#event: alumni evening
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"god,  it's  crazy!  i  kind  of  wish  that  i'd  been  there  to  see  it  all  go  down⊠ alumni  evening,  an  accidental  lockdown⊠ apparently  there  was  a  weird  tape?  i'm  sure  dante  uploaded  it  all  on  tiktok."
what  began  as  a  slightly  off  putting  high  school  reunion  soon  span  into  something  much  more  unsettling  .  the  flood  warning  is  in  play  ,  the  doors  are  locked  and  the  sound  proofing  doesn't  help  the  outside  communicate  what  is  going  on  .  it  takes  three  hours  before  they  manage  to  unarm  the  emergency  protocol  ,  in  which  time  theories  and  emotions  run  wild  .  no  one  knows  if  this  is  part  of  the  plan...  if  something  else  is  going  on...  who  amongst  them  is  really  behind  all  of  this?  it  doesn't  feel  like  a  mistake  .  it  feels  like  a  warning  .  a  threat  .  there's  one  thing  you  all  know  for  sure  ...  once  you  get  out  of  here  then  you  are  well  and  truly  done  with  new  horizons  and  high  school  shenanigans...  or  so  you  think...
you  had  almost  forgotten  the  strange  summons  of  the  police  in  the  chaos  of  everything  going  on  but  as  the  doors  open,  a  recognisable  figure  enters.  a  rescuer  or  the  bearer  of  bad  news?  (  you  think  he  might  have  been  the  person  who  interviewed  you  back  in  2014  .  doesn't  he  have  a  kid  here?  )  .  then  you  hear  words  that  you  never  saw  coming  ,  sure  that  it  was  about  the  flood...  about  water  washing  through  lincoln  city  but  it  seems  tonight  ,  no  sins  are  washed  away  .  there  is  new  evidence  in  the  disappearance  of  chris  wilder,  one  of  his  belongings  discovered  by  a  dog  walker  in  the  wooded  area  near  devils  lake  .  you  don't  know  what  it  is...  but  it  doesn't  make  any  sense  .  after  all  these  years...  everything  chris  had  with  him  went  into  the  water  with  him  that  night.  his  clothes,  his  cell  phone,  his  wallet. Â
the  police  are  telling  you,  you  better  stay  in  town  a  while  longer.  we're  going  to  need  to  get  a  new  interview  from  everybody  about  the  night  he  disappeared.
out of character guidance:
the  dash  event  has  now  concluded  ,  you  may  finish  threads  if  you  feel  that  they  need  more  time  .  as  this  event  happened  on  friday  26th  ,  any  threads  on  the  dash  can  take  place  any  time  following  the  event  and  present  day as they await interview !
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Always Forever (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)
Word count: 8.2K
Summary: coriolanus finally lets himself acknowledge that he canât stand to see you with anyone but him
Tags: (18+), cw: dubcon, cw: noncon, pseudo!incest (not related, reader raised with the snows), dark!coriolanus, pre-mentor era, jealousy/obsession/possessiveness, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, fear of getting caught, lots of drama for my lovely readers
A/N: second coryo fic and itâs somehow longer than the last one lol. only one part. pls read the tags and proceed with caution đ«¶
Misc masterlist + main masterlist
âLook at you, you look so pretty!â Tigris beamed, adjusting the straps of your dress. âDoesnât she, Coryo?â
In his peripheral, Coriolanus could see his cousin had turned to look at him expectantly, but his eyes were already on you. They always had been, and always would be.
âYes, she does,â he replied without thought.
You faced him with a smile, and Coriolanus couldnât help the pride that swarmed him just looking at you.
It was because of him that you were in his life, and until the day he died Coriolanus knew it would remain the best decision he ever made.
As children during the war, when he and Tigris would scavenge the streets, Coriolanus stumbled across you. Not much younger than him, huddled behind a pillar, all alone. You had a half a loaf of bread. It wasnât fresh, but he still didnât understand where you got it. You tore it in half and shared it with him.
He returned to Tigris with you in tow, his small hand clutching your even smaller one, and his cousin took pity.
She also took the brunt of the consequence for bringing home another mouth to feed, but sacrifices had to be made, didnât they?
It was worth it. You were worth it to himâto both of them, really.
As you got older, Grandmaâam eventually took a liking to you, although Coriolanus wondered if it was because she could see how much he cared for you.
It didnât matter. Not really. You were part of the family now, even if you did not share the Snow name.
âThank you, Tigris,â you said sweetly, pulling the older girl into a hug.
It was a big day for both you and Coriolanus. The academy was hosting an event for students to mingle with administration and alumni of the university.
Coriolanus had put on his best outfitâhe already knew it was the same one he was going to wear when the Plinth Prize winner was announced in only a few weeks. He was sure it was going to be him.
Tigris had fashioned your dress by hand. Coriolanus was past questioning how she paid for her fine fabrics, but he had an inclination it was the same way they could suddenly afford food some days.
The long dress reminded Coriolanus of freshly fallen snow, the white holding a sense of purity and wealth that his family once had. It had a sense of elegance that you only furthered with donning it, but it lacked an extravagance that would force you to stand out.
It was perfect.
You parted from Tigris to approach Coriolanus. You had a light smile on your face as your hands ran down his black vest, adjusting it.
âWe almost match,â you commented, referring to the white shirt beneath said vest. âIf only I had something black.â
âWell, Iâd let you borrow this, but then weâd be in the same position, only switched,â he teased lightly, drawing a small chuckle from you.
Coriolanus liked when you looked up at him, same as he liked hearing your laugh.
âDonât worry, Iâll survive without.â Your hands fell to your sides. âBesides, it definitely looks more handsome on you.â
Hearing those words from you meant more than youâd ever know, and more than heâd let himself acknowledge.
You were so good to him, he couldnât imagine spending the evening with anyone else.
When he walked into the ballroom of the academy with you on his arm, Coriolanus got a rush of power. Especially when heads turned. Looking at him, looking at you, just looking.
He wondered what the minds behind all those gazing eyes were thinking.
He hoped it was a balanced amount of envy and respect.
âWe should find Sejanus, let him know weâre here,â you said, not thinking much of the sentence as you looked around the room, taking in the people and the decor.
Coriolanus thought everything of it, a sourness settling over him. Sejanus was his friend, but Coriolanus wished they hadnât gotten as close as they did. It was because of his friendship with Sejanus that you met him, and began to develop⊠feelings for him.
God, Coriolanus hated to even think about it.
When you told him you had begun dating Sejanus, Coriolanus nearly had a heart attack. Then he felt violent. Not towards you. Never towards you.
It wasnât just because he felt protective of you, or because Sejanus was district, or because Coriolanus knew you were far, far too good for his friend⊠it was everything. All of that and everything in between.
Before you could find him, Sejanus found you.
He was in a fine black suit, finer than anything Coriolanus owned, and a bright smile appeared on his face at the sight of you.
That was one thing they still had in common. Reverence for you.
âHad to come find my girl before everyone thinks she ditched me,â Sejanus joked, pulling a laugh from you. âWhere have you guys been?â
âMaking sure we look our best,â you replied, shooting Coriolanus a wink.
If Sejanus wasnât reaching for you, Coriolanus mightâve smiled.
âWell, you did a wonderful job.â
Coriolanus let you slip away from his side, reluctantly giving you away to Sejanus.
The unfortunate thing was Sejanus was truly a decent person. Not perfect, but decent. Better than most, even if he was beneath you all. You cared nothing for status, and seemed to really like him. He treated you right from what Coriolanus had seen, making disapproval not exactly warranted.
Although, Coriolanus was always going to be incredibly protective of you. He doubted there was a world where he would be pleased with any relationship you found. Your interest in other people was becoming tiresome, truthfully. Did you really even need friends? Or lovers? You had Coriolanus, and he was sure that was enough.
His jaw clenched when you pressed a light kiss to Sejanusâs cheek. It would be much simpler if he was a terrible person. Coriolanus would have an excuse outside of his own selfishness to separate youâwhich he did not have now.
âCan I ask for this dance?â Sejanus wondered, shooting you a smile. At least he had the awareness to still look anxious.
But you⊠you grinned. You were too good.
âWell you just asked, so I guess you can,â you started sarcastically, but let him off the hook quickly. âAnd of course Iâll say yes.â
Sejanus looked relieved, taking your hand in his. You turned to look at Coriolanus, a small bit of guilt in your expression. You clearly hadnât been planning on leaving his side so soon. You masked it with the same teasing tone youâd used before.
âI wonât be long, donât get too bored without me, Coryo.â
Coriolanus only smiled for your sake. It fell the moment Senjanus led you away to a small group of other students dancing together.
From the sidelines, Coriolanus watched as Sejanus led you in a slow dance. He tried to avoid his eyes landing on his friend. He didnât want to view the two of you in the same light as the other couples embracing one another.
Coriolanus tried to remember the first moment he realized how beautiful you were. It was so long ago, it wasnât something he was even aware he thought so often.
The sun rose in the morning, roses had thorns, and you were beautiful.
It was simple as that.
After a dance and a half, Coriolanus couldnât take it anymore.
His feet carried him to the dance floor, mind absent as he tried to justify his jealousy as protectiveness. Yes, thatâs all he was. Protective. Like an older brother⊠like what he was supposed to be. Even if it wasnât what he wanted to be.
You and Sejanus were swaying and talking, but as he snuck up on the two of you, Coriolanus couldnât make out the words. It didnât matter.
You turned your head to look at him, smiling in surprise at his presence.
âCoryo!â
âCan I cut in?â Coriolanus requested. His hand itched to rest on your shoulder, but he withheld. He wasnât going to take no for an answer, and he briefly wondered if Sejanus sensed that or not.
âAll yours,â Sejanus agreed, spinning you by the hand. You turned in a circle, then a half, facing Coriolanus. âIâm going to go find my father, heâs here tonight,â he informed.
âIâll come find the two of you in a few minutes,â you told Sejanus, who nodded then headed off. Before he did, he looked to Coriolanus and said, âTake good care of her.â
âI always do,â Coriolanus responded easily, because it was the truth. He didnât need Sejanus telling him that. Heâd been there for you long before either of you even knew his friend existed. He looked down to you, taking your hand in his while the other fell to your waist. You looked amused. âI do, donât I?â
âYes, Coryo,â you replied with a smile. âBetter than anyone.â
The slow waltz felt so natural, your movements in tune with his without thought. You two were always like that, always in sync.
âWhat were you and Sejanus talking about?â Coriolanus wondered, curiosity getting the best of him.
âNothing important,â you dismissed with a shrug. âSweet nothings.â
Coriolanus didnât miss the shy smile appearing on your face. He couldnât control the frown trying to take over his.
A more thoughtful look crossed your face, your smile faltering.
âAre you happy for me, Coryo?â
Coriolanus blinked.
âI⊠want to be,â he confessed, eyes scanning your face. It was the truth for the most part. He did want you to be happy, just not with Sejanus.
You nodded slowly, taking in his words. Coriolanus wished he could open your head and investigate every corner of your brain. He wanted to know every thought you had.
âSejanus is your friend, I wouldâve thoughtâŠâ you swallowed and looked away. âNever mind.â
âNo, what is it?â Coriolanus pressed, tilting his head, trying to make you meet his gaze.
When you did, he saw the disappointment in your eyes.
You stepped back from him, parting completely.
âI need to find Sejanus. Iâll put in a good word for you about the Plinth Prize with his father.â
Then, you departed, not leaving room for Coriolanus to argue for you to stay.
He wouldâve, and you knew that.
The moment you disappeared from his view, Coriolanus went looking. You had moved quickly. He found you across the room, sitting down at a table with Sejanus and Mr. Plinth.
He didnât approach, he couldnât make himself look bad in front of Mr. Plinth.
So he watched you talk, and drink, and laugh, and drink some moreâŠ
âI canât believe sheâs doing this,â Arachne whispered, suddenly appearing at his side. Coriolanus looked down at her. She was clearly talking about you. He could see the way she flicked her heavily decorated eyes in your direction. âAssociating with him was one thing, but⊠wellââArachne let out a vicious laughââdo you think their children will call her âMaâ too?â
Coriolanus felt ill at the thought. Leave it to Arachne to provoke him, to conjure up nightmares he hadnât even thought of yet himself.
âSheâll come to her senses,â Coriolanus muttered, gritting his teeth.
Arachne rolled her eyes. âLetâs hope so,â she mused, continuing on her way, blood red dress dragging behind her with each step.
Coriolanus looked back to you. He was overwhelmed with nausea as Sejanus grabbed your hand atop the table. Damn Arachne for placing that thought in his head.
He watched as you lifted another glass to your lips, smiling along as Sejanus talked to his father. What was that, your third? Sejanus had yet to say anything to you. He was fine with allowing you to get intoxicated?
Drinking alcohol wasnât exactly a crime, but Sejanus didnât know you well enough to know you were inexperienced. The last thing Coriolanus wanted was you making a fool of yourself.
Darker thoughts crept in. Maybe Sejanus was allowing you to inebriate yourself on purpose. The thought of him climbing on top to you made Coriolanusâs blood boil. His fingers twitched to form a fist, and his jaw clenched even tighter.
In that moment, Coriolanus decided he wouldnât let Arachneâs mockery come true.
He had to help you. You needed his protection, even when you didnât know it. You needed him. You always would. Coriolanus could remind you, then perhaps you'd see you didnât even need Sejanus at all.
When you left the tableâCoriolanus wasnât sure whyâhe saw his opportunity. He approached you quickly, finding no problem in catching your arm and leading you away from the party. Away from all the people, where it could just be the two of you.
Out a door, down a long, empty corridor until the two of you ended up outside in the schoolâs garden. It was isolated from the party, youâd be safer here.
âCoryo? Whatââ
âAre you alright?â Coriolanus asked, cutting you off. He released you to stand across from you, leaving you to lean back against the stone wall behind you. âI saw how much you were drinking.â
You looked up at him, confused, but not frightened. If anyone else had handled you the way he did, you surely wouldâve been. But you trusted him. You always had.
âDid I drink a lot?â you asked, a slight pout on your lips. âI didnât notice.â
âOh.â So, you were okay. That was good, wasnât it? âI thought maybe you needed rescuing,â he admitted, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or not.
You chuckled a little and the sound washed over Coriolanus, bringing him a sense of relief from all his previous tension.
âMy hero,â you said lightly, smiling up at him. You were always smiling at him, but Coriolanus no longer wondered if he was worthy of it all. âYouâre always there for me, arenât you?â
Coriolanus stepped closer. His hand rose, his fingertips trailing the outline of your face. Someone so pretty, so sweet, had to be careful in a cruel world like this.
âWhat would you do without me?â he proposed, not expecting an answer.
You didnât need one, because you never would have to find out.
Heâd follow you to the end of the Earth, just as he knew youâd follow him. You needed each other. You didnât need Tigris or Grandmaâam and especially not Sejanus, but without Coriolanus, who would you even be? Coriolanus couldnât imagine his world without you in it. Not even if he tried.
Staring at you now, Coriolanus heard the voice in the back of his mind begin to whisper. The one that urged his protectiveness, knowing it was fueled by possession. The one he would use all his power to silence.
Something new had overcome him, watching you galavant around with Sejanus. Well, not new, but clear. Coriolanus finally had clarity. Thatâs what it was. That was how he finally acknowledged what had so long been lingering in his peripheral, just on the edge of his mind, waiting for the right moment.
Was this the right moment?
He made no effort to banish his most repressed thoughts. For once, he let them win.
Coriolanus leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. Gentle, testing the waters. You did not react right away. Maybe it wasnât necessarily a good sign, but that didnât stop him from using it as an excuse to deepen the kiss.
His other hand found your face, holding you against him as he nipped at your lip, begging you to invite him in.
Your reaction was delayed, and Coriolanus thought maybe, just maybe, you had been thinking the same thing he had all along. That the faint taste of alcohol on your lips meant you were feeling more open to exploring this with him, and that all you needed was a nudge in the right direction.
But no, you were turning your head, making his lips part from yours.
Coriolanus faltered, but you still did not speak. Your breaths were clippedâflustered and confused. He could understand that. His own heart was racing, although adrenaline and need were to blame for that.
âCoryoâŠâ you whispered so softly he nearly didnât hear it. âWhat are you doing?â
Leave it to you to not get angry with him. Or even upset. At this point he questioned if you were even capable of feeling anger at him.
Coriolanus stepped closer, making you have to tilt your head up to look at him.
âI donât think I can share you,â he confessed under his breath, but with conviction. âI know I canât and you⊠you donât need anyone else. You have me.â
You swallowed, eyes looking down. âSejanusââ
âDoesnât know you like I do,â Coriolanus finished, one hand still holding your cheek, tilting your head, making you meet his eye again. âSeeing you with him⊠heâs not good enough for you.â
âI thought you were above judging him for being district.â You sounded so disappointed in him.
âI donât care that heâs district, heâs not good enough because no one will ever be,â Coriolanus corrected, imploring you to understand.
With a light sigh, his eyes fell shut. Gently, he leaned to press his forehead to yours. He blindly reached for your hands, and found them in each of his with no problem.
âI would not be happy seeing you with anyone else,â Coriolanus confessed, voice low. âNot anyone but me.â
You inhaled slightly. Was it that big of a shock?
He gave you no chance to voice it because Coriolanus was capturing your lips again, passion erupting in his veins.
His mind was clouded with thoughts that fought for center attention, his built up desires controlling him as his hands and lips cascaded down your body. Your neck, your chest, your stomachâ
âCoryo, what are you doing?â you questioned when he began to move lower.
âShh, donât worry,â he cooed, dismissing your concern.
Coriolanus finally fell to his knees in front of you. Heâd never take such a humiliating position for anyone else. But with you, it didnât feel humiliating. It was exhilarating, knowing he was on his knees worshiping you, but he still held all the power. It was nearly perfect.
You gasped a little when he gripped your right leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder. More of your weight rested back against the wall, unable to stand straight on just one leg.
He looked upward, watching your face the entire time as he pushed your dress up around your hips, revealing your underwear to him.
Coriolanus was so close and you had yet to move.
Words couldnât find their way to his lips. It was all too overwhelming in the best way. His heart slamming against his rib cage was a welcome feeling, and so was the pressure on his knees.
You bucked away before his mouth could reach your core. Coriolanus didnât think much of it. He had a lot of other images rushing through his brain. Ones he wanted to become reality.
He scooted forward and tried again, this time making contact with the layer of fabric separating him from your most intimate spot.
Coriolanus heard a choked noise from you as he ran his tongue across the front of your underwear.
Right away, he wanted more.
His hands found the material acting as a barrier and he gripped it then pulled, tearing it from you one leg at a time, exposing you to him.
Before it could fall to the ground, he caught the shredded material and stuffed it into his pocket.
He felt a bit guilty, knowing how little you all had when it came to clothing, but he wanted to do this the right way. Coriolanus wanted nothing blocking him from showing you how good he could make you feel.
As much as his eyes were tempted to linger, impatience got the best of him.
He made contact again, licking a stripe across your bare cunt. Once he got a taste, Coriolanus couldnât hold back.
His mouth latched onto you, tongue sliding between your folds, drawing a stifled moan from you. You reached for his head, trying to knock him away, but Coriolanus persisted. His will easily overtook yours. You werenât going to take this away from him, not when he could make you want it just as bad.
He held onto the leg over his shoulder, gripping your flesh, surely leaving bruises in his wake. He held the skirt of your dress up with the other hand. With his mouth, he devoured you. Lapping at your core like a man starved, even more so when wetness began to form.
This wasnât something Coriolanus had done, but he knew you better than anyone. He was sure he could figure out your body. Heâd dreamt about it long enough, making you fall apart for him in such an intimate way.
He soon found that to be the truth when in only a matter of minutes your body was tensing. He continued to drag his tongue across you, giving every bit of you his full attention. He liked the way your thighs quivered when his tongue brushed your clit, it gave him an excuse to hold you tighter.
Your whole body flinched suddenly, but he shoved your hips back, pinning you to the wall as he brought you to the edge
His own pants felt constricted as his senses were overwhelmed by you. Your taste, your scent, the sound of your choked down moans, your hands smacking the wall (unsure what else to do), the feel of you against his tongue and how your leg strained over his shoulder, and the sight of you when he looked up through his lashes⊠god, you were magnificent.
You whimpered from above, teeth digging into your bottom lip, as he finally made you come undone.
Coriolanus held you still, relishing in the way you finally jolted into his touch instead of away.
He couldnât take his eyes off of you. You were the stuff of dreams in the most literal sense.
Your head tilted back against the wall, your ragged breaths causing your chest to rise and fall in an unsteady pattern. Your leg, still draped over his shoulder, was tense, even as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.
A wide grin spread across Coriolanusâs face when you shivered. He couldnât help himself. He nearly chuckled at your state, but then your hand moved to rake through his wavy locks. The sound caught in his throat as you tugged him away, finally looking down at him. The all consuming pleasure had faded into something more composed.
Coriolanus could tell how much of an effort you were making, and as your eyes struggled to focus, he briefly wondered how strong your drinks were.
âIâd like to go home now,â you said slowly, conscious not to let your voice falter.
You allowed him to help get both to your feet on the ground, but you did not touch him for the rest of the night, even when he tried to reach for you.
He was still hard behind the confines of his pants, imagining the slickness between your thighs that was the result of his actions. As you walked back through the ballroom, it took everything he had to not push you back against a nearby wall. People be damned, he wanted you more than anything.
He would press his chest to your backâno, heâd make you face him. Coriolanus wanted access to your lips so he could kiss you as much as he liked, even swallow down your moans when he lifted your dress around your stomach andâ
A shiver of excitement coursed through Coriolanusâs body. What would your darling Sejanus think if he knew what just transpired? If he knew it was only for your dignity that Coriolanus wasnât fucking you against the wall hard enough that you forgot where you even were?
You silently bid the party a farewell, forgetting to say goodbye to Sejanus (Coriolanus made no attempts to remind you). You continued to ignore him, hardly speaking and not even looking his way. Not as you walked from the school to the apartment. Stumbling up the stairs, you only spoke to claim you were fine as you gripped the handrail for dear life. Then you went back to silence as you traveled from the front door to your bedroom and locked the door.
Coriolanus only found out about the door because heâd tried to follow you in, but the door knob did not budge. You never used your lock.
Even if you werenât ready to finish what had been started, it was still incredibly cold. Were you really upset enough to deprive him of your presence until the morning?
