#but part of me is wondering if this is a sign that I need to finally learn

[astrologylunadream]

Messages From Your Soulmate!💌🍂🎀 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi, it's Lunadream🩷 In this reading you will find messages from your soulmate, what they want to tell you~✨️💭 So your soulmate can be the person that is meant for you, feel free to interpret any way you like! hope you find your message🧡

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your soulmate, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🍂🩷💌

Pile 1🎸

Pile 2🍂

Pile 3✨️

Pile 4🍁

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🩷

Pile 1🎸

Sign energy: Innocence, Spiral, Therapy, April, Even, Chiron, Virgo, Fire, Sagittarius, Aquarius,🎣🏃‍♀️✉️👈

🧡Your soulmate's energy: First of all this person is the sweetest! Their energy is just so soft and bright.😭 My pile 1's your soulmate is has a very pure soul and also a very innocent mind.💭 This soulmate is kind and loving, I'm also hearing fragile. They could have a sensitive side, they feel like a therapist because their energy is so caring and helpful.🥺🩷 The envolope emoji is definitely confirmation that this person wants to send you a message, haha. Some of you may know this person from online or a community, they could be going through something similar to you right now or have the same emotional wounds/sensitivities as you.🫂🎀 Your soulmate has a loving and nurturing energy towards you, they energetically feel any pain or difficulties you have and whenever you feel down. This person could have Virgo, Sagittarius, or Aquarius placements, Chiron in Aquarius or Virgo, Also fire energy is present here. April may be a significant time for your soulmate, maybe that is your meeting time or someone's birthday.🎂 This person is light hearted and enjoyable, it feels like you and this person are in similar situations or stage of life. Like if you're starting college or job, they are on the same page.🎓💼 This person watches you from a distance and wants to help you and be by your side, It is possible that this soulmate is going to be a coworker or someone you collaborate with.🤝 They have a bright smile that can cure depression I'm hearing, and this soulmate is a very healing connection for my pile 1's.☺️💞 It feels like you and this person have shared experiences, or part of the same community. Maybe they felt surpressed or unable to fit into certain expectations. Your soulmate is a free-thinker and you are both very like-minded. No wonder this is your soulmate because it feels like you are meant come together and heal eachother!🫶❤️‍🩹

💌Messages from them: Far away, Trial and error, Role, Hair, Follower, Water, Neptune, 5th house, Capricorn, Vertex, I wish I could control anything, Don't be so sad, It makes me nervous, I feel your pain, Your soul is mine, I like you, I understand you, You have so much worth,🤚✔️😫👇

Ohh okay so your soulmate wants you to know that they are far away right now, but they will do anything to follow you😢❤️ They want to play a role in your love life, and bring you the love and attention you deserve.👑💋 They want you to stay strong, they are taking steps to get where they need to be for you. It feels like this person is working hard on themselves right now, they want to be successful and able to provide and support you.💼💰 Your soulmate wants you to know they are going to give you everything, also they hope you won't waste your energy and time falling into obsession with every detail of your future spouse or into romantic connections that may not be realistic or true. They want you to know THEY are the real deal, a serious solid lover and not a one sided or half hearted relationship.👤🚫 Wow, your soulmate is possessive over you and wants to tell you that you don't deserve to be neglected or give your energy away with nothing in return, this energy is kinda ticked off tbh like that really bothers your soulmate. So they really hope you won't give in to toxic connections that aren't giving you any love or care.💔 Your soulmate wants to let you know that your pain is their pain and they hate seeing you upset, they want to be available to you right now.😭 Also another message is that your soulmate wants to let you know that your hair/head is very attractive.🩷✨️ They want you to know that they will inevitably find their way to you despite all the obstacles and trials. They're lightly complaining about how they wish they could take care of you and make things easier on you🥺💞 They feel a strong sense of responsibility to make sure you are okay and taken care of, they wish they could fill the care-taker role for you, like help you with your schedule and cook for you even🍵🍳 Your soulmate wants you to be confident in their existence, like "Yes pile 1 your perfect person is out there working hard to come to you", they don't want you to lose hope or overthink things but instead happily accept their promise and energy and let everything fall into place!💌 They are genuinely loving and attentive to you pile 1!

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the guitar emoji~🎸 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍁🩷

Pile 2🍂

Sign energy: Fight, Role, Mermaid, Jawbone, Children, 4th house, Cancer, Taurus, Vertex, 9th house,🔒🥇👗⛺️

🧡Your soulmate's energy: Aw this is cute! Your soulmate is really caring and comforting, especially for your inner-child🧸 They are very family-oriented and fiercely protective, like they would fight anyone who hurts their loved ones.😢🥊 Their jaw and neck are very attractive and noticable, also their voice is soothing and sweet. My pile 2's your soulmate is such a softie but strong, they're like a gentle giant on the inside!🥰💞 Also they have such a siren energy and vibe to them, they could have red hair like Ariel❤️ For those who this soulmate is a feminine, they wear beautiful dresses, also whether a feminine or a masculine they may often wear soft huggable clothes. This person is just so sweet I love their energy😭 They would make a great spouse or parent, they are very caring towards you like you're their baby. Their placements could be Cancer, Taurus, or Sagittarius, it's very likely for them to have 4th house placements. Your soulmate plays a crucial role in your home life, for some this could be someone who has lived overseas or is a foreigner settling down in a new country.🏠💕🛫 Family is extremely important to your soulmate, you will have a strong bond with this person. Also! Your soulmate literally gives the best hugs, the most comforting and loving cuddles😩🫂 You may meet them in their home country or abroad, but for some in your neighborhood. They will feel familiar to you, like you have known them forever. They have a good amount of feminine energy which makes them so caring and loving🩷 It's very likely that a lot of you in this pile will start a family with this person, even have children for some. But overall this person's energy just feels like home to you, I'm also hearing "number one dad/mom" that may resonate for some. Your soulmate may be someone you really want to tie the knot with, they're also someone really committed and devoted to their spouse or family💍👑 Your soulmate is definitely giving "trophy husband/wife" lol, I love how they're both extremely kind and gentle but they also have a fiery rougher side that comes out when them or their loved ones are theatened in any way.🔪🔥 Your soulmate may like the color blue, and interested in other countries and cultures. They are extremely caring and sweet to you.😫🩷

💌Messages from them: Career, First, Aura, Believe, Fishing, 8th house, Earth, South node, Fire, Pluto, Whatever, This is interesting, You make me blush, I want to hurt you so good, There's no chance, I want to surprise you, Your energy is so youthful, Kiss me and don't stop,🕺🪽🛸🎢

Alright so I was surprised by the suggestive energy that sort of popped out of nowhere lmao I guess that's what your soulmate means by wanting to surprise you😳❤️‍🔥 I wasn't expecting such passionate energy from them, they have a lot of romantic feelings and attraction towards you. They want you to feel their intensity and love for you, like they can't hide it omg. Your soulmate seems like the type to openly express their romantic/sensual thoughts and feelings for you🙈💋 I think they would be whispering sweet nothings to you right now, that's a lot of their messages honestly. I'm trying to keep this pile light, but your soulmate is real naughty😭 They also want to tell you that they're obsessed with you, haha also they're kind of a troublemaker like they are such a tease in a cute way.😜🌟 I think it's interesting that "career first" came out, I think they're trying to say either you or them need to focus on their stability and professions right now before coming together 🔜💼 I'm hearing "this is what I need to do", they want to make a solid foundation for you, this could also be because they want to move in with you and they feel like they need to have the means for that. Also this sounds hilarious but your soulmate wishes they could just abduct you like an alien and bring you into their life instantly😂😭 Lmao this person will definitely make you laugh, they're so funny. They really do want you with them right now, but they know they still have responsibilities to take care of at this time before they can finally have you💐 Your soulmate wants to properly shift into a stable and secure earthly energy before you are divinely united, they want to tell you that their life is like a rollercoaster and is too chaotic right now🎢🔥😬 They feel like they're not capable enough to have you. They want you to feel their loving energy and believe in them, believe that fate will bring them to you. Maybe they also feel like their energy may be too intense for you right now, and they need to raise their vibrations to meet your standard😊🩷 Your soulmate wants you to know that they are preparing themselves for you, becoming their best self to present to you. They might be coming sooner than you think, because they feel a little impatient to be with you.😅 But they're resisting impulsiveness in order to make sure they are right for you.💍

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the fallen leaves emoji~🍂 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍁🩷

Pile 3✨️

Sign energy: Lovesick, More, Sarcasm, Cinderella, Options, Air, Fire, 7th house, Uranus, 1st house,✔️🫂🟨👩‍🔬

🧡Your soulmate's energy: Ah so interesting, your soulmate is uniquely beautiful☀️ The second you meet them you will notice how they aren't quite like anyone else, something about them definitely stands out.🤭🩷 For some reason I'm getting that a lot of people may be envious or out to get this person, their individuality makes others on the fence. Your soulmate is experimental and they may not have a set ideal type. Your soulmate is very innovative especially in their relationships, oh you know they might be a fire or air moon🌙 Libra or Aquarius placements, Aries, 1st house aspects, their energy has a lot of duality. They can be feminine or masculine, wild or tame, dreamy or realistic depending on the time or mood. Your soulmate has a lot of contacts and close relationships, I'm also seeing lots of options romantically take that however it fits. Blue and yellow are significant colors for them, maybe those could be favorite colors💛🌊 I feel like this soulmate doesn't like fitting into gender roles/labels, they desire something new and different💡💭 This pile could either go two ways, for the first half of you, this person is a hopeless romantic and Impulsive with finding love/suitors❤️‍🔥🔍 For others are the complete opposite and maybe stopped caring about love and relationships because they don't want to feel constrained and vulnerable.💍🚫 Now I am seeing the duality of the terms "hopeless romantic" and "hopeless romantic" if you know what I mean☹️💔 This person may have tried several dating apps or hoped to find the one but none of the options clicked with them. Your soulmate may be very disappointed or even disgusted by love, I'm hearing "I want something more" that could be their thoughts on love🥀 For some of you this person may look like a player or like they have a lot of suitors, but they just roll their eyes because they can't feel any spark with those people. They feel like they still haven't found the one, their soulmate, which is pile 3🥰 I'm hearing this person is not settling for something dull, they want to find a real passionate and unique romance that lights up their world🩷✨️

💌Messages from them: Mouth, Legs, Taste, Vent, Friendly, Eros, Moon, Vertex, Aquarius, Pluto, I wish I could control it, Think of me, I'm stuck with you, It's not me, You have a future ahead of you, I love the way you dress Your fantasies are unreasonable, I wanna take you down,🧎‍♂️🙏🏍🧩

Okay this is interesting, I actually forgot to mention a lot of you may start out as friends with your soulmate, but there is a really strong energy of friends with benefits.😳 Honestly for some of my pile 3's your person is a freak and they can't hide it, they might even try to stay in the friendzone for their sake or yours.😭💋 So anyway, your soulmate has many messages for you, in a way that they kinda want to vent to you right now lmao. Your soulmate would tell you they're on their knees praying for you to walk into their life.🙏🩷 And this is your soulmate but not necessarily your next partner, so they're honestly afraid because they feel like they have no control over your fate and they don't know for certain if you will choose them or fall for someone else💔 Their heart is pouring out from their words my pile 3's they wish you were with them right now. I almost said future spouse lol but yeah your soulmate is being very open with you about how possessive and insecure they are feeling because they aren't yours.😰💌 I think this person might not know you two are meant to be, they want to hold on to you tight pile 3. This person is afraid of losing you (or never having you) tbh too they get really turned on by you but they can't control it they just feel so attracted to you.❤️‍🔥😫 This may get in the way of your friendship at the beginning of this connection, so they try to hide it. Your soulmate hopes you will think of them as more than a friend, also they wanna tell you that you always dress really nice🫦👀 I think mainly it feels like your soulmate wants to rid of the buddy-buddy energy between you both, they don't like acting friendly to you and want to be closer to you in a more intimate romantic way🫢♨️ So that's what they want you to know, maybe they're afraid of you seeing them as a friend when you meet them or of you've already seen them that way. They also feel like you have strange requirements in love but they want you to know they can fulfill those unlike anyone else.🫣💌 They want to tell you they're your perfect match, I'm thinking "match your speed" however that resonates. Your soulmate also wants you to know how much they care about you and that you bring them the most comfort.🫂🩷 I'm hearing "You are my missing piece"😢💖

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sparkle emoji~✨️ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍂🩷

Pile 4🍁

Sign energy: Childhood, Affect, Gold, Unafraid, Trauma, Uranus, 2nd house, Earth, Mercury, Sagittarius,📿⛸️🎤🟪

⚠️Note: Brief mentions of verbal mistreatment, proceed with caution!

🧡Your soulmate's energy: Okay this pile may be a little sensitive topic, but your soulmate may have some childhood trauma.☹️ Especially verbal abuse or being treated differently, your soulmate may have felt like an outcast.💔 I think this affected their self worth and caused them to feel like they lack value in some way, so this person tries to accommodate by becoming more beautiful, richer, smarter, ect. I am definitely seeing your soulmate rising above those who looked down on them, and their current energy is now stable and successful.✨️ They don't let anyone bring them down, and now they have very strong boundaries and high standards. Your soulmate is unique and may be from another culture/religion than you, for some they may have converted to a different religion from what they were raised in. Ice skating may be significant, also they may be a public speaker, singer, or lecturer and they are quite financially stable in their career.💼💰💸 Your soulmate has such a grounded energy, like no one can affect them because they are so strong and successful.👏 Your soulmate wears jewelry or luxury items like watches, handbags, earrings, fancy stuff. Purple is a significant color here, your soulmate could definitely be rich. My pile 4's soulmate has an inspiring life story, like their life could be made into a movie lol.🎥🎞 They have such a fancy vibe about them, also a nice voice. This person could be an online beauty influencer for some, but I'm also seeing that as this person definitely loves online shopping.👜🏷 Signs for them could be Aquarius, Taurus, Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, also placements like uranus in 2nd house, mercury in earth signs or sagittarius, uranus in sagittarius, chiron conjunct mercury or uranus. Omg pile 4 your soulmate is so pretty?? Their beauty has a radiating affect on others, so graceful and charming.👑 They could definitely wear golden jewelry and accessories, I'm imagining wrist wear for some of my pile 4's. Also maybe a gold-ish skin tone? Lol their skin just glows, your soulmate is a stunning and expensive person!!

