your tape measurer and carmen holds his hand out. right in front of his hand, is the perfect view of your cleavage, and he feels his pants getting slightly tighter. if he keeps this up you might not need to tailor his pants after all.

you make some marks with your pins before moving on to his pants. it's like clockwork - you measure the cuffs, then the inseam. you realize what you're about to do, and your heart rate picks up.

you're on your knees in front of him, dragging the tape measure from his ankle all the way up to you know where.

carmen sees your breath get heavier and somehow comes up with the courage to cup your chin, making you look up at him. oh how good you look on your knees with those eyes.

"stand up." he whispers.

you follow his command, not breaking eye contact, and he walks closer to you until you're barely an inch apart. walking backwards until your back hits the wall, carmy puts his hand behind your head so you don't get hurt, and slowly moves closer.

you're not sure where to put your hands. right now they're on the lapels of his suit, feeling his heartbeat that's going faster, and he's so warm. why is he so warm?

his grip on you is firm, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss you, to take you right here.

"c-carm, i-"

the bell attached to your shop door rings, signaling a customer, and both of you stare at each other. your right side is free, you're free to go greet that customer, but your legs don't want you to move.

"hello? is anyone here?" they ask.

carmen caresses your cheek with his thumb, while his other one has moved from the back of your head to your waist, drawing circles and squeezing every now and then. it makes your knees feel wobbly.

the customer leaves, and none of you break eye contact.

"what are you doing tonight?"

"h-huh?" you're surprised by the question. "nothing, just... some work."

he leans in and kisses you just below your ear. "good. you're coming with me."

[heartss4val]

"lay all your love on me."

synopsis: general dating headcanons for our favorite water boy. pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader headcanons. word count: 1.2k

• oh, the antics.

• he's constantly trying to impress you even if you claim it gives you secondhand embarrassment. he'll be practicing tricks on his skateboard and be like, "this one's for you, babe!" and goes to do a kickflip or something and COMPLETELY falls off. LMFAOO.

and he'll be all whiny when you patch up his hand because he wanted to make you proud!! but all is good after you reassure him and kiss his scratches better. (as per his request.)

• percy loves partaking in your hobbies, regardless of his skill level.

if your hobby is knitting, soon enough you’ll be gifted a sweater with a pink heart and your name stitched unevenly on the seams. yeah, it might be a little itchy and it's practically falling off your shoulders, but he tried his best!!

if you like reading, he'll snuggle up with you as you two share a book. (although he prefers if you read to him, dyslexia is a pain.)

you get the point. quality time is something he values greatly. as long as he gets to spend time with you, he doesn't mind what activities you choose to engage in, whether it's watching, listening, or doing something else altogether.

• you usually accompany percy on quests, but on the rare occasion when you don't, he's quite literally counting the days until he can see you like a child counting down until christmas.

before leaving, the hugs he gives you are so tight it's unreal. like, his friends have to intervene to separate him from you. as he gradually steps back, he tells you he loves you and misses you despite him not even leaving for the quest yet, LMFAO. he only releases his grip on you when your index fingers are the last thing touching.

but when he comes back, his affection for you is on full blast. like i'm talking shrieks of excitement when he finally sees you, which attracts the attention of some nearby campers but he couldn’t care less as he runs over, nearly colliding into you with his hug.

• percy has a unique way of hugging that leaves you feeling entirely enveloped in his warm embrace. when he hugs you, your entire torso is engulfed, and your face is pressed against his chest. his arm wraps around your waist, almost entirely covering it. his other hand, calloused yet gentle, cradles the base of your head, holding you close to his chest or neck, and the scent of seawater and his cologne fills your senses.

• matching bracelets type of love!! one day, you two were strolling around manhattan and came across one of those cheap, diy jewelry kits for 10% off. you know, the kind that's meant for little kids and not demigod teenagers? yeah, that kind.

but percy bought it for you anyway, and you guys spent the remainder of the day crafting matching jewelry for each other! yeah, it did get frustrating sometimes, (you always have to tie the end of percy's bracelet/necklace for him because for some reason he's completely incapable of doing it himself.) but you two laugh and tease each other the whole time and it's just really sweet.

percy made you a blue bracelet with a little trident charm in the middle, and you made him one with your signature color theme and your initials on the beads!! both of you wear them around camp proudly, and the beads make a jingling sound whenever you hold hands with him.

(+ he runs his fingers over the bracelet you made for him whenever he starts to miss you.)

• hands intertwined all the time!! he's developed such a habit for it that whenever you're together, he automatically reaches for your hand. whether you're walking around camp, sitting on the couch, or even sleeping, holding your hand is so ingrained in his mind that he doesn't even think about it.

percy loves feeling the difference between your palm and his, whether yours is softer, calloused, coarser, etc. he also loves playing with any rings you wear, twisting them around your finger or rearranging them.

• cabin sleepovers are an absolute must. you have them once every few weeks — and would have them more often if it weren't for the harpies.

not only does he love spending time with you in his cabin, but also he just sleeps more peacefully around you.

percy likes to rest with his chin nestled in the curve of your shoulder. you've grown accustomed to the feeling of his warm breath against your skin and the weight of his head against your collarbone — which he leaves lazy kisses on before he falls asleep. only when his eyelashes brush against your neck, fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater, can he relax and feel safe, warm, and loved enough to fall asleep.

• percy jackson is the type of boyfriend who leaves his clothes out on purpose for you to wear. he pretends not to notice that the hoodies he lends you never return to his closet. but he doesn't really mind because he loves seeing you in them.

• staring is a percy thing. even if he tries to hide his gaze every once in a while, you still manage to catch him sitting across from you with a lovesick smile, his eyes trailing over your face taking in every feature as if it was his first time seeing you.

when his eyes finally catch yours, he quickly looks away, but he can't resist glancing back at you a moment later because like, how could he not?? and with his confidence building up, soon enough he whispers, “c'mere and give me a kiss, yeah?”

• percy always tries to be creative when it comes to dates because they're kinda limited at camp. while you've experimented with various activities such as training, picnics, and swimming, your favorite pastime is strawberry picking. you two spend the day in the fields, picking the sweetest strawberries you ever had which later turned into refreshing strawberry smoothies.

but he's so particular about what strawberries he picks. you'll go to pick one with a little bruise and he'll whip his head around so fast like??? it's not that serious percy.

• percy does his best to learn everything about you, from the things you love to the things that you hate. if you hate bugs, he'll get rid of them all for you, (but he puts them somewhere safe because he's a sweetheart.) he'll speak for you in public if you're not comfortable in social situations, and he'll lead you through large crowds if you hate them. he's always learning and paying attention to the things you like, dislike, love, and hate so that he always brings a smile to your face.

he'll go out of his way to learn your favorite songs so he always knows which ones to play during long car rides, he knows how you like your coffee, and he has your entire takeout order memorized!!

• percy's love for you is so evident, there may as well be hearts in his eyes. he thinks you're the absolute prettiest, and nothing can change his mind. you two are perfect together, and the whole camp knows it.

a/n

this was supposed to come out earlier but my peanut allergy got provoked, but fuck it, we ball. 💪💪 (malnourished, heavy eye bags, weeping, hysterically shrieking, dehydrated, and on the verge of insanity.)

xx val

[mm-lurking]

From the distance - Blade

Since he never made an effort when you tried to befriend him, you gave up and stuck to your own business. Yet somehow, he’s there when you find yourself in trouble.

A/N: Another fic where I just want Blade to be my knight in shining armour. Once again written when I was sleep deprived for several nights straight. The best ideas do come when you are out of your mind fr. No idea where I was going with this tbh, I just kept writing. Sorry if it's ooc and kinda dragged out! I tried to write him as well as possible. Warnings: Blade x fem!reader, some violence, blood and tension between you and Blade. NPC with a CN name, I'm not sure if I used the Chinese name the right way? Apologies in advance if its wrong! WC: 4754 --- Another night at the Xianzhou Luofu. Another meeting with the Stellaron Hunters. In contrast to the calm night outside, Blade impatiently taps his feet as he glares at the door. You’re supposed to be here in the room ready to begin the meeting. Kafka is supposed to be here too but that’s not the point. The point is you and where you are. Some time passes by and the door slowly creaks open. He snaps his head around hoping it's you- only to see Kafka. The tiny glint of anticipation fades away quickly and his usual stone face replaces it, but it is not quick enough to slip by Kafka.

“She’s not going to be here Bladie.”

Kafka chuckles as she walks in and takes a seat at the table. He glares at her.

“I did not ask.”

“You didn’t ask about her indeed, but your face betrays you.”

He scoffs and looks away in the distance. The woman observes him for a moment and smiles.

“She had another meeting to attend urgently. Took me by surprise honestly. She came running here two hours ago hastily explaining herself and apologising before running off again. How amusing.”

Her eyes do not leave Blade’s face as she talks. In her lifetime of working with him, never had she seen him so…agitated over a mere mortal. A mortal he claimed he didn’t care for or wanted to associate with. Another chuckle leaves her lips and she waves her hand dismissively.

“Well since it’s just the two of us we can postpone the meeting.”

She gets up from the chair and turns around to walk away only for Blade to stop her.

“Kafka.”

“Yes?”

“Who is she meeting?”

She places a hand on her waist and smirks. He says nothing more and continues staring at her face waiting for an answer.

“I thought you said you didn’t care?”

“Kafka.”

His tone suggests he is in no mood for jokes. She sighs and shakes her head.

“She’s meeting Mr Li Qi.”

“..?!”

Kafka observes his startled expression and pretends to be clueless as she taps her finger on her lips. She knew what she was doing of course.

“What’s the matter, Blade? You look like you’re in deep thought.”

“You knew she was going to Li Qi and let her go on her own?”

Kafka shrugs.

“Why not?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks straight into her eyes.

“You know how dangerous that man is.”

“Oh come on Bladie. She’s more than capable of handling him. After all, she was the one who approached him first.”