âWhatâs going on with you?â Coriolanus asked through the layer of wood. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue as it traced his bottom lip, waiting for your response. âCan we talk? Can you open the door?â
He gripped the knob tighter and tried again. It wasnât going to suddenly unlock, but something urged him to prove it.
There was a faint thud as his forehead fell to the door, much as it had to yours not too long ago.
âCan I at least say goodnight to you?â
Again, no response.
He swallowed. Cleared his throat.
Again.
âPlease?â
If they could afford to fix it, Coriolanus would break the door down.
He wasnât sure how long he stood outside your door before begrudgingly going to his own room.
He laid in his bed and fished the underwear from his pocket. Your scent still lingered on them, and it was enough to fuel his imagination as he unbuttoned his pants and pretended his own hand on his cock was yours.
Even after finishing, Coriolanus had a nearly sleepless night. His mind was plagued with memories of his lips on yours, your dress bunched around your hips, him on his knees with his mouth on your cunt. Heâd never forget the sounds you made.
When the sun rose, he returned to your door, only to find it still locked. He didnât even knock, just simply grabbed the door knob and twisted.
You always woke up early for school, putting yourself together in a way that could reflect wealth that you did not truly have. Coriolanus was sure you did it for his sake, knowing how much appearances mattered to him.
You were good to him like that.
If only youâd let him in now.
The laugh that escaped him lacked humor. It was a bitter, frustrated sound.
His hands rested on his hips, his own fingertips pressing in. It was that or gripping the door knob and if he touched that thing again and found it lockedâŠ
âThis isnât funny anymore, Y/N,â Coriolanus called through the door. âIf thereâs a problem we can talk about it. Just stop acting like a child.â
âWhat, did she steal your blazer again?â Tigris wondered, appearing out of nowhere. Despite her voice being soft with sleep, Coriolanus was still startled.
âNo, just a minor disagreement,â Coriolanus replied, quick on his feet as always. âNothing to worry about, Iâm sure weâll talk it out.â
He emphasized the word âtalkâ, hoping youâd hear him through the door. If you did, he wouldnât know. Tigris, on the other hand, just nodded and headed for the kitchen.
The smile he gave his cousin on her way was forced. She couldnât tell that his teeth were clenched together, which was for the best.
A thought dawned on him. You could just be testing him.
Coriolanus knocked on the door and waited, like heâd just solved your puzzle.
What was that thing about insanityâtrying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?
âYouâre going to have to come out of your room at some point,â he reminded, trying his best to make it not sound like a warning.
Coriolanus wasnât used to being frustrated with you. You were usually his relief from people who made him feel this way. He didnât understand why everything changed all of the sudden.
Youâd enjoyed yourself while he got what he wanted. Why was that so bad?
You had always been an enigma, but Coriolanus felt as if heâd come to understand youâthat he was the only one who did or would.
Sejanus would never know you the way he did, that was for certain.
From in your room, Coriolanus heard movement. Your dresser opening, maybe. It didnât matter. You were awake. And ignoring him.
âY/N? I know youâre awake.â The neediness in his voice was embarrassing. No one else could make him resort to this. âI can hear you. Are you coming out?â
âWhat is going on?â Grandmaâam questioned, standing at the end of the hall. âYou arenât dressed for school. We canât have you being late.â
Coriolanus looked down at himself. Heâd gone to sleep in the outfit heâd worn the night before, and still wore it now.
Arguments died in his throat. You and Coriolanus walked to the academy together. Youâd have to come out and talk to him. Grandmaâam would drive you crazy if you missed a day of classes.
In record time, Coriolanus was in his uniform.
He mightâve been quick, but apparently you were quicker. As he opened the door to his room, he heard the front door shut.
âWhatever you did, Coryo, apologize,â Tigris advised when he chased the sound of your exit.
Coriolanus just looked at her. Why on Earth would he do that? Heâd done nothing wrong.
Down the stairs and out of the building, Coriolanus finallyâfinallyâgot a glimpse of you. A flash of red as you turned the corner, setting off down the sidewalk.
It took nothing for him to catch up to you.
âHow are you feeling?â he wondered first, recalling your drunken state. âI was worried about you.â
âWere you?â you challenged, eyes forward.
It was good to hear your voice, but Coriolanus furrowed his brows at your tone. You had no reason to be this rude.
âOf course I was, Y/N. How can you even ask me that?â His hand dropped to your shoulder, only for you to shrug it away. âWhat is wrong with you?â
You looked at him, finally, but the emotion in your gaze⊠there was something wrong with it. Something distant, lacking the affection those beautiful eyes of yours usually held for him.
Coriolanus swallowed.
âAre you really going to be like this? Is it because of Sejanus? You donât have to be with him anymore.â
You turned your head forward.
âLeave me alone, Iâd like to walk in silence.â
Since when had you become so spiteful? Coriolanus didnât like it. It evoked something similar in him. He leaned down, getting near your ear.
âYou liked it, I know you did,â he hissed out. Coriolanus hadnât meant for it to come out so harsh, but you were being completely unfair to him right now. âYou canât lie to me.â
Despite the way you shuddered, your jaw remained clenched. You not talking to him was more infuriating than if you had screamed in his face. At least that way he could tell what you were thinking. But no, you wouldnât allow him to be privy to your inner thoughts, no matter how much effort he put into prying them from you.
It wasnât a conversation for the public, even Coriolanus knew that, so when you got to the academy a few steps ahead of him, he bit his tongue.
âWhat did you do to piss off your sister?â Clemensia asked him in a whisper in class. âYouâre usually attached at the hip walking in.â
The way she called you his sister felt wrong in a way that it hadnât before. Even if he never thought it fit when people would say that or assume it, something had shifted.
And was it that obvious? Coriolanus hadnât even brought it up. Heâd simply been a few steps behind you into the classroom. Youâd gone to your desk without a word. Was that strange to everyone else too? It was validating, in a way, to know your behavior was, in fact, targeted and odd, but it also made him wonder what the two of you appeared to be from an outside perspective.
âItâs nothing,â Coriolanus lied to her under his breath, keeping his eyes on his paper.
âSo you didnât get into a fight?â
Coriolanusâs brows curved down. He glanced her way.
âA fight?â
âArachne and Festus saw you pull her away from Sejanus and disappear somewhere last night.â
It was mostly the truth, but she said it so nonchalantly. She couldnât know what happened after you disappeared. Coriolanus hadnât seen a single person lay their eyes on either of you in that private moment.
âI get it,â she continued. âI wouldnât want to be associated with someone from the districts either. Sheâs not thinking about how sheâll be perceived, or you. Donât let her drag you down.â
Coriolanus just listened, the night flashing through his mind. No one couldâve known, there was no way.
He quickly corrected the hypocrisy in his own mind. He hadnât done anything wrong, it was just private. No one else deserved to see you in that stateâno one but him.
âWeâre fine,â Coriolanus told her. âAnd her and Sejanus arenât together anymore.â
Clemensia smirked to herself. âGood.â
Word spread quickly, and with the way you avoided Sejanusâa byproduct of you avoiding Coriolanusâeveryone believed it. The final nail was the way you failed to appear at lunch. It got under Sejanusâs skin, causing him to question the state of your relationship without you to answer any said questions.
Truthfully, Coriolanus hadnât seen anything as amusing in a long while, but your absence weighed on him, too.
The walk home alone was dreadful without you. Even in the morning when you had ignored him, it was better than you being completely gone.
When he got home, your door was shut. How quickly had you left your classes, how fast had you walked, all to avoid him?
This was growing old very, very quickly.
Grandmaâam was on the roof with her roses, and Tigris seemed to be missing from the apartment. It was only because of that that Coriolanus devised a way to get into your room.
Why he didnât think of picking the lock before, Coriolanus supposed it was because he thought youâd give in quicker and let him get the better of you. You were usually weak to him, allowing him to get his way without a problem. You had before.
âLast chance,â Coriolanus called through the locked door. He almost thought that would be enough. He wanted you to open it of your own will. âYou canât avoid me forever, just let me in.â
No such luck.
You looked surprised when he forced the door open, as if you really believed he would just take the loss. You were supposed to know him better than that.
Youâd been sitting on your bed in pajamas, evidently already done with the day. Your legs were criss-crossed with a textbook in your lap. You looked up at him, a questioning expression taking over your features.
âWhat are you doing, Coryo?â you asked, voice low, eyes not quite meeting his directly.
âYou werenât opening the door.â Coriolanus squared his shoulders. âI wanted to talk to you.â
You shook your head, something between a sigh and a laugh escaping you in a puff of air. Coriolanus did not like the accusatory undertone.
âDid you think maybe I left it locked on purpose?â Were you mocking him? âThat I wasnât lying this morning and I really donât want to speak to you?â
âThatâs ridiculous,â Coriolanus insisted, closing your door behind him. He moved towards your bed, watching your body language the entire time as he finally sat on the edge beside you. âYou thought I would just let you ignore me?â
You swallowed, closing the book in your lap. âI guess not,â you admitted, setting the textbook aside. âI am well aware of your ego.â
A frown crested Coriolanusâs lip. âIs that what this isâyou want to hurt me?â
You tilted your head, catching his gaze, much like heâd made you do the night before. It was the first time in nearly a day since youâd looked him dead in the eye.
âWhat do you want, Coryo?â
âI want youâ
âYou want me to what? Not be with Sejanus? Is that it? Is that why you did what you did?â
âYou say that like it was something awful. I was there too.â Coriolanus felt a familiar heat rush through him at the memory. âI know what I saw.â
âYou humiliated me.â
âIn front of who? No one saw us.â
âThatâs not the point.â
âThen what is? Because you know Sejanus is weak?â Coriolanus searched your eyes and leaned in closer. He was feeling antagonistic. âI mean, how could he touch you, knowing I got there first?â
Coriolanus caught your hand as you raised it, presumably to strike him.
âIs that what weâve resorted to?â
He squeezed your wrist, enough to cause pain. You winced and tried to move away, but Coriolanus wasnât going to let you get away.
âI could ask you the same,â you sneered, sounding like an entirely different person.
âWhat has happened to you?â Coriolanus questioned. He took a breath. âDo you want me to be sorry for what Iâve said? Fine, then, I apologize. But Iâm not sorry for what Iâve done. You should not be with him.â
âIâm supposed to believe someone driven by jealousy?â you inquired back, blinking back tears. Why were you being so dramatic? âHow can I trust anything you have to say to me now?â
Coriolanus was taken aback by the question. Did you really not trust him anymore? Even with the tight hold on your wrist, he could feel you slipping from his grasp. If you were to leave him, heâd never forgive the universe for its twisted irony. Coriolanus put so much time and care into you because he wanted you. His family didnât, at least not at first, but even so, youâd have nothing if it wasnât for him. Is that what you wanted to leave him with now? Nothing? Nothing but the memory of when you were his?
No, that wouldnât do.
It just wouldnât.
âYou can trust me, I promise,â Coriolanus insisted, pleading, even. âI love you, I always haveâyou canât have expected me to sit back and do nothing while youâŠâ
You looked more betrayed, if that was even possible. He was trying to make it better but explaining was only making it worse. Coriolanus had never met a person where the more he talked, the more he tried to persuade them, they believed him less. In that way again you were an anomaly.
If Coriolanus couldnât tell you, he could show you. He had to make you understandâhe could salvage this and get what he wanted in the end. If he was anything, it was persistent. It had worked before, excluding the aftermath.
Coriolanus moved, keeping his hold on your wrist as he shoved you down, pulling himself up and then on top of you in a fluid motion.
You squirmed, questioning, âWhat are you doing?â
Coriolanus caught your other hand and brought it to join your other wrist he already had a hold of in one hand. He straddled your waist, keeping your body pinned.
âYou wonât listen to me,â he pointed out. Something inside him urged him to lean down. âBut I can still prove it to you, that itâs me you should be with. No one else.â
Then he crashed his lips onto yours. It was more forceful than it had been the previous night, ensuring you couldnât turn away again. His tongue was already in your mouth before you thought to turn your head.
It didnât matter if you didnât kiss him back, Coriolanus was in bliss. Your lips were soft, molding perfectly to his. You moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was a protest, but it made his body heat up all the same. Coriolanus couldnât get enough of you. Last night left him wanting more, not less.
More than that, he was determined. When he finally detached his lips from yours, the both of you panting, Coriolanus set forth on a track that wouldnât allow him to turn around.
Even if he tried to take it back, everything would already be changed.
So he didnât even bother hesitating. Coriolanus was determined, even, at yanking your clothes from your body.
Your words were jumbled by the time they reached his ears. His own heart racing with excitement drowned out any requests you had for him.
The word âstopâ left his vocabulary until you yelled it too loud for his liking.
Your whole body shook when he clapped his hand over your mouth. Your top was completely gone, your chest heaving as you breathed through your nose. While Coriolanus couldâve easily been distracted by your state, he trained his eyes on your wide ones.
The word helpless crossed his mind, and he had to take a moment to control himself.
âGrandmaâam is upstairs,â Coriolanus finally warned, voice low. âDonât disturb her.â
You blinked. Coriolanus was almost surprised by the way you settled down, but it told him you understood the implications of alerting her.
Your position beneath Coriolanus had to be better than starving and cold on the street, didnât it?
You didnât have Sejanus anymore. If you thought you did, Coriolanus would make sure to remedy that with his friend before you got to him first.
As Coriolanus lifted his hand from your mouth, he silently implored he was the only one who could save you from being branded a liar.
Just as Coriolanus had always admired, you were a quick learner. As heartbroken as you looked, you didnât raise your voice again.
âThis isnât how you make me want to be with you,â you pleaded. Coriolanus wasnât sure whether to laugh or take it as a challenge.
âWeâll see,â he mused in response.
He got you bare, and then himself.
You averted your eyes from his body, which offended him more than he thought it would.
âYou can look,â Coriolanus said, voice heavy.
Something about his voice mustâve gotten to you, because your eyes flicked between his legs. You swallowed and looked back away.
A prideful smirk overtook Coriolanusâs face.
He moved then, still keeping hold on your wrists in one hand, dragging them down over your belly, and placed himself between your legs.
With one hand still holding your wrists, Coriolanus shoved his other hand in between your legs, two prodding fingers finding your entrance before making their way in. Eagerness won out over his patience. He could take things slow later.
You tensed around him, fighting the intrusion, but he wasnât going to let you win. Even if you werenât squirming against him, you were resistant. Coriolanus slowly worked at breaking your resolve, massaging his fingers inside your walls, thumb on your clit.
He could see shame wash over your features when a wetness began to form, coating his fingers and allowing him to work you open for him.
âSee, you can lie to me, but your body canât,â Coriolanus asserted, voice thick with arousal.
That triggered something in you, and perhaps Coriolanus reacted too harshly.
It felt like it all happened in a flash. One moment you were on your back, beneath him, clenching around his fingers, and the next he had to manhandle you onto your chest and knees to fend off your attack and keep you still. He regained his hold on your hands quickly, pinning them behind your back while you panted from the short lived exertion.
Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips to your ear.
âI thought we agreed you werenât going to fight me,â he growled.
Your shoulders shifted as you found further discomfort in your new position, but you didnât speak. You wouldnât give him the satisfaction of your voiceâjust like before.
Coriolanus wanted to watch your face as you submitted to him and his love for you, but if this was the only way he could have you for now, so be it.
He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the twitch of your body as he pressed the tip in.
Despite all the effort to get you where you were now, Coriolanus slid his cock into you with ease. Your body welcomed him, even if you didnât.
He couldnât help himself, his hips bucked forward, shoving himself into you deep. You whimpered into the pillow and Coriolanusâs mind went blank for a moment, basking in the feel of your warm cunt around him. It was better than he imagined.
His cock twitched inside of you, eager to fill you, but he had to make this last. Just like before, Coriolanus wanted to make you feel good. So good you had no choice but to want him.
Coriolanus drew his hips back after a few moments of just resting inside you. When only the tip remained, he thrust forward. Your body rocked against the mattress.
He did it again, this time slower. Forcing you to feel the drag of his thick cock inside of you. Coriolanus liked the way your body quivered as you succumbed to the pleasure he could give you.
You felt like heaven, all wet and warm and squeezing around him in a way that made him want to never leave you.
To show he trusted you, Coriolanus let your hands go. They immediately fell to grip the pillow beneath your head. You didnât go to fight him and that counted for something. He had an ulterior motive, though, because now he could hold your hips with both hands.
He leaned down, pressing kisses to your back. He ran his hands along your skin, drinking the entirety of you in as he moved inside of you.
His movements were a bit slow, calculated, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. Coriolanus imagined you rocking your hips back, your moans filling the room, eager for more. That would have to be saved for another time when you were more willing.
You body tensed and shivered, and Coriolanus knew you were getting close. You still had yet to speak.
It was petty, the sudden sharp thrust of his hips to shove his cock deep and hard into you.
A gaspâhe drew a gasp from you.
He allowed his weight to fully fall on top of you, finally. Your skin was so warm on his chest, it was as if your body was trying to burn him off of you. Maybe it was all in his head. But it didnât really matter. It was far too late for that.
âItâs okay to want it,â Coriolanus muttered into your ear.
He felt your body reacting and you were moments away from what heâd been pushing you towards. His thrusts grew shallow, not letting too much of himself leave you as you finally came undone.
You buried your face into the pillow, muffling your cry as you finally came around his cock. It was then that he got what he wanted, even if it was only brief. Your body spasmed and pushed back, trying to feel every inch of him stretching you out, clenching down to hold him there.
Coriolanus followed you soon after, cock throbbing in your walls, spilling inside of you and painting them white. He held your hips so tight he was sure heâd leave bruises as he held himself still, letting the both of you experience the sensation in full.
After however longâCoriolanus didnât count the minutesâhe withdrew from your body. He was a gentleman, so he helped you to lay down before your body collapsed on its own.
He laid down beside you, pulling your blanket over the top of both of your bodies with the intention to bring you comfort.
You were wordless, rolling onto your side, facing away from him.
Coriolanus turned with you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pulling you back to him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head before resting his lips near your ear.
âDo you really think not talking to me is the best idea?â he whispered, less frustrated than before.
You shook in his arms, but your voice was steady as you asked, âWhat do you expect me to say to you?â
Coriolanus didnât have to think all that long.
âThat you love me.â
You were silent for a moment, Coriolanus thought he was going to have to repeat himself.
âI did love you,â you uttered, voice threatening to break. âBut it wasnât enough for you.â
Coriolanus couldâve been angry, but he knew heâd win you back. He had all the time in the world, knowing you wouldnât dare continue your relationship with Sejanus. How could you? You were already spoken for.
You were Coriolanusâs, you always had been. He realized it before you, but he knew youâd come to learn the truth. Youâd accept it eventually, and everything would fall into place exactly as he wanted.
#dark!coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#yandere coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#dark!coriolanus snow#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tom blyth#quin-ns writing
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Yes, sir | Park Seonghwa
Pairing: vampire!teacher!Seonghwa x afab!student!reader
Genre: modern fantasy, enemies (?) to something else, smut (MINORS DNI)
Word Count: 8.8k
Summary:Â You couldn't stand your professor and his ego, but everything turns upside down when he buys a date with you during a charity event and you discover more about him and his secrets.
Content Warning: age gap, student/teacher dynamics, mentions of blood, mentions of food, feeding from humans, Seonghwa is a little tsundere, pet names (princess, baby girl, darling), dirty talk
Smut warning:Â porn with plot, tit sucking, oral (reader and Seonghwa recieving), piv, unprotected sex (don't do that kiddos)
â ïž English is not my first language, so sorry in advance if thereâs any mistakes
Everyone was fascinated by him. Everything about him, surrounding him, was entracing, as if there was an aura of magic surrounding him that made everyone's attention lock on him. He walked around campus tall, confident, his face stern except for a few polite bows and half smiles he would give alumni and colleagues. He walked like he owned everything. And you wouldn't doubt if he did. Murmurs and whispers followed him wherever he was, either students whispering about his appearance or other professors about his rather unusual way of teaching.Â
You, on the other hand, saw him for who he truly was: a self-absorbed little man with a big ego. It infuriated you that he didn't follow the lectures list recommendation, no, he invented things out of his head, telling lies to his alumni that would fall just because of his pretty face. You weren't blind, you could see he was a pretty man, but all his beauty went down the drain by his huge ego.
The finals were coming and you could only rely on studying by your notes made on his classes since you couldn't find any of his information in any history book. How could a history teacher give classes with no books? With no complementary material besides the voices in his head?Â
The worst part of it all was that you tried to talk to the responsible teacher, to the dean of the faculty, yet no one seemed to care that your General History teacher was a freaking liar and asshole?
And he knew you didn't like him, and he seemed to reciprocate the feeling. Mr Park looked at you like he knew what you were thinking, like he could read your mind, gosh! It irritated you! He always looked at you over his glasses that hung low on the tip of his long nose, his face always unreadable, unbreakable, as if he was the owner of the world.Â
The clock ticked midday and Mr Park gave the last tick of the pen on the white board, turning to look at his students.
âDon't forget that finals are in three weeks, any questions you might have you can come directly at meâ you felt your stomach turn when you sensed his eyes on you, as if he was talking directly to you.Â
Not even in another universe you'd be in a room alone with this man, let alone to discuss the subject that he seemed to know oh so well and all you have studied your entire life felt like a lie. Who was lying after all?
You quickly averted his gaze and put your things inside your bag, wanting to leave that place as quickly as possible. That man was a threat to your sanity.
You were leaving class when your friend Yooha from Classical Literature came to you, her signature smile on her face.
âHey, yn, I have an invitation to make to youâ she smiled sheepishly, body turning from side to side. You nodded. âSo⊠You know the campus is conducting the annual charity dinner and I'm one of the organizers, right?â she extended the last word, you nodded again. âI was running a research around the campus to see who would be the suitables ladies and gentleman for the date auction, and you were voted by a lot of peopleâ she hit your shoulder with hers in a playful manner. âI was wondering⊠if you'dâŠâ
âNoâ you answered shortly, already leaving.
âOh come on, yn! You're so pretty, I'm pretty sure that a bunch of people will bid for your dateâ she said following you.
âBut I don't wanna go out with a random person that bought a date with meâ you put it simply.
âIt's nothing serious, yn, it's for charityâ Yooha rolled her eyes, you were always so serious, so goody-two-shoes. âBesides, who knows what destiny might bring you? Maybe you find your next love, or a sugar daddyâ she laughed.