💌Messages from them: Makeup, Message, Treat, Leo, Invitation, Pisces, North node, Vertex, Aquarius, 10th house, It's hard to make this work, Don't compare yourself, I know, Seriously? I think we're alike, Let me know, They're just jealous, What did I do?🧣🐈😔🛸

Haha ok this is interesting, so your soulmate wants to tell you that even if things get tough, please don't be hard on yourself pile 4🥺💖 They don't want you to blame yourself for difficult times, or compare yourself to others that seem more successful or achieved than you. Also specifically they don't want you to compare yourself to beauty influencers or celebrities, your soulmate is saying that no one wakes up effortlessly attractive or accomplished and not everything is as it seems.🔍🚫 That message is really coming out strongly from your soulmate, they hate seeing you upset or feeling like you aren't good enough. Your soulmate hopes you will treat yourself with pride, respect and self love🩷✨️ Also for some of my pile 4's your relationship with this soulmate may recieve public recognition and even jealousy, so your soulmate wants to let you know that won't keep you two apart.🌹 I'm hearing people making up rumors and delusions about you two, but your soulmate doesn't want you to let them affect you. Also only for some but you may get an opportunity to work with your soulmate, could be an online campaign or some sort of collaboration that will bring attention to you both.👀📸 I am seeing some of my pile 4's might compare themselves to this soulmate, and they are here to assure you that you two are no different. It may seem like this person is more efficient or ahead of you in some way, but they want you to know that they are not as great as they appear and they make mistakes just like anyone else.☹️💓 Your soulmate really wants you to know that you are just as good as anyone else, they want you to remember your worth. You are someone admirable to them, they themselves are a greatly respected and loved person but they only see you.🔗🩷 So pile 4 your soulmate wants you to keep your chin up and love the person you have become! They are so proud of you and they are your biggest supporter, they believe in you.🥰

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🤗🎀

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the orange leaf emoji~🍁 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🍂🩷

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[leighsartworks216]

Spring Wedding

Sylus x gn!Reader

I am trying to post this so fast before my class begins oh lordy

Edit: changed "my dearest" to "my beloved"

Warnings: past relationship, minor references/implications of emotional/mental abuse, backhanded compliments, protective Sylus, fake relationship

Word Count: 824

Masterlist

AO3

You hold tighter to Sylus's hand, your other hand wrapping around his elbow and hugging his arm to your chest to keep you as close to him as possible. Sylus notices right away, but before he can ask what’s wrong, a voice calls your name from several feet away.

“Is that really you?”

Despite your obvious signs of discomfort, you turn to the voice and plaster a smile on your face. Sure enough, your ex was there in the flesh. Memories of the backhanded compliments and insistence on pushing boundaries fill your mind, alighting every nerve with the desire to run. “Oh, wow, hi! I didn’t expect to see you here,” you greet with faux enthusiasm.

The person can’t seem to keep their eyes off you, ignoring your partner for the night entirely. Sylus had your outfit perfectly tailored and detailed to match him tonight, but the way they studied you made you want to cover yourself with his jacket. You wonder if he’d let you.

Sylus squeezes your hand, a silent question. You respond immediately, the tips of your nails beginning to dig into his knuckles.

“You look amazing! I haven’t seen you in so long, I almost didn’t recognize you. That training really shaped you up,” they chuckle.

You cough politely, a distraction from answering their… compliments.

“Sweetie,” Sylus pipes up, leaning closer to you, “you haven’t introduced us.” His smirk is smug and intimidating, but you can see the fire in his eyes. Your ex doesn’t notice, too busy taking in every intricate detail of your face like an art curator at a high-end museum.

“Oh, right!” You nod toward them, introducing them by name. “We dated in high school, before I went off to the Hunter’s Association. And this is Sylus, my-”

“Their husband.” You discretely pinch his arm. Sylus laughs. “Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist. I just love how it sounds.”

The ex blinks, as though they’ve just been rudely awoken from a dream. “Husband? What? When did you get married?” Their question emphasizes the fact it’s you, rather than the union itself.

If this is the game Sylus wants to play, you have no choice now but to play your part. “Oh, it was last spring! It was beautiful! The ceremony was held underneath cherry blossom trees and a full moon.”

They raise an eyebrow, a taunting grin dancing unsurely on their lips. “And you didn’t think to invite me?”

“No,” Syus answers. It’s sharp, abrupt, leaving absolutely no room for questions. It wipes the look off their face.

They look you up and down, frowning. “I don’t see any rings.”

Sylus chuckles again, tilting his head in a belittling fashion. “Rings are hardly enough of a symbol for our love. I crafted them a set of guns. Why don’t you show him?”

You smile as you play along, letting go of Sylus’s elbow to retrieve the gun holstered at your thigh. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? He designed every aspect of them, down to the design on the grip.” With years of firearms training under your belt, you maneuver the weapon skillfully around your fingers, before slotting it back in place, reminiscent of old world cowboys. You replace your hand on his arm, beaming as you look up at him. “Show them the knife I made you, darling.”

“Of course, my beloved.” Oh, he was enjoying this much more than he let on. He pulled out a hunting knife from his belt, deftly spinning it around his own fingers before balancing it by the tip on his finger. “I just need to find an opportunity to try it out.” He tests the weight of it in his hand, as though trying to decide the best way to skin an animal. With the way he’s looking at your ex, it’s clear just who he’s thinking of testing it on.

They swallow at the thinly veiled threat. “Th- They look really nice!” they stammer. They try to laugh it off, but it comes off thick and anxious. Their grin is shaky at the corners. “Well, it was, uh, nice to see you again.” Seeming at a bit of a loss for how to extricate themself from the situation, they land somewhere between bowing and waving, before scurrying away. Sylus tucks the knife back in his belt.

You feel like you can breathe again once they’re out of earshot.

You sigh, mask slipping, and lean heavier into Sylus’s side. He squeezes your hand softly. “Thank you for scaring them off.”

He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. How could I possibly let my spouse suffer their existence any longer than necessary?”

You snicker. “I’m not your spouse, you don’t have to keep pretending anymore.”

“No? Damn. And I was already making arrangements for our spring wedding.” He puts his hand on his chin to mime thinking. “Under cherry blossoms and a full moon, hm?”

“Oh, shut up.”

[thefallennightmare]

Masked: Stalker!Noah Sebastian-Part One

*gif created by me. Please feel free to use this, just give credit. All pictures for the covers are not mine, all found on pinterest. *

Pairings: Stalker!Noah Sebastian x Reader.

Warnings: this will be a very dark romance-inspired three parter, you have been warned. angst, fluff, language, stalking, breaking and entering, watching someone sleep, blood, some medical talk, a scene of someone receiving stitches, murder, torture, and smut which includes p in v, primal play, knife play, mask kink, chasing through words, consensual nonconsensual, oral with female and male receiving, fingering, possible anal play, edging,

Summary: Readers' sex live had been anything but exciting for years. Curiosity peeks when she stumbles upon a website where people sign up to meet strangers for a wild night of sex based on similar kinks. She meets a masked man that opened up her eyes to a world of different sexual kinks and when the night is over, she's ready to move on. The masked man, however, is not. One imprint of her on his skin is enough to make him obsessed. He'll do whatever he can to make sure she is his; whether she agrees or not.

Authors Note: as I mentioned, this is going to be very dark. So if any of the warnings are not for you, please don't read. I understand everyone has limits and that's okay! This will be a total of three parts that will be posted throughout the month of October! Part one is very tame but I promise part two and three will make up for it!

Tags[OPEN]: @blueskylinesx @artificialbreezy @collidewiththesavannah @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chewyylynn @joe9cool @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lma1986 @amelia-acero @poisongirl616 @badomensls @tosoundlessdarkistare @ooh-whatever-nevermind @shayeanna-ashlie @sweetlittlekitsune @theanarchymuse95 @fadingintothegrey @xserenax-13 @hayleylatour @klutzy-kay24 @rumoured-whispers @omensbrainrot @mapsychoticimagination @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @idwt-money @mrsnoahsebastian

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL OR HAPPENED.

READER

I gnawed ruthlessly on my bottom lip as I continued to stare at my laptop screen, wondering if what I was about to do was a good idea. Surely I had to be insane to even think of this. I should have ignored Missy, my coworker and fellow E.R nurse, as she rambled on about this website while we were at work yesterday. She rambled on about how she signed up for a wild night of sex with a random stranger, I blanched at how nonchalant she was about it. When I expressed my concerns about the safety of this website, Missy explained how everyone has to go through a background check and need to upload a copy of an STD test. Whoever created the website wanted everyone to be safe, in more ways than one. 

The topic of this conversation was brought up when I mentioned how it had been nearly six months since I last had sex. But it had been extremely difficult to find a man that could satisfy the needs I had. To which Missy told me about this site. She had met four different men from it and claimed it was some of the best sex she’s had. 

After I muttered a quick fuck it to myself, I was now sitting in the darkness of my living room as I put in my information on this dreaded website to hopefully find a sexual partner that matched my own wants and kinks. I thought I knew what I was into but clearly, after reading this checklist I needed to mark off, I realized there was more to sexual experiences than I thought. 

Mask kink? Definitely. 

Knife play? Sounds dangerous but I’ll try it. 

Primal play? Yes please. 

Wait, am I reading this right? Piss kink? I’m not one to kink shame but no thanks. 

Praise kink? Call me a good girl and I’ll be on my knees faster than you can count to two.

I spent the next few minutes filling out the questionnaire. I had to look up what somnophilia meant and after some deep consideration, I marked it as a yes, but with limits. 

Once my important documents were uploaded, I had to choose a safe word and a code word for when me and my partner would finally meet up. Safe word was mercy and our code word was the coyote's cry. 

“If I get murdered, I’m going to come back and haunt Missy for talking me into this.” I grumbled while sitting back on my couch as I waited for the match results to show up on my laptop. 

Even though the prospect of this was daunting, I desperately needed a night like this. Ever since I graduated highschool and started med school, I worked non stop until I was finally able to land my dream job working in one of the top hospitals in Los Angeles. My bosses could always count on me to get the nasty work done and stay extra hours if need be. I was always loyal and never took off unless I was sick; which was rare. I spent all of my younger years studying and never had the chance to express or find myself. Now at twenty six, I was determined to live my life how I wanted.

A loud ping from my laptop pulled me from my thoughts and I sucked in a breath at the message on screen. 

You’ve got a match!

With shaking fingers, I clicked on the message and was now staring at a profile of a man donned in a black ski mask with odd white symbols. His dark eyes pierced into my soul and I felt hot all over. I was pinned to my couch unable to move as I read over his very limited profile. Due to being anonymous on the site, names were forbidden so his profile name was Masked.Omen while mine was Dark.Angel. At the bottom of his profile showed everything he was into sexually and I couldn’t help but internally smirk when I realized we were into a lot of the same things; give or take a few things I hadn't heard of. 

One thing caught my attention and it was when and where we would be meeting. In two days at a halloween party. The address was listed and after doing some research, I found out it was on a secluded manor grounds, far away from the city I currently lived in. The size of the manor was triple the size of my apartment and I couldn’t help but wonder if he lived there. Along with where we were meeting was the details of our sexual excursion. 

Primal play. Get ready for a hunt.

“Wait,” I muttered while looking at the details even further. “Halloween Party? So there will be other people there?”

My heart rate picked up momentarily because how was I going to be able to spot this man out in a large group of people? How would we have sex with other people there? I did not choose “orgy” as an option. A threeway with another man? Sure. But not multiple partners. 

“What the fuck did I get myself into?” I groaned while snapping my laptop shut. 

I had two days to find a costume when Halloween was so close, meaning I had slim pickings. Tying up my hair into a claw clip, I slipped into my shoes and tossed my bag over my shoulder, the prospect of hooking up with a total stranger bringing a small smile to my lips. 

Was I a sick fuck for it? Possibly. But I didn’t care. I accepted that I was into the darker type of things years ago. I was never ashamed of it and I refused to let others shame me. But the sexual partners I had in the past couldn’t quite meet my needs. Of course, I wanted to go into this night with no high expectations because this masked.omen could very well be like every other guy I slept with. 

Boring and quiet. 

As I took down the steps of my apartment towards my car that was parked in the parking lot, I pulled out my phone to send a quick text to Missy. 

Me: If I get murdered because I took your advice and meet up with this stranger, I’m going to come back and haunt your ass. 

Missy: Oh, who did you match with?

Once I was settled in my car, I replied. 

Me: Masked.Omens. 

It was a few moments before Missy replied. 

Missy: No fucking way! 

Missy: I’ve seen his profile on that site for months but no one ever matched with him! I’m not going to lie, I’m low key jealous because his profile pic is so fucking hot. That mask? Sign me the fuck up. 

Missy: I can’t believe you got matched with him! No one has ever matched him. It’s so hard. Trust me, I’ve tried to rig the site so I can match with him. I have a few other friends who are on that site and they also never match with Masked.Omens. Much to their dismay.

Why did that little bit of information fill me with a sense of pride? 

Because you’re fucked up and you love the attention. 

Ignoring the voice inside of my head, I typed back to Missy. 

Me: Consider me a lucky gal. At least I’ll get murdered by a sought after masked man. 

Missy: I’ll tell everyone you went out with a bang. Literally. 

Rolling my eyes, I dropped my phone into the cup holder and pulled the car out of the parking spot, heading towards the nearest Spirit Halloween. 

READER

The bass of the music vibrated against my chest as I walked up the long driveway towards the dark estate. And not dark because of the moon up in the horizon. Dark from its exterior that was painted black. The only source of lights were spot lights scattered throughout the yard and the orange string lights wrapped around the four posts on the front porch. As I neared the front door, I adjusted the large black wings on my back and pulled at the short skirt, trying yet failing to cover my ass. 

As I suspected, the selection of costumes at Spirit Halloween was small. Either the dark angel costume I was currently wearing or a hot dog. 

The black corset was tight, a size too small, but it made my breasts look fantastic so I tried not to complain too much. The fishnets I wore were littered with gems, which would sparkle when they caught the light just right. Never being a heel type of woman, I decided on wearing my black combat boots. My long hair fell around my shoulders in waves and I was sporting a red smokey eye and blood red lipstick. I couldn’t help but stop and stare at my reflection for a few moments before leaving my apartment earlier which ended up making me late tonight. Masked.Omens and I were supposed to meet around 8 p.m. but it was nearing nine by the time I stepped through the front door of the packed house. Almost immediately my eyes caught sight of a large happy birthday banner on the banister of the staircase

We were able to send messages between the partners we match with on the site so I sent Masked.Omens a quick message as I got into my car earlier. 

Dark.Angel: Hi, sorry if this seems weird that I’m messaging you before we even have a chance to meet but I wanted to let you know I’m running late. Not sure if you care or not. Or if you’ll even be there tonight. For all I know, you probably haven’t been signed in on here for months and I’m coming to meet a ghost. Well, it wouldn’t make sense since you sent the meet up instructions. Unless it was already predetermined. 

Dark.Angel: Sorry I’m rambling. I’ll be there closer to nine. If you even still want to meet up after my insane message. 

Dark.Angel: I’ll be dressed as a dark angel. See you soon. Again, sorry.

I had a tendency to ramble on when I got nervous and I couldn’t help but worry I scared Masked.Omens away because he never replied. 