His eyes grow wide momentarily before returning to normal. Several thoughts are running in his head but the main theme is along the lines of how stupid and foolish you are. Li Qi, a businessman on the Luofu was notorious for his shady practices and downright unethical behaviour. To the common folk, he was a simple successful businessman but to those who had intel on him or many connections across the Luofu, they knew of his true identity and what dangers lurked in associating with him. He was cunning enough to protect himself and the business from the eyes of the law while simultaneously maintaining his illegal proceedings.

“You didn’t attempt to stop her even once?”

Blade’s voice is laced with concern and disbelief as he replies.

“Why should I? Who are we to interfere in her plans? We are not saviours.”

In contrast to her unconcerned-sounding words, her face is the complete opposite. She displays a small smile, intently watching Blade to see what he would do.

“…”

Silence fills the air. There is a faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the entrance door.

“You should have told me earlier.”

He says calmly as he suddenly stands up and walks towards the door, taking long strides as if he urgently had to leave.

“Whether you decide to protect her or not…it is all part of Elio’s script.”

The way she speaks is as if she was merely watching the pawn move in a game of chess, already aware of every move that was going to occur. He freezes on the spot as he realises.

“You already knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

He turns around to look at her and she shrugs, completely avoiding the question before continuing.

“There is a warehouse at Stargazer Navalia where Mr Li Qi frequents. If I am correct, she must be there right now.”

There is nothing more said between the two as Blade nods and opens the door before he walks away in a fast-paced manner. When the door shuts close Kafka stares at the door for a moment before laughing.

“So much for not caring huh? Oh, Bladie..”

—

You could tell something was off since you stepped foot into the warehouse. There were several red flags actually. One, Mr Li Qi asked to meet you in this warehouse instead of a commonplace like the restaurants in Aurum Alley. Two, you weren’t here to look at the items of interest yet so you shouldn’t be in a warehouse in the first place. Three, the silence of the meeting point and how it was conveniently hidden away in a deserted side of the Stargazer Navalia.

You weren’t a fool though. You had purposely walked into this trap well aware that there was something oddly peculiar about this man. Something about the way Mr Li Qi looked and the suspicious tone of his messages told you he was a man worth investigating. You weren’t from the IPC nor were you a Stellaron Hunter, but you sure had made a name for yourself amongst the natives in terms of commissions and business.

Perhaps that is why Mr Li Qi was so delighted to meet you when you first sent a request to meet him. Perhaps that is also why there was a gun pressed against the side of your forehead. The cold barrel, in contrast to your sweaty skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Tell me miss, surely you didn’t take me as a fool?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You reply calmly but groan when the gun is pressed harder into your skull. Mr Li Qi is standing behind you with a harsh grip on the back of your neck as he uses his right hand to firmly point the gun at you. You scan your environment to make sense of the danger you’re in. The long eerily hall of the warehouse has almost no inventory; a few boxes of odd things lie around and there are some cardboard boxes stacked over in the corner. They are probably meant as a cover or to fake the appearance of a warehouse. There aren’t many men of his around either, just two bodyguards that currently stand in front of you to prevent your escape and a few other men in the far distance at the door standing like statues.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about? Is that so?”

He mocks your words and grits his teeth. You feel another chill run down your spine.

“Do you take me as a fool miss? I am fully aware of who you are and what you do.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. I collect antiques for fun and that’s why I approached you.”

Lies. You were praying he wouldn’t realise you were lying through your teeth. You weren’t here for antics, you were here to investigate a fraud he had committed. One of your family friends had been caught in his traps and this sly fox was able to avoid all legal charges by hiding documents and falsifying testimonies. Having no hope left, the family friend had turned to you for help and considering your ties with them you agreed.

“How peculiar of you to approach me instead of the many, many antique collectors out there. Your interest in the jade pendants of the Xianzhou is very uncalled for considering your job status.”

You gulp. Shoot. No pun intended.

“Who are you to judge my interests Mr.? Especially if it brings you money?”

You retort and immediately regret it when the gun goes off with a loud bang.

-

His breathing is heavier than usual as he finally reaches Stargazer Navalia. The veins on his neck have not stopped popping from how tightly he has been clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. A flurry of insults goes through his head as he thinks of you while he simultaneously searches for the warehouse. There is no time to rest as he dashes through the tall steel container boxes and small bridges frantically searching for you.

“…?!”

In the distance, he hears the sound of a gun going off and freezes momentarily before whipping his head around to see a large warehouse a couple of meters away. The description of the warehouse fits what Kafka had told him and he dashes towards it. Was that…? No, it can’t be, he shakes off the negative thoughts as he aggressively pushes against the large wooden doors with his body. The lock from the inside breaks into two from the strength he exerts and the doors swing open, revealing several men ready to fight and four figures in the dim light further away.

“Who goes there?!”

Li Qi shouts from the other end, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty warehouse. There are hints of anxiety and anger in his words but Blade says nothing. Instead, he pulls out his weapon and slashes his way through the men guarding the door, injuring them swiftly and easily as they drop on the floor like dead flies. One of them tries to grab onto his leg and he stomps on the guard’s chest, making the guard scream in pain. He sneers.

He takes longer and faster strides as he approaches where you are and your figure becomes clearer with each step he takes. A small sigh of relief leaves his lips as he realises that you’re still alive. The look on his face is deadly with his eyes ablaze and he glares at the two bodyguards blocking him from your view.

-

Eventhough you are not one to be afraid of danger, the gun going off right next to your head has you shaken up. The vibrations of the gun ripple through your skull and you can feel a headache setting in. Lucky for you, the gun lacks bullets as you’re clearly still alive after he pulled the trigger. Li Qi mumbles a bunch of insults under his breath as he attempts to refill the bullets only to stop as the warehouse doors open with a loud thud. Both you and your captor flinch at the unexpected event, confused at the commotion by the door.

You hear Li Qi yell but you don’t register what he says. Your eyes are on the figure that violently makes its way through the appointed guards of the warehouse, like a tornado destroying everything in its path as it gets closer to you. It is when the figure stands in your line of sight do you recognise -it is Blade.

“Bla-“

He looks at you immediately when you call out to him in a raspy voice. Unfortunately, Li Qi prevents you from finishing his name as he cocks the gun and roughly handles you making you wince. Blade’s grip on his weapon tightens trying to control the urge to cut off the man’s head on the spot. In contrast to your situation, Blade notes that you look calm for someone who is in the hands of death.

“Shut up or I will put a bullet through your head”, Mr Li Qi seethes. “You are lucky I forgot to replace my bullets- wha-?!”

A loud slash resounds in the air as Blade can no longer stand the nuisance and brandishes his weapon in front of the bodyguards causing Li Qi to quiver. He gives the men no chance to prepare for how rapidly he makes use of his sword, cementing his prowess as a swordsman once again in front of you. You close your eyes not wanting to see the bloodshed as a chill goes down your spine hearing the clashing of swords and grunts of the bodyguards. Before you know it, it’s just you, Li Qi and Blade left in the warehouse. The loud groans and whines of the guards fill the air as their wounds hurt. There are streaks and splashes of blood all over the floor but none of that bothers Blade however as he stands in front of you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and your captor.

“D-do not take another step! Or- or I will kill her!”

Li Qi panics and screeches as he points the gun at your saviour and then back at you. All you do is flash a tiny smile at Blade. You’re tired, exhausted and the bruise forming on your neck and now the side of the forehead hurts. The willpower you had at the beginning of the situation has started to waver as you feel stale and unable to turn the tables. And with a splitting headache that only seems to get worse, you don’t have the brainpower to think either. You watch how he continues to look at you silently with eyes that carry concern and anger.

“Let her go.”

Blade states firmly. It is not a request, it is an order. The businessman looks visibly shaken from how his men are lying on the floor and the threatening command of the Stellaron Hunter. Instead of obeying, he frantically runs his mouth again.

“You, I know you! Aren’t you the guy that the IPC wants?! You’re a criminal yourself, how dare you tell me what to do?!”

Blade scoffs. You gulp, knowing this won’t end well. He says nothing and simply repeats his warning.

“I said let. Her. Go.”

You know he is not talking to you but somehow you’re starting to shiver in fear too. This man has always avoided almost any interaction with you yet here he was, asking your captor to release you with such a menacing aura. This side of him was so rare and frightening to see that you were silently praying you would never have to see it again.

Li Qi refuses to comply and Blade hmphs before drawing his sword once again and striking the arm of Li Qi. It all happens so fast that you barely have the chance to move as the blade whizzes past your ear and hits Qi. The gun drops from his hand on the ground with a loud thud as he wails in pain, clutching his injured arm with the other. Blood is trickling down his hands and arms and it splatters on your shoes. You stand there for a while stunned at what’s going on only to be brought back to your senses when Blade grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest.

“Huh-? Oh-!”

It takes you a moment to register your position. Your hands have subconsciously gripped his coat to steady yourself and his free hand is loosely hanging on your lower back. You can’t see his face from this position but you can hear his loud heartbeat and the way he takes slow deep breaths. He smells like blood and the finest mix of musky perfume, a scent you are unfamiliar with but still welcome. Suddenly you find yourself feeling flustered and awkward and try to pull away from his body only for his arm around you to tighten.

“B-blade?!”

Li Qi is still yelling and wailing behind you but being in Blade’s arms has somehow blocked it all out, like a magical shield that is keeping you safe. Your own heartbeat starts to increase as his crimson eyes meet yours and he maintains eye contact without breaking away.

“Fool.”

He finally speaks and you are baffled.

“What?”

“You are incredibly stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is your hearing impaired?”

“My head is aching very badly, thank you very much.”

What the hell is with this man?! You scowl at the way he talks to you. You no longer want to be in his arms anymore and use your strength to push yourself away but to no avail. Frustrated you smack his chest grumbling at him.