âI doubtâ
âC'mon! It'll be fun! Besides, extra creditsâ you sighed and stopped walking.
âI'll think about it, okay?â she smiled happily and nodded excitedly, kissing your cheek before leaving.Â
When you turned to see her leaving you noticed Mr Park a few steps behind you. How long has he been there? You bowed politely, besides wanting to flip your middle finger to him, and he bowed back, a sly smile playing in his lips.
One of the things you hated the most about Mr Park was that he was always so mysterious, so hard to read. He held that stern look in his beautiful face at all times, you barely saw him smile and then from time he would look at you and leave you that little sly smile of his, as if he could read you. As if he could see right through you. Not that you had anything to hide, but sometimes you felt as if he could see through the secrets you didn't have.
»»ââââ-ăâăââââ-««
âI canât believe you convinced me to do thisâ you looked at yourself in the full length mirror at Yoohaâs room where you were getting ready for the charity event at your university.Â
You had to admit that you looked really good, the dress you were wearing hugged your body in all the right places, your curves being more apparent than ever. The color complemented your complexion oh so perfectly while the low cut neckline left the right amount of your chest apparent. The heels made your bum look perkier and the makeup reinforced your natural beauty. Your friend did a good job at getting you ready.
The girl giggled and twirled looking at herself, admiring her own beauty. She was going to be one of the auctioned girls as well and seemed to be enjoying this a lot. She pulled you to take some pictures with her before posting them on her socials.Â
âOh câmon, yn, like youâre not excited to see how many people are gonna bid for youâ she said excitedly. âI bet youâll receive a lot of bids, a bunch of people dropped your name when I was asking for who they wanted to see, you are really pretty, just a bit closedâ
âIâm not closed, just⊠quiet. I guessâ you retorted, defending yourself.Â
âYn, my friend, I love you, but you walk around campus like you ate shitâ you opened your mouth shocked at her and she just laughed. âYour face is always so grumpy, your stance is so closed, like you have walls around you. You need to open up moreâ she stated and you simply accepted, it wasnât as if she was wrong, you indeed were very closed and didnât want people to approach you. âYou talk so much about Mr Park but youâre just like him if not worseâ.
You sighed, defeated. Those were some thoughts for your therapy. Yooha was right, you needed to open up more, your therapist had already said the same thing, but it was hard after what happened the last time you did. You got manipulated, played with, hurt, broken. Those were some hard to forget scars. But maybe, just maybe, the event would bring you something good, right?Â
You were cut off from your daydreams with your friend calling you to finally go to the event. Your heart pumping faster than it should out of anxiety and nervousness.Â
There was a car already waiting for you two outside her apartment when you left the building, taking you to the campus within minutes.Â
The building where the event was taking place was buzzing with people, students, professors, employees, and important people from the town that came to honor the event. You and Yooha took the back entrance so you could go straight to the backstage with the other people that were part of the auction.
Since Yooha was part of the organization she left you alone so she could resolve some things and make sure everything and everyone was in place. You sat quietly in a chair at the corner of the backstage, pulling your phone out of your little purse and started to mindlessly scroll through social media. The buzzing of the people talking making you a little anxious and dizzy.Â
âMind you if I sit here?â you looked up to find a cute tall boy with a sweet smile and little dimples in his cheeks talking to you. You nodded and he sat in the chair by your side. âIâm Soobin by the wayâ he handed you his hand so you could shake. You fixed your posture and shook his hand, forcing a smile.
âIâm ynâ you answered.
âArenât you a History student?â you nodded, shocked that he knew that. âIâve seen you around the building, Iâm a semester behind youâ you mouthed an âahâ to him. You were never really good with small talks, especially with strangers. âSo⊠are you here for the auction too?â
âYes, my friend convinced me to do it for the extra creditsâ he laughed lightly and he had such a cute laugh.
âYooha can be really convincing, she convinced me tooâ you nodded agreeingly. âBut I bet youâll receive a lot of bids, you look really pretty tonightâ you felt a hush of heat creep up your cheeks at his compliment. âNot that youâre not pretty the other days, but today you look more, if you know what I mean. And I mean, not that I look at you on campus, I mean, I do, not everyday, just when I see youâ he was stuttering and shuffling around with his words, making you genuinely chuckle at his cuteness.
âI got, Soobin, thank youâ you said, a smile on your lips. âYou also look pretty tonightâ you managed to murmur, your voice low with shyness. You saw his cheeks glow a little pink tint and you thought he was cute.Â
Before you could keep talking Yooha came running warning that the auction was about to start and everyone should be attentive to their names when called so they could go to the stage. You felt a lump forming on your throat and all you wanted was to run away and pretend youâve never been there. Soobin wasnât very well himself, always drying his sweaty palms in his pants, which for some reason made you feel at ease. You werenât the only nervous one there.Â
One by one people started to be called, some auctions taking longer than others. The girls giggling and gossiping about their auctioneers and how their bid was high. So far the highest bid went to one of the jocks of the lacrosse team, he came backstage feeling himself, taking back taps from his friends, a smug face planted on him.Â
âNext we have yn ylnâ you felt your legs go jelly when you started to walk towards the stage. Suddenly the heels too high for you. But you managed to make it to the center stage, the bright light of the spotlight blinding you for a few seconds. âSheâs a History student from the sixth period, she likes to listen to music, watch movies and read booksâ the hostess announced, your palm starting to sweat as you stood in the center of the stage. âLetâs start our bids as always with 50. Who gives 50 to yn?â you saw a student raise their arm. â50 to the gentleman in table 78. 55 anyone?âÂ
âA hundredâ everyone looked to the voice where the bid came and even though the spotlight was hiding his face from you, youâd recognize that voice everywhere. It sent chills down your spine.
âA hundred to our lovely Mr Park, anyone else wants to up to that?â
âHundred and twentyâ you heard another student speak.
âHundred and fiftyâ Mr Park counterproposed and you almost choked on nothing.Â
âA hundred and fifty to Mr. Park. Anyone else?â the hostess asked, ready to hit her little hammer.
âTwo hundredâ a woman, that you recognized as a deputy from your town, intervened, her arm raised.Â
âTwo hundred to Miss Franz. A-â
âThree hundredâ the second student proposed and you had to hold yourself not to buckle your knees. You were almost surpassing the jockâs bid. âAnd sixtyâ he added.
âFour hundredâ the woman added and you looked over at the backstage where Yooha was with a big âI told you soâ smile.
âFour hundred and seventyâÂ
âFour hundred and seventy to Mr. Parkâ you were shocked. Why was he bidding so high on you? That was, at least, weird. He was your teacher after all. âAnyone else? Give you one, Give you two, give you threeâ she hit her little hammer on the table. âSold to Mr. Park. Thanks for helping our institutionâ.
As you left the stage, still shocked with how things have turned, you couldnât help but feel weirded out, not only feeling like an object, but because out of all people Mr Park bought a date with you. With what would become the highest bid of the night. All you wanted was to go home, take a hot bath and just forget that night happened.
Yooha tried to hype you up and make you stay for the party but you were just too overwhelmed to stay at a place full of drunk people and loud music. So you called a cab and went straight home.Â
When arriving at your so loved little box you called apartment you finally released all the breath you were holding the entire night, your lunges burning with the feeling of a deep release. You took your heels and dress off, not caring to let them spread over the living room, that was a problem for the future you, and filled the bath with warm water. After a while you entered the soothing water, letting it relax your muscles.Â
You closed your eyes but all that came to your mind was Mr Parkâs face. His oh so beautiful face, with his chiseled jaw and long nose, his dark eyes that seemed to read your mind even in your own thoughts. You tried to shake that man from your head but you just couldnât, the thought of him bidding so high for you, for a date for you felt so weird, so wrong, so prohibited. What did he want? Maybe he just wanted to help the university and chose you as his bid and he wonât even go on a date with you. It would feel wrong, right? A professor and a student. Sure, You are both consenting adults, but there isnât a rule, a law that prohibits that?
You felt so confused, so overwhelmed, all you wanted was to relax but your mind seemed to have other plans for you. You groaned angrily, not really sure if at yourself, at Mr Park or the whole situation. All you knew was that you wanted to relax and you weren't able to do that.
»»ââââ-ăâăââââ-««
It was already thursday and your week passed by rather quickly and easily, besides everyone whispering about the auction whenever you passed by them, the rest was like the usual. But that day was the day, you finally had your class with Mr Park after the auction and you were more than nervous. You didnât know with what face you would face the man, just the thought of seeing him made your head dizzy.Â
âyn!â you heard someone calling you when you were about to enter class and turned to find Soobin with his cute smile coming towards you.
âOh, hi, Soobin. How are you?â you asked politely.
ââM good. And youâ you nodded. âI couldnât talk to you after the auctions saturday, you left so rushedâ
âOh, sorry, I was just⊠feeling a little overwhelmed I guessâ you confessed.
âThatâs fine. I can only imagine, it was a huge pressure up there, wasnât it? But are you better?â
âI am, thank youâ you smiled, adjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder.
There was a moment of silence and Soobin rubbed the back of his neck shyly before speaking.
âI was thinking⊠Maybe we could study together over coffee sometime, only if you want to, of course, no pressure. I was just thinking, we do the same course, you know, it could be good to have a study partner and such-â you laughed lightly at his nervousness, he was so cute.Â
âIâd love that, Soobinâ you cut him off, smiling shyly, him imitating you.Â
âThen can I get your number? So, you know, we can talk and combine the detailsâ you nodded, lending your hand, so you could type in your number. âThanksâ.
âI have to go now, I have classâ you announced and nodded. âByeâ you waved your hand and he copied your gesture again.
You entered class and met Mr Park leaned against his table, arms crossed. His face seemed even more closed than usual, as if he was angry, but again, you couldnât read him. You walked over to your usual seat and waited for the clock to hit 8am.
When the clock made its tick pointing it was 8 oâclock he walked ever so graciously to the front of the class and started to speak. You made your best effort to take notes and pay attention to whatever he was talking about but the way he was looking at you was burning holes in your face. The professor seemed to stare at you even more that day, his eyes darting at you from time to time as if they searched you, wished you.Â
And the atmosphere was different, of course it was, with everyone knowing that the man in front of you, giving his lecture like nothing was happening, just bought a fucking date with you, one of his students. There were whispers, murmurs and looks thrown at you during the whole class, especially with how everyone was seeing the way he was eyeing you. You wouldnât be surprised if rumours of you two started to circulate around college. That could ruin his career. And your life.Â
Like a whisper, time went by and the clock ticked midday and everyone started to put away their stuff.Â
âDon't forget, your finals are in less than two weeks, remember to study and if you need help with anything donât fear to look up for meâ everyone started to leave the class. âyn, can you stay a little longer?â the remaining students all looked at you, the whispering back at full speed.Â
You put your stuff back in your backpack and went to the front of the classroom so you could talk to him. You never noticed how he towered over you, but youâve never been this close to him.Â
There was a moment of silence, while he looked at you as if he analysed the product he bought. You suddenly felt very aware of yourself.Â
âWe need to discuss the matter at handâ he started, his arms crossing again. âAs you know, I bought your date at the auctionâ you nodded, a heat crawling up your neck and cheeks. âAre you comfortable going on said date with me?â the question caught you off guard, you blinked a few times before answering.
âI-I mean, you bought it, if you want to, I guess itâs your rightâ you stuttered like an idiot over the words and the man thought that was very endearing of you.Â
âIâd like to take you on a date then, if youâre okay with itâ you nodded slowly, almost as if you didnât do it the whole thing wouldnât come true. âGood, so Iâll pick you up tomorrow at your house at 7 oâclock. Donât need to wear anything fancyâ he was so demanding, so sure of his words, as if he knew what he wanted from way before. âYou need my phone to text me your addressâ he extended his hand for you.
âWhat?â
âYour phone, so I can put my number on itâ you hesitantly gave your phone to him and he typed the number on it, saving it. âRemember to text me your address or share your locationâ you nodded again. âYouâre dismissed now. See you tomorrow, ynâ.
âYes, sirâ you bowed politely and left the room as quickly as you could.
You leaned on the wall behind after you left the classroom, the air suddenly coming back to your lungs, a deep breath leaving them. You closed your eyes trying to stop your racing heart. That was the longest interaction you had with Mr Park and it was to combine on a date. A date that he bought. And he was willing to go. Your professor. Mr Park. The man that walked like he was the owner of the world.Â
But truth be told, he was a handsome man, you couldnât deny it. Or deny the fact that everytime he looked at you with his dark eyes you felt like he was staring into your soul, reading every thought of yours, some of those thoughts including him in a not-so-nice way.
You managed to ease your heartbeat and leave the wall, deciding that all you needed in that moment was a cold coffee. You headed to the cafe, hoping that there would be a few people there since it was lunch time.Â
âyn!â you heard someone call you excitedly when you entered the cafe, turning to find Soobin waving at you with his big smile. âHi, againâ he said when you arrived at his table, smiling at him too.
âHi, againâ you chuckled.
âWhy donât you join me? I was just reading some notesâ you nodded.
âJust gonna grab something to drink and eatâ he nodded and you went to the counter.
You waited for your turn so you could order, ordering a simple espresso and a plain croissant, and returning back to Soobinâs table. You left your purse on the ground and sat in front of him, taking a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste finally invading your senses and making you relax.Â
âSo, what are you studying?â you asked, taking a bite from your croissant and looking at his notes that were spread in front of him.
âOcidental History Iâ he showed you his book. âI suck at itâ you both laughed at the way he spoke.Â
âI did this class two semesters ago, I think I still remember most of it, if you want helpâ his eyes sparkled and widened.
âAre you serious?â you nodded, mouth full of the last bite of your food. âThat would be so helpful, ynâ he looked at his notes, the tip of his ears suddenly getting red. âAnd I get to spend more time with youâ it was your turn to feel your ears burn, smiling shyly at him.
Soobin was a very nice guy, and you werenât blind not to admit he was gorgeous, one of the prettiest guys around the faculty, if not the campus. You thought he was flirting with you but you didnât want to make hasty conclusions, after all, no boy - or girl - has ever flirted with you before.
Having someone like him flirting with you made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, a good sensation that you havenât felt since you were a teenager probably. The idea of flirting and courting one another made you nervous, yet you were excited for the chase.
After finishing your food and taking another sip of your coffee you changed seats, sitting by his side so you could explain the things better to him. You spent a good few hours studying with him, giving your tips to memorize the subject, joking, laughing and flirting. You really enjoyed his company.
Unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes watched you two with more than curiosity, it was a fire that he couldnât hold when it came to you. He couldnât stand that he wasnât the one making you laugh and put your hair behind your hair flirtatiously. That he wasnât the one so close to you to the point he could hear your blood running through your veins. The one that made your scent change with pheromones. You werenât his. At least not yet.
You and Soobin left the cafe when the sun was almost setting. His company was so enjoyable that you even saw the time pass.
âThank you again for today, ynâ he said at the door of the building, the sky illuminating his face with orange and pink hues.
âItâs fine. It was really fun, youâre a great study partnerâ you both smiled and fell silent. The winter wind blowing on your face, only the low whistle of it being heard. âIâll be going then, bye, Soobinâ you waved and he waved back.
You turned your back to him and started to walk your everyday path. You expected him to offer to walk you home, getting a little disappointed when you walked alone to the bus stop. The bus didnât take long to arrive, which you were glad because you were tired and all you needed was a warm shower and go straight under your blankets.Â
And as such you did, warming yourself under the thick blankets after a well-deserved warm shower. You started to mentally review your day, smiling like a teenager when you remembered your afternoon with Soobin and how cute, nice, sweet and smart he was. And then you remembered him and your whole body shivered. For a moment you almost forgot your interaction with your professor, but then the memory of his eyes looking down at you came like a wave. You tried to shake those thoughts aways, but the more you tried the more he seemed to pierce into your mind. The conversation you had was innocent yet you felt that the undertone he used wasnât, as if he was hiding something from you, his true intentions.
And with the dark eyes of the man in your mind you fell asleep.
»»ââââ-ăâăââââ-««
The day at university passed quickly to your dismay, you wanted the day to last forever so you didnât have to go to your date with Mr Park. You havenât seen him through the corridors all day, which was odd, but you preferred that way, you didnât know how you would react at seeing his face.Â
Going home by five, you had time to get ready, even though you were skeptical about the whole date ordeal, you still didnât want to look terrible. You remembered he said nothing fancy, so you just decided on a pair of black dress pants, a pink shirt, a pair of boots that had small squared heels and on top of that your trench coat, since it was freezing cold outside. You put on light makeup and let your hair down.Â
It was seven on point when the man stopped his car in front of your building, sending you a message to warn you he had arrived. You felt your heart and stomach flip, anxiousness taking over your entire body. You didnât know what to expect of this date, of him, to say you were anxious and understatement.Â
âGood night, ynâ he greeted you when you entered, he had to hold himself not to compliment your beauty, not wanting to scare you first thing of the night.
âGood night, Mr Parkâ his name sounded weird being said in a setting like this.Â
âTonight you can call me Seonghwa, weâll be just the two of usâ
âIf you donât mind me asking, where are we going?â you asked, trying to interact and maintain a conversation during the ride.
âMy houseâ you almost choked on your own saliva. He came to get you to go back to his house? And youâd be alone with him in his house? You fidget nervous on your seat, the idea of being alone with him making you more anxious than you already were. âDonât worry, Iâll just cook for us, I donât like crowded placesâ you nodded slowly and turned to look at the road outside the window.
Seonghwa bit his internal cheek, he wanted to make a good impression on you, he didnât want you to look at him with the student's eyes, he never wanted, ever since he laid his eyes for the first time on you. He could sense you were nervous but there was nothing he could think at the moment to make you feel more at ease, after all, the whole setting was weird, comical even. He turned the radio on, a random song humming lowly as he hoped it would make you feel more relaxed.
You watched as the city passed by you bit by bit as he drove you two to the fanciest part of town and you wondered if he could afford to live there with just being a professor or he was already rich and being a history teacher was a side hustle. He stopped the car in front of a tw0-story house, the front looking more welcoming and warm than the others around the neighborhood.Â
Seonghwa came to open your door, but you had already opened yourself, and guided you inside. The house inside was nothing like what you would expect from him, it was colorful, warm, full of life, as if a happy family lived there. The walls had adjacent ones with vivid colors and wallpapers, the furniture seemed alive, the wood bright, shiny and very well cleaned. Maybe your professor could surprise you after all.
âWhy don't we go to the kitchen? Iâm cooking for usâ you nodded and followed him, going to a small but comfortable kitchen. âI hope you like lasagna, itâs what Iâm makingâ
âI love lasagnaâ you smiled for the first time of the night and the man smiled back. It was the first time you thought you saw him smile so big. âYou didnât have to have the work tho, we couldâve ordered somethingâ you said.
âAre you dismissing my kindness and effortâ you felt your cheeks heat up.
âThatâs not what I meant! I mean-â he laughed and he had such a cute little laugh, you never imagined, catching you by surprise.
âIâm messing with you, yn. Besides, I wanted an excuse to use some of the things I never use in the kitchenâ.
âWhy you donât use them?â you asked, feeling more at ease at his presence.
âI barely eat at home, so I almost donât cook for myselfâ you nodded. âWant some wine?â you nodded again, maybe some alcohol would help ease the anxiety inside you.
He grabbed two cups and put them in front of you, going back to grab two bottles and giving them for you to choose. You chose the one on his left, the bottle seemed fancier and it was your only opportunity to drink something fancy in your life.
âGood choiceâ he said and served the cups, raising his one. âCheers, for tonightâ you raised your glass too before bringing to your lips and taking a sip of it.
There was a moment of silence between you and you decided to kill your curiosity.
âWhy?â
âHm?â he cocked his head and if he wasnât your teacher, youâd thought that gesture and him cute.
âWhy did you buy my date? Out of all people, why me?â he chuckled, his eyes locked on the drink in his hands before lifting his dark gaze at you, his expression unreadable yet soft, welcoming, calming.
âDo you want the proper answer, the honest truth or the even more honest truth?â
âThere are two honest truths?â it was your turn to cock your head at him.
âThey are basically the same, but one is⊠deeper, darker than the otherâ.
âWhatâs the proper answer?â you asked, curious.
âI wanted to help the university, you were just a coincidenceâ
âThereâs no such thing as coincidenceâ you took a big gulp of your wine, drinking it all, you felt that you needed more alcohol in your system.
âI also donât believe in coincidencesâ Seonghwa took a sip of his own cup, his eyes never leaving yours.
âAnd whatâs the honest truth?â you asked, even though you didnât know if you were prepared for the answer. The man took a step closer to you.
âI admire you for a long time, yn, ever since I laid my eyes on you for the first time I knew I needed to have you even for a simple dinner, even if for a night onlyâ you gulped at his confession, not really expecting any of that. He took another two steps closer to you, but you didnât move. âAnd when I heard you were taking part in the auction I knew it was my chance, but I also knew it was going to be hard, since Iâm not the only one who has eyes and sees how⊠gorgeous you areâ he seemed to hesitate at finding the right word to use to you.
âA-and whatâs the even more honest truth?â you asked, not really sure if it was curiosity or the alcohol already speaking in your system. He chuckled and dropped his cup on the counter near where you stood.
âI think you already noticed how my teaching method is a little⊠unorthodoxâ you nodded. What the hell his classes had to do with now? âYou see, I donât use history books because I hate them because they are all wrongâ you looked at him puzzled. What was he talking about? âAnd the reason why I hate them is because Iâve lived history myself, I saw those things happenâ you looked at him before leaving a laugh. But he didnât laugh with you, he remained serious.
âAre you drunk already, Mr Park?â you asked, looking at his face as if you searched for something.Â
âI donât get drunk with human alcoholâ he was definitely drunk. âYou see, you are not the only beings to populate this earth, you know?â he came dangerously close to you and opened his mouth, a pair of fangs growing in front of you from his teeth.Â
âI think Iâm drunkâ you said, hand on your head. âI just saw fangs on your teethâ
âThese?â he showed you them again and you blinked. âI know it all seems crazy, but vampires exist, and Iâm one of them. In fact, you know more vampires than you thinkâÂ
âWait, what the fuck? Whatâs going on? Is this some type of prank?âÂ
âIâd never prank you like this, ynâ his voice was soft, velvety, deep. âIâm telling you the truthâ.