I saw a variety of different costumes as I pushed myself farther into the house. Couples were making out against the couches or the walls while groups  of people were playing a variety of different drinking games. Nerves ate away at my insides when the realization of exactly what I was here to do began to set in. For the last couple of days, I went back and forth with the reasonable part of my mind on if this was a good idea or not. I needed this; craved a night to let go and forget about the horrors I saw every day at work. Forget about the rough upbringing I had. Both of my parents gave up on me when I decided to go to medical school rather than take over the family restaurant. It wasn’t me, it wasn't what I wanted. They weren’t happy that I was twenty six and still not married and they didn’t have any grandchildren. 

Again, something I didn’t think I wanted. 

The pressure from my parents and med school the last eight years were enough to make anyone snap. So even though I was hesitant about tonight, it didn’t surprise me that I was here about to have sex with a stranger. I atleast knew my other sexual partners. 

The only thing I knew about Masked.Omens was the colors of his eyes; dark as the sky in a raging storm. And we had similar kinks. 

I felt burning gazes on my back as I stepped farther into the house, most gazes on my ass, and I did my best to ignore the inflating ego that was beginning to creep in. I always loved when the attention was on me but I was always collected about it. I never let it affect the way I treated myself or others. When I pushed my way into the kitchen, I made a direct line towards the large island that held all of the drinks. My eyes lingered over each of the bottles with my bottom lip caught between my teeth. I wasn’t much of a drinker, opting to have a glass of red wine every now and then, however with the nerves about tonight, I felt like filling my veins with some liquid courage. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

My gaze snapped up to a voice thick with an accent and felt my breath hitch at the sight of a man in front of me. He stood on the other side of the island, long hair pulled back into a low bun to showcase his black eyes. A nose ring glimmered in the low lights from the kitchen and the facial hair that covered his face was perfectly trimmed. 

“Uh,” I licked my dry lips. “What do you recommend? I usually drink wine so I’m not familiar with hard liquor.”

The man gave me a heart stopping smile before turning towards the fridge and pulled two bottles out. 

“Red or white?” He questioned. 

“Red please,” I smiled, watching as he poured the scarlet liquid into a glass he grabbed from one of the cabinets. 

When he handed the glass towards me, I noticed tattoos on his fingers. 

“Thank you,” I brought it to my lips and internally hummed at the delicious taste. 

“Are you meeting someone?” He asked while extending his hands across the edge of the counter, showcasing his muscles underneath the long sleeves of his sweater. 

I nearly choked on my drink. Did this man know who I was here to meet someone? Was he Masked.Omens? 

“Um, no-well, maybe. Yes?”

He let out a deep rumble of a laugh and it was then I noticed he wasn’t dressed in costume but I did say anything about it. 

“I’m Joakim.”

“Joakim?” I cringed at how bad I pronounced it and feared I offended him until his laughter was now a booming echo over the music. 

“You can call me Jolly,” he said with a bright smile. 

“Now if I mess that up then there’s something wrong with me,” I joked before taking a long sip of my wine. “I’m Y/N.” 

We chatted for a few moments before another man came up beside Jolly, smacking him on his shoulder. His hair was as dark as Jolly’s but it was falling around his shoulders. He had tattoos covering his arms and I noticed he also wasn’t dressed in a costume. 

“Did you guys not get the memo of a costume party?” I teased, setting down the empty glass on the counter. 

“Can’t you tell?” The new man spoke. “We’re dressed up as rockstars.” 

I smirked as Jolly filled my glass again. “Now that’s weak.” 

The man joined mine and Jolly’s conversation and I found out his name was Nicholas. They were best friends and lived here with their two other friends. I told them about how I was a nurse in the emergency department at the local hospital. It was an easy going conversation with both of them and with the second glass of wine finished, I felt myself loosen up. 

“Well, Y/N. I hope you have some fun tonight. I need to steal Jolly for a bit so we can deal with a couple that had a little too much to drink and they’ve locked themselves in the bathroom,” Nichols said. 

Giving them a small wave, I watched them leave the kitchen as I found myself alone; again. With a peek at the clock on the stove, I noticed it was nearing ten p.m, almost two hours after my original meet time with Masked.Omens and I was beginning to question if he really was here tonight. 

I could find someone and ask if they’d seen him here. 

A snort erupted from my throat when I realized how stupid that idea was. I didn’t know what this guy looked like beneath the mask and with the amount of guys I can count in this room alone who were donning a mask, the task of finding Masked.Omens was impossible. 

“I’m starting to think I was right,” I muttered to myself before drowning the rest of my wine. 

I was about to turn on my heels, ready to leave the party and forget about ever signing up on the website when I felt a strong hand at my side, gripping me. I went rigid in the unfamiliar grasp and just before my flight or fight kicked in, a distorted voice sounded in my ear. 

“The coyotes cry in the woods behind the house.”

My skin was set ablaze and my pussy clenched, knowing what those words meant. I tried to look over my shoulder at the man but leather fingers pushed my chin forward, forcing me to look out the patio doors towards the dark woods behind the house. It sounded like he used some kind of modulator to distort the way his voice sounded. 

I gulped as my voice came out weak. “How do I know it’s you?” 

Even though he said the code word, I couldn’t be too trusting especially with what we were about to do. 

“Don’t worry, angel. You’re not meeting a ghost. Fuck, you smell so good,” his lips grazed over my ears and my body shivered at not only his touch but the nickname. It was clear he read my messages to him earlier. Without a doubt, the man looming behind me was Masked.Omens. 

“I’ll give you a five minute headstart and when I find you, I’m going to fuck you so hard that your screams of pleasure are going to be drowned out by my cock snapping in and out of your tight cunt.”

Gone was the warmth at my back, a chill blanketing over me with his declaration of what he was going to do to me tonight. 

No. His promise. 

“And if I say no?” I retorted back while glancing over my shoulder towards him, seeing pink and plump lips through the mouth hole of the mask. 

A breathy chuckle tickled the back of my neck when he shifted his position. “This is what you signed up for. If you want an out, just say the safe word and you’re free to walk out the front door.” 

My silence was my answer. Even if I was scared shitless about what was to come, there was no way I was going to turn back now. I had one foot in the door, might as well drag the other inside. 

“Should we maybe go over some rules?” I asked, my voice giving way on how nervous I was. 

The man behind me let out a low rumble in his chest as his fingers dragged through the feathers of my wings. There was a long beat of silence and if he wasn’t ruffling my wings, I would have thought he left. 

“We already have a safe word. What other rules would you want?” His distorted voice made me shudder. 

I shrugged. “We also already know each other's limits, although you don’t have nearly enough as I do. I guess, once you catch me, that means this is done?” 

The man made a noise that sounded ruthless because of whatever he was using to distort his voice. 

“The game ends when either you say the safe word or when you’re screaming your release.”

Fuck. 

How has this man, this stranger, had such an effect on me? I had no idea what he looked like underneath that mask which should scare me. Instead, it was the complete opposite. I wanted his to ravage me in the dirt, fuck me until I could barley walk once we were done.

“Okay,” I breathed. 

“Five minutes until you’re choking on my cock,” soft teeth nipped at my neck before the warmth was gone from my back. 

Whirling around, I nearly choked on my breath when I saw a tall figure leaning against the far wall of the kitchen, next to Jolly and Nicholas. The man wore a mask, the same mask from his profile picture with the white symbols on the front of it. 

Masked.Omens. 

His body was hidden underneath a black jacket, black turtleneck, and black cargo pants. His left ankle was crossed over his right, showcasing the heavy boots he wore. 

I wonder if he’d let me kiss them or maybe step on my throat if I asked him. 

I shook my head at the very detailed intrusive thoughts. Clearly I’d gone so long without sex that my mind thought it was a societal norm to run my tongue along the leather soles of his boots or have them crush my windpipe. 

“You’re so fucked up,” I conversed with myself but then shrugged, realizing a long time ago how fucked up I truly was. 

Movement caught my attention away from his boots and I realized he’d been shaking something in his hand. 

A phone. With a timer. Counting down. 

3 minutes and 23 seconds. 

Shit. 

“Flap those wings, angel,” his distorted voice called over towards me in a sudden lull of music.

A moan caught in my throat as the realization that this was indeed happening. There was no turning back. I was about to have this man chase me through the woods and fuck me. 

You should run. Out the front door away from this man and never look back. 

Instead, I turned on my heels and ran out the back door towards the dense woods behind the house, my heart rate erratic with the upcoming evening I was about to endure. 

There was a chill in the air tonight, unlike the typical Los Angeles weather. The moon was up high in the sky, bathing the grass in a milky glow as my boots ran through it. My heart was jumping in my throat, making it difficult to breathe as my arms pumped up and down. The wings at my back flapped through the wind, almost like I was trying to take flight up into the air. 

Leaves and twigs snapped underneath my boots as I pushed through branches, running deeper into the woods. I didn’t have a timer running down but I knew that those three minutes surely had to be up. Taking a chance, I came to a halt in the middle of the woods to gather my surroundings. It was dark, only lit up from the moon above so it gave me limited light but I saw a large rock about five feet to my left. 

I lurched towards it but halted when I heard a twig snap in the darkness and immediately I fell to my knees as my heart jumped in my throat. My knees were cut up from the sharp jagged rocks I was kneeling on as I tried to move quietly as footsteps came closer. 

“Where are you?” came the distorted voice in a sing-song voice. 

I cursed myself when I couldn’t see his form through the trees and as I neared the large rock to hide behind, I reared my hand back with a hiss falling from my lips when I grabbed a piece of what looked like forgotten broken glass. Blood dripped down to my thigh as I held up my palm to inspect the large cut. It wasn’t deep but the nurse part of me knew that if I didn’t bandage this wound up soon, it would get infected. 

Pressing it to my chest, I crawled the last bit towards the rock, not caring how much noise I made just as long as I was hidden. Masked.Omens footsteps sounded far away and I let myself relax into the rock to catch my breath and I tried so hard to bite back the tears as my hand burned from the cut. 

“Is that blood I smell?” 

The growing distorted voice sounded way too close, making me jump as I clamped my good hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. My arousal outweighed my fear and I knew that my panties were wet from the chase. Primal play was one of my top fantasies and the fact that I was finally living it made my pussy clench. 

It was odd how quiet he sounded as he trekked through the woods, almost like he was weighless. His presence was like a ghost. I couldn’t see him in the darkness but I could feel his cold stare at the back of my neck. In the darkness, a hauntingly beautiful humming broke through the trees in the skyline. It was an eerie lullaby that pulled me under the waves, swallowing every part of me.

Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum dun da dun.

“You come and go in waves,” Masked.Omens distorted voice sang out, suddenly very, very close by. 

Tilting my head back, I glanced up at the sky and muffled my scream into my hand when I saw a pair of dark eyes staring down at me as he leaned over the top of the rock. 

“Found you,” his teeth sparkled in the low light of the moon and I scrambled to my feet in a scream, running away from him again. 

As I ran, low branches whacked me in my face as I did my best to dodge them but I could feel the wind brush against the small cuts on my cheeks. I expected to hear the wildlife scurrying away from me as I ran through their home but besides my heavy breathing and the crunching of the leaves beneath my feet, everything was silent. 

“Shit!” I shrieked when my ankle got caught at a vine hidden beneath some brush, nearly causing me to stumble over my feet. 

Thankfully I was always quick on my feet and I was able to pick up speed again, not falling flat on my face. Masked.Omens had been too quiet, I didn’t even feel his presence behind me anymore. The clearing of the woods was about six feet ahead of me and I could vaguely make out the lines of cars that were parked along the long driveway. 

If I continue to run in this direction, I would undoubtedly be seen by the people either leaving the party or arriving late. I needed to think of a new plan. Maybe I could quickly turn and run the other way without being-.

My body collided with a tree. No, not a tree but a wall of hard muscle and heat. Arms wrapped around me to keep me from falling and I looked up, being met with dark eyes beneath the mask. 

“Caught you, angel,” Masked.Omens gave me a wicked smile before kicking out my feet, knocking me on my ass. 

Before I could yell in protest for how hard I fell to the ground, he was on top of me in a flash, flicking something out of his pocket and it made me stiff. The glow of the moon glinted on the blade of a knife; a very sharp pocket knife. 

“Oh god,” I almost sobbed while scooting away from him, only for him to drag me back by my ankle.

I’m going to die. He uses the website as a way to find easy victims and here I was, about to die because I was desperate for a dick. 

“Shh,” he hushed me and shook the knife in front of my face. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have the first time I found you.” 

I pursed my lips, realizing he was right, but I still couldn't stop the way my heart lurched into my throat. Masked.Omens brushed his nose along my jawline, breathing me in. 

“I can smell you better when no one is around,” he groaned, pressing his hips into mine, keeping me locked in place on the dirty ground beneath me.

The hard line of his cock pushed against the inside of my thigh and my eyes widened when I felt how big he was. There was no way he’d fit inside of me, it would have to be a stretch. 

A hiss fell from my lips when the tip of the blade dragged down the swell of my breasts before it skimmed over the front of my corset. Masked.Omens eyes bled into the darkness of his mask as he titled his head down at me, his body heavy against mine as he continued to pin me down to the ground. 

I reached out towards his mask, a sudden desperation filling me wanting to see what he looked like beneath it. His large gloved hand shot out and pinned both of my hands above my head and the corner of his lip tilted up in a sly smirk. 

“You’re a desperate little whore, aren’t you?” His dark and distorted voice taunted me. 

“I just want to see your face,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

Masked.Omens simply shook his head before ripping the sharp blade through my corset, it falling to the ground in a forgotten heap of material. My lips parted to protest but the blade was held to my neck, quickly silencing me. 

“Your tits are perfect,” he groaned while playing with my left tit with the hand that wasn't holding my hands above my head. 

My bottom lip was caught between my teeth as I arched my back off the ground, rocks digging into the calmly skin. Even with the cool air tonight, from the chase it made me break out in a sweat. I wasn’t the fittest and it showed with how I was trying to still catch my breath. With my work schedule, it kept me on my feet and active so the last thing I wanted to do most days when I got off was spend it in the gym.

At the thought of work, I wiggled my hands in his grasp when I remembered the wound on the inside of my palm. Something Masked.Omens noticed with the way my face cringed so he gently brought the injured palm up to his face, inspecting it. 

“What happened?”

I swallowed, feeling the shift in the air from sexual to concern. “Uh-while I was crawling away, I grabbed a piece of broken glass.” 

A slew of curses fell from his lips before he took the hem of his long shirt and ripped a long strip of it. With careful hands, he wrapped around the piece of shirt around the wound a few times before tying it off. My eyes watched with an unfamiliar feeling surging through my heart. It was supposed to be a quick hook up; one fuck and be done. But from the moment I felt his breath against my neck in the kitchen, it was as if the stars aligned and my soul began to vibrate. 

“I don’t think you need stitches but you’ll definitely need to wash it out to clean out any infection.” 

It was odd, hearing the concern in the distorted voice of his. 

I nodded. “I’m a nurse. I’ve got everything I need at home to clean it.” 