“I’m ok now, can you let me go? Sheesh.”

As you both are bantering, behind you, Li Qi stumbles to grab his gun from the floor. There is a cruel smile on his face as he lifts the gun, points it straight at the back of your head and presses the trigger.

“…!”

Blade’s eyes suddenly narrow as he pushes you into his chest once again and hauls his weapon up to cover your skull just in time. You gasp as the bullet ricochets off his weapon with a loud shing leaving you stunned. You tremble in his arms from the impact, trying to process what just happened.

“Close your eyes.”

He says gently and you obey. All you hear is the sound of his blade being hurled at the businessman and an ear-piercing scream that makes your blood curdle. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. 

“Keep your eyes closed.”

He commands you and you nod. You feel the loss of his body warmth as he detaches himself from you and walks towards the businessman. Li Qi is lying on the floor with the sword piercing his chest as he gasps for air. He attempts to grab his gun again which is a few centimetres away from his fingers only for Blade to stomp on his hand and kick the gun away from him. You flinch at how the businessman screams.

“Holding an innocent hostage is a greater sin than mine.”

Blade says as a matter-of-factly and removes the sword from his chest. Another nightmarish scream rings in your ears and you open your eyes from the discomfort you feel. You don’t even want to turn around and see the state your captor might be in. Blade walks back and faces you, frowning when he sees your eyes open.

“I told you to keep your eyes closed.”

“I-I tried-“

“It doesn’t matter. Do not look back.”

“Okay..”

You reluctantly listen to him, feeling extremely uncomfortable at how the situation has evolved. A moment of silence passes before you speak again.

“Is he…dead?”

You watch him look behind you and hmph before replying.

“If he isn’t now…he will be later.”

“But if he dies…I will be implicated..”

“No one knew about your meeting except Kafka, Li Qi and I, correct? There should be no issue then.”

“Blade that’s not how it-“

“You nearly died.”

Blade says coldly and you feel your heart drop.

“I nearly died yes, but this-“

“Why are you so complicated to deal with?”

“…what?”

Now you feel anger bubbling in your chest.

“I was not the one who asked you to barge into the warehouse by the way.”

You hiss at him and he glares at you.

“And you expected to survive? Alone in this warehouse?”

“I don’t see why that bothers you.”

“Your foolishness will get you killed one day.”

“Even if it does, how does that impact you? Not like you want me around anyways.”

Your head was pounding, the bruises on your neck and forehead stung, you were fatigued and shaken up and this man was simultaneously insulting your intelligence and capabilities. Of course you were agitated. Blade stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“How it impacts me has nothing to do with you.”

“Are you even hearing yourself?!”

“He would have killed you easily.”

You press a hand against your forehead and take a deep breath. Why was he arguing with you?

“It is I that will be in deep trouble if Mr. Li Qi dies, not you or Kafka regardless of who knew about our meeting. I have a reputation to maintain unlike you. And by the way, I did not need you to save me. You don’t even care about me and frankly, you don’t even show an ounce of cooperation when I try to work with you.”

You take a step closer to him. Tears brim in your eyes as you express your frustration.

“If my death were written to be tonight,” you look him straight in the eye, “it wouldn’t change a thing in your life. In fact, I am sure you would be glad of my riddance.”

Audacity flows through your veins as you jab a finger in his chest with each word you speak. Tears stream down your face and your throat closes up from the emotions that swarm you.

“So don’t tell me how to feel. You have no right to do so.”

He looks at you, speechless and shocked at the way you’re behaving. In the blink of an eye, you furiously wipe your tears before dashing off. Everything hurts and you feel like you’re suffocating. You pay no heed to the injured guards or the blood all over the floor as you run as fast as your legs can take you away from this place. You don’t even turn to take a look at Blade’s reaction. So much for fulfilling a request. So much for simply wanting to do the right thing. It was supposed to be a simple mission, why did it turn out like this? And why, out of all people that could come save you, was it Blade that had become your saviour?

You weren’t trying to cozy up to him, you weren’t trying to take advantage of his power, you weren’t trying to do anything at all. You simply wanted a mutual alliance for the sake of teamwork but he didn’t even bother to reciprocate. All those times he left you hanging, making you feel embarrassed, making you feel like a fool…how dare he come to your aid and then proceed to make you feel like you weren’t even good enough?

You finally stop running when your legs grow weary. It takes a moment for you to realise you’re still in Stargazer Navalia though you’re not sure where exactly. The winds of the night are gentle as the moon shines brightly in the sky. At least it was all over right? At least now there will be no more cases of scamming and threats from Li Qi, at least now your family friend can finally breathe in relief, at least you’re still alive after all that so why, why do you feel worse than you did when you entered the warehouse?

You sit on the stone pavement near a large steel container, hugging your knees and sobbing your heart out. The bruises sting once again and you wince. You wince harder as you softly trace the bruise on the back of your neck. God, was it that bad? How long had Li Qi held you for you to bruise like this? Doesn’t matter. There was no point in thinking about it any further. You didn’t want to think about anything at all.

“There you are.”

A familiar deep voice rings in the distance and you look up to see Blade again. His breathing is heavier than usual and he sighs in relief as he lays his eyes on you.  How the hell did he even find me?! A scowl forms on your face and you bury your head back into your knees, unwilling to speak to him. He stands there for a while before coming closer to kneel in front of you awkwardly.

“Are you hurt?”

You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see them. Given that you don’t answer, he places a hand on your forehead and pushes your head up causing you to yelp. You try to resist but his strength overpowers yours.

“Leave me alone.”

You say coldly, refusing to make eye contact with him as he examines your face for injuries. He ignores your reply and frowns at your tear-stained face. One look at the bruise on the side of your head and his frown deepens.

“I should have killed him the moment I saw him.”

“W-what?!”

He ignores your reply again as he wipes the tears from your eyes. You flinch at his odd behaviour but don’t push him away. His hands drop from your face to your neck to observe the bruising.

“Stabbing him once didn’t suffice.”

The soul leaves your body as he states his murderous intentions to you absentmindedly while looking at your injury. How was he being so caring while mentioning such things?!

“Y-you you can go now…”

Blade shakes his head.

“You’re injured. You’re lucky these bruises are all you have. I was afraid that the gun…”

He trails off and looks in the distance again. For a man who lived and breathed murder and blood, he sure was hesitant talking about you nearly getting shot. You blink at him, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. Was this…his way of showing care?

“I would have stabbed him over and over if he had shot you.”

You freeze and Blade feels the way your neck muscles tighten on his fingertips. He gives you a small smile that further scares you.

“I-If you’re saying these things to make me feel better you can stop now. I’m fine.”

“I am speaking my honest opinion.”

A blush creeps up on your face and warmth surges through your body. This hot shot was capable of being nice after all. You feel his fingers cup your face again as he softly strokes your tear-stained cheeks. The cool breeze toys with your hair and he gently pushes the loose strands away, not breaking eye contact with you. You don’t understand what he’s trying to do but you let him be.

“I…I did not mean to hurt your feelings earlier.”

You scoff and turn away.

“If anything had happened to you, I am unsure if I would be able to forgive myself.”

That statement alone makes you snap your head back to him and he smiles at you, his eyes softening with such warmth that it makes your heart beat faster. A smile so authentic that it almost makes you forget he is a wanted criminal with a 9 million bounty.

“You…should have told me you were meeting Li Qi earlier.”

“I would have if you bothered to listen when I talk.”

You glare at him and he sighs. Conflicting emotions are swirling in his eyes.

“I had no interest in talking to you before.”

“Do you find joy in insulting my existence or what?”

You fume as you push yourself up from the ground, wanting to get away from him. Blade follows suit as he immediately puts his arms around your waist, tightening his grip which makes you gasp.

“Blade what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“It is unsafe for you to go back on your own.”

“At least I won’t have to deal with you.”

His eyebrows knit together as he looks at you concerned.

“I cannot have you get hurt again.”

“Geez I am not a baby- Blade-!”

You barely finish your sentence as he picks you up bridal style out of nowhere causing you to tightly hold onto his coat once again. You squeeze your eyes shut as dizziness takes over and bury your head into his chest. A soft chuckle escapes his lips and you can’t help but smile at how he sounds. Any happy emotion from him is foreign to you yet cute at the same time. The loud heartbeat that vibrates from his chest soothes you somehow and that metallic musky scent of his calms your senses. Despite how he drives you crazy, you wish you could remain like this for as long as possible. Not that you would ever say that out loud.

“You will be safe from the law as long as you’re with me. I will have Kafka take care of this mess.”

Despite your protests on how ‘ I want to do this the right away’ and ‘I can tell the cloud knights the truth’ he just completely ignores everything you have to say as he walks away from Stargazer Navalia with you in his arms. A small smile of amusement is plastered on his face as he pays no heed to your ramblings about the law or the consequences of his actions. He never listens to you, does he? And for once, you don’t mind it either. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[imaginespazzi]

This Little Love of Ours

Three times Paige and Azzi didn't go on a date and the one time they did

(In which an alternate universe writer finally returns to writing things in the real universe)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 5.4K (sighs in *this was meant to be 2K* words)

TW: Light swearing, alludes to sexual content

A/N: Hi lovelies, I'm backkkk!! Gonna keep this short and sweet but this is basically me combining a bunch of prompts/requests into one. There's some creative liberty taken with logistics and as per usual, the editing exists but so do my typos. As always, let me know what you liked and what you didn't, as well as anything you'd like to see going foreward. Happy Juneteenth and I hope y'all have a lovely rest of your week <3

we were just kids (when we fell in love)

The streets of Minsk, Belarus are bursting with light and colour, the summer breeze enveloping the two girls walking riverside as they giggle over everything and nothing. They’re breaking curfew plus a hundred other rules right now and if one of their coaches ever found out, they’d be as good as dead. But there’s something about being out in the open with Azzi, being able to delicately brush palms and not worry about her jolting away in fear of being seen, that has Paige ready to be reckless. 