âAnd what does this have to do with me?â you asked, your voice a tone higher than your usual, you were getting nervous again.
âYou see, us vampires can smell human scent from meter away, and some of you have distinct smells, and you, my dear, is one of theseâ
âAnd what does that mean?â you asked, already entering in his craziness.
âIt means your blood has a sweeter taste and it can be addictingâ he stated as if he was telling you that 2+2=4. âIâve been taking care of you for the past year, some other vampires have tried to get to you in more⊠unhealthy ways, so I have been keeping them awayâÂ
âIâm going crazy, I think thatâs itâ you held your head between your hands, shaking it. Your mind was racing. âAnd what do you want from me? My blood?â
âYes. And noâ he was so close to you that you could smell his musky cologne, he smelled so good, intoxicating even, his dark eyes looking at you like a predator. âI do want your blood, but I want you to be my donorâ
âDonor?â
âYouâd give me your blood whenever I wanted, in exchange Iâd care for you, money, expanses, whatever else you needâ you blinked at him, partially dumbfounded at his proposal and partially at the way he looked at you, making you weak. Since when did he have that power over you?
âYou want to be my sugar daddy?â he laughed humorously.
âIf thatâs how you wanna call it. All Iâm asking is for a bit of your blood when Iâm hungryâ. You contemplated his offer. It was a very good offer, you were a broke student after all, and all he wanted was your blood right? âYou can take your time to thinkâ
âIâll doâ you said, not even believing in your own words. A smile creeped up his face. âIâll be your donorâ
âIâm sure you wonât regretâ his hand came to your face, caressing the skin of your cheek, you felt a little flick of a shock where he touched. âIâll take good care of you, yn. You are precious to meâ
âWe gonna start tonight?â you asked curious, anxious, not only with his answer but to know the feeling of a bite. He chuckled at your eagerness.
âIf thatâs your wish. Iâm always hungry for youâ the way he spoke seemed more than just blood but you let it slide, not wanting to think too much, even though he literally confessed to you minutes prior. You nodded. âLetâs go somewhere more comfortable for you thenâ.
Seonghwa took you to his room, and, again, it was not what you expected of his room, especially of a vampireâs room. He guided you to sit on his bed. You pulled the collar of your shirt and exposed your neck to him, earning a laugh from him.
âIâll feed from your arm, your neck is for marking onlyâ
âMarking?â you asked curiously.
âWe vampires tend to mark our lovers in the neck, a mark of true and everlasting love. Once marked, you and the vampire share a never ending bond by bloodâ
âThatâs beautifulâ he nodded.
You gave your arm to him and took a deep breath. He gently grabbed your arm as if made of glass and started to caress the skin, feeling the softness, the warmth of it, before bringing to his lips. He laid gentle kisses and licks over the skin before dragging the tip of his fangs on it. The sharpness of them pulling a gasp from you. He shushed you, telling you that you were going to be fine, his voice deep, velvety, soft, wrapping you in something you couldnât pinpoint.
Then the sting came. He punctured his fangs into your skin, breaking the layers until he found your vein, your blood flowing out as he sucked it all, low hums and satisfied growls leaving his throat.
Your head was dizzy, the pain was deliciously turning into pleasure and spreading through your body. It started slow, it came in waves, your body heat rising, your cheeks flushing, your tummy knotting, your legs automatically closing themselves, searching for something, anything. The heat in your body almost unbearable. You threw your head back and a moan left your lips as Seonghwa sucked your life elixir out of you. Everything too much.
His name started to leave your lips as whispers, the volume increasing second by second, until you were borderline moaning his name. Your free hand going in between your legs, holding your mound as you squeezed them together. You wanted him. You needed him.
He stopped sucking your blood, licking the little bites, the saliva now entering even more to your wounds.Â
âS-seonghwaâŠâ you whispered-moaned. âWhatâs happening?â he smirked seeing your state, he has never seen someone react to him like that.
âI forgot to mention that our saliva can be aphrodisiac to someâ he looked over where your hands were in the middle of your legs.
âDo something, help meâ you managed to speak out, suddenly there seemed to be no air in your lungs or in the room for you to inhale.
âWhat do you want me to do?â you grabbed him by his shirt, fists closed tight against his perfectly white dress shirt. âI wonât do anything unless you tell me to, babyâ you moaned at the nickname.
âDo something, fuck me, finger me, eat me, whatever you want, just make this ache go awayâ you blurted.
âThatâll be my pleasureâ.
He was quick on putting you laid on the bed, his mouth on yours in seconds. You tried to rush it, but he was slow, gentle, taking his time to enjoy being able to finally kiss you. You moaned into the kiss, your legs wrapping into his torso. Seonghwa invaded your mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Your tongues fought for space between your mouths in an addictive dance. You were already addicted to him.Â
His hand that wasnât stabilizing his body was all over yours, squeezing the plush skin of your legs wrapped around him, on your waist, on your breasts on top of your shirt, on your face, he just couldnât decide where to land them, he wanted to scan your body with the tip of his fingers.Â
You started to grind onto him, searching for some friction, some release, and he left a chuckle between the kiss before breaking it. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra. His eyes scanned you and you felt your whole body burn. The way he looked at you with so much devotion, so much endearment, making the ache between your legs even worse.
âSo fucking beautiful and all for meâ he hissed before taking your bra off and admiring your naked chest. Your nipples hard with the sudden breeze of cold air. âOnly I get to see all of this, right?â you nodded rapidly. âDo you think I donât see you flirting with that boy from fifth semester?â he squeezed both of your breasts at the same time, earning a low groan from you. âBut you are mine, arenât you? Only mineâ he pinched your nipples and you moaned at the pain, nodding your head. âUse your words, baby, I want to hear itâ
âIâm yours, only yours- fuck! Pleaseâ you didnât even know what you were pleading for, the stimulation in your nipples making your cunt squeeze into nothing.
âSuch a good obedient girlâ he landed a little slap on your left tit, making you jolt out of bed. âFuck youâre so sensitive because of my saliva, so responsive, If I knew that how youâd respond I would have feed from you earlierâ he teased.
âPlease, sir, do somethingâ Seonghwa felt his dick get even harder than before when you called him sir, the usually educated word now with such a different meaning.
âWhat did you call me?â
âS-sir?â you stuttered, scared that you did something wrong. But your worries went away when Seonghwa grabbed you by your hair and kissed you hard and hungry.
âFuck yes, Iâm your sir, and youâre my good girl arenât you?â you nodded, eyes already hooded with pleasure. âWordsâ.
âYes, sirâ.
He didnât even answer you, he simply assaulted your mouth once again, kissing you hungrily, teeth clashing, such a hard contrast with the first kiss. His tongue always asserting dominance over you, and you let him, tonight all you wanted was to be fucked dumb, all you needed was to be fucked until you couldnât remember your name.
He stopped kissing you and moved to unbuckle your pants, pulling them down in one swift motion along with your panties. You were now completely bare in front of him, in front of your professor, who happened to be a vampire that sucked blood out of you, but you couldnât care less. Seonghwa pulled you to the edge of the bed so he could be on his knees and worship you, worship your pussy like it deserved. He opened your legs and started peppering kisses along your thighs, biting in some spots so he could leave marks for you to remember who you belonged to. His fangs ever so gently grazing your skin once in a while, making goosebumps appear.Â
And then he gave a long lick, tongue flat, collecting your juices and spreading them along your vulva. He hummed at your taste on his tongue, sweet and addicting, he swore he could be there forever. The man started to suck your clit, to lick it, to draw circles with the tip of his tongue, your moans becoming screams as your high was coming closer. He added his fingers to the mix, two of his long fingers entering you with ease as he sucked your clit.
âFuck, sir, Iâm gonna-â your voice was hoarse from your moans, your hips trying to buckle from the bed but Seonghwa held you in place.
âCum for me, princess, cum all over my faceâ his voice was deeper, more velvety than usual, more sensual.
He kept fucking you with his fingers, curling them perfectly inside of you, his mouth doing wonders around your clit and his fangs poked ever so slightly the skin around. It was a matter of seconds before you came undone on his face. He kept his assault, helping you riding your high all while sucking your juices dry. If your blood was sweet, your pussy was candy to him.Â
You started to writhe under him as you started to feel overstimulated, your clit puff and red from your orgasm as he kept sucking you throughout your orgasm. He finally stopped his ministrations, his eyes even darker than before, his chin glistening with your juices.Â
Seonghwa didnât waste his time and started to undress himself, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, eyes never leaving yours as you watched him as he was unwrapping a present for you. The heat between your legs came back with full force when he finally stood completely naked in front of you, his dick hard, long, thick, pulsing. You licked your lips at the sight and he chuckled.
âLike what you see, darling?â you nodded, now on your knees on the bed, hands expectantly on top of your legs. You couldnât look more adorable and endearing to him. âWant a taste?â you felt your cheeks heat even more than already were as you nodded.
He slowly walked to you, stopping in front of your face and caressed your head. He grabbed your hands that were still resting on top of your legs and put on top of his hard member.
âGo on, please meâ his words were taunting, teasing, a challenge that you took willingly.Â
You grabbed his member in your hands, feeling the weight of it on them before starting rubbing up and down. But it wasnât enough, nor for you or him. So you put just the tip in your mouth, sucking it gently and slowly, a hiss coming from the man above you. You licked a long stripe from the base to the tip before putting it back into your mouth, sucking more little by little, hollowing your cheeks every time you sucked him. You used your hands to help with the parts you couldnât reach, squeezing ever so slightly the base of his cock. The man couldnât control the moans and groans that left his mouth as you did wonders with your mouth on him, but he wouldnât cum on your mouth, at least not now.Â
He pulled you up by your hair, the stinging hurting deliciously against your scalp. He pulled you in for a kiss, your tastes mixing in your mouths as your tongues danced together. He pushed you back to the bed, your back laying on the soft mattress, the kiss never breaking up until you needed air.
He positioned himself in between your legs and stroked his own penis before prodding just the tip in you hole, an annoyed whine leaving your lips as you tried to move your hips for him to penetrate you properly, earning an humorous chuckle from Seonghwa.
âWhat is it, baby? Want my dick?â you nodded, hooking your legs and feet on his but he was stronger than you, not moving an inch. âThen begâ you whined.
âPlease, sir, give it to me, I need you to fuck me right now, please, I need youâ your voice was high and whiny but you tried your best to sound as desperate as you were feeling.
âI don't know if this convinced meâ he said, a smirk on his face.
âPlease, sir, I'm begging you, I need you to fuck me, to use me, to- fuck!â he cut you mid sentence, his member entering you fully and easily with how wet and dripping you were out of desperation.Â
He was relentless, not giving you time to get used to his size or girth, spreading you open deliciously, the pain mixing with the pleasure, all too much for your pleasure clouded head. Your mouth was hung open, only babbles and moans leaving it, drool starting to drip from the corners of it.
âOh baby girl is already gone is it? Are you drooling already baby? Is sir fucking you this good?â you managed to nod, your arms spread on top of the mattress, back arched. He grabbed you by your hair, pulling you close to his face. âUse your words, princess. Say it, I wanna hear itâ
You tried to speak but it was all too much, the way he was fucking you, his hips pistoning in a delicious rythm, never haulting, his dick spreading you open and rearanging your insides, his grip on your hair, his hot breath on your face. You were overwhelmed. Nothing came out of your mouth besides babbles and moans and whines. You were a mess underneath him, and you were loving every second of it.
âOh poor baby can't speakâ he laughed, releasing his grip in your hair, making you fall back in the bed. âOnly I can fuck you this good, right? Only I can make you a mess, right?â you nodded. âYou're mine, yn, only mine nowâ
âY-yoursâ you managed to stutter, voice hoarse.Â
Both of you felt your pussy walls starting to clench violently around him and, with a high and loud moan, you came, back arching from the bed, fingers gripping the bed sheets like a vice. But Seonghwa didn't stopped, no, it only fuelled him to fuck you more and harder, his stamina shocking you.Â
The man grabbed both of your legs and brought to his chest, the new angle making you jolt out of overstimulation, the sensitivity in your pussy making everything seemed much more. He kept his relentless assault on your pussy, his hips never halting, his pace fast, strong, deep. You weren't even there anymore, your head clouded and fuzzy. Blank.Â
âShit you take me so well, princessâ he moaned as he increased his pace, his thrusts now shallower. âI might get addicted to your pussyâ you only moaned, body limp on the bed, you were completely given to him and the pleasure he was giving to you. âI'm closeâ he announced.
He let go of the hold on your legs, opening them again so he could play with your clit and you could cum again. With him. Both your moans grew louder, filling the room. You came for the third time, your juices making a wet sound as he kept fucking you through your high again. When you were on the edge of overstimulation he pulled out and started to stroke himself, coming all over your legs and stomach.Â
Seonghwa left the room and went to the bathroom, coming back with a damp cloth to clean you up. He carefully grazed the piece of cloth over your body, not only cleaning his cum and yours but also a bit of your sweat, discarding it by the side after.Â
He laid on the bed and pulled you to cuddle him, which you gladly accepted, body still limp and mind hazy. There was a moment of comfortable silence as your breath came back to the normal state and the smell of sex dissipated from the air.
âSorry if I was too rough on youâ he broke the silence first, his hands caressing your hair gently.
âYou were perfectâ you admitted with a giggle. âMaybe I won't walk properly tomorrow but that's a detailâ you both laughed. There was another moment of silence before you broke it. âSo⊠everytime you feed from me I'll get horny?â he laughed again and kissed the top of your head.
âProbably. Like I said, for some people vampire's saliva can be aphrodisiac, and you, my dear, are one of these peopleâ
âWell, if you fuck me like that everytime you feed from me I won't complainâ.
âWell, if you let me fuck you like that everytime I feed from you, I think we have a dealâ you turned your head up to look at him. âBut from now on, you are only mine, got it?â you nodded.
âYes, sirâ.Â
Masterlist | Resquests
#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop reactions#kpop headcanons#kpop fanfic#kpop oneshots#kpop smut#ateez#atz#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez fanfic#ateez headcanons#ateez reactions#park seonghwa#seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa smut#seonghwa fanfic#seonghwa headcanon
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Friday Night Lights | Lee Know




áÂłpairing; Jock Lee Know x Nerd Reader
áÂłgenre; Fluff, Smut
áÂłwarnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, oral m reciving,
áÂłAuthors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner Louie <3 (sorry it took so long :((( )

Youâre used to staying in your lane.
In college, that means your nights are spent at the library, working on assignments, attending study groups, or listening to the whispers of people about crushes, weekend plans, and sometimes, the star athletes on campus. You don't usually pay much attention to that last oneâuntil the whispers turn to Lee Minho. Lee Minho is⊠different. Confident, popular, and utterly untouchable. Heâs the star of the football team, the guy people canât stop talking about, but also somehow your friend.
Well, sort of.
You met through Jisung, your mutual friend, who has a way of pulling people together. Youâve spoken a few timesâmostly polite hellos and small talk whenever Jisung ropes you into attending his hangoutsâbut every time you do, you find yourself tripping over your words.
You tell yourself itâs nothingâheâs just another guy, after all. But the way your heart races every time his attention flickers to you says otherwise.
âYouâre coming to Minhoâs game this Friday, right?â Jisungâs voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
You blink, caught off guard, and turn to face him. âWhat?â
Jisung leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs like he always does, completely unfazed. âThe game. This Friday. Youâre coming, right?â He grins, as if your attendance is already a done deal.
âI donât know...â you trail off, trying to avoid his expectant gaze. Crowds arenât really your thing, and the idea of sitting through a packed football game is enough to make your stomach churn.
âOh, come on,â he groans, dropping the chair back onto all four legs with a loud thud. âYouâve been holed up in this library all week. You need a break.â
You frown, shuffling your notebook to pretend like youâre busy. âI donât really do... games.â
âYou donât have to âdo games.â You just have to show up. Cheer a little, look cute, and maybeâjust maybeâhave fun.â His tone is light, but the sly look he shoots you suggests heâs up to something.
Your suspicion grows. âWhy do you care if I go?â
âBecause itâs the homecoming game,â he says. âYou know, one of the biggest games of the year? Minhoâs going to kill me if you donât show up.â
When you donât respond, he rolls his eyes. âYou know, Minho? Our mutual friend? The guy you can barely form a sentence around?â
âI do notââ
âYes, you do,â he interrupts with a smile, leaning forward on his elbows. âAnd I think heâd appreciate the support. Heâs been working really hard this season, and besides...â
You tilt your head, confused. âWhy would he care if Iâm there? Iâve never even been to one of his games.â
âThatâs exactly why heâd care!â Jisung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. âDo you know how many times heâs asked me why you never go? He thinks you hate football or something.â
âI donât hate football,â you say defensively, though the thought of navigating the chaotic energy of a packed stadium doesnât exactly fill you with joy. âIâve just... never really had a reason to go.â
Jisung smirks, leaning forward on his elbows. âWell, now you do.The entire campus is going to be thereâstudents, alumni, even the marching bandâs pulling out all the stops. Itâs a whole thing. You have to come.â
You hesitate, nibbling on your bottom lip. Itâs not like you donât want to support Minhoâheâs always been kind to you in his own aloof, confident way. But showing up at a game, where everyoneâs eyes will be on himâand by extension, anyone he cares aboutâfeels overwhelming.
âI donât know, Ji. Crowds arenât really my thing.â
âCrowds arenât the thing,â he says, cutting you off with a sly grin. âMinho is."
Your stomach flips at the thought. Youâve never seen him play before, never witnessed the version of Minho everyone talks about when they say his name with awe. The star athlete, the leader on the field.
âIâll think about it,â you mumble, quickly shuffling your papers as an excuse to avoid Jisungâs knowing look.
âUh-huh,â he says, sitting back with an exaggerated shrug. âJust donât be surprised when I text you the details anyway. Youâre not getting out of this that easily.â
So, somehow, you find yourself in the bleachers that Friday night, bundled in your warmest jacket, pretending youâre not scanning the field for one particular player. It doesnât take long for you to find him. Even among his teammates, Minho stands out, laughing with them, helmet under one arm as he warms up. Itâs a little surreal, watching him from here; heâs all focus and intensity, so different from the relaxed, teasing guy you usually see at Jisungâs hangouts. You canât help feeling your heart race a little faster.
As the game starts, you find yourself getting drawn in, caught up in the energy around you. The team is good, and Minho, even better. Itâs not hard to see why heâs the star. Every play heâs part of feels....different. Heâs practically flying across the field, tackling opponents, calling shots, making everything look effortless. You canât keep your eyes off him.
And then it happens.
Itâs fastâtoo fast, reallyâand at first, youâre not sure whatâs wrong.
One second, Minho is sprinting down the field, his face set with determination as he cuts through defenders like theyâre nothing. The next, thereâs a collision, hard and brutal. The sound of it echoes in the stadium, a collective gasp rising from the crowd.
Your breath catches as you see him go down, gripping his ankle. For a moment, everything else disappearsâthe noise of the crowd, the whistle from the referee, even Jisungâs voice shouting something beside you. All you can see is Minho on the ground, pain written across his face.
Your heart pounds as players gather around him, the medics rushing onto the field. He tries to get up, but itâs clear he canât put any weight on his leg. The sight twists something deep in your chest, and before you realize what youâre doing, youâre halfway to your feet.
âHey,â Jisung says, grabbing your arm and pulling you back down. âHeâll be okay. Itâs probably just a sprain or something.â
But Jisungâs words do little to calm the panic bubbling inside you. From this distance, you canât hear what the medics are saying, but the way Minho shakes his head and slams his fist into the ground tells you itâs bad.
The game pauses as they help him off the field, his arm slung around a teammateâs shoulder, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. Your stomach churns, and for the rest of the game, no matter how loud the crowd gets or how exciting the plays are, you canât focus. Your eyes keep drifting to the sideline, where Minho sits with his head down, his ankle wrapped in ice.
And all you can think about is how you wish you could do something to help him.
The rest of the game feels like a blur. The energy in the stadium surges back eventually, but not for you. Your eyes keep flicking toward the sideline, where Minho sits with his injured leg propped up, his arms crossed and a stormy expression on his face. Even from a distance, you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way heâs forcing himself to stay composed despite the obvious frustration simmering beneath the surface.
Jisung nudges you with his elbow, breaking your trance. âRelax. Minhoâs tough. Heâll be fine.â
You nod stiffly, not trusting your voice enough to reply. Jisungâs probably rightâMinho is strong, the kind of guy who shrugs off pain like itâs nothing. But something about the way he looked when they carried him off the field makes your chest feel heavy.
When the game finally ends, with your school securing a narrow victory, the crowd erupts in cheers. Students flood the field to celebrate, but you canât seem to share their enthusiasm. Instead, you find yourself lingering near the bleachers, watching as the team huddles together, Minho still sitting apart, his helmet resting forgotten at his feet.
âCome on,â Jisung says, tugging on your sleeve. âLetâs go check on him.â
Your heart skips. âWhat? No. Heâs probably surrounded by peopleâhe doesnât need me there.â
Jisung rolls his eyes. âDonât be ridiculous. Youâre his friend too. Besides, if you donât come, Iâll just tell him you were too shy to say hi, and then heâll feel bad.â
You glare at him, but the teasing glint in his eyes leaves you with no room to argue. Before you know it, youâre weaving through the lingering crowd, your pulse quickening with every step closer to the teamâs bench.
When you reach him, Minho is leaning back against the bench, his jaw clenched and his eyes distant. His ankle is now heavily wrapped, a crutch resting beside him.
âMinho!â Jisung calls, grinning as if nothingâs out of the ordinary. âYou okay, man? That hit looked brutal.â
Minho glances up, his expression softening slightly when he sees Jisungâand then landing on you. His gaze lingers for a moment, and you suddenly forget how to breathe.
âIâve been better,â he mutters, managing a wry smile. âBut Iâll live.â
âYou scared the crap out of them,â Jisung says, jerking his thumb in your direction. âThey were about to jump the fence and carry you off the field themself.â
âJisung!â you hiss, smacking his arm, but Minho chuckles, the sound low and warm despite the situation.
âYou were worried about me?â he asks, tilting his head as he looks at you.
Your cheeks burn, and you scramble for a response that doesnât make you sound ridiculous. âI mean... you went down pretty hard. Anyone wouldâve been worried.â
His smile widens, a hint of his usual confidence returning. âWell, thanks for caring.â
The simplicity of his words, paired with the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, sends your heart into overdrive. You want to say more, to ask if heâs really okay, but the weight of his gaze and the teasing grin tugging at his lips leaves you tongue-tied.