“Good,” gone was the concern in his voice and eyes, replaced with lust. “On your knees, angel.” 

Masked.Omens rose to his feet now towering over me and not wanting to disappoint, I rose to my knees then gaze up at him through my lashes. The wings on my back were skewed so he reached out and straightened them. 

“These stay on,” he motioned towards the dark wings. 

I couldn’t speak, the sight of him dressed in all black, seemingly blending into the darkness surrounding us stole all the words from me. There was a bright light from the back patio that broke through the trees, bathing us in a faint glimmer.

“Words. You need to use your words,” his leather clad fingers tapped my cheek. 

“Okay,” I cleared my throat, doing my best to keep my voice loud and strong. 

“Okay what?” His voice was even darker even with the distortion to it. 

My brows furrowed together as the confusion etched deep into my skin but when his hand gripped around my throat giving it a squeeze, I realized what he’d been looking for. 

“Okay sir,” I choked out as the air began leaving my lungs due to his tight grip. 

“Good girl,” he praised before dropping his hold on me to rip out the belt from his pants. 

He moved so quietly that if it wasn’t for the light on us I would have thought he left me here in the woods alone, topeless. My hands wrenched behind my back just underneath the edge of the wings, and I felt the tight bind of leather around my wrists. 

I let out a low hiss when his fingers gripped my scalp, yanking my head back and I noticed he held his phone in front of us, with the camera open. 

“Smile pretty for me, angel,” he ordered while resting his cheek against my own before taking two pictures and slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

Masked.Omens dragged his fingers over my shoulder down to my breasts as he walked back around in front of me. 

“I don’t know if I want to fuck these perfect tits or shove my cock down your throat.” 

For a brief moment, I could have sworn the distortion in his voice was gone and it was his normal voice that spoke into the night. 

All of a sudden, his grip was in my hair, yanking my head back so I could peer up at him. He radiated fear, dominance, and pure darkness. The kind that loomed in the corner of your bedroom while you slept, waiting to drag you down to the depths with him. I should be scared of him and the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour me but it was the opposite. I wanted to dive right into the darkness with him head first. 

A thumb brushed along my lip, smearing the lipstick all over my chin. “Open up for me, angel.” 

Not wanting to disappoint, I parted my lips for him as he worked open the button and zipper of his pants with the other hand, yanking out his erect cock from the waistband of his briefs. I couldn’t help but gawk at how thick it was. Red and angry from how long he had to wait for this. 

My tongue darted out to wet my lips but tasted leather instead. I realized his thumb was still brushing over my mouth. Wetness pooled in my panties as I wrapped my lips around his thumb, sucking it deep into my mouth. The leather of his glove left a weird aftertaste on my tongue but I didn’t let it stop me from gazing up at him as I continued to swirl around his thumb, mimicking what I wanted to do to his cock. 

The noise that rumbled from his chest was not of this earth as he pulled his thumb from my mouth with a loud pop and grasped his cock, giving himself a few pumps. 

“Since your mouth and hands are a bit preoccupied, if you need me to stop blink twice, alright?” 

It was weird how Masked.Omens was able to quickly shift from his dark side to this comforting side. We didn’t know each other but he still managed to care about me.

Get over yourself, Y/N. This is supposed to be a quick fuck. That’s it.

The head of his cock brushing against my lips snapped me from my thoughts and with an eagerness filling me, I let him sink his cock deep down my throat. Both of us let out a shared groan. 

“Your mouth is so fucking warm.” His voice with the modulator made my skin prickle as I did my best to take more of him. “Relax angel, open that throat for me.”

I was pretty skilled with oral so I was able to take a cock far down however his cock was by far the longest and thickest I’d ever taken so it was a bit of a struggle. I guided my tongue along his fast, pressing ever so lightly. Masked.Omens titled his head back in pleasure while his hands ran through the long strands of my hair, burying them deep. My scalp burned but in such a good way that my moan vibrated against him. 

“Shit,” he hissed when my teeth scraped along the head of his cock. 

Before I could give a look of an apology, afraid I hurt him, he forced my head farther onto his dick. 

“Do it again,” the distorted voice demanded. 

I did. I dug my teeth along the soft skin of his cock, up and down as he guided my head. Drool slipped from the corners of my mouth and tears burned in my eyes, undoubtedly making my mascara run down my face. I was sure my red lipstick stained him, especially when he shoved himself so far down his cock, I pressed my lips against the dark hairs that lined his pelvis. 

“I love the way your makeup runs down your face,” he cocked his head to the side, drinking me in. 

My eyes sparkled at his words so I thanked him by taking him even farther down my throat, choking on it. 

“An-angel,” he grunted, nearly stumbling over his words before he ripped me off of him with an echoing pop. 

I gulped in a deep breath just as he tossed me onto the ground on my stomach, sticks digging into my stomach and breasts. The sound of his pocket knife clicking open and then I felt my skirt falling away from me. 

“Did you just cut my skirt?” I asked, growing irritated that he kept cutting my clothes. 

Masked.Omens didn't say anything as he cut off the straps of the angel wings before setting it nicely beside us. His warm breath fanned over my spine as he traced it from the top to bottom with kisses. My hands were still bound with his belt and when I tried to ease away the stiffness, I brushed along his still wet cock from my saliva. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was still dressed in his entire get up. 

Was he planning on being dressed the entire time? 

“Orange is your color,” he said while fingering the waistband of my thong. 

Right before he cut it away from me, leaving me completely naked in the dirty leaves, only wearing my fishnets and combat boots. In order to reach my pussy, he cut open a large hole into my fishnet stockings. 

“I fucking hate you,” I growled. 

He brushed the head of his cock against my very wet folds. “Are you sure about that?” 

I shook my head feverishly when he began to press inside slowly. It was previously mentioned on the website that both of us were STD free and I had a birth control implant. So it was up to us whether we wanted to use a condom or not. 

My spine stiffened when I felt cool metal replace his cock and when it pushed inside of me, I let out a strangled cry. 

“I want your tight cunt to fuck my knife. Understood?” His teeth grazed over the shell of my ear. 

“Yes sir,” I rasped. 

Again, I should be scared. Terrified even. But the idea of fucking something other than a dildo or a dick excited me. 

My walls clenched around the handle of the knife as he forced it in and out of me, slow at first so he could figure out a pace that worked best but then without warning, his pace picked up until he was roughly fucking me with the handle. I spat out dirt and leaves while letting out a cry of euphoria. The handle was smaller than a dick but with the force of it slamming in and out of me, it was just enough to light the fire low in my gut and made the base of my spine buzz with the familiar feeling. My orgasm was building like a tidal wave, ready to crash into the shore and taking whoever in its path. 

“I’m so close,” I panted as my body writhed underneath the weight of Masked.Omens as he leaned over me, still fucking me with the knife handle. 

“You’re so fucking wet, angel,” he groaned when he leaned back and gazed down at the knife settling in between my legs. 

“Don’t stop. Please,” I begged, whining when he pulled the knife out completely. 

I was then faced with its slick handle in front of me and I nearly gasped when I saw my arousal dripping from it onto the ground. 

“Lick it clean,” his gruff voice ordered me, still distorted by whatever modulator he was using. 

Why didn’t he want me to hear his actual voice? Was it part of his whole get up? 

“What if I cut myself?” I gave way to my worry if I licked it too far and sliced my tongue on the sharp blade. 

Masked.Omens brushed away the strands of hair full of dirt and leaves away from my face before I felt his warm breath against my cheek. 

“I’ll make sure you won’t,” the sincerity in his voice made something flutter low in my gut. 

My eyes flicked over to him as he leaned over my shoulder and gone was the darkness that lay inside of them. A light broke through and it was at that moment I noticed they were a mahogany color. All I could see was his eyes and lips where ginger hair peppered around them. That’s all I needed to know that he was breathtakingly gorgeous. 

Ever so slowly, he pressed the handle of the knife between my lips and I tasted the bittersweet taste of my arousal, humming in pleasure. 

“I bet you taste so fucking good,” Masked.Omens sighed, almost disappointed that he wasn’t able to taste me himself. 

I never said he couldn’t. 

Almost like he read my thoughts, he yanked the knife from my mouth and let it drop. His hands held my hips with a bruising force, halting me up slightly so my pussy was directly in line with those luscious lips. Since my hands were still bound behind my back, my body folded awkwardly but I dared not to complain, afraid that he would change his mind. 

“So pretty and wet, all for me,” he mused with a flick of his tongue over my clit. 

“Oh god,” I moaned, pressing my pussy closer to his mouth. 

I needed more of him. Desperately. 

A swift smack to my ass echoed in the woods causing me to cry out. “No god here, angel. Just you and me.”

All at once, his mouth devoured my pussy, tongue fucking me for a few beats before his teeth grazed over the overly sensitive bud of my clit. I was still throbbing from my almost earlier orgrasm so all it took was his face between my legs for a few seconds before my release rushed out of me with a howl of euphoria. I cried out while writing against his face, making his grip on my hips tighten as he licked and sucked me through my orgasm. 

“I fucking love the way you taste,” a gentle kiss to my over stimulated clit. 

I was breathless, ready to fall into a heap in the ground, but Masked.Omens had other plans. 

“I know we’re both clean and I know you’re on the implant,” a tender kiss to my back made me shiver. “I want to feel all of you. Are you alright with that?” 

All I could do was nod which didn’t seem to please him because he landed another smack to my ass. 

“Try that again,” he snarled. 

Oh, right. 

“Yes sir,” I squeaked out. 

“Good fucking girl,” he crooned before sinking himself deep inside of me. 

It was an adjustment to have him fit in between my walls. His cock was much larger than previous ones I’d taken and he had to pull himself out before sinking in slowly a few times until I was fully open for him. 

“You take my cock so well, angel. Like you were made for me,” he said while snapping his hips against my ass. 

The only noises that lingered in the air of the woods was our shared panting, skin on skin, and me writing in the crunchy leaves. Every time Masked.Omens would piston his cock into me, my body would shift up half an inch. He let out a low growl and wrapped an arm around my midsection. He hoisted us up so he was kneeling and I was speared open on his cock. The new angle made stars dance in the edge of my vision and I rested my head against his shoulder. I felt the rough material of his clothes scratch against the bareness of my back as he lifted me up and down on him. 

“I love the way you fuck,” Masked.Omens sank he teeth into my neck and I cried out. 

Suddenly, a cold bite of metal was pressed against the spot he bit down and I froze in his grasp.

“I need you to be quiet. I can’t have people hearing how pretty you sound,” he grunted when his cock swelled inside of me. 

He was close. 

With the knife pressed into my throat, I rolled my hips against him, trying to bring him closer to the edge because I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. The second he slipped himself inside of me, my second orgasm was building. I was so far gone in the aura of him, desperate for that release, I hadn’t realized the tip of the blade pressed a bit too hard into my skin, drawing the smallest of blood. 

Masked.Omens changed our position again, once more being face down on the ground as his entire body laid against my mine, his pace almost ruthless and erratic. A curse fell from his lips and then something soft brushed against my back. 

“I’m going to fill up that pretty little cunt, angel.” 

I was so far gone in my bliss, about to jump over the edge of desire, that I almost missed he’d taken off his mask and it was his true voice that was spoken into the skin of my shoulder. I lifted my head to try and get a peek at him but Masked.Omens let out a noise of disappointment and shoved my face into the ground, causing me to take in a mouth of dirt. 

But I didn’t care because my second orgasm of the night ripped me in half when the head of his cock hit that spot which made my vision blur. He pumped himself a few more times until his cock twitched just as he let out a low whine, coating the inside of my walls. 

“Best. Birthday. Ever,” his voice was muffled by my hair as he buried his face into it. 

We lay there for a long moment of silence, both of us trying to catch our breath, and when he pulled himself out of me I cringed at how empty I felt. His cum ran down the inside of my thighs and I rolled onto my back before sitting up. As I did, I realized he had slipped the mask back on and just finished tucking his cock back into his briefs. 

Silence fell between us as he glanced down at me once he rose to his feet. His eyes took in the discarded costume to my side and my naked form. Shaking out of his jacket, he handed it to me with a sheepish apology; back to the distortion in his voice. Whatever was causing the change in his voice was something he had in the mask. 

“Thank you,” I smiled while wrapping myself in the large jacket. It smelled like the woods, his cologne, and a hint of sex. 

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, the hint of orange peeking out. “I’m sorry about your clothes.” 

I shook him off while slowly rising to my feet, unsteady so he reached his hands out to help me. 

“It’s alright. It was a cheap costume so I’m not too connected to them,” I added a chuckle to assure him that it was fine. 

He blinked. “You’re make up is really fucked up.” 

Now I let out a thunderous laughter while buttoning up the jacket. I drowned in it, resting above my knees so I was thankful it hid everything. 

“If I’m being honest, I only came here for our fuck meet up. So tell whoever's birthday it is that I give them the biggest wishes and sorry I couldn’t stay.” 

“I’m sure he knows.” Masked.Omens nodded. 

Clearing my throat, I pointed behind him towards where the cars were parked. “I should-uh-go.” 

His gaze burned into me as he refused to step away, letting me walk past him. My skin was set ablaze again and the wetness between my legs was evident again. Only this time it was more because of both mine and his cum. 

“Shit,” he cursed, motioning to my neck. “I nicked you with the knife.” 

My fingers immediately shot up to my neck and when I pulled them away, I saw the barest dot of blood. 

“Oh, that’s nothing. I’m sure I’m not going to bleed out.” 

I tried to joke but he snatched out for my wrist, bringing my fingers to his mouth so he could suck off the blood. I watched in horror and slight arousal as his tongue lapped up the crimson. 

Add blood play to the kink list. 

“Stay safe, angel,” he gave a curt nod after he dropped my hand from his mouth and moved to the side. 

Blinking rapidly, I did my best to smile as I walked away from him with nothing but the remembrance of how he felt inside of me and the fire he brought into my life. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he single handedly ruined sex for me with any other man. 

NOAH

I sat low in the chair in the corner of my bedroom with my glass filled with a dark amber liquid. I rarely drank anymore but after what I’d seen earlier, I needed something to ease away the anger. How could she do that to me? To us? Was I not enough for her? 

Cleary not since I found her in bed with another. 

My head snapped over towards my desk and the array of monitors that lined the wall, all showing different angles of her apartment. She wasn’t home, starting her twenty four hour shift at the hospital three hours ago. Which meant she would be out of her apartment for at least twenty hours, giving me plenty of time to plant the microphones. The cameras I had couldn’t pick up sound and after what I saw earlier, I needed to be able to hear everything. 

I dragged my eyes over towards the wall behind my headboard where the familiar sight of black angel wings were hung up. Memories of that night replayed on my mind in a loop, the way her pussy felt squeezing my cock, the way her eyes stared up at me filled with tears as I fucked her throat ruthlessley, and the sounds she made only for me. 

My pretty angel. 