It’s been a year of learning Azzi, a year of discovering the little things that make her smile, a year of memorising the intricate stories that make her who she is. And Paige hides all these little details in a little treasure chest in the corner of her heart, bringing them out like little drops of lights when Azzi’s not by her side, and the darkness feels all-consuming. The thing is, Paige has never been attached to someone like this before, never felt like there was another half she needed to feel whole. She’d been an independent child, walls of steel barricading anyone from getting a glimpse into her vulnerability. For a long time, she’d been fine just living in the façade of being fine. But then she’d met Azzi. And all the walls had gone crashing down and it was okay not to be okay, because now while she held the weight of world, there was somebody there to hold her too. 

“Paigeeee,” Azzi squeals with delight, eyes fixated on a van across the road, “there’s an ice cream truck.”

Paige doesn’t get time to react before she’s being pulled along, the wind tornadoing around her body. And yet she feels warm and fuzzy inside, like there’s a blanket with Azzi’s name knitted into it, wrapped around her heart. 

“I’ll have the strawberry please,” Azzi smiles politely at the ice cream vendor, eyes sparkling with excitement, “P what are you getting?”

Paige grins, knowing her order is about to earn her a patented eye roll, “I’ll have the mint choc chip please.”

“You’re so weird,” the younger girl scrunches up her face and Paige suddenly has the urge to kiss her nose. 

They both know that they’re living inbetween blurred lines, on a trapeze balanced between friends and something more. It had been a whispered conversation of have you ever kissed a girl? do you wanna kiss a girl? do you wanna kiss me? that had led to a kiss Paige swears can never be topped, but they hadn’t spoken about it again. With them living in separate states, it had been easy to ignore that, that had ever even happened, both of them skilled players at the game of pretend. But it’s different now they’re back in each other’s orbit and every touch seems to linger on Paige’s skin long after Azzi’s hands have left her own. 

“You have no taste. It’s sooooo good,” Paige chides, making a show of licking her ice cream. When she looks at Azzi, she’s not expecting the way the shooting guard’s eyes have glazed over, fixated on Paige’s lips as she swallows nervously. An unfamiliar shiver tickles down Paige’s skin as they stand in silence, the air thick with a new tension. 

“It’s green,” Azzi says finally, voice coming out breathless, “that’s enough for me to know it tastes bad.”

“Don’t knock it til you taste it,” the blond holds out her cone as an invitation. 

When Azzi steps into Paige space, much closer than needed, she’s expecting Azzi to take the cone. She’s expecting that familiar jolt of electricity when their hands accidentally brush. Instead she feels herself being  mesmerised by Azzi’s face getting closer and closer til she can feel the younger girl’s breath fanning her face. She gulps, as Azzi presses her lips to the corner of Paige’s mouth, tongue darting out for the briefest of seconds before she’s pulling away. And despite the cool of the ice cream, every part of Paige feels like it’s burning. 

“I was wrong. Guess it tastes pretty good,” Azzi whispers, biting her lip. 

“You-I-what-” Paige splutters, struggling to form a coherent thought. 

Azzi giggles, clearly proud of herself  “Paige Bueckers speechless? Who thought I’d ever see the day?”

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“And proud of it.”

There’s the clichéd spring in Paige’s step as they continue to walk by the river. She shifts her ice cream cone to her left hand, letting the other one entangle with Azzi’s fingers. It’s nothing, the most mundane of things to hold her best friend’s hand, but it feels exhilarating, like it’s the start of something special. Determined, she tugs on Azzi’s hand to pull them to a stop. The Minsk waterfront dazzles behind them but Paige swears nothing’s glowing brighter than two of them in this moment. 

“Why are we stopping?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised quizzically. 

Paige smirks, a new surge of confidence taking birth in her stomach, “I wanted to try your ice cream too. You got a taste of mine, it’s only fair I get a taste of yours.” 

“Is that so?” Azzi hums, pressing herself against Paige, “too bad it seems like I’ve finished my cone then.”

“Yeah too fucking bad,” Paige agrees before crashing her lips against Azzi’s. 

***

Paige is exhausted at breakfast the next morning, barely registering the conversations that are buzzing around her. Her eyes are drooping from the lack of sleep and there’s a dull pounding in her head but she has no regrets. Last night had been everything. She can still feel every moment pulsating through her veins, her heart beating to the rhythm of Azzi Azzi Azzi. The younger girl hasn’t appeared for breakfast yet and Paige is itching to see her. They’ve been separated for barely a couple of hours, reluctantly heading to their own rooms after they’d gotten back, and Paige swears she’d missed the girl even in her sleep. 

“You got back late last night,” Cameron teases, sticking out a fork of fruit in Paige’s direction, “you two must have had a good time.”

“Yeah,” there’s a rare shyness in Paige’s tone, “yeah we had a great time.”

“Oooh are we talking about Paige and Azzi’s date last night?” Aliyah cuts in, a smirk playing on her lips. 

“It wasn’t a date,” Paige counters, suddenly feeling oddly defensive “it- it was nothing.”

Cam raises an eyebrow, “it seemed like a date.” 

“Well it wasn’t. It definitely was not a date.”

“You guys heard her,” Azzi's voice makes Paige freeze, something akin to guilt pooling in her stomach, “it definitely was not a date.”

Cam and Aaliyah raise their hands in surrender, turning back to whatever conversation they were engaged in before. Paige gulps as Azzi sits down in the empty spot next to her, body rigid. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Paige it’s fine. I get it.”

“You- you do?” Paige doesn't entirely know how Azzi can get it, not when Paige doesn’t even really get it herself. 

Azzi shrugs with fake nonchalance, “yeah, yeah I do and it’s okay. You’re right. It wasn’t a date.”

And it wasn’t. At least not by name. Paige knows that. Apparently Azzi knows it too. But everything about that feels wrong. Underneath the table, their hands intertwine subconsciously. Neither of them react. Neither of them pull away. It’s the start of something unspoken, something complicated, something beautiful and fragile and so, so volatile, something that’ll take them years to understand.

2. this all or nothing way of loving (got me sleeping without you)

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends 

Azzi fights the twitch in her hand that wants to reach out and grab her phone when that notification flashes on her screen. She musters up another fake smile at her date, hoping the girl in front of her hasn’t noticed the change in her demeanour. It’s ridiculous the way her body reacts to the most simple things when it comes to Paige. She hates it, hates the way it seems like she has no control over herself when it comes to the blonde. 

“Do you need to get that?” Anika asks, voice sweet as honey as she smiles at Azzi 

“No, no it’s just an insta notification. Nothing important. You were saying,” Azzi brushes it off, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. Anika seems satisfied with that as she returns back to telling Azzi about something her sister had done. Fidgeting in her seat, Azzi tries her hardest to keep her focus on the brunette, but her mind is whirring with curiosity about what Paige might have posted. 

The opportunity presents itself a couple of minutes laters, when Anika slides out of her seat to go to the bathroom. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Azzi beelines for her phone, clicking on Paige’s story and immediately wishing she hadn’t. Anger and jealousy tighten their grip on her as she’s met with a picture of a caramel skinned, curly haired girl smiling at the camera, staring at Paige behind it, with that oh so familiar look of adoration. The text on the image reads in good company and Azzi feels bile rising up her throat. And she’s not allowed to feel this way, not when she and Paige had both agreed to turn their something into nothing but every day since that decision has felt a little bit like someone twisting a dagger into her heart, piercing further and further until she has no more blood left to bleed. 

She doesn’t notice Anika’s made her way back until she feels a warm hand on her shoulder, looking up to find concerned green eyes staring down at her, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Azzi nods with a sense of calm she doesn’t feel, “you okay with me showing you off a bit?”

It’s a dangerous game she’s about to play, one of jealous retaliation that she knows will only make her feel better for a brief second before all the pain will flood back. But she reaches for her phone anyways, fighting the voices of logic and reason (that sound oddly similar to Colleen) in her head and instead giving into impulse. Anika beams at the camera, throwing up a peace sign, and Azzi’s heart stutters with guilt at how sincere her smile is. She snaps the picture, captioning it with  date night <3 and clicks post to close friends. Her heart beats erratically as she places her phone back on the table, trying to tune back into Anika’s conversation. It takes approximately three minutes for her phone to flash again.

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends 

This time Azzi doesn’t bother fighting the urge to look, a new adrenaline pumping through her veins. It’s a mirror selfie this time. The girl has her back pressed against Paige’s front as they pose in front of the bathroom mirror. Paige has one hand holding her phone while the other is sprawled against the other girl’s waist, where a silver belly button piercing shimmers against tan skin. There’s no text this time, just a red heart and that Paige-shaped hole in Azzi’s heart is starting to get larger and larger. 

“You wanna take a walk?” Azzi asks Anika, tearing her eyes away from the phone, “it’s nice outside.”

Anika smiles, rising from her seat and holding out a hand that Azzi gladly takes. It would be easier, Azzi thinks, if she could just fall in love with this girl. Someone less complicated, someone who had less power over her, someone who was here. But it’s a futile dream, her heart is spoken for and Azzi doesn’t think she’ll ever get it back. 

It's a beautiful winter night outside and there’s a pretty girl holding her hand. That’s all Azzi should be thinking about. Instead, her mind is stuck on the image from before and it’s that vision, welded behind her eyelids, that has her taking a picture of her and Anika’s intertwined hands. As she types out the caption, one that feels way too deep for a first date, Azzi can’t help but roll her eyes at herself. She can’t remember the last time she’d posted a story, let alone two in a row and now here she is, posting inauthentic story after story to win a losing game. 