âAnyway,â Jisung cuts in, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air, âyou should let them take care of you. They're great at worryingâpractically a professional.â
You groan, burying your face in your hands as Minho chuckles again.
âNoted,â he says, his tone lighter now, almost playful. âMaybe Iâll take you up on that.â
And just like that, you realize you might be in deeper than you ever thought.
Over the next two weeks, Minhoâs injury changes things. Heâs benched for practices, forced to watch from the sidelines while his teammates run drills and scrimmage. The ever-present crutches are a constant reminder of his temporary setback, though he still somehow makes them look effortlessly cool.
The trouble starts when Jisung complains one afternoon, flopping dramatically into the seat next to you in the library.
âI canât keep babysitting Minho,â he groans. âWe donât even have the same classes, and Coach keeps glaring at me every time Iâm late because Iâm helping him to practice. You should do it.â
You frown. âMe? Why me?â
Jisung grins slyly, clearly enjoying your discomfort. âYouâre the only other person he talks to as much as me. Besides, youâre better at dealing with his diva moments.â
âDiva moments?â you ask, incredulous.
âOh, youâll see.â
Despite your protests, Jisung isnât one to take no for an answer, and by the next morning, Minhoâs waiting for you outside your lecture hall, leaning on his crutches with an easy grin.
âHey,â he says casually, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.
You blink at him. âWhat are you doing here?â
âJisung said youâd help me get to practice,â he replies, his grin widening when he sees the look on your face. âDonât worry. Iâm not that high-maintenance.â
You sigh, already feeling like youâre in over your head. âFine. Letâs go before I change my mind.â
Helping Minho quickly becomes a routine. Every afternoon, you meet him after his last class to walkâwell, technically hobbleâto the field. At first, itâs awkward, mostly because Minho seems determined to act like his injury isnât a big deal, even when heâs obviously struggling. But over time, the walks become... easier.
Minho, for all his bravado, is surprisingly easy to talk to. He asks you questions about your classes, your favorite things, even what made you decide to go to the homecoming game. His teasing is still there, but itâs lighter, less guarded, and you find yourself opening up to him in ways you didnât expect.
One afternoon, as youâre walking back from practice, Minho turns to you suddenly.
âYou donât have to keep doing this, you know.â
âWhat do you mean?â
He gestures to his crutches, his expression unusually serious. âHelping me. I know itâs a hassle.â
You stop walking, frowning at him. âItâs not a hassle, Minho. I donât mind.â
He looks at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you. Then, he smilesâsoft and genuine, the kind that makes your heart skip.
âThanks,â he says quietly.
Youâre about to keep walking when he doesnât move, shifting his weight awkwardly on his crutches. His expression tightens like heâs debating something with himself, and before you can ask, he speaks again.
âYou know... I'm not kidding,â he says, his voice lower now.
âKidding about what?â you ask, genuinely confused.
âAbout this being a hassle,â he replies, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. âBut not for the reasons you think.â
You tilt your head, frowning. âMinho, that doesnât even make sense.â
He huffs a quiet laugh, the sound more nervous than amused. âWhat I mean is... itâs a hassle because Iâm trying really hard not to screw this up.â
Your heart skips. âScrew what up?â
âThis,â he says, his dark eyes locking on yours. âUs. Whatever this is. Because, honestly? I like you.â
The words hit you like a wave, and youâre left standing there, staring at him as your brain scrambles to catch up.
âYou⊠like me?â you echo, your voice barely above a whisper.
Minho nods, shifting his grip on his crutches as if theyâre the only thing grounding him. âYeah, I do. Iâve been trying not to make it obvious, but these past couple of weeks? Spending time with you, talking to you... itâs just made it harder to ignore.â
Your breath catches, and for a moment, youâre not sure what to say. âMinho, Iââ
âYou donât have to say anything,â he interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. âI just needed you to know. Even if you donât feel the same, I... I couldnât keep pretending I didnât care about you like this.â
The raw honesty in his voice takes you by surprise, and before you can second-guess yourself, the words tumble out.
âI do feel the same,â you admit, your cheeks burning as you look at him. âI just didnât think you would.â
Minho blinks, clearly startled, before his lips curve into a slow, disbelieving smile. âYou mean that?â
You nod, unable to stop the small smile creeping onto your face. âYeah, I do.â
For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression soft and full of something you canât quite name. Then, he exhales a laugh, shaking his head.
âWell, thatâs a relief,â he says, his grin widening. âI was starting to think Jisung would kill me if I didnât say something.â
You laugh, the tension between you melting away. âHe probably would.â
Minho straightens up, his confidence sliding back into place. âSo, does this mean I can keep making you carry my stuff to practice? You know, since you like me and all.â
You roll your eyes, already regretting this. âDonât push your luck, Minho.â
The days blend together, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you realize youâve started looking forward to your time with him. The walks, the conversations, the way he glances at you when he thinks youâre not lookingâitâs all so much more than you ever thought it could be.
But today feels different.
When you show up to meet Minho after practice, the field is empty. His crutches arenât propped up by the bench where he usually waits, and thereâs no sign of his teammates. You glance around, your chest tightening with a mix of confusion and unease.
âMinho?â you call out, but the only answer is the faint hum of fluorescent lights from the building nearby.
Frowning, you decide to check inside. The locker room is usually bustling after practice, but as you step in, itâs eerily quiet. The air smells faintly of sweat and detergent, and the echo of your footsteps makes the space feel even emptier.
You turn a corner, and thatâs when you see him.
Minho is sitting on one of the benches, his crutches leaning against the wall beside him. His head is bowed, his hair falling into his face as he stares at the ground. Thereâs a tension in his posture, his shoulders hunched like heâs carrying the weight of the world.
âMinho?â you say softly, stepping closer.
He doesnât look up right away, but you see the subtle way his shoulders relax at the sound of your voice. âHey,â he mutters, his tone lacking its usual spark.
You sit down beside him, your knee brushing against his. âWhatâs going on? I thought we were meeting outside.â
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. âI just... needed a minute.â
You wait, giving him the space to speak. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are shadowed with something you donât see oftenâuncertainty.
âI hate this,â he admits quietly, gesturing to the crutches beside him. âSitting out, watching everyone else practice, knowing I canât do anything. Itâs... frustrating.â
Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. âMinho, itâs okay to feel that way,â you say gently. âBut this is temporary. Youâll be back out there before you know it.â
He scoffs, his lips pressing into a thin line. âWhat if Iâm not? What if I come back and Iâm not as good? Or worse, what if I get hurt again?â
âThen you deal with it,â you say firmly, surprising even yourself. âBecause youâre Minho. You donât let anything stop you. And besides...â You hesitate, your voice softening. âYouâre more than just football. At least, to me you are.â
He blinks, his eyes searching yours. âYou really mean that?â
You nod, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from his face. âOf course I do. Youâre amazing, Minho, even when youâre not on the field.â
For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, he reaches for your hand, his fingers warm as they curl around yours.
Minhoâs thumb traces over your knuckles in gentle circles, and he looks down at your intertwined hands with a soft, almost shy smile.
Thereâs something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a feeling thatâs been growing with every passing day, but now, in the quiet of the locker room, itâs impossible to ignore.
You feel it tooâthe shift, the tension, the undeniable pull drawing you closer. His gaze lifts from your hands to your face, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.
For a moment, neither of you moves. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the stillness of the locker room, the soft sound of his breath mingling with yours.
âYou know,â Minho starts, his voice low, almost hesitant, âIâve been wanting to do this for a while.â
Your heart beats faster, your pulse quickening. âDo what?â you whisper, even though you already know.
Minho doesnât answer with words. Instead, he leans in slowly, his face inching closer to yours, his lips barely brushing against the air between you. His hand moves to your cheek, his fingers warm and gentle against your skin.
And then, without another word, his lips are on yours.
Itâs tentative at first, soft and uncertain, as if heâs waiting for you to pull away, but you donât. You tilt your head, your free hand reaching up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. When you kiss him back, itâs like everything clicks into placeâlike this was always meant to happen.
The kiss deepens, slow and explorative, as if youâre both savoring the moment. His lips are soft, warm, and he smells like freshly cut grass and the faintest trace of cologne. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your other hand finding its way to his waist, holding him against you.
For a long moment, itâs just the two of you, lost in the feeling of something new and exciting, something neither of you ever expected. And when you finally pull away, breathless and slightly dazed, Minho rests his forehead against yours, his smile lazy but full of warmth.
âI think,â he murmurs, his voice low, âI could get used to this.â
You smile, feeling a quiet thrill at the thought. âThen I guess weâll have to make it happen.â
Minho's grin softens, his hand still warm against your cheek, and he leans in once more.
This time, the kiss is differentâdeeper, more certain. Thereâs no hesitation, no wondering if this is okay. His other hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer until thereâs barely any space between you. His lips move against yours, gentle yet deliberate, as if heâs making up for all the times heâd held back.
You respond, feeling braver now, your fingers finding their way to his collar, tugging him just a bit closer. The locker room is completely forgotten; itâs just you and Minho, the world melting away around you.
You wanted him, of this you were sure.
"Darling, why don't you let me help you forget about it all?" You purred, as your hands made their way down his chest stopping at his waist. You pulled him towards you and kissed him harder, your need for him overpowering any doubt that was left in your mind.
You knelt between his legs, the anticipation building between you. You place both of your hands on his legs and slowly began to push them apart, allowing yourself to slide in between.
"Y/nâŠ" he said, placing his hand on top of yours, almost as if to stop you. His fingers lingered, trembling slightly. "A-Are you sure? " he said "I don't want to pressure you"
"Shh... let me," you replied softly, as you began to unbuckle his belt, your eyes never leaving his. "I want you, Minho. I want this."
He groaned as you palmed him through his boxers. You could feel him getting harder under your hands.
"Y-you don't have to, baby" He said through his moans. You slowly pulled down his boxers, his erection springing free. "We can take it slo-OH," You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his pink tip.
You continued by placing a trail of kisses down his cock, keeping eye contact with him. You licked your way back up to the tip and took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, tasting his pre-cum as it seeped from the top.
He couldn't help but throw his head back and lean further onto the bench. His breath caught in his throat as his ears began to turn a shade of red. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.
The only thing heard in the locker room is the lewd sounds coming from your mouth along with his whimpers.
Minho moaned loudly, his hips bucking involuntarily. You took him deeper into your mouth and sucking harder than before. You reached up to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your fingers as you continued to pleasure him.
"Fuck, Y/N," He moaned. "That feels so good. You're so good."
You responded with a low growl, taking him even deeper, his tip kissing the back of your throat.
Your lips were locked around his shaft. You choked slightly around his cock, tears beginning to fall from your eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat continuously.
He whined for more, almost sobbing when you completely removed yourself from around him, removing your lips from him with a pop.
You lick your way up his cock, once again paying extra attention to his swollen tip. His gaze locked onto yours, he began to thrust his hips forward, his thick, hard cock pressing against your lips. You parted them slightly, allowing him to slide inside once again.
He began to fuck your mouth roughly, his cock sliding in and out of your throat with each thrust. You could feel the saliva dripping down your chin, but you didn't care - the only thing that mattered was pleasing him.
"I'm go-gonna.... fuck.. gonna cum." he said, his thrusts beginning to slow down.
You feel the familiar slip of your glasses down the bridge of your nose, threatening to fall off completely.
Before you can react, Minhoâs hand gently brushes against your nose, and with a soft chuckle, he reaches up, pushing your glasses back into place. His fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary, his touch warm against your skin. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, your glasses sliding sending him overboard, and his cum paints your throat. You swallowed, your eyes never leaving his as you sucked him dry.Â
He pulled his cock out, and you pressed your thumb down onto his dripping red tip.
The lower half of your face glistens, your features wet with your his cum.
"Fuck you're pretty" he said hold your chin with his hand. âI didnât know you knew how to do that," his voice a mix of amusement and admiration. âYouâve always seemed like the super nerdy typeâguess I was wrong.â
You laugh, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. âWell, I do have my moments of... unexpected skills.â
Minhoâs smile softens, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face. âYouâre full of surprises, arenât you?â
âMaybe,â you reply, a grin tugging at your lips. âGuess youâll have to stick around to find out more.â
He chuckles, leaning in again, and you both fall back into the moment, the world outside fading away once more.
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JSOTR why do you make your research locked behind a subscription? So much knowledge, lost forerverâŠ
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Older!pro hero!Bakugo falling for one of UA's newer students seven years after he graduated.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!!

Note: I am without a doubt going to expand on this later, so consider this a teaser and let me know if anyone would like to be tagged when I post that one!

He only went back to participate in some event the school was hosting, standing near the edge of the stage next to Red Riot. He face was rigid, and his expression twisted in annoyance at having to be there as he handed out certificates to the approaching students.
He notices you after a couple of minutes standing there, his eyes glued to your side profile as you converse with your classmates. He thinks you're absolutely beautiful, and he tries not to let himself get distracted, but he can't help himself.
Everyone's giddy at seeing the heroes in their school's hall, even though they're alumni and their pictures are plastered on walls all around the school. You're excited too, and he likes that.
He likes that your eyes keep glancing over to where he's standing, and he can see how you grin, how you look towards the girl at your left, mouthing, 'Dynamight's looking here, right?'
He can't help the pride swelling his chest, his eyes still stuck on you even when you leave, all the students filing out of the classroom.
He's quick to put out an offer to you to join his agency when you guys graduate two months later. It's uncharacteristic of him, and his assistant is more than shocked when asked to send the letter, but he doesn't really care.
He doesn't care when Mina and Todoroki ask him why he's at your class's graduation even though he's always invited and has never shown up before.
He also doesn't care how quick Heroes Weekly is to talk about the first UA student to be offered a sidekick role at Dynamight's agency straight from graduation.
And he honestly couldn't care less about waking up to the scandalous picture all over social media about 6 months after.

DYNAMIGHT CAUGHT GETTING COSY WITH HIS NEW SIDEKICK!

And it's a picture of you sitting on his lap, hands rubbing over his chest, exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt, taken in the VIP section of a high-end club he and other heroes frequented.
He smirks to himself, throwing his phone on his bedside table as he climbs back into the sheets, running his palm over your naked back and leaning in to kiss the back of your neck softly.

Extra note: I guess it's my fault for writing it this way, but please, reader is 18! đshe's unironically inspired by me, and I was 18 before I graduated, so she's intended to be 18 in her last year of school.
#bakugou smut#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou katuski x reader#bnha x reader#bakugo smut#bakugo fluff
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Ready? Hurry up. No way Iâm missing out on this.
Groovification: [LOCKED]
Set to Home Screen: Heh, heh, hehâŠ
Home Transition 1: I made Grim a collar to match with me. Heâs happy with it, so Iâm happy.
Home Transition 2: Yeah, I brought my magestone with me. I dunno, at this point itâd be stupid to think nothingâs gonna happen. I might need it.
Home Transition 3: I missed Lilia and OisĂn. We used to jam out together in my first year, it was really fun.
Home, after Login: Theyâre selling shirts over there, letâs get in line already.
Home Transition, Groovification: [LOCKED]
Tap Home 1: Sent Floyd a picture, now heâs whining why I didnât bring him. He can die mad about it.
Tap Home 2: Sebek got really scared when I said I was snitching. Far as I know, Malleus doesnât even have a phone anymore.
Tap Home 3: Wonder how many people think Kingsleyâs mask is fakeâŠ
Tap Home 4: Dunno whatâs Copperâs got planned, but weâre heading backstage. With backstage tickets. Yeah. Totally.
Tap Home 5: Mm, itâs chewlery. I normally donât wear any, but sometimes I get reallyâŠbitey. I guess. Not in a bad way, though, yâknow?
Tap Home, Groovification: [LOCKED]
DUO MAGIC with Copper Benoit/Barbossa @cyanide-latte
"We doing this or what?" | "Go hard, Yugo, I've got your back!"
--
(so while the event is made to that anyone with oc of any year can join, for my own stuff, the Wishmasterâs Concert does take place in giaâs junior year. hence them wearing floydâs earring and their line referencing missing lilia and @/tixdixlâs oĂsin, who are now alumni at the time of giaâs junior year.)
taglist:
@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @tixdixl @winterweary @thehollowwriter @harryinramshackle
@theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @kimikitti
@s-t-y-x @nightwingshero @water-writings @beneathsakurashade @oya-oya-okay @scint1llat3
@twstinginthewind (dm to be added)
#Wishmasterâs Concert#twst fanevent#twst#twisted wonderland#twst oc#disney twst#ramshackle oc#twisted wonderland oc#gia yugo#garâs art#garâs oc#oathofoaks#copper benoit#cyanide-latte
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The Artist and the Engineer Part 1//Chapter One//The First Sketch
Master List NEXT >>
Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader
Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.
Word Count: 2.6K
Author's Note: This is the first in the canon I'm building for my fic For Your Pleasure. I'm working on making a whole series that will lead up to those events and after!
Listen to it on YouTube!
Donât forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics â€ïž
~*~*~*~
Viktor had never been to the art wing of the university before. It was all the way across campus from the engineering wing. He never had any reason to trouble with the journey. Even during his student days. So, he couldnât even begin to fathom why Professor Heimerdinger wanted to meet there.
It was much the same as other parts of the school. High arches, vaulted ceilings, and long polished hallways. The most noticeable differences were the art installations scattered throughout. Student and alumni collections were displayed from the moment you set foot through the archway. They ranged from grand paintings that ate up a large portion of the wall, down to hand carved statues, folded paper displays, and multimedia pieces with swatches of fabric roughly hewn to canvas.
Viktor didnât really get art. Or more, he didnât really have the time for it. Sure, it was pretty to look at. But he wasnât the type to stand around and ponder a painting, wondering what the girl was staring at out in the blank distance. He could draw enough to make his blueprints and observations, and he was satisfied enough with that.
This time of day, the campus was nearly empty. Most people were in classes. Just a few stray lingered. A couple people called to Viktor as he passed them. He greeted them politely, but their names escaped him.
The clicking of his cane against the floor echoed far beyond him. Squinting at the door plaques, he sought for the room the professor had specified. Finally, after a long stretch of hall without any doors, the Alumni Studio came into view. It was titled with tall thin letters over a set of double doors. Opening one, Viktor popped his head in, tentatively scanning the space. The scent hit him first. Some notes were familiar to him - the slippery smell of oil mingling with the dryness of parchment. Others were foreign, a different kind of burn in his sinuses he didnât know the source of. All of it was underlined with earthy clay.
The room was empty of people, but full of other things - mostly furniture. A massive canvas took up one wall, it was covered with a white sheet. Smears of bright paint and multicolored shoe prints stained the floor, despite the dozen beige drop cloths scattered about. Viktor carefully stepped over these, making sure not to get his cane caught up in one. There were gallon buckets of paint on the floor against one wall, a few were open with dribbles down their sides. A metal pail with some kind of murky solution overflowing with paint brushes stood beside a sink. A tall cabinet with papers stuck to its doors sat in the far corner next to a long counter equally covered in random items.
Right in the center of the room was a crimson chaise lounge. A single dark pillow nestled into the space where the high part of the back met the single arm. Before it sat an easel with a sizeable blank canvas. A small table had been set up beside it, the only thing on it a large drawing pad and a small bag.
Still, no Heimerdinger.
The professorâs voice came before Viktor actually saw him. Heimerdinger was chattering away around a corner where another door had closed. Whatever he was saying was too low for Viktor to hear. Then the professor emerged from a hallway beside a floor to ceiling mirror. Adorned in his usual blue coat and brown pin-stripe pants.His eyes lit up as soon as they saw Viktor standing there.
âViktor, mâboy!â greeted Professor Heimerdinger. âRight on time, glad you could make it!â
âGood afternoon, sir.â Viktor nodded to him. âMay I inquire - why are we in the art wing?â
âAh, yes!â Heimerdinger turned away, calling a name heâd never heard into the room.
âSorry!â called a voice in response, a bit muffled. âIâm a bit stuck. Iâll be there in a second.â
From the hallway next to the mirror emerged a young woman Viktor had never laid eyes on before - you. With your bright eyes, huffing and puffing as you carried a few large rolls of paper. There was a constant tink, tink, tink as you came towards them. Viktor looked down to find that another metal pail had its handle caught around your ankle.
âWhat is this?â Viktor asked, frowning. He was staring at Heimerdinger, who wasnât paying a single bit of attention to him. Instead, trying to help get the pail off your foot.
âViktor, right?â you asked, now looking at him expectantly. He didnât answer right away. Taking in your paint covered clothes, and the sooty smear on your face. You were clearly an artist. âThe professor has told me so much about you.â
âHeâs told me told nothing of you,â Viktor murmured, mostly to himself. The smile on your face faltered a little, eyes flickering to the professor. Louder, he asked, âWhat are you planning, sir?â
âYes!â Heimerdinger said, and introduced you to him properly. âSince youâre my assistant, I thought we should finally get around to properly commemorating it. Itâs a very big deal, you know.â
Many emotions flickered through Viktor at once. His brain couldnât pick one to act on, so his protests came out as incoherent half-sentences. But Heimerdinger just kept on talking. You paid no mind to his rejections. Just going to the easel and putting down the rolls. Heimerdinger paced around the room, and Viktor followed quickly after him.
âProfessor, I have research to do,â Viktor protested loudly.
Heimerdinger waved him off. âThat can wait. This is a tremendous promotion for you. I expect you to take an hour or two a day to pose until the painting is finished.â
Viktor choked on his own spit. âYou canât be serious - sir, please. I do not need to be painted.â
âThis young lady is an excellent artist and will capture your likeness to the letter. For her senior thesis last year, she chose to paint me. Iâm sure youâve seen the portrait in my office. - I promise, she will do you justice.â
âI - that is not the problem here!â
âViktor,â you started. He looked to you, annoyance coiling in his chest. âIf you really donât want to, I wonât be upset.â
âNonsense,â Heimerdinger said with a note of finality. âViktor will sit for you, and he will be an excellent subject. - Wonât you?â
Viktor knew he didnât have a choice. There was a hard glint in the professorâs eye. An almost threatening one. It wasnât a request as a mentor, this was an order as the Dean of the Academy. He didnât want to find out the consequence of disobeying him. Finally, Viktor sighed. âYes, sir.â
Heimerdinger, back to his usual self, exclaimed, âExcellent! Then starting today, you will start sit for your portrait! Now, I have a meeting to attend. But Iâm putting my trust in you to be a respectable subject as assistant to the Dean of the Academy, Viktor.â
Viktor nodded, and the professor started moving towards the door. He was muttering to himself, briefly announcing that heâd be back later to check the progress. The pair of you - the artist and the engineer - watched him walk out the door. The only sound in the cavernous room its soft closing. Viktor continued to stare at the door, a part of him hoping Heimerdinger would come back in and say he was pulling his leg.