Ever since that night two weeks ago, all I could think of was her. It was only supposed to be a night thing yet here I was, staring up at the fake angel wings of her costume and fingering the lacey orange thong I stole from her. None of my roommates knew I had them, so I washed it in my bathroom sink afraid they would find it in the laundry room and question it. 

I didn’t need them prying into my life, not now, because this was all new to me. In no means was I a good person. I’ve lied, cheated,  hurt and killed people that got in the way of rising to the top of my career. I grew OMENS from the ground up, becoming one of the most feared mob gangs in Los Angeles. To everyone on the outside, we were a financial company that helped rich people sort their money into offshore funds which were actually funneling a small percentage into a secret OMENS account. 

Illegal? Highly. Did we ever get caught? No and frankley, we never would. We knew what we were doing and it had been six years of this lifestyle. 

Finishing off my drink, I rose from my chair with a groan and set the empty glass onto my desk and watched the monitors with a careful eye. The perfectionist and neat freak in me scowled at the mess she left behind in her haste to leave for work tonight. Clothes scattered all over her bed and floor, unsure if they were clean or dirty. Plates over flowing in her sink and the feed of the cameras were so crisp, I could see the crumbs on her couch from when she stuffed her face with cookies earlier. 

“She really needed to eat healthier and be a bit tidier,” I grumbled under my breath.  

It was taking everything in me not to clean up after her when I sneak in later because it was too soon for her to realize I was there. The last two weeks were filled with me watching her on the cameras, following her as she ran her errands on her off Sunday’s, and tracking her movements on her phone’s GPS when I can’t be around. All because of one night of sex. 

Joakim and Nicholas dared me to sign up for that dreaded sex website months ago and I never once got a match. I had forgotten about having a profile until I received a notification that I finally got a match. While her profile was sparse on information, I knew that with our shared kinks and turns on, we were perfect for each other. I also knew the second I stepped foot into my kitchen, watching her talk with Joakim that she would hold my heart for the rest of my life. Her eyes shined as she talked with my best friends and her laughter pieced my heart. Fuck, that smile dragged me into her genuine beauty. 

The second my cock slipped inside of her, I wasn’t going to let her go. 

After she left that night, I scurried back into the house and up to my bedroom, ignoring everyone who was there to celebrate me and locked myself in my room. Within the hour, I had figured out who she was, where she lived, and where she worked. 

Y/N. 

Her name sounded so delightful when I moaned it as I spilled myself into her orange thong; hence why I washed it in my bathroom sink instead of the laundry room with my other dirty clothes. 

I snuck into her house two days after our night together to place the hidden cameras. I was so obsessed with her and the urge to see what she was doing every moment of her day was strong. I needed her to be mine, whether she wanted it or not. It might be hard for her to adjust in the beginning but eventually, Y/N will realize this is what she wants. 

Thanks to the cameras, I was able to see that the morning after she had her hand wrapped up and according to her medical records that I hacked into, Y/N had someone at the hospital she worked to stitch her up.

I've also watched her a few times shove that blue dildo so far up that tight cunt, she screamed out in pleasure. The only thing she was wearing was the jacket I gave her that night.

Also thanks to the cameras, I saw her in bed with another man, making my blood boil. How could she lay with another, after everything we went through that night together? Did she not feel the connection we shared? 

No one would ever come between Y/N and I. 

So while she was at work, I found out everything I needed about the guy, Andy. Tattooed, muscular, and a pain in my ass. I’d get rid of him before I head over to her apartment later. I couldn’t risk any more distractions for Y/N. I needed to be the one she thought about. My cock would be the only one that would slip between her folds. My mouth would be the only one that got to taste her arousal. 

There was a soft knock on my door causing me to click out of the feed from Y/N’s apartment and now, a bunch of emails from work and numbers from the stock market were displayed on my screens. 

“Come in,” I gruffed out while sitting on the edge of my desk and crossing my arms over my chest. 

Joakim walked into my room dressed in a black dress shirt and pants, his long hair pulled back into a low bun. I raised a brow at his attire but then suddenly remembered why he was so dressed up. 

“Fuck, we have that meeting with the Robertsons,” I groaned while pinching my eyes shut. 

“They’re meeting us at the office at six,” Joakim said. 

Grumbling under my breath, I knew that this meeting would take longer than necessary because it was the Roberstons. They wanted to know every single detail about where we were sending their money and what offshore accounts would be holding it.

“I have somewhere to be at seven,” I said while walking into my closet to swap out my white shirt that had wrinkled from the long day and slipped on a black turtleneck. My black pants were still fine, no need to change those. 

Joakim’s brows furrowed while he motioned towards the angel wings above my bed. “Does it have anything to do with that?” 

My upper lip curled up in a slight snarl. When my roommates saw the new decor the next morning, they grilled me on why out of everything I could hang above my bed I decided on a pair of black costume angel wings. I played it off pretty well since they knew I was into the darker side of decor. My black walls, the dark mahogany king size bed frame that had four bed posts with hidden hooks, for extracurricular activities. The matching color desk in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. I had a gray lounge couch in front of the black brick fireplace, which was currently roaring to life with heat. On the wall across the foot of my bed was a large mirror, again something I used for my extracurricular activities. The only ounce of bright colors I had in my bedroom was the burgundy bedspread. 

I let my eyes linger for a moment on the mask perched on my desk next to the monitors, the same mask I wore that night. Along with the wings, I had the mask displayed as a trophy. A way to remind me of everything that happened that night. The modulator that distorted my voice was still stitched in, something small enough that it wouldn’t bother me. 

Next to the black mask was a similar one, only in yellow with black symbols; the symbols of our company OMNS. 

Death. 

Peace. 

Mind. 

When I needed to talk to Y/N in my stalking, I would wear the black one. Yet, it never came to that. I never got close enough to talk to her so I opted in wearing the yellow mask for moments of me sneaking into her bedroom to plant the cameras. Whenever I would follow her in the streets, I couldn’t be seen like a mad man by wearing a mask in broad daylight with others around, so I wore my hood far over my dark eyes and made sure I put enough space between me and Y/N. 

“Noah?” 

My attention snapped over towards Joakim, who was waiting for my answer. 

“Is Nicholas and Folio coming with us?” I questioned while slipping into my back peacoat. 

Joakim nodded. “Nicholas is in the car already. Folio is trying to get his guest to leave.” 

I snorted, remembering his guest showing up in the middle of the night last night. All of us lived together and it wasn’t anything new if one of us brought home a guest. They never stayed more than a few hours. None of us wanted a relationship, all busy with our careers to even give the thought of marriage and family the light of day. 

Well, that was until Y/N came along. One literal taste of her and I knew she was mine. I hadn’t slept with anyone since that night, although I cannot say the same about her; which is why she needed to be punished. 

For weeks, I left little calling cards throughout her apartment; black petunia petals. At first, it scared her but the more I left, I could see that fear be replaced with curiosity. What started with her throwing them away in a haste turned into her compiling them into a crystal vase in the middle of her coffee table. 

As I grabbed my phone, I clicked on the screen to check the time and my cock swelled when I drank in the sight of my background; Y/N and I in the woods when her hands were bound behind her back and the blissed out look in her eyes as I stood behind her. I may have got the idea to take a picture like that from a Tik Tok but I wasn’t going to tell anyone that or I wasn’t going to let anyone see my picture either. 

With a sigh, I pocketed my phone and nodded to Joakim. “Let’s get going.”

Thirty hours later, I stood blanketed in darkness, the only light emanating from the salt lamp which rested on the end table. It bathed her face in a faint orange glow and my cock twitched beneath my pants. What was supposed to be a quick meeting with the Roberstons ended up being a six hour ordeal because they got a little too squirmy when we were explaining how we ran things in our business. As soon as they left, we had to retrace our steps with how everything went down in the meeting and had to cover our tracks with the offshore accounts in case they decided to do their own digging. The topic of if they were undercover FEDS posing as a married couple had been brought up by Folio which made us all worried. 

Taking some extra precaution, we all flew to our Texas office to make sure everything was running smoothly there. One of our good friends, Matt, ran things over there and we could always trust him to keep things hidden that needed to be. 

Even though I was busy dealing with all of that, it didn’t stop me from checking in on Y/N when I could. I had yet to find time to hack into the cameras of the hospital she worked at but according to the tracker in her phone, I saw that she was still at work. Until five hours ago when I was notified she had stepped into her living room. It was on the flight back home from Texas when I pulled out my phone to watch the camera feed and watched as she stepped into her bathroom, shutting the door behind her. That was the one room in her apartment where I didn't have a camera set up. I was fucked up but not that fucked up. She needed some privacy after all. There were two hours where I wasn’t able to watch her feed and it was killing me. 

As soon as we arrived back at the manor, I packed a bag and rushed over to Y/N’s apartment, where I was currently hiding in the darkness of her bedroom, watching her sleep. I’d been here only for a few minutes and my cock was already thick in my pants as I studied the way her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took. 

For weeks my thoughts had been plagued by Y/N and the soft moans that fell from her lips. I was desperate for her, I needed to feel her wrapped around my cock, milking it. 

As my dark eyes dragged down her exposed back when she rolled over, the sheet falling away from her, it was then that I noticed she was naked underneath her red sheets and rage filled me. This was a first for her, sleeping naked. I would know because I'd been watching her sleep for the last few weeks and she always wore an oversized shirt and cotton underwear. 

A soft click sounded over her snores and my eyes snapped over to the ensuite bathroom and now the rage was all-consuming as I watched some random man walk out wearing absolutely nothing as he slipped back into bed; her bed. 

My girl's bed. 

It wasn’t just any random man that slipped into bed with her. It was that tattooed asshole I saw before. 

Andy.

Scowling, I grasped the handle of the blade that was hiding in my pocket and ever so quietly, tip-toed towards Andy's side of the bed, ready to rid yet another obstacle in our path. 

You will be mine, angel. Whether you want it or not.

As I passed the mirror, I realized I was wearing my yellow mask and cursed to myself. I couldn’t risk speaking in my normal voice so I had to make sure to keep my mouth shut. 

Well, did it matter? This Andy fellow wouldn’t survive to point me out in a line up if I were to get caught. I snorted at that thought; I never got caught. 

Twirling the knife between my fingers, I cocked my head to the side and stared down at the man that was so close to falling into a deep slumber. That was until he felt my presence looming over him like a demon ready to possess him. Andy’s eyes snapped open, fear inking into black and before he could make a noise, I covered his mouth and nose with the soaked cloth with chloroform. 

From watching Y/N, I knew that she was a heavy sleeper especially after working her twenty four hour shifts. She could sleep through a tornado siren or even an earthquake that shook her apartment. 

Andy writhed in the sheets, kicking his feet and scratching at the black material of my jacket; all feeble attempts. Soon the light filtered from his eyes and that slumber he was desperate for earlier finally dragged him under. 

Y/N didn’t even move a muscle in the struggle of the man next to her. 

With Andy temporarily disposed of, I dragged him out of bed and let his body fall to the floor in a heap. I cringed with how loud the noise and stood breathless as I watched Y/N making sure she wouldn’t wake. She let out an obnoxious snore and rolled onto her back, exposing those perfect breasts to me. 

I let out a hushed groan when my cock pressed against the zipper of my pants and I palmed it, trying to ease away some of the pain of not being able to sink into her. I wanted to feel her clench around me again but there was an issue that needed to be dealt with. 

She looked so pretty, though. Her mouth parted slightly as she snored, hair a mess over her face, those perky and round tits that made my mouth water. I wanted to plunge my teeth deep into her nipples, marking her as mine. 

Maybe another day. 

Light as a feather, I leaned over the bed toward her awaiting lips and pressed mine over them. There was a hint of a fruity aftertaste from the Celsius drink she had at work and her lips were so soft. I couldn’t pull myself away from her as I deepened the kiss, guiding my tongue over hers. Even in her deep slumber, I swallowed the quiet moan she let out. Her tongue just began to mold against mine when I pulled away. I couldn’t risk her waking up; not now. 

Soon, angel. 

With a deep sigh, I pushed myself away from her to adjust my dick in my pants before glancing down at the heap of a body at my feet. There were two ways I could go about disposing of him; quick and clean or dirty and dark. 

With a sinister smile, I lifted up the body over my shoulder with a hushed groan. Andy may have seemed small but he was heavy like a boulder as I adjusted the sudden weight. My breath almost echoed in my mask as I gave one more longing glance towards Y/N as she lay oblivious to the masked man in her bedroom hauling away her precious little Andy. 

READER

The sound of my nails tapping on my phone screen echoed in the small break room as I sat laxed in one of the chairs. I was on hour twenty out of twenty four of my shift and after the hell that rained down tonight, I was ready to pull my hair out. A kid with a broken leg, an abused husband that swore on his life his wife wasn't the one abusing him but the signs were clear. But with no confirmation from him, we were at a standstill what to do legally. The worst of it tonight was a six car pile up that took up the majority of the night. It was constant trauma after trauma that each bay was filled. We had people waiting for rooms in the hallways. I was almost tempted to treat a patient at the receptionist desk so he didn’t bleed out all over the floor but thankfully the man with a rash was in and out of the room before I lost my medical license. 

Even with all the chaos from tonight, I was extremely grateful that we hadn’t lost anyone. A few close calls but we were able to save everyone. I still needed a moment to myself to let out a few tears, something I often did at work to steady  myself. I was one of the best E.R nurses in this hospital, some things still shook me to my core; more specifically the man with the large piece of glass sticking out of his chest. 

As soon as I stepped into the break room, I fished out my phone from my locker and sent a text to Andy. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, after he left my apartment with a deep kiss on my lips while I slept. We’ve hooked up a few times in the past and the sex was good, great even. Although, it paled in comparison to the sex I had with Masked.Omens. No one has ever been able to light my body on fire with a simple touch or even a quick look from his dark eyes. My soul craved him in ways I never understood, it was as if we connected on a spiritual level that night. No matter how hard I tried to move on with other sexual partners, I often found myself comparing them to Masked.Omens. 

Blowing out a breath, I sent a text to Andy. 

Me: Hey, are you free tomorrow night? It’s been a hell of a week and I need to blow off some steam. 

Like the other texts I sent him, this one went ignored. He always had his read receipts on but the last four texts from the last couple of days were still at the delivered status. 

Checking my watch, I realized I had about five minutes left in my break so with a shrug of fuck it, I pulled up the same sex webiste I signed up for the night with Masked.Omens. Since I was already signed up, all I had to do was recheck my kink options to make sure if anything changed; it hadn’t. So once everything looked good, I clicked on the green match button and silently prayed to whatever God was out there that I would be matched with Masked.Omens again. 

“Damn,” I muttered as my heart dropped when I noticed that I wasn’t matched with him but with someone else. 

Glorious.Muscles. 

I let out a shuddering groan at not only the name but his profile picture. It was a typical blonde hair, blue eyed, man that radiated ‘small dick’ energy and I knew that this night of sex would be a two pumps and done kind of night. 