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends 

This time there’s at least 10 minutes before Azzi’s phone flashes with that notification again. Next to Azzi, Anika lets out a sigh, starting to become less amiable to the idea of her date constantly checking her phone. Azzi shoots her an apologetic look before her expression quickly turns stone cold at seeing the new picture. It’s a haphazardly taken, slightly pixelated, photo of Paige smiling and the girl kissing her cheek. And if Azzi was in any mood to analyse just a little further she’d notice that Paige’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, isn’t quite as wide as her real one. But there’s green fog clouding her judgement as she seethes internally, Anika’s soft touch doing nothing to calm her down. Tapping on Paige’s profile, Azzi fingers hover over the three dots on the upper left, as her petty side begins to take over. 

And then she hits block. 

***

“How was your date?” Paige’s mocking voice rings throughout Azzi’s childhood bedroom at almost 2 in the morning. She shouldn’t have answered the facetime call, should’ve held out for longer than just three missed calls and twelve angry texts. But Azzi has long realised that she’s putty when it comes to Paige. 

“How’s your girlfriend,” Azzi bites back. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Right,” Azzi draws out the word with an eyeroll, “how’s your fuck buddy then?”

Paige closes her eyes, rubbing her temples. When she opens them, the angry hard-to-read Paige that she’s been dealing with for the last month is replaced by Azzi’s soft, sweet and vulnerable Paige. Being apart after having been together all through lockdown has been harder than either of them could have imagined. They’d just assumed it would be easy when Paige finally left for UConn, after all most of their relationship had been built while living in different states. But somewhere in between workouts at 6 am and movie nights with Azzi’s family, they’d gotten used to living in each other’s skin, forgetting just how difficult it was to be apart from each other.  

“I miss you,” Paige whispers, “all the time. I can’t wait til you’re here.”

I miss you too, so much that sometimes it’s the only thing I feel, Azzi thinks and really it’s what she should say, instead the bitterness wins out, “why? So I can see you and that girl being all coupley in person instead of just on instagram?”

“That’s not fair, Azzi. You said you wanted to be just friends for now. You said I should try with other people and now you wanna throw that back in my face?”

“It was mutual-”

“Bullshit,” Paige sneers, “don’t try and put that shit on me. You made the decision and I just went along with it.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have then,” Azzi says exasperatedly, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep tears threatening to fall at bay. They fall into silence, staring at each other through the screen with identical expressions of only you can hurt me, only you can heal me. Azzi wishes she could reach through her phone, pull Paige into her world and melt into the older girl.

“What do you want from me Az?” Paige asks softly. 

I just want you, Azzi thinks miserably. She wants to be beg Paige to end things with that other girl, wants Paige to tell her not go on anymore dates, want to go back to being something, but she can’t, not when she’s convinced herself that they need do this, go through a phase of being nothing, so that they can be everything someday. This whole idea had taken birth in her head out of the fear that this- the two of them not knowing anything but each other- would eventually lead to resentment, that they- that Paige- would wake up one day and realise there was so much more the world had to offer. So now Azzi’s playing the long game, trying to believe in the clichéd year old adage that you have to let the people you love go, and if they come back, they’re yours. And she hopes against hope that Paige will come back, because Azzi doesn't think she’ll survive anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, instead of voice the other thoughts dancing on the tip of her tongue, “I’m sorry I’m being unfair.”

Paige’s eyes soften, “can we just- can we just talk about something else?”

And they do. They talk all night about everything and nothing, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. It’s that same nightly routine neither of them can fall asleep without. Because even if they’re both drowning in a sea of unspoken words, at least they’re sinking together, perhaps there’s some comfort in that. 

3. you make me smile (please stay for a while now)

Azzi stares at her reflection in the mirror for what feels like the thousandth time. She’s a bundle of nervous energy as she pats down her neatly ironed mini-skirt, adjusting her already perfectly-set crop top. It’s a little bit like how she feels before stepping on the court, dizzy with both nerves and excitement in anticipation. By all technicalities, this isn’t their first date. There’s probably friends and family who would argue this is closer to be their millionth or so date but nothing has ever been official. It just means more. 

She jumps a little when the doorbell rings at exactly 7 p.m. sharp, taking in a deep breath, before she opens the door. Paige stands outside in black pants with a black crop top and a multicolor cardigan, and a bouquet of pink roses in her hands. It takes Azzi about two seconds to realise that something’s wrong. Paige’s eyes are a feverish red and her smile is tired; it’s her all too familiar Paige is sick demeanour that Azzi’s quick to recognize after years of having seen it. The blonde opens her mouth to say something and instead all that comes out is a series of loud sneezes. 

“Oh baby,” Azzi gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to feel Paige’s forehead and then narrowing her head when she feels the heat, “P-”

“I’m fine,” Paige cuts her off, her voice gravelly, “just allergies.”

Azzi crosses her arms, knowing she’s about to deal with a petulant child, “I don’t think so. You’re clearly sick.”

“I don’t-,” Paige tries to disguise the cough in between her sentences, “-get sick.”

“Sure you don’t,” Azzi nods, as she tugs Paige inside, grabbing the flowers and setting them aside. Paige lets out grunts of protest, but her body is clearly too tired to fight back as Azzi guides them into her room. She goes into her closet first, finding an oversized shirt for Paige to change into. 

“You know the getting undressed part comes after the date right?” Paige raises an eyebrow, practically glaring at the t-shirt 

“We’re not going on a date.”

“WHAT? Dude I’m fine. I have a reservation and everything,” Paige whines in between coughs as she watches Azzi rummage through her drawers for medication, “it’s our first date. I had plans.”

“I’m not going on a date with you looking all snotty and congested like that.”

Azzi suppresses a laugh at Paige’s offended sequel, “what happened to sickness and health?”

“Pretty sure that’s a marriage thing,” she hands Paige the pills and a glass of water, that the older girl obediently takes.

“Well we’re eventually gonna get married so you need to get used to that,” it’s said so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but it steals Azzi’s breath away, the words carving themselves into the walls of her heart. Sometimes she wonders if Paige understands the gravity of the things she says, understands how they make every part of Azzi come alive with hope for their future. She shies away from a smirking Paige, trying to hide the blush that’s creeping up her neck. 

“Just- just get changed,” she manages to stutter out. 

“I,” sneeze, “don’t,” cough, “want” sneeze, “to.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

“You have to get better P or coach will kill us both if you end up missing practice.”

“Going on a date with you would make me feel better.”

“Okay,” Azzi sighs, realising she needs to change tactics, “we’ll make a compromise. You’re gonna change-” she raises a hand when Paige tries to interrupt, “you’re gonna change and lie down, and if you don’t fall asleep in the next 10 minutes, we’ll go on the date.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow in concentration as she mulls it over, before a scheming glint appears in her eyes, “okay but on one condition,” her grabby hands reach for Azzi’s waist, a soft smile playing on her chapped lips, “you have to lie down with me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, letting the blonde pull her into her arms, her own hands encircling Paige’s back as the older girl snuggles into her neck with a content sigh. This is her happy place. In any room, anywhere, as long as she’s cocooned in Paige’s embrace, there’s a sense of serenity that seems to flood into Azzi’s veins. 

“I could fall asleep here,” Paige murmurs, hot breath fanning against Azzi’s collarbone, “you’re so comfortable.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to physically manoeuvre Paige onto the bed which only elicits a smirk against her skin. 

“If you wanted me in your bed Az, you could have just asked,” the older girl wiggles her eyebrows, earning her a small push from Azzi as Paige drags them both down into a mess of limbs and pillows. Cerulean blue eyes stare up at Azzi, a little bloodshot from the impending fever, but still blisteringly brilliant with love. It scares Azzi sometimes, to see all that emotion swimming in Paige’s eyes, all for her and it scares her even more to know that same pool of you’re it for me is reflected in her own too. Sometimes she worries they’re too young for this, too young to feel so much but then Paige smiles, and all of Azzi’s doubt flies away as she lets herself believe in forever. 

***

Paige doesn’t even really make it past five minutes, her sick body giving into the tiredness as she cuddles into Azzi, arms splayed over the younger girl's torso, as she keeps her head buried in her shoulder. There’s a content smile on her face as Azzi continues to run her hands through silky blond hair, brushing out tiny knots and waiting a couple of minutes, before she detaches herself from her girlfriend and heads to the kitchen. She’s not the greatest of chefs, but she’d like to think she’s skilled enough to try and make something that at least resembles chicken noodle soup. 

Azzi’s almost done when she feels a blanket being wrapped around her, two arms coming to wrap around her waist as she feels the weight of Paige’s chest pressed against her back, the older girl's head coming to rest in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“You’re already awake,” Azzi whispers, leaning her head back so she can brush her lips against Paige’s temple. 

Paige grunts, her voice nasally when she speaks, “you left and I was cold.”

“I have like three blankets on my bed you could’ve used.”

“Don’t wanna use blankets. Wanna use you,” Paige whispers, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s neck, making the younger girl shiver, “you’re much warmer.”

“Go pick out a movie to watch, I’m almost done with this.”

She can’t see it but Azzi can practically feel Paige’s raised eyebrows, as she dramatically sniffs the air, “you cooked? Babe I’m already sick, are you trying to get me sicker?”

“Wow. I slave over the kitchen for you for hours-”

“Maybe half-”

“HOURS! And you have the audacity to question my cooking when all you can make is buffalo chicken dip?”

“Hey, you love my buffalo chicken dip.”

“You keep telling yourself that baby.”

“It’s not nice to be  mean to your sick girlfriend,” Paige snickers as she makes her way to the couch in  Azzi’s room. 

“So you admit you’re sick then?” 

“Only sick to my stomach at whatever you’re gonna feed me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, pouring the soup into a bowl. She secretly loves when they get like this. It’s a reminder that no matter what other label they eventually put on their relationship, Paige will always be her best friend first. As soon as Azzi sits down on the couch, Paige is all over her, knowing exactly how to shrink her body so that all 6’0 of her fits perfectly on her girlfriend’s lap. This is Azzi’s favourite version of Paige really, the soft vulnerable babygirl that’s only for Azzi’s eyes, a far cry from the ultimate rizzler the rest of the world sees.