He didnât.
âSo,â you started, rocking back on your heels. âI - uhâŠâ
Viktorâs gaze shifted to you. A sliver of guilt wedged in his chest when his annoyance spread to you. You were probably just commissioned. You had no idea he was being forced into it. He watched your eyes travel the room, then land back on him, eyebrows drawn together with an awkward smile. You gestured to the drawing pad in your hand. It was the large one from the table, now opened to a blank page. You shifted foot to foot under his gaze.
âWhere should I be?â he asked.
You nodded towards the chaise. âI want to get a few sketches first. You can read or something while we do this. I figured thatâs probably how you would want to be in the painting anyway.â
Viktor went to the couch, dropping his bag on the floor by one of the legs. It was a little firmer than he was expecting. He sat on the end with the high back, perched stiffly. Shoulders rigid. You sat on the other end, the pad in your lap and pencil in your hand. It was already moving across the page with quick, deft movements. He watched, but couldnât see what you were sketching.
âSo, assistant to the dean, eh?â you asked, not looking at him. âThatâs a pretty prestigious spot.â
Viktor hummed, but chose not to say anything else. His annoyance with Heimerdinger burned at the back of his mind. Meanwhile, his conscious mind was flitting around a mental image of the lab. Making of a list of things heâd have to do to make up for lost time. He was going to have to sleep there until these sessions were finished. He frowned a touch at the thought. There was only so comfortable the emergency couch got. He may almost have to resort to sleeping here, even this couch was more comfortable than that one.
âHhmmmâŠâ you hummed.
His attention shifted back to you, alarmed to find that you were now closer to him. He shifted slightly away from you. Your unwavering gaze made his skin itch. Finally, you leaned back and scribbled a little note on the side.
âYour eyes,â you started, glancing up at him then back at the page. âTheyâre the most stunning shade of amber Iâve ever seen. - I hope I can mix the color rightâŠâ
Viktor felt hot at those words. He wasnât sure anyone had ever said that to him. To hide the embarrassment, he went into his bag and scooped out a book. He didnât pay attention to which one it was. Blindly thumbing through the pages. Great, this was one heâd already gone through and notated.
You didnât say much else to him. Eyes intently flickering between his face and your page. Your hand movements were practiced, he could tell. But, in the back of his mind, a small voice nibbled at him. It asked why someone would bother wasting time with art? Why would Heimerdinger dedicate an entire section of the academy to it?
Viktor almost asked the question out loud, then thought better of it.
When the bell tolled the hour, you sat up. He could hear your spine crack. Viktor found himself quite stiff from staying still so long. You glanced back down at the pad, and dragged your pencil across it one last time.
âWhat do you think?â you asked, and turned the sketch book to him.
Viktor was alarmed to find himself staring back in striking detail. Thick lines and thin ones cutting out the hollows of his cheeks, the bags under his eyes, and fly away tufts of his hair. There were solo sketches of his eyes, his hands, his lips - his brace and the way the fabric of his pants folded under it. It felt far too intimate.
On the side was a quick note, he traced his name in your handwriting with his eyes. Youâd scribbled down ochre and raw sienna. Making a note of how much white or ultramarine to mix for the proper color match. You even referenced a study youâd done with honey. And he had a brief thought of how much it almost looked like his own notes on the sides of his blueprints. Almost.
Clearing his throat, Viktor said, âI cannot deny you have a keen eye for observation. - May I take my leave? I have sat for the hour.â
The smile on your face flickered again. You flipped the pad upside down then discarded it on the open seat behind you, tucking the pencil behind your ear. âRight. Yeah - no - go right ahead. Iâm sure youâre busy.â
Viktor put the book back in his bag and stood, stretching. âThank you. - I will come tomorrow, the same time -â
âActually,â you started, standing as well. You kept your back to him as you went to fiddle with the table by the easel. âI know the professor wants us to sit everyday. But I have something that will take all of tomorrow. So weâll have to pick it up the day after.â
Viktor stared at where the straps of your overalls were twisted. âVery well. That gives me time to sort things with my colleague.â
You nodded. âThen Iâll see you the day after tomorrow. Iâll let Heimerdinger know when I go to see him. - It was nice to meet you, Viktor.â
âLikewise,â he muttered, and headed for the door.
Viktor grumbled as he made his way across the building. This walk was going to kill him (though he knew that was an exaggeration. Heâd walked longer back to his dorm after a night out drinking in his student days). A painting, he scoffed in his mind. How utterly ridiculous.
Jayce chuckled when Viktor told him of Heimerdingerâs request. He hadnât wanted to talk about it, but it finally managed to be pestered out of him. Jayce had been trying to figure out why he was so grumpy.
âWhoâs the painter?â he asked, one arm slung over the back of his chair. He seemed totally engrossed.
Viktor shrugged, already your name had slipped from his mind. âA recent graduate.â
âAndâŠwhat?â
âWhat what?â Viktor kept his turned to his papers, but could feel Jayceâs eyes on his back.
âDid they say something to you?â
âOnly that she was impressed by my position.â And that I had lovely eyes. But he wasnât going to tell Jayce that. He would never hear the end of it.
âAndâŠthat's it?â
âYes, that is it.â Viktorâs glare was over his shoulder. âWhy are you be exceptionally irritating today?â
âI think youâre just âexceptionallyâ irritated.â
âYes, of course. Because you are not at all annoying.â
âIâm glad you see it my way.â Jayce was silent for a moment, then continued, âSo this artist, whatâs she -â
Viktor rolled his eyes. âWhy must you continue to press the subject?â
âIâm just wondering why youâre so pissed.â
Viktor turned to him then, and Jayceâs playful expression just dug into the well of annoyance Heimerdinger had started. âBecause I do not wish to waste my time. I have better things to do than to be stared at for an hour.â
âAlright, alrightâŠâ Jayce finally held his hands up. He chuckled a little, spinning back to his desk. âIâll drop it.â
âThank you,â Viktor huffed, and turned back to his own workstation.
He worked hard throughout the afternoon. Attempting to make notes and collections for Jayce to follow up on in his absence. He almost expected the professor to pop in, but he didnât. By the time night fell, Viktor had forgotten all about his irritation. About the portrait.
About you.
#viktor arcane#viktor x reader#arcane#viktor smut#arcane fanfic#smut fanfiction#arcane league of legends fanfiction#arcane smut#fanfiction#viktor x you#arcane viktor x reader#viktor fanfic#viktor league of legends#viktor nation#viktor x reader smut#viktor lol#viktor
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Perhaps, Even This (Megan Skiendiel x Reader SMAU)
âwhat a joy, perhaps, to remember even this.â



A year ago, you were known as your friend groupâs âsunshine.â You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as âradiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you donât welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?
tws: kms/kys jokes. this story will dive into topics such as depression, anxiety, reckless substance use, and toxic relationships. if any of those things affect you in any negative way, please do not interact with this story!! take care of yourself!!
tags: smau, crack, fluff, will get pretty angsty at times. university!au, golden retriever!megan x black cat!reader, sexual jokes, lots of swearing, future suggestive themes.
feat: katseye, txt, lesserafim, ive + more to come!
pairing: megan skiendiel x gn!reader
status: on going!
notes: this smau is not a REAL portrayal of the people in this fic and are not based on any real-life events. this was made for entertainment purposes. some idolsâ ages were changed for the plot. all pics are from pinterest! dividers were made by me in canva pro!
profiles: hybe crashouts 1 2 dream academy alumni 1 2
chapters:
00. prologue (written)
01. reinforcements
02. roommates to lovers
03. the duet (half written)
04. omg slut!
05. AA meeting
06. mad respect
07. dumb question
08. floor meeting
09. turtles
10. homewrecker
11. picasso
12. hallelujah or whatever
13. u care
14. sounds good (half written)
15. the pigeon
16. poetry slam
17. oh! nice!
18. nonchalant mfer
19. meiyok (half written)
20. lambda
21. favorite person (half written)
BONUS: winter break
22. no homo
23. I'm grown ok?
24. scout's honor
25. kidnapping (half written)
26. yapper
27. jimmy neutron
28. dark room (written)
29. just stay (half written)
30. did u die???
31. redemption arc
BONUS: megan fan club
32. my protege
33. spidey senses
34. the weight (half written)
35. oh. ouch.
36. the beginning (written)
37. let her go
38. breakthrough
39. yn n friends (half written)
40. rescue mission (half written)
41. ur gonna love it <3
42. WWMD âą
43. whiskered dimples (half written)
44. off the hook
BONUS: ill give you a dollar
BONUS: please do
45. deja vu
46. yn's commune
47. wrap it up
48. the project
49. what a joy
50. to remember even this (THE END)
more to come...
#katseye x reader#katseye smau#katseye imagines#megan skiendiel#daniela avanzini#manon bannerman#lara raj#sophia laforteza#jeong yoonchae#katseye#megan skiendiel x reader#perhaps even this smau
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"i can't believe how many of them actually came back after all these years. i heard that the wilders are coming... isn't malcolm wright giving the opening speech?"Â
it might have a new name and a new brand but you know that you are still breathing the same air the moment you step inside of new horizons. you are ushered as a group to the new grand hall by your previous headmistress, tight lipped smile and an impatient air. the guests aren't there yet... you thought you were speaking to future students but instead you are talking to their parents. it becomes clear as you are handed the programmes that you are being used as show ponies, not inspirations to a new generation but to encourage their parents to empty their pockets for a new lease of life at new horizons. some of you have suspicions it's to fund a new stained glass window but you decide not to comment.Â
looking around, it seems to most of you that the looming threat of the online messages has disappeared... just another stupid class of 2014 prank. seats seem to fill, snacks lined up at the side that you are looking forwards to getting to when this part is over. and then you see them... god, is that the wilders? why are they wearing vip banners that look like they came from from party city. there's no time to think about it because the first speaker is already up and most of you are thanking the lord it wasn't you. take the stage, malcolm... wait, this isn't the slideshow that was prepared for you. is this one of chris' home videos? is that malcolm and helena together? did that seem weird to anybody else? Â
somebody yanks out the projector cable... the headmistress is waving to hurry up and just like that... the speeches continue rolling on just like life at st marys always did.Â
out of character guidance:
the dash event that will take place from friday 26th until sunday 5th (this can be extended if we need to!).   the most important aspect of this event is that it will be split into two sections, before 9pm and after 9pm. this post will hold all the details for the start of the event and the second plot drop will be shared on monday - this will affect what all characters are doing after 9pm. from the morning of the 26th, you can post event starters.Â
timeline.
5:30pm: alumni arrive.
6:00pm: guests/parents arrive.
6:15pm: speeches begin opened by malcolm wright, you can choose whether your character self-elected to do a speech to the guests about their successes and time at st marys/new horizons.
7:30pm: 5 minute short video about the successes of previous st marys alumni and where are you nows then a q&a session.
8:00pm: mingling, refreshments and opportunities to catch up with your fellow students and parents who decide to stay on.
if you are ever confused about where we are up to in our story, you can click here for a summary!
#oc rp#tumblr rp#mature rp#mystery rp#chapter 1: the class of 2014 are together again#event: alumni evening#2014admin
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anatomy of desire, satoru gojo

part i. terminal velocity
with mysterious circumstances centering around a first year med student's "suicide", you do something stupidly noble: reporting to a detective that you saw satoru gojo slipping out the backdoor of the very same building yu haibara supposedly jumped from. in doing so, you start a twisted, sick game of cat-and-mouse with the most powerful and insane student on campus. the only thing keeping you alive? the fact that satoru gojo is apathetic towards everything and everyone, besides you. ( fem!reader )
chapter contains description of dead body word count 3.7k [ next ] [ masterlist ]

Thereâs an ongoing joke that only those who attend Tokyo Metropolitan College are privy to. Itâs posed as a question, serves to make people laugh, but like all things spoken by these students, the intention of the words said are different from what theyâre truly asking. It goes like this:
How much was your application fee?Â
The joke is the idea that any of them would ever actually have to pay something as plebeian as an application fee to attend a college their parents or family have attended for generations. The âjokeâ has layers to it, though: how much did your parents have to cough up to get you in here? Did they only âdonateâ a new building? Did they agree to sponsor the next charity event hosted by the university? Or did Mother and Father only have to invite the head of admissions to a dinner party? For children who come from money, social currency holds a significant amount of value in their eyes.Â
With an acceptance rate lower than most of the Ivies, alumni that consist of the worldâs most powerful political leaders, actual royalty, and the most influential celebrities in the public eye, and the prestige that comes from graduating from such a decorated institution, attending Tokyo Metropolitan College should have been impossible for someone like you.
Full ride scholarships to TMC are nearly unheard of and are only extended to the best high school athletes or the brightest minds of the current generation. Youâre smart, of course, but not at the caliber Tokyo Metropolitan demands.Â
With your worn-out bookbag, drugstore makeup routine, and outlet clearance shoes, itâs obvious that youâre a scholarship student. Your classmates might have been willing to ignore your crime of being poor, but not even being able to at least wear last seasonâs runway designs? Some sins are just unforgivable.Â
Itâs fine by you, of course. Youâre nothing but honest, and so if you were to ever be asked the cost of your application fee, youâre not sure how they would react when you confess that it cost a life.Â

You fall in love with journalism when youâre ten years old. At the clearance grocery stores, the type of shops whose air conditioning never seems to work and thereâs a perpetual leak at one area of the ceiling, thereâs a rack of magazines (your mother tells you these are called âtabloidsâ) by the checkout line. Of course, thereâs usually only one cashier working out of the entire store, and you spend most of your time waiting in line than you do actually picking out your groceries.Â
While your mother shuffled her coupons clipped from last weekâs newspaper, you would grab the latest issue of National Enquirer, your eyes eagerly soaking up every last word of the publication. Outlandish headlines, anonymous sources, poorly Photoshopped paparazzi photos â this tabloid is your first taste of journalism. It might not be Pulitzer Prize worthy articles, but it is the spark that ignites your insatiable, burning hunger for a story. A true story.Â
As you grow older, you swap National Enquirer for National Geographic and Time, going so far as to even grabbing your fatherâs discarded newspapers from the recycling bin whenever you catch a glimpse of an enticing headline. Everyday, there are hundreds, thousands, millions of stories, all happening at once. Depending on whoâs telling the story, the immortalized version of events could very well differ from the truth. And at your young age, when you declare to your entire middle school class that youâre going to be the worldâs best investigative journalist who uncovers and reports only the truth, you are met with polite, bored applause.Â
Looking back, you realize just how silly you were. You used to walk around with a Hello Kitty notepad, one of those jumbo sized book fair pens (the one where it comes with like, five different colors you can pick from), and an annoying habit of never minding your own business. It pays off eventually, though. Your inquisitive (all the adults call it nosy) nature and hunger to get to the bottom of things leads you to find out that your seventh grade homeroom teacher was stealing money from the classroomâs activity funds. You got your picture in the local paper (it still hangs on the kitchen fridge, even after all these years), and the school principal even encourages you to start a school newspaper club.Â
You fear youâve peaked in the seventh grade, though. Itâs been nearly eight years since that incident, and you havenât quite uncovered anything else thatâs newsworthy. You suppose the hot topic on campus right now could be worth getting to the bottom of: did Mei Mei get a boob job or not? If you figure out the truth behind that, maybe then people will actually start to care about what you have to say.Â
Good stories donât just fall into your lap; most journalists donât spend their time sitting at their desk, typing up their finds. Instead, theyâre actually on the ground, actively hunting.Â
You tell yourself â justifying your eavesdropping, really â that this is just you hunting for a good story. Besides, if the conversation was meant to be so private, why wouldnât he at least have it in his dorm room?Â
âListen, Ken â after tonight, Iâll be set for life.â The hushed whisper immediately catches your attention. You pause, glancing behind you to see if anyoneâs coming. Theyâre not. The Liberal Arts Education building houses the least amount of students here at Tokyo Metropolitan, and everyoneâs either already in class or getting lunch off campus. No one even bothers with this outdoor walkway; itâs too cold to justify walking in the shade the overhead supplies, and the vending machines located here never have any of the good snacks â just stale packs of peanuts and the brand of soymilk no one likes.Â
You donât make a habit of listening in on peopleâs phone calls. You have some concept of boundaries. Itâs just⊠The Liberal Arts class is such a small group of fish in an already small pond. Youâve run into everyone who has a reason to be in this building. You were forced to take Public Speaking with at least half of them, and this voice you donât recognize.Â
That, and everyone who can afford to spend years at college, stress-free and getting a degree in the arts, donât need to make hushed phone calls behind unwanted vending machines to discuss how theyâre going to be âset for life.â Ninety-nine percent of the student body here already are.
âJust trust me,â the voice mumbles. âIâve got it all under control.âÂ
Youâre really trying your hardest to fight the urge to listen, but you can feel it â that sense in your gut that tells you that this is a story worth pursuing. Who cares about whether or not Mei Mei got a boob job? Whatever this student is up to is certainly of more interest than breast implants.Â
When he stops talking, you recognize that he mustâve hung up the phone. Trying to remain casual, you continue to walk towards the vending machines, and when he comes into view, walking in the opposite direction of you, you briefly glance at him.Â
Brushed brown hair, slightly taller than you â kind of cute, actually.
âExcuse me,â you call out to him. He stops to turn at you, a polite smile stretching across his face.Â
âYes?âÂ
âDo you happen to know where room L203 is? I just switched to that Japanese Literature class, but Iâm still trying to navigate this building.âÂ
âHmm.â He takes a second to appear in deep thought. âIâve never had to take the course, but L203 should be on the second floor, left side.âÂ
âThanks!â You chirp out, letting him go on his way. A majority of the buildings here are built similarly; the first number always dictates which floor the room is on, and odd numbers go to the left, with even numbers on the right side of the hall. You know damn well where L203 is; you just needed a second to commit this studentâs face to memory. That, and you wanted a good look at the embroidery on his black jacket.Â
It says Tokyo Metropolitan College Zenin School of Medicine.Â

One thing about medical students is that they (and the college) can never seem to let anyone forget, for even a split second, that they are a medical student.Â
You immediately head to your dorm, cracking open your 2006 MacBook that begs dearly for you to put it out of its misery every time you power it on, and wait impatiently as the website for the Zenin School of Medicine page to officially load. Every year, the administrative team at the med school makes a big deal out of welcoming the newest incoming class, and youâre hoping that he, whoever he is, has been enrolled within the last three years. Youâre not sure your laptop can handle clicking through more than three links in the timespan of five minutes without excessively overheating and then exploding on your dorm roomâs desk.Â
You luck out when you realize heâs from this yearâs incoming class. The picture is taken outside, in the familiar quad in front of the med schoolâs buildings. Thereâs only about a dozen students entering, and you spot his bright, smiling face. To the untrained eye, he fits in well with the rest of his peers. Nothing about him appears to be different, but three years learning to navigate this world has taught you well: he doesnât have the same social standing as these students. In a sea of On Clouds (for the active students, you presume) and Dior sneakers, heâs wearing a pair of Skechers.Â
You squint at the small font of the caption, listing the students from left to right.Â
Yu Haibara.Â
When you search his name on the schoolâs site, another article appears, confirming your suspicions.Â
Yu Haibara, Latest Recipient of the Zenin Merit Medical Scholarship. Every other year, the Zenin Family provides a scholarship to a promising individual who will âchange the medical field for the better.â With his easygoing smile and genuine attempt at being helpful, you can believe it. Yu Haibara seems like a very nice guy.
Which is why, in the glow of the setting sun, you feel a bit guilty for tailing him. No matter what he does, itâs not even like itâs going to be something publishable for the school paper. Putting a first year medical studentâs side hustle on blast isnât anything newsworthy; you know this. The rational part of your mind tells you to go back to your dorm and actually start working on your history paper due next week. You know, something actually productive and beneficial for your future.Â
But the gut feeling youâve never been good at ignoring⊠It tells you that the hunt is on. Thereâs something here for you to uncover, and even if you have to keep it a secret to yourself, the satisfaction of satiating your curiosity will be enough.Â
Following Yu isnât really a hard thing to do. This side of campus is unsurprisingly busier than the side you normally stay on. There are more bodies for you to blend in with, more noises to disguise your footsteps, and Haibara doesnât even seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings. He walks with his arms swaying by his sides, and he makes casual, fleeting conversation with a few faces you recognize from the class photo on the schoolâs website. Youâre hoping that wherever heâs heading to isnât his dorm; if itâs secrecy he wants, it would make sense for him to do everything in the privacy of his own residence, butâ
âHey, girl, whatâre you doing over here?â Distracted by the greeting, you take your eyes off of Haibaraâs back to look at whoâs speaking to you. Sakura; you share a good portion of classes with her. You remember her mentioning a boyfriend whoâs in medical school. Something about her making an offhand joke about being a future surgeonâs stay-at-home wife. Itâs not like working was something she was actively going to do in the future, anyway. Her mother is a hotel heiress, and her dad owns a hefty share of Vogue.Â
âSakura, hey!â You smile at her, trying to peek over her shoulder. Haibara makes a left turn, you note. âI wanted to meet with a professor here, actually. To see if he wanted to give an interview on his research. Running out of article ideas for the school paper, honestly.âÂ
She crinkles her nose. She works for the school paper with you, too, but sheâs never paid much attention to anything beyond her submissions to the Beauty & Fashion column. âHave fun with that.âÂ
âDefinitely will.â You chirp, glad that Sakuraâs not the type to care about what some old doctor has to say about cancer. The sidewalk is crowded with students grouping together, discussing where they want to eat out tonight, but as you make a left turn, trying to follow Haibaraâs steps, you notice that the lampposts lining the walkway are fewer and farther between. Itâs still not dark enough to really need their warm, yellow glow, but youâre certain youâll need them on the walk back.Â
There are less students frequenting this area, too. The buildings here are older, less maintained. You doubt any of the major classes are held here, and the only building you can really justify Haibara disappearing into would be the one at the end of this walkway. A three story brick building, whose large sign can be read even at your distance.