For a brief moment, I thought about maybe sending a message to Masked.Omens to see if he wanted to hook up instead. At least I knew he would be able to get me off, something I had a feeling Glorious.Muscles couldn’t achieve. 

Do you want to come across as an obsessive stalker? Masked.Omens will probably think you’re crazy for randomly messaging him for sex. 

Rolling my eyes at my thought, I tossed my phone back into my locker with a bit more force than necessary and dragged my feet back to work. 

Three hours later, I was forcing myself through the door of my apartment after a brutal shift, ready to take a shower and fall into my bed full of blankets. I had the next forty eight hours off which I planned on spending it in bed with junk food and trashy television. Yet, I came to a sudden halt in the middle of my kitchen when I took in a horrifying sight in front of me. 

Black petunia petals were scattered all over the floor and candles lining my kitchen counter were lit. It seemed like they were burning for quite some time because the wax was dripping down onto the marble counter. 

That was going to be a bitch to clean. 

I dropped my bags as fear iced my bones yet sweat gathered at the back of my neck when I noticed a piece of paper taped to the screen of my computer on my desk in the far corner of my apartment.

“What the fuck?” I muttered while slowly walking towards the note, not bothering to step over the petunia petals. 

My favorite flower. 

My fingers shook as I crinkled the paper between them after I ripped it off of the screen. 

My sweet cloud, 

I hope you didn’t forget who you belonged to. No man will ever come between us, not again. I wanted to leave you something to remember me by since it seems like you forget. 

I’ll be seeing you soon. 

O.

Letting out a shuddering breath, I dropped the note to the ground, not caring to watch it flutter into the petals, when I saw something else on the desk; something very familiar. 

Andy’s chain and lock necklace, covered in dry blood. 

Next to that was a print out of the sex website with the match of me and Glorious.Muscles. 

For weeks, I had the feeling someone was following me in the darkness only to see now one there. Not to mention, the black petunias weren’t anything new. This was something I’d grown used to, even started collecting them in the vase on my coffee table. It should scare me that someone was obviously stalking me and leaving me things yet I found it intriguing. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the possibilities on who it could be. 

I thought it was Andy at first, giving into the roleplay ideas I’d brought up one night but with his bloody necklace clenched in my hands, I knew I was so fucking wrong. 

Yanking out my phone from my coat pocket, I quickly dialed Andy’s number and prayed to a god I didn’t believe in that he would answer. My spine stiffened, pure ice filling my veins, when I heard ringing in my apartment; loud and grating on my ears. 

“No,” I sobbed when the ringing stopped in my apartment, only for Andy’s voicemail to pick up. 

“Oh, what’s the matter, angel? Did someone clip your wings?” A familiar distorted voice breathed against the shell of my ear. 

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 12! College!simon x reader 🤍 small ending ughh i gave them the soft life they deserved 🥺 especially Simon. Happy simon=happy me.

Masterlist here ✉️

Ever since that kiss—that moment in the closet, you replayed it over and over. It was stuck in your head and you couldn’t blame yourself. The man was sweating and heaving—and the way his pupils were blown with desire, shadowed and peering into yours-

It was too much.

You definitely did yourself a nice one in bed that night, unable to hold back.

Now, at Mollys you were at the POS system, printing out a receipt. You slapped it towards a man who seemed drunk off his ass. He tipped the empty drink to you in a thanks before slamming it down.

“Thanks lady.” He gruffly spoke.

“Of course.” You say.

Just then, the door jingles. Company. Your eyes shoot up, unraveling the rag and folding it.

Simons boots thud as he walked, now in front the counter. He wasn’t dressed in his usual work attire—which would be all black, a casual wrinkled button up and some dark jeans. A button or two popped, and sleeves rolled up to expose tattoos of his own. Thick forearms.

You crane your head up, brows raised. Your skin warms as you remember that evening kiss—and your heart begins to race.

God, the mere sight of him had you raving.

“Not here for work?” You say, eyeing him. You cringe internally—did I sound too casual? You wondered, glancing away from him as you placed the rag away.

Simon’s heavy lidded eyes gazed into yours, large hand resting on his strap.

Johnny frantically yells—probably dropping something. “Bloody onion.”

You scoffed and your lips curled up momentarily.

“Come with me.” Simon says lowly, almost like a command, leaning forward slightly. His warm body brushed yours and the smell of his cologne hits your nostrils. Musky with a blend of spices, peppery.

Had he changed it? You found yourself sniffing more. Your heart races at the sound of his tone. It wasn’t a question—a command.

You knew you both needed a conversation

You glance behind the bat before saying, “If I spend time with you, you better be covering my ass next time.”

“I’ll be doin’ much more than that, sweet’art.” He teased, eyes never leaving your moving form.

The way he said that as you rounded the corner made you sputter. Your wide eyed caught his amused ones—although lips laying flat.

Simon liked these moments, though he had yet to vocalize it. The moments where he caught you by surprise.

Shifting, so he followed behind you and outside into the dark night, you two walked up the path. Cars drove by here and there and a cold wind blew. Flashlights lights and signs bounced off color.

You crossed your arms to block the wind, eyes squinting

“Here—“ Simon said gruffly.

Before you could ask, he unzipped his hoodie to reveal a thicker shirt under. Wider chest, biceps flexing and fingers working fast.

You turned your body to his—huddling for warmth. Your eyes once again filled with surprise.

“Simon, we won’t be long.” You say, cheeks warm. At least you thought you wouldn’t be. But apart of you was excited to see him offering his hoodie now.

“You’ll be complaining in a minute. Take it.” Simon said, fingers grabbing at the material to hold it up.

He passed you his bag which you held—quiet. Instead of talking, you observe his motions. His bag weighs heavy to you, but to him he could lift it with ease. And behind him the bar flashes colorfully, still alive with its metal rock music.

His taller form tilts as he wraps the hoodie around your shoulder, making sure its well fitted. Your breath hitches, its bigger and dwarfs your form.

Then, you talk.

“Thanks…” You say, in a hushed tone.

Simon stills for a second and leans in, brushing your chest with his. He watched as your eyes dart around and to grab your attention he gently tilts your chin up with a finger.

His rugged eyes bore into yours—although this time there’s something much softer to them.

“I want…I need. I need to tell you this.” Simon murmurs, as a cold chill blew. He didn’t even shiver. By the looks of it the man was a heater.

Meanwhile you grappled for the sides of the hoodie and pulled it tight.

“I’m listening.” You say, leaning in for his warmth. Your heart raced, tons of thoughts in your head. What did he want? Did he like the kiss? Judging by his reaction—he more than liked it. The damn brute was aroused.

You gulped.

He leans in too—and suddenly the moment becomes even more intimate. Your head angled—lips brushing his chapped ones. Puffs of air dancing on both your faces, the car lights illuminating strands of your hair. You had to straighten up to meet his lips.

“This…I meant it. The kiss.” Simon murmurs against your lips and it takes all of you to not kiss him there. Your heart races and you’re sure you feel his too—for such a stoic man this was new.

It captivated you.

You wanted to hear more.

You look him in the eyes now—renewed with confidence and beaming with satisfaction.

“What do you want us to be?” The words slip out softly.

“More. More than what we are.” Simon pulls you against his hard body, his hoodie slipping off your small shoulder. He adjusts it—so you could be warm, and looks at the way the sleeves fold over your hands.

If it was even more possible seeing you this way—his clothes, his hoodie, staring at him expectantly, was driving him mad.

But it was more of a tender kind of madness. A madness to hold you, feel you. To wake up beside you. To hear your complaints of the cold—to see your nose all red and cheeks flushed from it. And the way you huddled immediately to the kitchen for some warmth in the bar. He knew all your mannerisms.

He wanted more. More of it all.

“I want—“ He started hoarsely. He had never done this. His heart was racing and he sucked in a breath as a car drove past behind you.

“I want to wake up beside you. To feel you. To hear your jokes every morning as we make breakfast together.” Simon continued, finding his confidence.

Seeing your widened eyes, lashes brushing your brow and the way your lips parted—god did it drive him feral in a different way. And at every moment in class did he remember your body up against his in the closet.

But for now—he held back. He needed the moment to remain pure and gentle.

Because it was what he felt for you.

Pure, gushy, gentle feelings.

“Simon…” You say breathlessly.

“Is tha’ a yes?” Simon asks, an eager twinkle to his eyes. The sight warms your heart and if you weren’t in front of him you’d be running in circles giggling like some teenager.

That’s how he made you feel. Young again.

“Yes, Simon Riley.” You stated, breaking out into a wide grin.

Simon scoops you against him—arms wrapping tight as if you’d disappear. The man was craving you. He angled his head low so he could meet you and kissed gently—feeling flecks of snow wet him. Just like that, flurries of white fell smoothly, painting the ground in a blanket as you two kissed.

You smiled in the kiss and swayed a big—hand resting on his chest. Your eyes glittered when you opened them to look at him, absolutely entranced and captivated.

You knew you wanted a start over.

Coming here to university, meeting his team unexpectedly. A new job that paid decent, but the jokes made up for it. Now this? A relationship? It was right up your alley. Never expected it, but somehow it all changed after you met him. Your wide eyes traced all over his features.

“Simon…”

“Yes, love?”

Your heart lurches at the nickname.

“Take me home?” You ask, pleading.

“Love, your shift.” Simon reminds you—lips brushing your ear as he murmurs. He still holds you, not wanting to let you go.

You roll your eyes and scoff—before grinning up at him.

“I know. I was saying it as if we were in one of those cheesy rom com movies, ya know?”

Simon chuckles—smoothly and his lips stretch into a genuine smile. Once again your breath catches at the rare sight—drinking it all in. The way his eyes wrinkled, the neon lights illuminating his pale skin, and teeth shining. The scruff of his jaw rubbed your face when he leaned in.

“Is this the part where I shove y’er arse back in? Hm? Is that cheesy enough for you?” Simon chuckles again—and you knew you’d never forget it.

“Alright, alright. I’m going. Gotta babysit Johnny and Kyle again.” You giggle—capturing his lips once more, hands cupping his scruffy jaw.

“I’ll pick you up—sound good?” Simon whispered against your lips.

“More than good.” You respond warmly, as the snow cascaded peacefully around your huddled forms.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

arson Neil, if you'd like. Happy Wednesday!!

WIP Wednesday (9/25) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 240)

"He is not my boyfriend." Andrew laments.

"Then what? Lover? Partner? Gentleman caller?" Boyd asks. At Andrew's look, he shrugs. "We watched Golden Girls last night. What do you call your mystery man, Minyard?"

"I don't call him anything. We're not. We just... We talk." Andrew thinks his face is probably fire engine red. He could go downstairs and check if he wanted, but Kevin's shit-eating grin confirms it. "And yeah, it's for him. He's a fan of yours for some reason."

"Maybe because I'm an all-star professional Exy player—"

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe. Will you sign it or not?"

"Of course. Should I write a message? Who do I address it to?" Kevin asks, sliding the picture in front of him. Andrew blanks. He can't tell all these nosy fuckers that he doesn't know 10's name. And he's not going to have Kevin sign it to '10', that's ridiculous. After a few seconds, Andrew just huffs.

"I'm not telling any of you his name. Ever. Just sign it, Day."

Kevin pops the cap off the marker and holds his breath as he scrawls his signature along a bit of empty space. When he's through, he drops the marker and holds the picture up. Then blows the ink before passing it over to Andrew with a sigh. "I can't believe you're using me to impress a guy. You owe me."

"Kevin Day, I paid off every debt I'll ever owe you, with interest, back in college."

After a moment of consideration, Kevin nods. "You're probably right. Hey, tell your boyfriend—"

"He's not my boyfriend. I don't do boyfriends." Andrew reminds him. Kevin of all people shouldn't need to be reminded, but alas.

"Tell whoever he is that Kevin Day says "Happy Christmas". Maybe that will get the ball moving." Kevin says with a smile. Andrew doesn't need any balls moving— Er. He shakes his head.

"Whatever," Andrew says, snatching his now-autographed picture. He takes it and his plate with him downstairs to his car. He puts the photo in the passenger seat and glares at it until he's finished his lunch. 10 will like this. Andrew thinks he'll even get a frame for it. He wonders what color to get. Black, probably.

Yeah. That'll be fine. And it doesn't matter that much anyway. Because he and 10 are not dating. Andrew doesn't do boyfriends and 10 doesn't... do attraction at all. He's explained his life story to Andrew, in bits and pieces, and it's a long, sad one.

10's mother beat attraction out of him, that's what he said anyway. Andrew's not sure it's possible. Surely if it were, he wouldn't be attracted to men. But he's not here to debate anyone's sexuality. He's here for work. So he gets out of his car and heads back upstairs.

[azelmaandeponine]

Originally I was angry at the moment, where Ford says that "If I know my brother he'll say he'll join his trip to find treasures and babes." and also, that in the show Ford asks Stan if he wants to sail with him, why Stan didn't played dumb or wondered if Ford was asking him to find a partner-in-crime, like, he's not understanding him and if Ford says he means Stan, he laughed at him, like he was pulling his leg or something. I also was angry the part of "Ford is looking for a partner-in-crime". Now I'm realizing I was petty with all of that and my P.O.V. changed.

But what it makes me to realize is that all of this happens after the "Scrapbook Theraphy", like... of course many things, specially insecurities arose around this time, also for some things:

The whole "treasure and babes" thing, wasn't Ford being controlling for wanting to impose things onto others like with the outfits, I mentioned. It took me to realize that: He was cheering himself up and was a display of how he's learning to read-the-room, since like with McGucket, Ford is fully aware that he also ruined Stan's life and harmed him so much, he doesn't blame him if he wants to stay away from him or hates him for the rest of his life, but since he witnessed Mabel doing a second miracle, he tries to find the positive side of life.

Since this happens after the "Scrapbook Theraphy" and of course the old home films, while Stan was recovering his memory. Maybe seeing their past again, made not only Ford to start taking responsibility of his actions, but also made him sad, the only memories happy of him and Stan together, were when they were children/teens. They never made a memory of theirselves as adults, even when Stan got him back and with the realization that they can die of age, maybe Ford thinks that it was about time they do something now with their lives. Also, with the whole Sibling Brothers books stuff, now that we know that Stan and Ford were enemies with them, maybe Ford got reminded of when they meet the Jersey Devil back then and how he wants to see another monster with Stan.

Also, I think in the show, it was clear that Stan is unable of hiding his emotions, so, it's clear that Stan couldn't hide his joy again when Ford asks him to sail the world together... maybe in part was intentional, maybe during the Scrapbook Theraphy they got reminded of the portal incident.... maybe Ford wanted to overwrite that memory and made sure of repeating a similar scenario. Like, turning a bad moment into a good one. Maybe it was in purpouse. So, when they now remembered the Portal Incident, instead they recall this memory as well, since it's similar now. Also, Ford is the one asking, because since he's aware he wronged Stan, then he needs to make things right, another sign that he's taking responsibilities of their actions. I mean, Ford wanted that he and Stan finally let go a bad moment of their lives, by redoing it and giving it a good outcome. I mean, turning a bad memory into a good memory.