“Feed me,” Paige pouts and Azzi shakes her head fondly but does as she’s asked, holding a spoonful of chicken noodle soup in front of Paige’s mouth.

“Thought you were scared of my cooking?”

“Oh I am but the things we do for love,” the blonde says dramatically before letting Azzi feed her, “huh, that’s not half bad baby.”

“High compliments,” Azzi says mock-seriously, as she tries her own spoonful, “oh I kinda ate that.”

They both dissolve into giggles at that, falling into a comfortable conversation as Azzi takes turns feeding both herself and Paige, the dull rumbling of some random movie behind them. 

“You’re always taking care of me,” Paige says softly after a while, hand caressing Azzi’s left arm as she lies against her chest, feeling her heartbeat underneath her fingertips. 

“Someone has to,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s hair, “you take care of everyone else and I take care of you.”

“Sorry I ruined our date but trust, I’mma make it up to you,” Paige mumbles sleepily, digging herself further into Azzi’s arms if that’s even possible. 

“I’m sure you will baby.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more P.”

And if in two days, Azzi’s the one that’s sick and Paige’s attempt at making chicken noodle soup goes even worse, well, let’s just say it’s a good thing they have NIL deals and can afford a chef in the future.

4. me i fall in love with you every single day (and i just wanna tell you i am)

“Where are you taking me?” Azzi giggles, hands outstretched as she tries to navigate the path in front of her, despite being blindfolded. The salty sea air brushes through her hair, as she places one foot in front of another, letting Paige’s hands on her waist guide her across the cruise ship. 

“Be patient, we’re almost there,” Paige whispers against her ear, nervous anticipation building in her stomach. She’s been planning this night from the moment they’d booked the cruise tickets, wanting everything to be as near to perfect as possible. The thing is, they’ve been on plenty of dates, some even before they’d officially started calling them dates. But most of those dates have had to be carefully constructed away from prying eyes, their hands itching to hold the others but forced to dangle by their sides so they could keep up a façade in public, that this was just friends hanging out. The cruise is the perfect spot for a private date, one where Paige wouldn’t have to keep her hands to herself, not that she’s done a good job of that the whole trip anyway. But she’s found the perfect secret spot and spent just a little bit of money, to make sure the other cruise goers wouldn’t bother them tonight. 

“Are we there yet?” Azzi whines and Paige can’t help but laugh, finally pulling them to a stop.

“So impatient,” she tuts as she finally pulls away Azzi’s satin pink blindfold. 

“Yes well I’m star-oh…” Azzi blinks, eyes adjusting to the light as they flitter over her surroundings, the words being stolen from her lips as an awed look takes over her features, “Paige.”

“You like?” Paige bites her lips nervously.

“Do I like? Baby, this is beautiful,” tears sparkle in Azzi’s eyes as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, “it’s perfect.”

They’re standing on the bow of the cruise ship. In the distance, the island they’re docked at, is illuminated by lights, making it shimmer against the dark night sky. A table for two sits at the helm of the ship, adorned in a purple velvet table cloth. There are candles and pink and white rose petals scattered all across the floor, with a small path carved out in between so they can walk to the table. On the table, there’s a customised crystal centrepiece with their names carved into it and inside it is a bouquet made of pictures of them. It’s a little cliché really, especially for two people whose path to each other had been anything but traditional but all Paige has ever wished for is a moment of normalcy with Azzi, a moment where they’re not star players, just two girls in love, enjoying a typical date night, a moment where they’re just PaigeAndAzzi. 

“When did you even have time to plan all of this?” Azzi marvels out loud, as Paige pulls out a chair for her. 

“I have my ways,” the blonde says with a smirk, taking a seat opposite her girlfriend and reaching to entwine their hands together. 

“You didn’t have to do this P.”

Paige shrugs, “I wanted to. We deserve this.”

Azzi nods, squeezing Paige’s hand because god knows they do deserve this. It’s been a hellish year if they’re honest. The highs had been wonderful but the lows, god the lows had felt like the ground being pulled from beneath their feet as they gripped each other, holding onto the only thing in their lives that felt like a reprieve from the darkness that swirled around them. And really that’s it Paige thinks, life can throw whatever it wants at her, but as long as she has Azzi, she’ll learn to survive it. 

“You wanna dance?” Paige asks, when they’ve finally finished eating, somehow managing to find a way to hold hands throughout the whole three course meal. As if on cue, a violin quartet appears onto the deck, and Azzi laughs at the coincidence. It’s Paige’s favourite sound in the whole wide world. 

“You’re such a sap,” Azzi teases fondly as she lets Paige lead them onto the floor, “how many romcoms did you watch to come up with this whole thing?”

“Dude, are you doubting my abilities to come up with a perfect date?”

“I would never,” Azzi swears, leaning her cheek against Paige’s, “but seriously Bueckers, you’ve outdone yourself.”

The melody of “thinking out loud” on the violin with the light thrum of the sounds of the wind and the ocean, creates the perfect orchestra for them to sway to, as they press every inch of themselves into each other, trying to lose themselves in the other’s arm. That feeling of home, a resounding peace, echoes throughout Paige’s skull and she thinks if there was ever a memory she’d want to replay over and over again, it would be this one. 

“I’m gonna miss this,” Paige whispers, “being with you like this?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No I know- I just- I like being able to be us in public like we have this last week. I like not pretending.”

“What if-,” Azzi pulls back a little, eyes locking with Paige’s, “what if we didn’t pretend?”

Paige searches for a shred of hesitance in Azzi’s face, but finds nothing but complete resoluteness and a grin breaks out on her own face, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that even if we don’t say anything, maybe we don’t have to try and hide everything all the time either. I’m saying,” Azzi bites her lips, shyly smiling, “if you wanna hold my hand when we’re in public sometimes, you- you can if- if you want to.”

“I really, really, really want to,” Paige breathes against the brunette’s lips, hands rubbing circles against her waist. 

“Good,” Azzi whispers back, “because I really, really, really want you to.”

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Follow Me Down

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)

A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.

He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.

“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.

You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.

“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.

You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you. 

“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.

You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.

Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.

“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”

He was disgusting. 

“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.

You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.

Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.

“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you. 

You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?

After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Robert-” you started to bark.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.

You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.

“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”

Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.

“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”

He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”

Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.

“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”

You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked. 

He just smiled. 

“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.

As you started to walk away, he called after you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.

Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level. 

You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.

This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.

You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.

Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.

“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.

You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about. 

“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.

It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.

“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.

Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.

“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.

Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”

“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”

Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.

“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”

“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”

You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.

“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”

“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.

“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”

Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.

“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.

You were taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.

You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”

Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.

Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.

Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder. 

“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest. 

The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.

“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar. 

The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.

“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”

You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.

“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.

You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.

“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”

You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.

“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”

“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.

You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well,  you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.

You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.

“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.

Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.

“On your back.”

He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.

You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.

“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.

Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.

You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him. 

When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.

“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?” 

You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.

“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?” 

Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.

“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”

“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.

“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.

He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.

Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg. 

“Use me to get yourself off.”

Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.

“Robert-”

You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Mm, say my name, baby.”

He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.

“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.

Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.

“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”

Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure. 

“Fuck," you gasped.

Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.

You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.

“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.

You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.

“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual. 

“Poor little rich boy.”

It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.

“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.

You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.

“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”

Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.

He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”

In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.

“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.

“In your dreams,” you muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.

As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.

“There, was that so hard?”

Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.

“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”

You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”

You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered. 

“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”

He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”

His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.

“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”

His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.

“You- wish-”

Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper. 

“Fuck, Robert-!”

You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.

“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked. 

You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.

“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”

Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.

His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.

You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.

“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”

“Not… not inside,” you panted.

“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”

“Don't fucking come in me!”

Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.

Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.

Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.

You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.

“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”

You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.

Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”

You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.

“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed. 

Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

[untoldstar]

male yandere psychologist x fem patient reader [introduction]

warnings: heavily implied that the reader is a patient at a psych ward, obsessive behaviors and tendencies, abuse of power, toxic environment, yandere themes, might not show in this part but for the future Ivan takes advantage of the readers vulnerable mental state.

There aren’t intense scenes in this at all (as I see it) BUT as for the coming parts of this OC it still has to do with a character who struggles with mental illness, an extremely toxic psychologist who abuses his position and being in a psyche ward so if you feel like any of that sounds triggering or there’s a possibility it could be triggering I would urge you not to read this or other parts of this OC.

pls be careful what you read guys and stay safe mwah🫶

Tick..

Tick..

Tick..

Ivan taps his foot impatiently and pushes up his sleeve for the millionth time to reveal his wristwatch.

2:59 PM

Just a few more seconds..

Tick..

3:00 PM

Ivan smiles, his stiff body finally relaxing and just like everyday a knock is heard on his office door and in walks the nurse pushing you forward like a criminal into his office. He only spares the nurse and nod and a polite smile before his attention is directed at you, focusing on your every move anticipating what you’ll do next. You huff and plop down in the chair in front of his desk rolling your eyes "Ah [name], how are we doing today?" he clasps his hands Infront of him and stares at you expectantly.

Just like everyday.

‘Why does he ask the same question every day? What could possibly change in the matter of a single day? They should've made these cheek-up's weekly instead this is becoming such a pain.’

"Fine. Just like always." you answer curtly. He hums nodding "Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut to the chase today there’s something I must discuss with you.” You quirk a brow. You have to admit seeing the serious expression instead of the easy going one he usually has is a bit unnerving “I'm sure you already know that your..leave is to be expected soon." his lips twist in displeasure as if merely saying that has left a bitter taste in his mouth. You nod "Yes..what about that?" he sighs "Well, I'm afraid I've come to the decision that you'll have to stay a while longer, just to be safe." Your heart plummets. Sure you haven't been kissing Dr.Ivan's ass or being necessarily..nice to him but that shouldn’t have anything to do with your treatment. You know you've been getting better so what possible reason could have you stay here "Just to be safe? What is that supposed to mean?" you shoot daggers at him but he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by it "We’ve witnessed many patients show signs of improvement and seem like they’re ready to leave but there were also many instances where patients leave our facility and end up..falling into old patterns. Not that I expect that from you but I would like to guarantee your safety." You swallow the lump in your throat. Can they even do that? Is that even legal? "..How long?" a few beats of silence passes by while he blankly stares at you before answering "A month." Your shoulders drop down exasperatedly. Another month??