OLD KASHIMO LABORATORY.
Old certainly seems fitting. You wonder if the building is even still in use.Â
Leaves crunch under your sneakers (that are unfortunately not straight from Rick Owensâ latest drop) as you continue to move forward, heading to the lab. Itâs a big building, and it seems a shame that it isnât as well-maintained as the front-facing buildings that make up the medical school. Your legs are practically burning by the time you make it to the steps leading to the front door. If you realized just how far of a walk it is from your dormitory to the complete other side of campus, you would have at least stretched first.Â
Anything to get down to the truth, though.Â
Selfishly, you hope whatever Haibaraâs up, itâs something scandalous. If itâs boring, and your gut feeling is entirely wrong, youâre going to be so annoyed that you got your daily steps in for no reason.Â
Pushing through the large oak double-doors of the building takes some effort, but when you do, you realize the lights here, unlike the other buildings youâve been in, arenât triggered automatically by movement. At least the windows all over the walls allow the fading light of the setting sun to filter through the massive entrance.Â
Way down on the other end, you see it. A silhouette of someone else; you see them, but youâre shocked you donât hear them.Â
Haibara?
No. Even from this distance, this figure seems taller than the brunet boy youâve been stalkâ following â for the past hour. The figure pays you no attention, but when it opens the backdoor, for a split second, theyâre â heâs â bathed in the glow from the nearby lampposts and sunset.Â
White hair, sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and even at this angle, his sharp, blue eyes that are recognizable anywhere.
Satoru Gojo.Â
The difference between college and high school is that in high school, itâs pretty common to have a few people designated as âpopular.â College is different. Everyone is a grown adult now, whether they like it or not, and concepts as juvenile and irrelevant as âpopularityâ no longer matter.
At a school like Tokyo Metropolitan, though, social hierarchy is everything. A school this small, this exclusive, this prestigious, thrives because parents send their little heirs and heiresses here in order to network. These kids grew up trading Pokemon cards by utilizing tips from The Art of the Deal.
In a small group where only the wealthy and influential are allowed in, Satoru Gojo comes from the wealthiest and most influential family there is. His father has global politicians trying to cozy up to him, and his mother comes from a family who supposedly made their fortune off of blood diamonds (naturally, the Gojos deny this claim, squashing any speculation about how the wifeâs family made their money by spamming the news with nothing but reports of their charitable acts). Instead of pursuing business, Gojo makes headlines by his father announcing how proud he is that his son is choosing the noble path of medicine.Â
âHeâs all about helping people,â the reporter quotes Mr. Gojo.Â
That must be true; itâs why Gojoâs so known all over campus. Itâs not enough that socially, heâs better than all of them, which makes being his friend all the more appealing. Itâs the fact that heâs just a good guy. You remember how last year, the school paper did an article on how Gojo funded the entire extravagant retirement party for a beloved professor at the school. You heard a rumor that the one and only time he was late to class (by three minutes) was because he was helping a student get her kitten out of a tree. During his undergrad, he was captain of the basketball team and took them to the championships every year. He does all of this while remaining absolutely humble, kind, and top of his class.Â
You wonder if thereâs a story there. If maybe Satoru Gojo, who is too perfect to be real, isnât real. Maybe his parents figured out where to get their hands on an ultra-realistic robot, something that poses as the perfect son. That would explain his eyes, you think.
Youâve always tried to see the appeal in Gojo. Heâs handsome, yes. Heâs nice, no doubt about it. You donât think you could find anyone with a single bad thing to say about him. But during your freshman year at this school, you think about the moment where you had to fill in for the schoolâs photographer. You had to photograph Gojo accepting an award for being MVP on the basketball team (once again), and while Gojo was charming everyone, from the coach to the dean of the school to the girls in the crowd cheering him on, there was your gut feeling telling you that something was just off.Â
âYouâre not the usual photographer, are ya?â He peers down at you, hands in his pockets, a big grin on his face. Heâs not teasing you, at least, not in a rude way. He just has a light-hearted inflection on all his words that makes everything he says seem⊠warmer? Like, heâs trying to put you at ease.Â
Youâre fiddling with the settings on the camera, unused to the tech. âUm, yeah. Iâm a freshman, but Iâm just subbing in for my senior who got sick.âÂ
âReally? Thatâs neat!â He says it, and it sounds so sincere, that you nod along. Yeah, maybe it is neat.Â
(Gojoâs good at that. Putting people at ease, getting them to see things from his point of view.)
âTry your best to make me look good, and Iâll do my best to make sure whatever shot you get is fine! Deal?â Heâs still smiling at you, and all you can do is nod. Even at this point in time, a fresh-faced baby to this school, youâre aware of Gojoâs power. When youâre looking at him through the lens of the camera, you think itâd be impossible to get a bad photo of Gojo.Â
The uneasy feeling you get around him gets chalked up to nothing more than nerves. Youâre a writer, not a photographer. Gojo is a legend amongst men, and being in such close proximity to him would make anyone nervous.Â
But when you look back at the photo once the article gets published, you know why you felt so weird around him.Â
When Satoru Gojo smiles, it doesnât reach his eyes.

Youâre not sure why Gojo is â or, more accurately, was â in this building, but itâs none of your business. Youâre here for Haibara, and whatever weird ass, secretive but lucrative side hustle heâs got going on. Probably dropshipping. Or, maybe heâs selling old test banks? Â
Chances are, itâs nothing special or noteworthy. The reason why you havenât gotten a good story lately might simply be because your senses, your so-called reliable gut instinct, has just gone dull. Maybe youâve never even had a good instinct to begin with. Or, maybe losing it is just the karma you deserve for everything youâve done to get to where you are now. It would serve you right, wouldnât it? The universe must have a taste for poetic justice sometimes.
Youâre hungry. Your legs are sore. Itâs getting late. Whatever Haibara has going on, you donât care anymore. Youâve got a paper due, and a protein bar somewhere in the bottom of your book bag that will serve as dinner for tonight because you donât have enough funds to get anything halfway decent at the dining hall, and what a waste of time today was.Â
Youâre opening the doors of the building, letting the cool evening breeze hit you in the face as you exit. You still need something to write for the school paper; the lie you told to Sakura might actually be the only valid idea you have, andâÂ
âHoly fucking shit! Is he dead?!â
You look to your right. Thereâs a trio of students gathered around a lump on the ground. Someoneâs screaming, then theyâre all screaming. More students are flooding out of nearby buildings, and despite the protest of your limbs, you turn and head right where the screams are coming from.Â
Bringing your hand to your mouth, you barely manage to hold back your own scream.Â
Lying on the concrete walkway is Yu Haibara, with his neck and body at two different odd angles, his head cracked open and spilling blood that leaks onto the manicured grass of the campus.
#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#yandere jjk#series: anatomy of desire
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GOOD GRACES
You meet Gojo at a party and tell him he needs to prove his worth before you let him take you out.
Or, the four times Gojo tries to date you and the one time you try to date him.
The dress youâre wearing is impossibly tight against your figure, and this night is impossibly boring. Youâre a good friend. A great friend, even. To put yourself in a room with all these stuffy, high society people. You think you deserve some kind of award for it.Â
When Utahime asked you to join her, there was no contest. Of course youâd say yes to your best friend, no matter how heinous her request was. Sheâd been unable to find any plus one and she knew half the people at this event would turn their noses up at the fact sheâd shown up alone. That was enough to deter you but the desperate look on her face had you accepting.
Thatâs why you were here, sitting on a table on your own while she mingled with others. You think it might be some alumni event from the rich high school she went to. Jujutsu Tech? You remember she showed you the tuition her parents used to pay once and you nearly passed out. Youâre sure that's an amount of money youâd probably never see in your life. God, you hate the rich.
At least some of her peers were hot. You had your eyes on the blonde wearing blue and cream. Definitely boyfriend material. You tug your dress up your body. Utahime was definitely smaller than you, and the expensive dress sheâd lent you was much more revealing on your body than it was hers. You wonder what all the high class teachers thought of your cleavage popping out of your dress. You wonder what blue suit thought about your cleavage sticking out of your dress.
âYou look like youâre having fun.â A voice teases.
âIâm glad somebodyâs fooled.â You reply, looking up at the man standing in front of you.
Heâs tall. Thatâs the first thing you notice about him. Youâre sitting down but youâre sure even if you stood heâd still be towering over you, long limbs that cross over a broad chest. You can see the outline of muscle through the black button up heâs wearing, and the thickness of his thighs that stretch his black slacks. And his hair is white. Dusting over his eyes that are impossibly blue, crinkled with amusement as he looks down at you.
You hold a hand out. âHi. Iâm Y/N.â
His brows furrow slightly at your hand. But he still grabs it and his palm is warm as he shakes your hand.
âNice to meet you, Y/N. I donât think I recognise you. You were in the class of 2018?â He tilts his head slightly as he asks the question.
âOh, God no. Iâm here as a plus one.â You shake your head.
âYou donât sound too happy about that.â He grins, taking the seat beside you. You turn a bit so that you're slightly facing him, rolling your eyes.
âOf course Iâm not happy about it. This place is way too prim and proper for me.â You sigh.
Gojo laughs. âWhat, high society not doing it for you?â
âHell no. Itâs like every conversation Iâve had is just a competition of who can brag about their wealth more. Iâve taken to just lying about it all.â
âLying?â
âYeah. You have two yachts, then I have three. You have one million, I have two. I can go all day.â Gojo laughs again and it makes you grin.
âWell, Y/N. Youâre a good addition to these things. I hate them too. Everyoneâs always all over me, you know. I was valedictorian, the teachers love parading me around to the current students.âÂ
The very unsuccessful attempt at subtle bragging is not lost on you. Something about him, the attractiveness and cockiness rang familiar.
âHm. Youâre Gojo, right?â
Gojo narrows his eyes. âHow did you know?â
âOh, Utahime told me about you. Full of himself and tall, amongst other things. I think you fit the bill.â You pat his shoulder affectionately and he pouts.
âI canât believe sheâs been chatting shit about me. Iâm a great guy.â
âItâs never the great guys who need to say theyâre great guys, my friend.â
He pouts again and you giggle. You lean back, taking another sip of your champagne. You donât notice the pair of blue eyes intently watching you do it.
âGod, thereâs a box of chocolate and a movie marathon waiting for me at home. I just need to power through this.â
âOh yeah? What are you watching?âÂ
âRomcoms. Tooth rotting romcoms.âÂ
âOh I love romcoms. You know, a lot of women say Iâm just like-â
âIâm going to stop you right here.â You hold up a hand in his face and Gojo huffs, reaching up to grab it and move it.
âYou donât even know what I was going to say.â
âIâm sure I can guess and none of it makes you look good.â
Heâs still pouting and also still holding you. Long, slender fingers that basically engulf your own hand, theyâre that much bigger than yours. You wonder what else-
Okay. Maybe no more champagne for you. You tug your hand out his grasp, trying to play off the blush that dusts your cheeks.
âIf you wanted to hold my hand so badly you could just say, Gojo.âÂ
âI want to hold your hand.â
You fluster. âShush. Whatâs your favourite romcom?â
âYou just told me to ask. And.â He pauses, thinking. â27 dresses.â
You grin, now turning to face him completely. âI love that movie!â
âMe too!âÂ
âWow. I thought you were just lying to get into my pants. But youâve got good taste.â
âYeah, I definitely have good taste.â And he looks at you in that intense way again that makes you laugh nervously.
âSo what do you do, Gojo?â You clear your throat, changing your mind and downing the rest of your champagne. You could do with the confidence.
âIâm a lawyer.â
âOh, cool. Like in suits.âÂ
Gojo snorts a laugh. âYes, like in suits. Though I think Iâm much more attractive than that Harvey guy.â
Itâs your turn to laugh. He pouts again. âWhat, you donât agree?â
âI donât know. Iâve not actually watched the show.â
âTake my word for it. I am much more attractive than him. Iâm taller, too.â
âWhat, thatâs important to attractiveness?â
âWell, you know what they say.â
You roll your eyes, cheeks reddening again. You do know what they say and some part of you knows Gojo is probably not only blessed in the wealth department.Â
Jesus. You really need to stop drinking so much at these things. You glance at the empty glasses near you and you pretend they donât exist.
âGross.â
Gojo grins again, flashing those pearly white teeth. Â
âSo, are you-â
âGojo, fuck off.âÂ
Utahimeâs voice is whispered as she speaks but Gojoâs face twists like heâs been yelled at. He stands and tries to pull her into a hug but she shoves him away.
âUtahime! Itâs been so long, you grew up so beautiful!â
âShove your compliments up your ass, Gojo. Come on, Y/N, weâre leaving.â
You frown slightly, glancing at Gojo who also looks slightly dejected. But Utahime warned you of what heâs like. And while all the flirting and everything was nice youâre sure itâs all just a ploy to fuck you and leave. You were not going to be another woman under his belt. That poor girl that he fucked once.
But heâs so hot. That button up is hugging his biceps so deliciously you have to physically pull your eyes away.
âIt was nice speaking to you, Gojo.â His eyes widen as you go to leave.
âWait, can I get your number?â He asks quickly.
âNo, you canât get her number. Iâm not letting you fuck her over.â Utahime snaps, pulling you up on your feet. Â
For the first time a twinge of irritation crosses Gojos features. âCome on, Utahime, donât be like that. Iâm not-â
âI donât care, sheâs not interested. It was not nice seeing you.â She snarls, dragging you away.Â
You always commend Utahime on her strong character but you sort of wish sheâd just shut up. You give one more wave to Gojo, and you sigh at the sight of him standing there, because you know it's the last time youâll ever see him.
ââââââ-
It turns out you will see Gojo again. Or more accurately, his wealth.Â
You walk into your office the next day to see a very expensive looking bouquet on your desk. Blues and whites, all different types of flowers that bend and twist over each other. You slip off the card thatâs attached to the bouquet and smile slightly at the very bad drawing of Gojo imprinted on the front. And a phone number scribbled underneath. A quick google search tells you these flowers cost a few hundred pounds. Youâre so shocked by the sight of the price you donât hear Utahime slide up beside you. You do hear her annoyed sigh.
âLet me guess. Gojo?â
You slip your phone in your pocket. âMight not be. I could have a secret boyfriend.â
âYeah right. Like you can keep a secret for longer than a second.â She grabs the card out of your hand.
âTell me youâre not going to message him.â
âI think I might. Thank him for the flowers, you know?â
Utahime brows furrow at your sly smile. âWhatever. I canât stop you. Youâre a grown woman. Itâs your funeral.âÂ
She raises her hands in surrender and passes you the card again. You pocket it and decide youâll message him after work. You spend the rest of your shift staring at the flowers, wondering when heâd had the time to even get them here. Had he been thinking about you as much as you had him? Because you had been, last night, as you were falling asleep. Thinking about his height, those slender fingers, that grin. You realised it had been a bit too long since youâd been with a man.
You decide to text him on your way home. Youâre squeezed on the train between an old man and a woman you think is about to fall asleep on you.
You: thank you for the flowers mr gojoÂ
Gojo: đđ Did you love them so much
You: I did
You: thought they take up a lot of room in my office
You: how much did you spend on them đ
Gojo: Only the best for you baby
Gojo: And price is no issueÂ
Gojo: You deserve them
Gojo: Surprised youâre even messaging me
Gojo: Utahime finally lay off?
You quickly realise that Gojo is not against double texting. Or quadruple texting, it seems.
You: I told her to fuck off >:)
You: jk
You: I told her Iâm a big girl who knows what sheâs doing
You: especially with guys like you
Gojo: đ€ Guys like me!?
Gojo: Incredibly handsome and rich and talented and funny and smart guys??
You: modest too..
You: no, I mean guys who fuck girls and then expect them to leave right after
Gojo: If EYE fucked you you wouldnât be able to leave
Gojo: But Iâm not like that đđ what has Utahime been telling you about me
You: im gonna ignore that first message for ur own goodÂ
You: and she told me enough đ
Gojo: Whats enoughÂ
You: whatâs your body count first
Gojo: ⊠đ
Gojo: Okay not fair I used to be a slut when I was a teenagerÂ
You: look i wonât say Iâm not interested
You: ur hot and ur funny and u have good taste in movies
You: but Iâm 24 đ Iâm not getting involved with someone who isnât considering long term
Gojo: But I am considering long term
You: really?
Gojo: With you yeah
You: you prove that to me then
Gojo: đ«đ«đ« HOW
You: YUCK donât use that emojiÂ
Gojo: đ«đ« WHY
You: looks like ur in the throes of an orgasm
Gojo: LMAOOO
Gojo: I look much sexier when I orgasm thanks
You: okay luckily my stop is next so we can stop talking about your orgasms now
ââ-
The flowers become a regular thing. So does the texting. You let Gojo know after the third time of leaving them at your desk that this wasnât proving he was serious about you. He tells you he knows, and that he just wants to spoil you. You pretend that it doesn't leave butterflies in your stomach.Â
Itâs been two weeks and you find yourself growing more and more attached to him. He messages you every morning and every night, during his breaks at work. He sends selfies too, with his three trainees, the smiley one with pink hair, the moody black haired one and the girl with a killer bob. Selfies of him in his suit for work, of him at the gym. You think those are definitely your favourite.
Itâs weird that someone like Gojo is interested in someone like you. Youâre sure thereâs a thousand girls who are prettier and rich like him heâd get on with much better. You told him as much one late night, insecurities churning in your head, the early hours of the morning loosening your lips.
Gojo: Shut up donât say that
Gojo:Â I like you because ur funny and kind and ur so smart
Gojo: I could give two shits about how much money you have
Gojo: And youâre beautiful Y/N
Gojo: Why do you think I approached you in the first place?
Gojo: Once you finally say yes ur definitely wearing that dress again đ
You: thank you Gojo <3
You: and thatâs utahimes dress I had to give it back :/
Gojo: Iâll buy you ten like them
Youâve not actually seen Gojo since the party. But you couldnât mistake the figure chatting to your receptionist as you leave for your lunch break as anyone else.
âGojo?â
He looks up the second he hears your voice. And you think his eyes brighten a little when he sees you, and he bounds over. He stops in front of you, warm hands dropping on your shoulders.
âHi, Y/N. Iâm taking you to lunch.â
âIâm not going on a date with you, Gojo.â You cross your arms.
He smiles slightly, shaking his head. âNot as a date. As friends. Weâre friends, right?â He smiles wider and you couldnât say no to him if you tried.
You begrudgingly walk out, waving goodbye to Doris at the front desk. She winks at you and you shoo her away. Gojo ends up driving you to a cute little ramen shop not to far from your place. He orders something he insists youâll love. He commends his choice again as the steaming bowls are placed in front of the two of you. Before you could call him too confident, you practically moan when you take the first bite.
âOh my god, this is so good.â You speak through a mouthful of noodles and Gojo nods.
âI know! Youâve never been here before?â
âNo! If I did I donât think Iâd ever leave.â
The two of you chat about work. Gojo tells you about his latest case, and you listen intently, only a little jealous of how fun it sounds.
âThe most interesting thing that happens at my work is someone eating someone elseâs lunch.â You huff. âOr maybe the huge bouquets of flowers that keep showing up at my desk.âÂ
Gojo leans forward slightly at the sight of your teasing smile. The table the two of you are on is small enough that when he does so his legs press against yours. You sit up a bit.
âGlad I can bring some entertainment to your office.â
âYouâre giving me way too much. I had to give one of the bouquets to my mum, I had no space at my place. And sheâs asking questions.â
âOh yeah? Whoâd you tell her they were from?â
âMy stalker.â
Gojo splutters. âYour stalker? Thatâs not fair!â
You laugh. âWhy not!â
âWell, that's ruined my first impression. I need my in-laws to like me.â
You roll your eyes. âWhat happened to this just being lunch?â
Gojo hums. âI canât be prepared for the future? Who knows what it holds?â
âShut it you.â You dunk your chopsticks into your bowl
He just looks at you. You glance up at him. You think catching him in the act will make him stop, but he doesnât. Just keeps staring at you.
âYou alright there?â
âYou look really pretty today.â
Your face heats and you swallow. âThanks.â
âThis blouse.â He leans forward, fingers curling into the collar of your button up. Heâs about one inch away from touching your skin and you want him to, want him to reach and trace his fingers down your chest.
âLooks good on you.â
You nod. Eyes transfixed on his. âT-Thanks. Yeah. Thanks.âÂ
He grins once again, something glinting in his eyes.
ââââ
A week later, the office postman drops something at your desk. An envelope with messy handwriting you can immediately recognise as Gojoâs.Â
You rip the envelope open and two slips of paper fall out. You quickly deduce that their tickets. Your eyes skim over them quickly. Your mouth drops open when you read the loopy calligraphy on them and you grab your phone, immediately dialling Gojoâs number.
âGojo! You didnât!âÂ
âWait, what did I do?â His voice comes confused down the other line.
âThe tickets! To the outdoor movie night thing at the park! They were sold out, how did you get them?â
âOh, that! Yeah, I know someone who works there that owes me a favour.â You can almost hear the smug tone in his voice but you donât care.
Because the truth is you really wanted to go. Those outdoor movie parks. You always loved the picnic blankets all spread across a field, watching the sunset behind the movie screen. And not only was this one in the prettiest park in your town, but it was also showing one of your favourite movies ever. You usually went every year and youâd tried to buy tickets but you missed the cut off and theyâd all been taken. You tried not to dwell too much in your disappointment, but this was too much.
âGod, Gojo, thank you. Howâd you even know I wanted to go?âÂ
âYou mentioned it like. A week or two ago? When I called you during my lunch break, remember?â
You barely did, so you have no idea how he did. You say as much to him and he laughs.
âI donât know either. Itâs not important. I hope you enjoy them.Â
He pauses suddenly.
âAlso, this isnât me like- asking you out subtly. Theyâre yours, you take who you want.âÂ
God. Was Utahime sure this is the same Gojo she had gone to school with? Bceuase the man sheâd described was nothing like the one you were on the phone with.
âShut up, Iâm taking you, obviously.â
âYou really donât need to.â
âI know. I want to.â
âOh. Okay. Iâll pick you up after work, then?â
âI finish at five.â
âIâll see you then.âÂ
ââ
 Itâs been a month and Gojo doesnât know what to do.