What do you think? I wonder if you liked this?

Well, Ford didn't ruin Stan's life (that was Filbrick), but Ford did hurt Stan (and Stan has hurt Ford), and it was Ford's way of further reaching out so make something new for him and Stan.

Weirdmageddon, seeing Dipper and Mabel work together (and seeing them in danger) is what Stan and Ford to work their shit out. Bill was defeated by Stan and Ford working together.

Though that's given the childhood dream about the boat WAS brought up during the portal incident (by Ford), it's interesting to think about viewing it as a parallel to the portal incident, except with a good ending.

[sulky-cabbage]

The sukugo fight can't get animated any sooner I'm craving sukugo tiktok edits

[isfjmel-phleg]

🚲

[burger-goblin]

.

[sewerfight]

when I was around twelve I used to sit at the family computer and send hatemail to a white french dude named Jacques who was a self proclaimed communist on Tumblr. This was back in the day when you didn't need a blog to send anon hate. I had no real beef with him but I just didn't like his tone. used to send him "SHUT UP Jacques" periodically. and he'd answer every single one of my asks like "who is this?? show your face or I'll fucking kill you" and I'd be like "now now, that doesn't make sense, jacques" all haughty and he'd get so fucking mad at me. One time he posted a selfie and I sent him an ask claiming I was a psychologist and that his hair parting suggested that he wasn't a communist at all. and he took it deliriously serious and went off on a 2,000 word rant. I can remember going to stay at my grandparents over that weekend, so I didn't even respond to the rant until I came back. I could've chosen to end it there, but when I returned, I sent him another ask which was like "psychologist here again: if you were a communist your hair parting would be in the middle. evenly distributed. All behavioural signs point to someone who doesn't take their own values seriously." and he went ballistic. really swearing at me. all caps type beat. he never turned the asks off, btw. which always made me wonder if he didn't know how to, or if he didn't want to cause he was convinced he was fighting a war, and this action would ensure he lost it. anyway this went on for weeks until one day I completely forgot about him like he was some kind of childhood imaginary friend I'd conjured up in my loneliness. but yesterday I happened to recall the whole scenario, because my buddy was like "remember when you were twelve and I came over to your house, and you showed me on the computer how you'd been terrorizing this random French guy for days on end. And you were laughing like fucking crazy. and I said it wasn't funny because he probably had problems, and you were like 'oh.' and you looked a bit guilty for a second, but then you went and got a grapefruit from the kitchen and threw it out of the second story window at my kid brother, who was playing in the street, and then you started laughing again?" Well. when she put it like that, needless to say I felt bad. so Jacques if you're out there I'm sorry I was such a little shit. you had totally normal hair, and you only wanted people to share stuff. If it's any consolation I know every day of my life that I'm probably going to hell for the sick things I have done

[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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[yongseungkim]

.

[nanaslutt]

JJK men's reactions to you starting your period during sex

incl: Nanami, Choso, Gojo, Geto

note: anon who sent this, this just happened to me too, you’re not alone

Contains: fem reader, period talk, period sex, blood, choking, multiple positions, mirror sex, spanking, creampie, ass play (geto’s part), dirty talk, teasing, rough sex

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Nanami:

Nanami had you in a mean mating press, your legs up to your shoulders as he drilled his cock inside you, the angle making him perfectly hit all of the most sensitive spots inside you. "Shi-t Kento, right there!" You whined, the words coming out broken from the roughness of his thrusts. "Yeah? Feels good honey?" He asked, smiling into your shoulder before he pursed his lips to leave soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

"Fuck yes- please don't stop-" you cried, feeling your legs start to burn from being stretched over your head for so long, but the pleasure Nanami was bringing you was more than enough to make up for it. Nanami felt the telltale sign of your high, your cunt clenching tighter around him, the pulsing of your cunt around his cock coming more frequently as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.

He knew you needed clit stimulation to cum though, so without a second thought he squeezed his hand between your bodies in search for your clit—which he found with ease as he began rubbing small circles into the bud. He felt his own stomach start to tighten with the need for his own release, his thrusts getting sloppy as he fucked his cock inside your warm cunt, working him up to his orgasm.

"You gonna cum pretty girl? Gonna cum all over my cock?" Nanami whispered, feeling a gush of your arousal around his length. You nodded your head, your nails digging into his shoulders as you babbled and whined his name, relishing in all the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami leaned back slightly, easing the stretch of your thighs as he looked down to where the two of you were connected, nothing unusual—he loved watching his cock disappear and reappear from your cunt covered in your slick.

Only this time, when he pulled his hips back he could clearly see there were streaks of red coating his cock, making him panic, his thumb coming down to scoop some of the slick that was slipping down the underside of your hole as he kept the pace of his hips up, just slower—not wanting to alarm or embarrass you. When he brought his thumb back up it was just as he had thought he saw, his thumb was coated in your arousal, mixed with some of your blood.

While your eyes were screwed shut and you were waiting patiently to feel Nanami's thumb on your clit some more, he stopped his thrusts, keeping his hips flush to yours. Nanami leaned back, grabbing your ankles he slowly dropped your legs down from the side of your head, resting them atop his thighs. You cracked your eyes open slowly, wondering why he had stopped. "Kento? Something wrong?" You asked, trying to catch your breath, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He sighed before showing you a small smile, his hands coming to rub along your thighs, making goosebumps arise on the skin there as he caressed you so gently. "It's my fault really, I saw you were supposed to start your period today on the app I have. I should've taken it easier on you." He said, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. Immediately your face was covered in a dark crimson blush, your whole body heating up in embarrassment at what his words meant.

"Wait- Did I-? On your-?" You asked, covering your face with your hands but spreading your fingers apart as eyeholes so you could see him still. Nanami chuckled, his hands coming to pull your wrists away from your face, facing some resistance from you at first. "Nanami I'm so sorry, oh my goddd." You pouted, looking away from him you tried to turn your body away, which didn't result in you moving far as Nanami's cock was still snugly inside you.

"Why are you sorry my love?" He giggled, leaning over your body he placed his elbows by your head, moving your hands away from your face he caressed your cheek softly, your eyes still looking anywhere but his face. "This isn't something you can control. On the other hand, I saw you might start today and decided to have sex with you anyways, please don't feel embarrassed." He reassured, kissing your cheek softly.

"So.. what now.." You asked, feeling how his cock still throbbed inside you, his orgasm being stripped away after being so close must have left him with a dull ache. "We can do whatever you want my love, I can keep going and finish us off, We can stop and I'll clean you up, I can pull out and get you off with my fingers, whatever you're comfortable with," Nanami answered, smiling at you softly, his other hand starting to caress through your hair.

"I think I want to uh.. finish.. both of us." You replied, looking back at him bashfully. Nanami nodded, pressing a kiss to your face before he leaned back and kept your thighs around his, not wanting to put you in an uncomfortable position again. "You sure you're not.. grossed out by this?" You asked, fiddling with your hands over your stomach. Nanami laughed, shaking his head down at you before he pulled his cock out a couple inches and humped it back inside you, making your mouth open in a moan. "No part of you could ever gross me out." He replied, making you blush furiously.

Choso:

"Ngh- so tight-" Choso moaned when you squeezed your cunt around him on purpose. His hands were reaching up to play with your tits while you straddled his hips and rode his cock. You bit your lip looking down at your handsome boyfriend whose face was screwed in pleasure. "Does it feel good Cho?" You asked, pausing your up and down movements to rock back and forth on him, your clit bumping against his abs and sending delicious pleasure throughout your whole body.

He kept his hands on your tits, squeezing them almost painfully when you started grinding on him, knocking his cock into your sweet spot inside you. This was a different kind of pleasure than when you were bouncing on him, and it was making his toes curl. "So good- so good b-babe." Choso whined quietly, almost whispering out the pet name in embarrassment. His eyes were rolling back in his head, his chin tipped up toward the ceiling as he laid his head back into the pillows, relishing in the feeling of your warm cunt around him.

"Good, wanna make you feel good Cho." You responded, placing your hands on his abs you pulled your hips up, laving just the tip of his cock inside you before you slammed back down on him, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Choso groaned out the moment you dropped your weight down on his cock and started fucking him again.

His chin fell back down to his chest so he could watch you get off on top of him. A blush covered his cheeks while he watched you throw your head back as you bounced on top of him, your hand coming down to play with your clit while he continued groping your tits, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. Choso was in absolute heaven, nothing could make this moment better.. so he thought.

Choso dropped his gaze to your cunt to watch your pussy swallow up his cock hungrily when he noticed each time his cock disappeared inside you when you raised back up before sitting on him again, the strings of your arousal that stuck to your inner thighs and the base of his cock were a deep red color--you were bleeding. Choso opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He wanted to tell you that you were bleeding, in case you were in pain, but you didn't seem to be in pain at all.

He truly was enjoying the sight, his cock twitching inside you at the revelation that the warmth that was coating his cock wasn't just your cum, but your blood. That same thought repeated over and over in his head every time you bounced on his cock, making him feel dizzy.

After lots and lots of back and forth in his head about whether he would tell you about the blood; in fear, you would want to stop; he decided to tell you--it was the right thing to do. Hesitantly his hands dropped from your tits and gripped your waist hard, stopping all your movements. He was partially grateful he had stopped you at this moment because after seeing the blood, he didnt think he was going to last much longer.

"Cho, something wrong? You close?" You asked, tilting your head at him as you rubbed your hands over his abs, noticing how heavy he was breathing and how flushed his face was. Choso swallowed hard, he tried to gather the words in his crowded head carefully before he spoke. "Its okay baby, you can talk to me." You assured, smiling softly at him, one of your hands coming to rub at his large shaky hand that held your waist with an iron grip.

"Y-you..You're bleeding." He finally said after so much thought, making you furrow your eyebrows together. "Huh?" You replied, looking at your body for signs of blood, the crimson color below you being hidden from how you were sitting flush on his lap, his cock snugly inside you. "Um, down there..you're bleeding." He answered, doing his best to keep his eyes on yours, even though the words he was saying was making him feel incredibly embarrassed for some reason.

You looked down, moving your hands away from his abs you laid them on his knees. Leaning backward you lifted your hips as bit, noticing the blood that was smeared all over his pelvis and your inner thighs, the crimson liquid also coating the base of his dick that you pulled out of you. Choso saw the gears in your head turn, noticing that you were starting to panic. "I like it." He blurted out before you could apologize.

You shut your mouth briefly, registering his words you opened it again, looking at him in astonishment. "I uh.. I don't want to stop. I.. I really like it, but if you're not comfortable we can.. we can stop." Choso knew very little about humans and how their bodies worked, but he did remember you kept little cotton devices in your bathroom, and you had rejected his advances before because you were on your 'period'. He had Yuuji explain what a 'period' was, and the boy had told him that "girls bleed once a month" adding he didn't know much else about it.

Had Choso known what that had actually entailed and how hot it would be, he would've pushed for the two of you to have sex when you were on your period way sooner. You looked at him incredulously before you burst into laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. Choso blushed, your cunt twitching around him while you laughed, making him feel needy. "You're something else Choso." You giggled, blushing at his confession.

"Sorry, I wanted to be honest. I don't know much about.. periods but if it hurts we can stop too." He smacked himself internally for not asking you how you were feeling sooner. You leaned down to kiss his chest, the few inches of his cock you had slid out of you to see what he was talking about sliding back inside you, making him inhale softly. "It doesn't hurt but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little embarrassed.." Choso had no idea why you would be embarrassed about something so hot, did other humans think it was gross? How stupid.

"But, you seem to really like it so.. I guess it'll be okay for now." You finished, making his face flush red, his whole body heating up at your consent for him to keep going. "I do, I really like it, promise." He babbled, shaking his head, his hands smoothing up and down the sides of your body eagerly. "Please keep going, please fuck me now," Choso begged needily, making you giggle. "Okay, okay, but this is a one-time thing okay! Don't get too excited." Choso was long past that, 'one-time' thing? Yeah right, Choso was good at begging, and Choso happens to be your one and only weakness.

Gojo:

"You look so prettyyy~" Gojo cooed, sitting on his heels behind you in the mirror while your ass sat on his pelvis, the skin rippling every time he fucked his cock back inside you, creating loud squelches to echo throughout the room. You blushed at his compliment, your eyes averting away from the mirror in embarrassment from how intensely he was looking at you.

"Awww, you gettin' shy on me?" Gojo giggled, grabbing your jaw in his strong hand he pulled your gaze back to the mirror, making you watch yourself get fucked. "Don't be shyy~ After all I'm going through all this trouble to put on a show for you, don't be mean~" He cooed, pouting his lip at you in the mirror, watching your eyes rake over your body.

"Yeah, that's it, look at how good you look when I fuck you." He moaned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his chin coming to rest in the crook of your shoulder while he watched your body move and bounce from his ministrations. "Gojo- too fast-" You whined, reaching one of your hands back between you to push weakly on his pelvis, trying to get him to slow down.

There was a dull cramping in your stomach, making you wince when Gojo fucked into you a little too hard. You chalked it up to the angle being intense combined with the sheer length of Gojo's cock, he was probably hitting your cervix--being the reason for the cramping.

Gojo had one hand wrapped around your torso, keeping you flush against his chest, the other still holding your face, making you watch your pleasure-contorted expressions in the mirror. "Huh? 'S it too much? Can't take it?" Gojo teased, making his voice whiny and high-pitched. "Y-es t-too much- too fast nghhh-" Gojo slid his hand from your face down to your neck, gripping your throat slightly he tipped your head back towards him, making your body arch into him.

"Nah, you can take it, mama." He whispered in your ear, making you whine. "You always take my cock so well, don't you?" He cooed, encouraging you. When you continued to mindlessly cry on his cock, he tightened his grip on your throat, "Don't you?" He repeated, emphasizing his words with a mean thrust. "Toru-" You whined, tears forming in your eyes as he fucked you spiraling towards your high.

"Oooh fuck- you gonna cum? S-squeezin' me so tight pretty- fuck-" Gojo grit through his teeth into your neck. He felt your cunt squeeze tightly around him, making his eyes roll back in his head. When they returned to their rightful place in his sockets, he dragged his gaze between your legs, ready to watch how your little hole squeezed around him as you came, but something else caught his attention. A red streak of blood was slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh, coming from your cunt. It was then he noticed the base of his cock was red as well.

It didn't take him long to figure out what was happening. You always took him with little to no complaints. Your hand had been pressed to your pelvis like you were in pain when you told him to slow down, and now you were bleeding--you had started your period, in the middle of sex, all over his cock. Gojo knew you, he knew you would be embarrassed and make him stop if he pointed out what was happening.