You feel frustration bubble up inside your chest. You feel hopeless as if you’re never getting out of here. You can’t take it you can’t take seeing the same hallways the same people this same fucking office everyday.

You don't say anything when you get up from your chair and start charging for the door "Our daily check up isn't quite done, my dear." His voice booms behind you "I don't fucking care." You spit back and go to reach for the door when his hands suddenly slam the door on either side of you, trapping you against it "Why are you always trying to leave me?" he whispers his shaky breath fanning against the side of your neck "..What are you talking about..Doc-" his hand clenches into a fist "Don't call me that!" You flinch trembling slightly "..I'm sorry I raised my voice, but I've told you countless times before you don't have to call me 'Doctor' my dear. Ivan is fine." You stay quite and he sighs "You won't even say my name.." he leans his head on your shoulder his body slumping almost exhausted from the interaction.

You hold your breath eyeing the door handle inches away from you "Why do you hate me so much?" his voice almost breaks "You roll your eyes at me, you barely say a few words in our daily sessions, You can't stand it when I go to visit you in your room.." he steps closer, his body now flush against your back "You throw a fit and almost walk out on me.." he moves his head to the side sniffing your heart and you hear him let out a groan “God I thought you’d be happy about staying here. All I want is for you to love me. Why won’t you love me? hm?” his arms slide down for the door to wrap around you squeezing tightly “Am I just the annoying psychologist your forced to talk to? Is that all I am to you?” he keeps talking almost in his own world too intoxicated by you, having you in his arms body flush against his your scent enveloping him “Damnit why won’t you-“ you take advantage of his vulnerability and decide to make a run for it, using the door to push back all of your body weight to at least have his arms off of you immediately taking a hold of the door handle and leaping out of his office, you run down the hall never looking back. You’re surprised he didn’t pull you back in maybe he was shocked maybe he wasn’t and he just..let you go. Whatever the case was you had to get as far away from him as possible.

Ivan’s left alone in his office panting, cheeks flushed and an obvious tent in his pants. He lets out a low chuckle looking far off into the hallway ‘Soon..i read of running away from me you’ll be running to me. I’ll make sure of it darling.’

[oracle-of-dream]

A Desperate Drink

This is a continuation of Under Pressure, please read that first if you haven't so you can be in order!

Summary: You've woken up next to Jake, remembering everything from before. But you were supposed to forget everything. Something must've gone wrong, you need to find a way out without getting caught!

Warnings: Enhypen Vampires, Male Reader, Drunk-Dazed Timeline, Suggestive themes, Psychological power manipulation, Body/Mind control

Wordcount: 3.6k

Your head was pounding, like a bad hangover, but you knew that you didn't drink that much last night. You looked at Jake next to you, sleeping soundly. His breaths were deep. He snored with a soft smile on his lips.

You shook him, "Jake, wake up."

He groaned in response, waving you away.

Shaking him harder, "Jake, something's wrong. Get up."

He pulled the covers over his head.

You could hear the blood rushing to your head as you hit him with your pillow, "Get up!"

Jake shot up, eyes wide and a wild look, "What's going on?"

"I still know who you are! Jake, you said I'd forget all this," You whined.

Jake looked down and fiddled with the comforter like there was something he wasn't telling you. He moved his pillow onto his lap, "Don't get mad–"

"What is it?" You grit your teeth, expecting the worst. You were a vampire now and going to outlive all your friends. You'd watch everyone you loved die and have to start eating people.

"I got scared and didn't bite you..." Jake raised the pillow to cover his face if you were ready to hit him again. When he realized you hadn't hit him, he continued, "I panicked and used my powers to knock you out instead. I was going to carry you out the window and take you somewhere safe, but my Jungwon came to check on us. So I pretended I bit you and fell asleep next to you."

So you weren't a vampire–that's good news.

"So what now? I just find my friends and walk out, right?" You asked.

Jake gripped the pillow again, "Not exactly... I ended up falling asleep instead of erasing your memory. And as a part of the erasing part, I'm supposed to give you instructions to go home to your bed."

You frowned, "Instructions?"

"We can hypnotize humans with our voices. You can't help but do what we say," He explained.

You tried not to be creeped out at the fact Jake could tell you to do whatever he wanted, but the thought was there.

"Usually, we command everyone to go home, and the house is empty by sunrise. Since we sleep all day normally and wake up when the Sun starts to set, I should be able to sneak you out," Jake climbed out of the bed to peek out the door. He waved you over, "I don't see anyone, so let's be quick."

You followed Jake as he led you out the door and down the hallway. Passing the door where you'd first met Heeseung, the door he'd pinned you against was ajar, but the room was completely dark. You felt a strange feeling to approach the door and enter the room. You knew you had to go, but it was just a peek.

Jake noticed you looking and gently pulled the door shut. He mouthed a name, Heeseung.

Your skin crawled at the feeling. Heeseung wasn't even in front of you, but he could still control you. You thought about your friends again. Hopefully, they made it out all okay, and none were his playthings. Then you remembered your phone! You pulled it out of your pocket– and it was dead. Great.

You got to the edge of the staircase, which overlooked the large living room on the first floor. It was still a mess from the party– sunlight rained down from the windows below. You started down the stairs when Jake let out a sharp hiss.

He was still in the hallway, looking at you on the stairs.

"Come on, I don't know this place," You whispered.

"I can't," He put his hand toward the light but pulled it away before he could touch it. "I'll find another way around," Jake turned around before walking back down the hallway, "I'll meet you downstairs."

You continued down the stairs. The whole house seemed abandoned, but you knew better now. Seven vampires lived here, six sleeping as you tiptoed around their home. Now that everything sat in the sunlight in the windows, you could see the dust covering some old furniture. A large portrait of the seven boys hung above the fireplace in the living room had the seven boys you'd met last night: Heeseung, Sunghoon, Jay, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki. They all looked the same as you'd met last night but with slight differences. Their hair colors and styles were different as their clothes looked like something from some old Victorian-style painting. You reached the bottom of the stairs. The only sound you could hear was your footsteps and your heart beating in your chest. The house was warm with light, but it had a certain coldness to it.

The living room still had confetti all over the floor, but it was a straight shot to the front door. You made your way there until something moved out of the corner of your eyesight.

Holding in the urge to scream, you turned to see Jay lying in a corner near the door with his eyes closed. He looked so normal and peaceful in his sleep, even snoring slightly. But he was also right next to the front door. You stepped toward him, and his head twitched at the sound of the floor creaking under you.

That's a no-go.

There were a few more hallways you didn’t explore last night. One path could lead to a back door. Or it could lead to another one of the brothers.

Jake was nowhere to be seen. You softly whispered, "Jake! Are you still here?"

No reply. You wanted to wait for Jake, but getting out before anyone else noticed you was a solid idea.

You moved to a hallway, where you'd bumped into that sharp-eyed man, the brother who didn't seem too interested in you, Sunghoon. Last you'd seen him, he knocked you off your feet and yelled at you about it. The hallway was dark and cold, but a whisper came from there. It called to you, beckoning you forward.

Following the whisper, you walked blind– deeper and deeper, following each turn. It was a long walk and dark, so you had to put a hand on the wall to guide you. Your eyes played tricks on you, seeing moving shadows in the darkness. They laughed at you, pointing crooked fingers as you stumbled blind. You kept focused on the path in front of you. The voice was getting louder as you got closer. Eventually, you made it to a massive open room.

You could hear water flowing, like a waterfall. Without the wall's support, your legs gave out under you, which forced you to crawl on the floor.

"Come closer to me," A woman called, "I can bring you safety here."

You crawled desperately. You didn't realize it earlier, but you were sweating heavily, and your throat was dry, even swallowing hurt.

She sensed your thirst, "I can give you sustenance. Drink deeply."

The sound of running water was closer now, getting louder until your hand hit a stone. The sound of the water under you made you put your hand out, reaching for the water– just a sip would be enough. The dehydration was unbearable. Your hand found the top of the wall and felt water splash onto it, a fountain! You used both hands to catch the water and brought it to your cracked lips.

It was delicious, reminiscent of the sting of fresh raspberries. You wanted more. You drink more handfuls, feeling the cold water wash over your body and cool you down. The coldness sank into you from head to toe. You didn't realize how thirsty you'd gotten, but you couldn't stop drinking. The water dripped onto your clothes, staining them, but it didn't matter to you. You just needed more.

"Y/n!?" Jake's voice came from behind you.

You wanted to turn to him but couldn't stop drinking. The water wasn't as delicious as the first few drinks, as it started to taste more like iron and was getting thicker. It made you sick. Your stomach hurt, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

"Y/n! Stop drinking! Please!" Jake sounded so far away, like a fading memory. But you felt his hand land on your shoulder.

You finally managed to pull away from the fountain to look over your shoulder as Jake. His face was blurry, but you could make out a concerned expression.

"Y/n, how did you get here!? You shouldn't drink that! It's not for you!" Jake scooped you up and carried you away. You felt the fountain call you, begging you to stay and drink more, but you felt weak and sick. You passed out in Jake's arms as he carried you, the smell of blood in the air.

You opened your eyes slowly, holding your stomach and slowly sitting up. You were in a bedroom with light pouring in from the window. The room was familiar, but– wait, You'd already seen this. You looked over, but Jake wasn't tucked under the covers with you this time. There were voices outside the door, muffled, but you could make out some words.