He couldnt do that to you, after all you were so close to your orgasm. He smirked to himself, the hand wrapping around your body slid down to your cunt to rub circles into your sensitive little bud, getting the crimson colored liquid on his fingers as he did so--not that he minded in the slightest. He sort of found it endering, it was very intamate. His ego also spiked at the thought that he had literally fucked your period out of you--or he chose to see it that way.

He kept his hand firm on your neck, keeping your face pointed to the ceiling to avoid you opening your eyes and seeing the bloody mess between your thighs, turning your off. "Toru- T-toru-" You whined, gripping his wrist as he continued to rub your clit in circles with his middle finger, his cock hammering into your g-spot. "Cum for me mama, cum all over my cock-" He groaned into your ear, watching your body in the mirror.

"Yeahhhhh- fuck- thats it-" He smiled, feeling your cunt constrict around his cock, your jaw going slack as you were pushed over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut as you came, your orgasm hitting your so much harder than usual, probably thanks to the angle he had you in. "Fucking- godddd~" Gojo groaned, feeling his own cock twitch as spurts of his hot cum filled your cunt, mixing inside you with your arousal and blood.

He bit his lip watching the fluids leak out around him, his eyes fighting to stay forward as he wanted to watch how your body jerked and spasmed while you came. "Take it baby, take my fucking cum-" He whispered breathily in your ear, slowly humping his hips to the hilt of your cunt, making sure he fucked every last drop of his cum inside you.

He giggled, watching your body weakly twitch in the mirror. He could see your eyes open once more, staring at the ceiling. Gojo kissed a trail from the crook of your next to your ears before he giggled, "Don't freak out~" He said teasingly before he let go of your throat, allowing you to get out of the uncomfortable arch he had you in.

"Wha-?" You were about to question what he meant when you instinctively looked between your legs, your eyes taking in the bloody mess on your thighs and the base of his cock. You slapped a hand over your face instantly, the need to curl up in a ball and hide coming over you--as well as the need to kill Satoru for not telling you you had started your period during sex. "Satoru!!" You yelled behind your hand, the hand on his pelvis smacking against him a couple times in frustration.

"I didnt want you to be embarassedddd~ I wanted you to cum before you-" "Satoruuuuu." You groaned, interrupting him as you covered your face with both hands, cringing at your own body's horrible timing. He laughed, embracing your body with his larger one he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you entirely. "Baby, it's okay," He giggled, kissing the hands that covered your face. You felt so hot, and it wasn't from your arousal. "One shower and it's like it never even happened~." He said, trying to comfort you.

"It's probably all over the floor, ughhhh.." You moaned, your words coming out muffled from behind your hands. "I'll clean it up mama, it's my apology to you." He said although he would clean it up no matter what, Satoru always took such good care of you after he finished blowing your back out. "Bet your cramps are gone now too, huh?" He added, making you tip your head up, looking at him through your fingers.

"How did you know I had cramps?" You asked, taking a second to notice that he was right, the ache in your stomach was gone. "Dumb question, I know you better than I know myself." He said smugly, kissing your hands again. "They do say orgasms take away period pain," Gojo added, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You groaned, trying to force down your smile before you dropped your hands to his thighs and rubbed the skin there, sighing. "Whatever you say.. just.. clean me up please, I feel gross." You cringed. "Anything for you princess." Gojo smiled, pressing a string of kisses to your face before he pulled his softened cock out to clean you up.

Geto:

The dark-haired man stared down at your ass, mouth agape as he used a large hand to grip your waist, the other pulling your pussy lips apart so he could get a perfect view of your cunt sucking in his cock. He shook his head, groaning when you slowly sat down on him, repeating that process, up and down, up and down, teasingly fucking yourself on his cock while you faced away from him, your feet hooked on his thighs.

Geto groaned as he relaxed into the bed, his hand that was holding your hip coming up to cradle his head, laying it against the pillows behind him. You turned your head back to look at him, he looked so sexy. His hair was pulled half up half down in his signature smile, a faint blush was dusting on his cheeks as he stared at where the two of you were connected with a smirk.

His eyes darted up to yours when he noticed you staring at him, making his smile grow, his head tilting to the side. "Whatcha lookin' at baby?" He asks, pulling his hand back to leave a loud smack against the fat of your ass, making you wince at the painful pleasure. "You're 's handsome sugu~" You praise, humping your hips back against his pelvis faster.

Geto shows you his teeth, a pretty smile gracing his features. "Thank you, baby, you're pretty cute too, takin' my dick so well~" He cooed, his eyes darting between your cunt and your face screwed in pleasure. "'S it feel good right there?" He asked, noticing how your eyes rolled back in your head when he humped his hips up into yours, his dick slamming into your sweet spot. "Mhm." You said softly, your head falling back as you sat on his thighs, bracing yourself on the strong muscles as you bounced up and down on him, the new angle pressing his fat tip right against where you needed him most.

"Oh shit," He groaned, both of his hands flying down to grip your waist at the new position. "Fuck- feels like 'm so deep like this." He says, his jaw dropping in a small o as you do your best to bounce through the burn of your thighs. "Sugu~" You whine, turning your head once more to look at him through your peripheral vision, "Help me," You whine, your bouncing growing slopy at the increasing burn in your muscles.

"You gettin' tired baby?" He asks, soothingly rubbing his hands over your hips. "Yeah.. Fuck me Sugu, please." You beg, squeezing your cunt around him, causing him to let out a drawn-out groan. "Ohhh- fuck- okay baby, yeah, I'll help you." Before you're able to register what's happened, Geto has you face down on the bed, your arms pinned behind your back as he restrains you with one arm, the other softly teasing the rim of your puckered hole as he ruthlessly pounds his cock into you.

"Ngh- S-s-uguuu-" You whine, being able to do nothing but cry into the sheets as he bullies your cunt with his thick cock. "What~" He cooes, "Wanted me to help right baby? I'm helping. What do you say?" He teases, pressing his thumb harder against your tight hole. "T-thank you t-thank you Sugu- fuck!" You cry out when his thumb breaches the tight ring, his fingers resting on the slope of your ass while he slowly thrusts his thumb in and out of you.

"Fuck, you get so tight when I play with your ass baby, you're so dirty." He teases, picking up the pace of his cock. You continue to cry into the sheets, taking all the pleasure he gives you with no complaints. Geto smiles down at you, watching your eyes roll back in your head repeatedly every time his dick thrusts inside you. His eyes drop down to admire the way you're taking him, but his hips freeze when he notices blood on his cock, some of it starting to drip down the back of your thigh, making him panic.

"Fuck, you're bleeding." He says, pulling his cock and thumb out. He notices then that his entire cock is coated in a light pink liquid, the color thanks to how much arousal you were leaking out of your cunt. You whipped you're head around, a panicked, "What?!" leaving your lips as Geto used his thumb to spread open your folds, wondering how deep the bleeding was. Had he been too rough? Fuck, he felt so bad.

"I'm sorry, fuck I think I was too rough, are you okay? Does it hurt?" He rushed, soothing his hand over your ass as he waited for you to speak, his cock hanging in the air between you, still hard. It was then that you realized the ache in your tummy--the unforgettable feeling of period cramps. "Shit." You mumbled while Geto sat back on his heels, apologizing profusely. "No baby, It's, fuck it's okay you didnt do anything." You said, sitting up from the position he had you in to face him, a hand coming down to cup over your cunt to prevent blood from leaking onto the sheets.

Geto looked at you with worry still in his eyes, his hands shaking. He wasn't afraid of blood, but his biggest fear was hurting you, even unintentionally. You placed your hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes. You took a deep breath before you spoke, "I uh.. I started my period.." You said, your face turning a deep crimson. "My app said I was supposed to start in a couple days so I thought I was okay but.. fuck.. this is so embarrassing." You sighed, laughing nervously as you looked anywhere but at Geto.

Geto felt like he was ten pounds lighter, a loud sigh of relief fell from his lips before he leaned forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder. "Thank god," He heaved, his hands wrapping around your body, your arm cupped underneath your cunt being awkwardly squished between the two of you. "I know you're okay, but maybe we should stick to.. softer sex for a while. I think I almost had a heart attack thinking I hurt you." He admitted, keeping his head on your shoulder.

You giggled, your free hand wrapping around his shoulders. It made you laugh how you were comforting him in this situation, but the lack of attention on yourself took away a lot of the embarrassment so you were happy to baby him. "Whatever you want baby, sorry to scare you." You laughed, your hands starting to thread through his hair. After another long sigh, he raised his head from your shoulder and dropped his gaze briefly to your covered cunt before looking back into your eyes.

"So.. you're not in any pain?" He asks, to which you nod. "Yes, promise, I'm fine." You respond, your hand sliding down the side of his face to caress his cheek. Suguru thinks for a moment, looking around the room before he looks back at you. "So... wanna keep going?" He asks, making your jaw drop as you staired at him wordlessly.

Honestly, your first instinct was to say no.. but after you thought about it for another half a second you figured, fuck it. Geto's cock still hung erect between his legs, still coated in the pink liquid, and your own arousal was still very much prevalent between your legs. It was also very clear to you that Geto did not mind the blood, and he was certainly not the kind of man who was clean in bed. "Yeah, why not." You responded, crashing your lips to his.

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[fastandcarlos]

Bump Cuddles : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: watching you pregnant is a dream for max, especially with your bump there on offer for him to always snuggle up to

His eyes landed on you as soon as you walked into your bedroom, Max’s smile turned up as he watched you close the door behind you, knowing that was you for the night. You placed your phone down before perching on the edge of the bed, slowly rolling onto your back and stretching out. 

As you reached up, the material of your pyjama shirt lifted up, revealing your babu bump. “Look at you,” Max chuckled, instinctively moving towards you and placing his hand on your exposed skin. 

“This thing is lethal these days,” you chuckled, relaxing under the pressure of the warmth of Max’s hand. “I could do some serious damage if I wanted to with this thing.” 

“Tell me about it,” Max chuckled, all too familiar with being on the receiving end of you barging him forgetting how much space you now needed to get around. “Just think, there’s only a few more weeks to go until you won’t have this anymore.” 

“I can’t wait,” you laughed as Max turned his frame around so that his head was resting just beside your bump too. “The bump might look nice, but it’s the most impractical thing in the world.” 

With your bump growing day by day, you were finding it harder and harder to manage. Max was struggling to sit back and watch you, knowing that there was very little that he could do to help you. He did as much as he could, more than enough as far as you were concerned, but he still felt as if he could do more. 

“This is the stage that I’ve looked forward to the most,” Max admitted, brushing his hand over the surface of your bump, pushing your shirt up. “It’s so cuddly and the size of it too, no matter what you’re doing, or wearing, it just looks incredible.” 

As your bump became more prominent, Max’s excitement grew. He was glued to your side whenever he was around you, his hands couldn’t get enough of feeling your bump and the little movements of your son who was wriggling around inside. 

“Do you need anything?” Max asked you, realising that you were settling for the night. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” 

Your head shook in reply to Max. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt properly comfortable, but you were settled at least for now. Max was used to you being pretty restless, happy to do whatever he needed to do to help you whenever you needed to shuffle. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he added, reminding you once again that he was there for you, offering you a sympathetic smile as your eyes met his. 

Your hand came down, brushing through Max’s hair as he made himself comfortable to lay down beside your bump for a little while. “I think he must know that you’re home as he’s been kicking around a lot more than usual today.” 

“Has he?” Max excitedly asked, quickly moving his hand around wondering whether he could feel one for himself, having missed the feeling of your baby’s kicks during his weekend away racing in Qatar. 

You could only chuckle at the excitement on Max’s face, searching and searching for that sweet spot. He made no secret of the fact that feeling your son’s kicks was his favourite part of your pregnancy, every single time excited him as if it was the very first time he’d felt it.  

“What are you going to cuddle when the baby arrives?” You teased. 

“I might actually have to cuddle you again, not your bump.” 

When you first fell pregnant your bump baffled Max, he couldn’t believe how you had a little human growing inside. Now though, he couldn’t imagine the last few months without it, cuddling up to it had become a habit for Max without him even realising he was nearing it most of the time. 

“Sometimes I feel as if I’ve forgotten what you look like without your bump,” he laughed, continuing to move his hand around in search of a sign. 

You nodded in agreement with Max, having forgotten what your feet looked like having been unable to see them for quite a few weeks. “I think my body will be glad when what’s growing in the bump is on the outside, not the inside causing me any pain.” 

“Are you in pain now?” Max nervously asked, immediately panicking. His doubtful eyes looked at you as your head shook, but trusted you all the same. 

Max had always done a good job of taking care of you, but your pregnancy had introduced you to a whole new world with max. Protective was an understatement to describe how he treated you from the moment he found out you were pregnant. 

“I’m scared you know,” Max suddenly whispered, “our son will be tiny, I’m scared when I cuddle him out of your bump I’ll squash him or something.” 

You couldn't help but laugh as Max spoke, “you’ve had plenty of experience holding babies and you’ve managed not to squash any of them.” 

“But they weren’t mine,” he added, “I’ll give them an extra cuddle knowing that he’s mine.” 

Your hand continued to brush through his hair, “trust me, if you look like you’re going to crush our son then I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

The way his mind worked fascinated you, especially as Max seemed to overthink everything. He wanted every little thing to be perfect and would stop at nothing to make sure that it was. Every possible scenario had been considered by Max, even those that seemed completely out of the ordinary. 

“I think once the baby is here you’ll forget about me,” you joked, “you’ll only want to cuddle our son rather than cuddle up to me.” 

Max’s eyes were wide as he tilted them up to look at you. “There’s no way that I’ll ever forget about you, with these broad shoulders I’ll be able to hold the two of you without any problems at all.” 

“You know I’m only messing with you,” you replied, surprised by how serious Max was as he responded to you. 

“I’ll cuddle you more than ever once the baby is here,” Max assured you, moving his hand from your bump to rest against the top of yours. “I’ll cuddle you forever in appreciation for all that you’re about to put your body through in order to make our family complete.” 

As the two of you fell silent, you quickly grabbed Max’s hand placing it against your bump. Luckily for him, you got it there just in time as your son kicked out exactly where the palm of Max’s hand rested. 

“There he is,” Max chuckled, snuggling in closer to your bump, savouring the feeling of your baby letting you know that he was there. 

“That’s the hardest he’s kicked all day,” you breathed, taking a deep breath through the discomfort. “Obviously he’s very happy to have his daddy home too.” 

Max’s eyes studied you closely, “only a couple more weeks and you’ll be able to rest in peace again sweetheart, without all these interruptions.” 

“Are you forgetting the fact that we’ll have a screaming baby instead who will happily keep us up all night long Max?” 

“Let’s just forget about that for now,” he sniggered. 

Your head nodded in agreement, “I don’t know about you, but I’d quite like to make the most of these last few weeks with our bump.” 

“Me too,” Max smirked, “I’ve not got long left to cuddle this bump of yours, and I’m determined to make the most of it.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ugh-yoongi]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3