"Jake, what the fuck is the matter with you!? How could you let a human stay here!? And you let them walk around unsupervised!" One angry voice spoke.

"I'm sorry! It wasn't supposed to be like this..." Jake responded.

"So what do we do with him? Kill him?" Another voice asked, this one deeper and cold.

You panicked. The voices were going to kill you! You needed to get out of there. The window! You stood but quickly fell to your feet. Your stomach argued about moving so much, but you had no choice! Pushing yourself to your feet, you reached for the window— but your hand burned in the light that poured out of it.

You screamed in pain, rolling onto the bed away from the light.

The bedroom door burst open as Jake ran in, "Are you okay!?"

You hid your hand behind you, "Oh, y-yeah. My stomach is just really hurting."

The others slowly filled the room, Jake's six brothers. Jungwon looked furious. Sunoo smiled playfully. Heeseung winked at you. Jay seemed more concerned with Jungwon. Sunghoon and Ni-ki's expressions gave you nothing to go off of; they were deep in thought.

Jake helped you under the covers, "You should lie down. A lot is going on right now."

"Like, what?"

Jake looked at Jungwon, "What do we do?"

Jungwon sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "We have to study his reactions and see what we can do for you now. Tell him everything."

Jake turned back to you, sitting on the bed, "Okay, this is a lot, so just listen."

You nod, waiting for Jake to begin.

"Because of my irresponsibility in properly taking care of you, an incident has occurred," Jake spoke like he was giving a book report. Occasionally looking at Jungwon for approval, "When you walked alone in the house, you found a fountain. And drank the liquid in it, right?"

You nodded, "I did. I think I drank a lot."

"You did. And that's not good– we think. The liquid you drank was Blood. And a lot of it. Special blood. I can't describe it well, but we can only drink from it once a full moon." Jake touched your shoulder, "So, because of that. There might be side effects."

You tilted your head, "Like?"

Jungwon ripped the band-aid off, "You might be like us now. A vampire."

Your stomach churned in acknowledgment of his words.

"Because you're one of us, we can't risk you exposing our existence to the people. But you have a life outside of here, which is an issue because people will come looking for you."

Sunghoon spoke, "We can still kill them and hide them."

"And bring more humans to our home to look for us. Could we even risk that? We can't exactly move the fountain, and if they find it..." Jay shook his head as if the thought haunted him.

"That won't happen. And we're not killing. I'm sure y/n will work with us, right?" Jungwon asked, raising his eyebrow at you.

You swallowed hard. It was a lot of information, but you didn’t have a lot of choice. "So, I'm immortal now? Forever?"

Jake nodded, "But we'll try and find a way to fix you. You're not supposed to be like this, and I wouldn't wish this curse on anyone."

Jungwon spoke again, "So? What's your choice? Either toss you in the sunlight and watch you burn, or you can join us until we can get rid of you."

With such a great offer, how could you refuse?

"I'm with you. Please, don't toss me outside," You mumbled.

Jungwon smiled, "I wouldn't want to do that either. So let's try to get along. You can use the room if you want it. Jake can give you a tour, and you can pick out another room if you don't want this one."

"This one is perfect."

"Great. Jake, give him a tour. He's your responsibility for now since he's your fuck-up. I'm going back to sleep. I'll see everyone when it's Sunset," Jungwon commanded with a cute yawn as he walked out.

The other brothers left the room, leaving just you and Jake.

Jake smiled like a dork, "Welcome to the family, I guess?"

You punched him. Hard. "Jake, what the fuck!? I'm stuck like this, and you're cracking jokes?"

Jake rubbed his arm with a pained expression, "You should watch your strength! If I were a regular person, my arm would've broken. And I'm just trying to lighten the mood..."

You could've broken his arm with a punch like that?

You let out a yawn, "Well, what now?"

Jake giggled, "We sleep now. It's still daytime."

Sleep? It was probably around noon, but you were too scared to look out the window to guess. 

"Why do we have to sleep now?"

"We sleep during the day since we can go outside at night. That's why everyone was in such a bad mood since I woke them up in the middle of the day." Jake patted your head, "You're already tired, right?" His voice had a soft tone to it, lulling you to sleep.

You were only a little tired a moment ago, but your eyes could barely stay open now. You grabbed onto Jake's shirt tightly, "Don't do that... You shouldn't. Do–" Your head fell against the pillow as you fell into a deep slumber, your hand still attached to Jake's shirt.

Waking up for the third time in that house was the same as the first. You'd hoped it was all a bad dream, but seeing Jake sleeping next to you confirmed it was all real.

You were a vampire now—a member of an immortal household of handsome men who are brothers. And you can't even go outside during the daytime anymore.

You looked back at the hand you'd burned earlier, completely healed, and Jake was cuddling your other hand. Pulling your arm out from his grip, you replaced it with a pillow, which Jake happily accepted unconsciously.

The room was still and quiet, too quiet. You needed something to make noise. Even the sounds of passing cars or people on the street would be okay.

You escaped the bedroom without waking up Jake and started to explore the house. House was the wrong word– mansion fit it much better.

You passed that room from before, but you could see clearer into it now. Another vampire power was night vision, you guessed. Heeseung was lying in bed, sleeping. He was way too handsome, just like a vampire should be, even while doing nothing.

As if he could feel you watching him, "Like what you see, baby teeth?"

You almost jumped as he spoke because his voice came from behind you. Turning to see nothing over your shoulder, you looked back into the room and saw Heeseung standing in the doorway. He had a low-cut shirt and a draping cardigan with pants on.

"Looking for something, Baby Teeth?" He cooed.

"Who's Baby Teeth?"

He laughed, "It's you! The youngest vampire always gets called Baby Teeth. It's a tradition. But if you want, we can make it just an us kind of thing." He stepped out of his room. His energy was heavy and dripped out of him like honey, "I haven't had someone this cute in the house in a while. And now that you're staying, we can play a lot."

You stepped back, "You gonna drink my blood?"

"You're a vampire now, even if I did–" He got closer, "You could drink mine, and we'd be even."

"I'm not drinking anyone–"

Heeseung sighed in boredom, "Suit yourself. But you can only live like that for so long it'll get boring just drinking from the tap. It's way better from the source." Heeseung poked his nail into one of his fingers and let himself bleed a little, "You don't want to try, not even a little?"

Your mouth watered. That feeling of intense dehydration came back, but now you also felt like you hadn't eaten in days. You wanted to bite Heeseung’s finger off.

"Don't let your hunger control you. Take it easy. Let only a little out at a time, or you could bite off more than you can take," Heeseung warned. He put his finger toward you, letting you smell his blood, "Taste some, no tricks."

You hesitantly moved to grab his hand, but he pulled away.

"No hands, Baby Teeth. We use our mouths for food, so you’ll learn how– Jake's a lousy teacher. You can learn from me," Heeseung smirked as he moved his finger back to your lips. He poked them, getting his blood on them.

Your tongue instinctively darted out to taste it. It wasn't as good as the fountain, but it's a close second. You wrapped your lips around Heeseung's finger and sucked gently.

"Ah, there's a good boy," He moaned. He moved his hand, forcing you to follow it to his waist. You ended up on your knees, sucking his finger, while he watched with a playful look in his eyes. "You're bad at sucking blood, but I can teach you better. Let me," Heeseung took his finger from your mouth, much to your dismay.

You stood as you felt the urge to pin him to the wall and bite his neck. Your heart pumped, and your fingers flexed.

"Oh, how scary, Baby Teeth. You look like you're about to break, but we should be even. You tried mine, so I try yours." You lifted your finger, but Heeseung put your hand away, "Fingers are for you, Baby Teeth until you can handle more. I'm taking your neck. And since Jake fucked it, I'm your first time. I'll be gentle." Heeseung stroked your cheek, "So hold still."

You wanted to dodge him, but you were stuck.

Heeseung tilted your head to the side and leaned down to your neck, smelling and licking since you couldn't push him away. When he bit into you, there was a rush of ice-cold pain as you felt the blood drain out of your neck slowly. It hurt at first but then shifted into something more pleasing. It felt good. Heeseung shifted, putting his hand on your waist to pull you in as his other hand laced his fingers with yours.

You moaned embarrassingly loudly.

Heeseung pulled away, his teeth red and his mouth agape, "You taste good. Really fucking good. Better than anyone I've tasted."

Heeseung went down for seconds, but you started resisting, "Wait, I think we're doing too much now!"

"Don't fight me," He commanded, and your body relaxed instantly.

Just as he was about to bite you again, there was a snap at the end of the hall. "He said that's enough. I'm fine with you feeding off him consensually, but let's not do anything we'll regret. Right, Heeseung?" Jay was standing near the stairs, leaning on the wall.

"Jay, you've gotta try him. He's delicious."

Jay shook his head, "I'll bite if he offers. You're taking your lesson too far here. He's living with us now, so don't do anything to make things more difficult."

Heeseung let you go and turned to you, "I'm sorry about that, y/n. I don't know what came over me..." Heeseung couldn't look at you as he apologized and went into his room, closing the door behind him.

Jay approached you and wiped his hand on your neck, tasting some blood that was there. His eyebrows raised but went to a blank face, "Nothing special."

"Jay, is it normal for vampires to drink each other's blood?"

He shrugged, "We don't normally do it since we're all brothers. It's a little weird. But I heard some vampires would feast on each other to survive. But those were usually extreme cases." He waved you to walk with him, "I want you to be a little cautious. Since you're not one of us, some people might be interested in you. Intimately."

You tilted your head, "So you don't drink from each other because you're brothers?"

Jay nodded, "Pretty much. And we haven't had another vampire here in a long time. The last one was a girl that Jake got close to. But when she left, she did some pretty bad damage to him. He hasn't bitten someone since then."

You remembered Jake said it had been 100 years since the last time he'd bitten someone. It must've been pretty bad.

Jay continued, "Anyways, that's history. We should figure you out. But let's eat first..."