He hates it. Never in his life has he been this enamoured with anyone. Itâs usually the other way around and usually heâs the one rejecting unwanted advances. As vain as it sounds, Gojo doesnât think heâs ever met a woman whoâs taken longer than a few days to fall for him. Maybe thatâs why he likes you so much more. You respect yourself too much to fall for the stuff his usual girls do.Â
Gojo will be honest. When he approached you at the party, his one goal in mind was to get you in bed. You just looked so good. Tight dress clinging around your curves, those tits almost spilling out. The expanse of your legs, paired with those heels. God, heâs only human. How could he not come over to you?
But then heâd actually spoken to you. And you were funny, and witty, and he kind of wanted to introduce you to his mother instead of just fuck you. And then Utahime had to ruin it all before he even had a chance.Â
So Gojoâs been trying so hard to win you over. Done everything he can think of. And itâs worse now, because the more he tries to win you over, the more he gets to know you, and the more he wants you. Not just physically but in every way of the word. He wants to take you out on dates, and wants to introduce you to Geto and Nanami. Buy you necklaces and bracelets that cost half his paycheck, introduce you to his family.
And most of all, though, he wants to spread you open against his bedsheets. Kiss his way down your neck, your chest. Make you whine underneath him, come undone under his hands.
Thatâs all minor details. Patience is what Gojo needs and what he definitely doesnât have any when it comes to you.
He walks into his office, cursing the wasted good weather as he signs in. He waves at the receptionist Ijichi, a cheery, starry-eyed man a few years younger than him. Before he can reach his office he sees Yuji and Nobara standing in front of the door, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Megumi is standing off to the side. He looks uninterested but Gojo can tell by the way heâs slightly leaning towards them heâs listening too.
âIs there a reason you young trainees are giggling in front of my office?â Gojo asks.
He feels oddly like their teacher, even though new hires are sort of everyoneâs responsibility. They always only come to him. Megumi is probably his favourite but heâll never tell them that.
Yuji giggles again. âYou didnât tell us you had a girlfriend, Gojo.âÂ
Gojoâs brows furrow in confusion. He tilts his head to the side. âApparently I didnât tell myself either. What are you talking about?â
Nobara joins him, grinning. âYeah, is she hot? I bet she is, youâre too vain to date someone ugly.â She shakes her head scathingly and Gojo splutters.
âBoth of you shut up. Go do some work.â He shoos them away and they stalk off.
Gojo mumbles some choice words under his breath. He walks in and instead of seeing his messily kept desk heâs met with a bouquet of flowers on his desk. Theyâre definitely smaller than any of the ones he got you, but theyâre pretty and pink. He plucks the card off the side and scoffs at the clumsily drawn person heâs guessing is supposed to be you.Â
Gojo: Blushing so hard in the office rn đ
Soon to be gf: do you love them :D
Gojo: Theyâre very pink
Soon to be gf: does that hurt ur masculinity :(
Gojo: Of course not
Gojo: I love themđ
âI love youâ is what Gojo wants to say but he holds his tongue. Thatâs always his issue. Gojo doesnât love a lot but when he does, he loves hard. Loves so much that he thinks it might kill him, swallow him whole.Â
He spends the first few hours of his shift idly working, eyes darting to the flowers that sit pretty on his desk. The trainees keep trying to find stupid excuses to walk in so they can try and see who theyâre from, but Gojo just waves them off every time. He decides to go out for his lunch break, because the sickly sweet smell of the flowers is only reminding him of everything he doesnât have.
And then he sees you chatting with Ijichi at the entrance and he remembers what this is all for. Your face lights up when you see him, grinning cheekily.
âDid you like your flowers, Mr Gojo?âÂ
âI did indeed.â
You rest your head on your hand, leaning against the desk. Youâre wearing a summer dress, something blue and patterned that clings to your chest and torso and flits around your lower half. The skirt rides up your thighs as you lean forward to whisper something to Ijichi and he curses under his breath.Â
âTo what do I owe the pleasure?â Gojo walks until heâs right in front of you.Â
You look up, something mysterious in your face.âIâm taking you out for lunch.â
Gojo tilts his head. âYouâre taking me out? What's the occasion?â
âJust felt like it. Come on.â
Gojo follows obediently as you grab his arm, linking yours in it to walk him out the building. You chatter about something or the other. He canât really focus because the sun is shining off your skin and your smiling and he just wants to reach over and touch you.
âOkay, weâre here!â
You pull Gojo into a bakery. Thereâs cakes and cupcakes and pies all lined up in glass cases, and the other half of the shop is filled with sandwiches and savoury treats. Gojo is practically drooling as he reads the menu.
âWhat- Why are we here?â He asks, eyes still trailing over the long expanse of desserts to choose from.
âI know you like your sweets so I looked around for a good bakery and this one was right here, right next to your work! So I thought Iâd take you here so I could-â
You pause. âYeah.â
âSo you could what?â
âNo matter. Now go pick something.â
You end up taking the desserts to go after the ten minutes it takes for him to decide what he wants. You lead Gojo through some pathways heâs never been down before. He asks you if you plan on murdering him and you roll your eyes. Doesnât deny it though.Â
The end result is not his murder location, but a cute park, with ducks and a pond. They sit on a rusty bench dedicated to someone gone, and eat their desserts. You scrunch your nose at the amount of sweets he can eat in one sitting. The two of you talk about everything and anything, until you start looking nervous.Â
âYou okay? Youâve gotten all fidgety.â
âMhm. Iâm okay. Just nervous.â
Gojo is confused. Nervous about what? About him?Â
âWhatâs there to be nervous about?â
Thereâs a soft breeze blowing wisps of your hair into your face. It's only twelve o clock so the sun shines brightly above the two of you. The park is pretty empty, though, the occasional dogwalker or old man idly walking by. You bite your lip, scratching at your cheek.
âI just donât know how Iâm going to ask you out.â
Oh.Â
Your cheeks flush red almost the same second as the words leave your mouth.
âShit. Fuck, I didnât mean- Oh god, Iâve ruined it.â You groan, covering your face with your hands.Â
Gojo breathes a laugh. âWhat- What's going on?â
You shake your head, still hiding in your hands. âGod, I just. I like you, I realised. Really like you. And I think that- that I want to be with you. So I thought about asking you out and I was going to do all the things you did for me, like the flowers and everything. But Iâve fucked it.â
You look up at him and he looks at the crease between your eyebrows, the small pout on your lips. And it seems the only thing he can do is reach forward and kiss you. His hands reach up and curve under your jaw, fingers toying with the hairs on the back of your neck. You make a little whine as he licks into your mouth and it makes him press closer. Heâs sure you can probably feel the arousal on him, and he knows that as he lets his hands slip to the small of your back and pull you onto his lap.
âSo beautiful, you know that? Been dreaming about this.â He groans, kissing your jaw, down your neck.
He licks at your pulse and you moan slightly and he can feel the heat on your face as you cards a hand through his hair. You pull him back, and itâs his turn to moan at the pain in his scalp mixed with the delicious pressure of you sitting in his lap.
âGojo, we- weâre in public.â You laugh.
He leans forward, dropping his forehead on yours.
âI donât care. Iâve been waiting for you for a month, you temptress.â He sighs dramatically.
âAsk me out first at least, gosh.â
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I hope you all enjoyedddd! i just randomly had the idea for this and i hope you all like it. also i really wanna write smut but i also cringe out so much?? so one day just expect at the end of one of these oneshots y/n getting dicked down!
as always asks are open, so plz feel free to leave me some suggestions!
#fluff#oneshot#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo saturo#jjk gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru#satoru#gojo satoru x reader fluff#jujutsu gojo#jujustu kaisen#b3ach bunn7
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Prompt List
Just a little list of writing exercises.
Use the traits, characteristics, and anything else associated with the coming prompts to create a character.
More details here: Writer's Block
⥠Apex Predator Hybrids
Lion, Wolf, Shark, Tiger, Polar Bear, Grizzly Bear, Saltwater Crocodile, etc.Â
Apex Predator Club
⥠Mythological/SciFi Creatures
Vampire, Succubus, Werewolf, Zombie, Ghost, Droid, Robot, Alien etc.
JJK as Mythic Creatures BNHA as Mythic Creatures
⥠Seven Days of the Week
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.
Yandere Days
⥠Seven Deadly Sins
Pride, Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, Envy, Greed.Â
Yandere Seven Deadly Sins
⥠Seven Heavenly Virtues
Humility, Patience, Diligence, Temperance, Chastity, Gratitude, Charity.Â
Yandere Seven Heavenly Virtues
⥠The Four Seasons
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall.
The Four Seasons as Boyfriends
⥠The Seven Colors of the Rainbow
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.
The Rainbow Colors as Boyfriends
⥠The Twelve Zodiac Signs
Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces. You can break them up into fire, water, earth, and air signs.
⥠The Twelve Months
January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December. You can break them up into winter, spring, summer, and fall months.
⥠Numbers
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten etc.
⥠Five (or ten) Fingers
Pinkie, Ring finger, Middle finger, Pointer, Thumb. Have fun with their names and qualities.
⥠Natureâs Four (or more) Elements
Water, Earth, Fire, Airâplus Plasma, Gravity, Ice, Life, etc, if you want.
⥠Eras
The Dark Ages, Industrial Age, Age of Oil, Atomic Era, Space Age, Internet Age, etc.
⥠Fashion Periods
Victorian, Art Nouveau, WW1, Art Deco, The Roaring 20s, WW2, Hollywood, Rock & Roll, Swinging Sixties, Flower Power, Disco Fever, New Romantics, Yuppies, Grunge, Boho, Fast Fashion, Thrifting, etc.
⥠Todayâs Fashion Styles
Minimalism, Chic, Thriftstore, Goth, Grunge, Punk, Hippie, Couture, Old Money, Streetwear, Preppy, etc.
⥠The Eight Planets + Pluto
Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto.
⥠Other Celestial Bodies
Sun, Moon, The North Star, Shooting Star, Comets, etc.
⥠Countries (pick & choose)
America, Britain, Spain, Japan, etc⊠think Hetalia, though I havenât watched it personallyâŠ
⥠American States (pick & choose)
California, Texas, Florida, New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio, Georgia, etc.
⥠The Five (or more) Flavors
Sweet, Salty, Sour, Bitter, and Umamiâand No Flavor, like pure water.
⥠The Five (or more) Senses
Sight, Smell, Hearing, Taste, TouchâBalance and Proprioceptionâand maybe even Emotion and Thinking.
⥠Core Subjects (or others)
English, History, Social Studies, Science, Foreign Language, Gym, Art, Music, Geography, etc. Maybe base it around the teacher of each class.
⥠School Mobs
Principal, Homeroom Teacher, Student Council President, Tutor, Class Rep, Janitor, Frat House President, Frat House Alumni, Valedictorian, Head Nurse, etc. You can mix this one with the one on Core Subjects above, including them as teachers.
⥠The Periodic Table (pick & choose)
Gold, Oxygen, Arsenic, Tungsten, etc.
⥠Music Genres
Classical, Rock, Rap, Pop, Jazz, Country, Electronic, Dubstep, House, Folk, Hip-hop, New-Age, Indie, Beatbox, Aâcappella, Heavy Metal, Bebop, etc.
⥠TV and Movie Genres
Horror, Thriller, Western, Romance, Comedy, Action, Sci-Fi, Childrenâs movie, Fantasy, Adventure, Drama, Documentary, Mockumentary, Musical, Animation, Anime, Porn, Reality TV, News, etc.
⥠Book and Writing Genres
Poetry, Fiction, True Events, Scientific, Picture, Fan-fiction, Joke, Fun Fact, Cook, Craft, Knitting, Magazine, etc.
⥠Hobbies
Singing, Knitting, Arts, Sewing, Writing, Gaming, etc.
⥠Toxic traits
Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Protectiveness, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Lying, Selfishness, Controlling behaviour, Jealousy, Boundary-violating, Judgemental, Defensive, Stone-walling, Feigning Ignorance, Avoiding Accountability, Aggressive, Querrelsome, etc.
⥠Food
Junk, Guilty pleasure, Fast food, Frozen, Healthy, Self-grown, Gains, Street, Dessert, Candy, etc.
⥠Holidays and Celebrations
Christmas, Valentine's, Halloween, Easter, Snow-day, April Fools, Birthday, Summer break, Saint Patrick's, etc.
⥠Sports
Gaming, Chess, Football, Basketball, Tennis, Frisbee Golf, Golf, etc.
⥠Tools
Hammer, Wrench, Drill, Saw, etc.
⥠Sicknesses
Common cold, Flu, Mono, Hangover, Crossfade, etc.
⥠The Eight Core Emotions
Ecstasy, Admiration, Terror, Amazement, Grief, Loathing, Rage, Vigilance.
⥠Transportation Methods
Car, Train, Motorcycle, Dirt bike, Boat, Plane, Submarine, Bike, Walking, etc.
⥠Weaponry
Gun, Sword, Dagger, Bow and Arrow, Crossbow, Whip, Slingshot, Poison, etc.
⥠Terrain
Forest, Desert, Ocean, Tundra, etcâthink Minecraft biomes!
⥠Fonts
Times New Roman, Futura, Impact, Papyrus, etc. Probably good to have pictures with this one.
⥠Types of Depression + Symptoms
Melancholia, Anxiety, Insomnia, Hypersomnia, Bipolar, Despondency, Amnesia, Self-consciousness, etc.
⥠Art Mediums
Oil Paint, Acrylic, Charcoal, Pastel, Watercolor, Collage, Digital, etc.
⥠Architecture Styles
Neoclassical, Gothic, Contemporary, Industrial, Victorian, Colonial, Vernacular, Suburban, etc.
⥠A Deck of Cards
Spade, Hearts, Diamond, CloverâKing, Queen, Jack, Ace, Joker, Numbers. Maybe make them four opposing kingdoms, with the reader being a delegator of some kind.
⥠Chess Pieces
White, BlackâKing, Queen, Rook, Bishop, Knight, Pawn. Two opposing sides, with the reader being a delegator of some kind maybe.
⥠Different Types of Money
Nickel, Dime, Penny, Quarter, One dollar bill, Five dollar bill, Twenty dollar bill, Transaction, Million dollar check, Inheritance, Settlement, Insurance, Paycheck, Tax return, etc.
⥠Types of Dates
Cinema, home, cafe, amusement park, picnic, hike, beach, etc.
⥠Grocery Store Aisles
Fresh Produce Section, Deli and Prepared Foods, Frozen Foods, Bakery and Bread, Meat and Seafood, Dairy, Cereal and Breakfast foods, Snack and Chip, Alcohol, Pet Food, Soft Drinks, Canned food, Health and Body Care, Magazine and Books, Cleaning Products, Condiments and Sauces, Cooking Oils, Baking supplies, etc.
⥠The Six Military Branches
The Army, Marine Corps, Navy, Air Force, Space Force, Coast Guard.
⥠Palace Mobs
King, Queen, Prince, Princess, Ward, Advisor, Grand Knight, Groundskeeper, Head Cook, Grand Healer, Priest, etc.
⥠Harry Potter
Hogwartsâ HousesâGryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw.
Hogwartsâ Mandatory ClassesâCharms, Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Astronomy, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Flying/Quidditch. Plus elective classes like Care of Magical Creatures, Alchemy, Muggle Studies, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy.
If you base it on teachers, you can also include the Principal, Groundskeeper, and Head Nurse.
Patronus (Pick & Choose)âThere are more than a hundred different ones.
The BooksâPhilosopher's Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix, Half-Blood Prince, Deathly Hallows.
⥠Star Wars
Color of LightsabersâGreen, Blue, Yellow, Red, Orange, Purple, White, Black.
⥠Game Characters
Minecraft Mobs & CharactersâSteve, Enderman, Pigman, Skeleton, Witch, Villager, Zombie, Stone Golem, Ender Dragon, etc.
Dungeons & Dragons Base ClassesâBarbarian, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Fighter, Monk, Paladin, Ranger, Rogue, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard.
You can also use any other type of gameâŠ
⥠Professions
This is a whole list in and of itself. These donât have to be grouped together, but can be prompts on there own:
⥠Outlaws
Kingpin, Mob, Mafia, Loan sharks, Extortionists, Blackmailers, Pimp, Drug dealers, Gang member, Muscle, Hitman, Mercenary, Bounty hunter, Sex traffickers, Pirates, Smugglers, etc.
⥠Government + Law & Order
King, President, Governor, Politician, Senator, Congressman, Law official, Judge, Lawyer, Agent, Spy, Cop, Parole officer, Warden, Prison guard, etc.
⥠Health
Doctor, Surgeon, Therapist, Psychiatrist, Dentist, Personal trainer, Health manager, etc.
⥠Art
Painter, Sculptor, Writer, Poet, Film director, Photographer, Singer, etc.
⥠Service
Bartender, Waiter, Barista, Butler, etc.
⥠Sex worker
Pornstar, Prondirector, Stripper, Escort, Sugarbaby, etc.
⥠Transportation
Pilot, Chueffer, Taxi driver, Train conductor, Shipâs Captain, etc.
⥠Sport
Pro-athlete, Pro-gamer, Chessplayer, Football player, American football player, Basketball player, etc.
⥠Rural
Cowboy, Farmer, Hermit, Hunter, etc.
⥠Handymen
Carpenter, Plumber, Electrician, Contractor, Construction worker, Mechanic, etc.
⥠Science
Scientist, Biologist, Chemist, etc.
⥠Business mogul & Industrialists
Network owner, Tech innovator, Factory owner, Company owner, etc.
⥠NIGHTMARE'S HELPDESK
#nightmare's helpdesk#prompt list#writing prompt#yandere prompt#yandere prompt list#fic prompt#writing ideas#writing exercise
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Fight For Me (II)
Part one Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (GN) word count: 3,803 Summary: When industries collide, Kuroo is reunited with the one that got away. But nobody is pleased to see each other.
âOh Y/N!â Alisa Haiba screeched, bringing her old friend into a hug. âIâm so glad you took the role! Ah I can finally have a friend amongst my team.âÂ
With a laugh, Y/N only rubbed their friendâs back lightly, not to crease her outfit that will soon be shot in the new YSL photoshoot. It had been back in Melbourne did Y/N L/N and Alisa Haiba became acquaintances. At first it took Y/N a while to realise how they recognised Alisa, thinking it was just because they saw her face plastered on every major billboard on their way to campus. But the illusive fantasy of a celebrity was shattered when she spoke in her accented English and their high school memories came flashing before their eyes. From that day forward, their worlds collided.Â
After a gruelling last ditch push to complete their masters, Y/N was lucky to have Alisa as one of their few friends in Tokyo. Since coming back to Japan, Y/N had forgotten how lonely the city could be. How they would blend into the crowd of faces, becoming another statistic on a long list of residents. They hated the city, they hated how the streets they used to walk down during high school remain untouched, how the faces of the shop owners only grow older, their frowns sagging to the floor. Getting out of Japan felt liberating, to come back to it all Y/N found themselves wallowing in the same self-pity that they found themselves suffering with during their teen years. Alisa was a reminder of the world outside of the city, she allowed Y/N to follow her on trips and try new exciting things to brighten their full life. When Alisa became the face of YSL Japan and her modelling career expanded beyond Asia, Y/N was thrilled to join their friend at the request to be her assistant public relations secretary.Â
If I could get Alisa to be the most known face across the globe, I can finally start my life again, out of Tokyo.Â
The desire to finally leave Japan behind, leave their past behind and explore the world beyond. Maybe, that could get rid of the sour taste in Y/Nâs mouth every time they thought of Tokyo.Â
Despite their extensive years in academia, books could not compare to reality. Piles and piles of paperwork, emails and meetings meant Y/N lived and breathed the Haiba siblings. Being a part of Alisaâs PR team meant being a part of Levâs, it was a given to see the fellow Nekoma alumni at work. At first, Y/N was resentful. Nekoma was supposed to be long past them, just a floating memory of guilt and regret. Lev was advised by his sister to not pester Y/N about high school, about anything related to Nekoma especially anything about Kuroo. The first few months with the Haiba siblings were stressful. Lev was growing increasingly popular amongst younger fans, booking him on daytime television to speak about his latest projects was a breeze. More fans meant more fan meets and thus more work for Y/N.Â
More work means bigger reach, and getting even closer to leaving.
With winter around the corner, Y/N knew there would be an exponential growth in events that would need to be covered. Press conferences, online campaigns, brand collaborations. Whenever Y/N closed their eyes, all they could see was the Haiba siblings plastered on the inside of their eyelids. Amidst the pile of work, Y/N noticed a oddly hand written note;Â
âPlease please pleaseeee consider this one! I wanna work with Kenma and Chibi-chan T^TâÂ
Lifting up the sticky note, the title page screamed out to Y/N.Â
âBouncing Ball Corp ft. Hinata Shoyo and Lev Haiba.âÂ
âHelloo~â
âWhereâd you get this plan from? Who gave it to you? Is this some kind of joke? Youâre a high end luxury brand model with limited television guest appearances, what makes you think Iâd let you represent sports now?â Y/Nâs voice boomed into the phone, causing Levâs eardrums to burst and bleed from the noise shattering scolding on the other end of the call.Â
âKenma gave it me! He said his team told him it would be good to reach out to other famous people who knew!â He whined.
It was partially the prospect of being with Kenma and Hinata again, but more so, he craved the feeling of slamming a volleyball with his bare hands again. After years of maintaining his pristine image, his calloused hands had smoothened out, as soft as a babyâs bum. He was yearning for the thrill of the game again.Â
âNo. This proposal makes no sense anyways. Who even wrote this?âÂ
âWell it was someone on Kenmaâs side! Anyways, heâs got a hugeee following on Youtube and Twitch! All people talk about on Twitter is his stuff! Y/N youâve always wanted a big international gig, and Iâve found us one! Please, please, please, pleaseeee!â If Lev wasnât in public he wouldâve been on his knees begging, kissing Y/Nâs feet till they said yes.
Indeed, all Y/N needed now was a major international break for the siblings, if they could book either a global brand ambassador position or an American modelling debut, then Y/N could finally relocate to anywhere but Japan. The Tokyo smog blocked their lungs each daily commute to work, the buildings never changed and the familiar scents of old stores and parks they used to frequent as a student became sickening.Â
âGive me Kodzukenâs contacts and weâll see.â
It was a wild goose chase to get the right person to contact. Email, after email. More and more useless contacts that lead Y/N to no helpful responses. Different representatives of Kodzuken and Hinata Shoyo till finally the Japanese Volleyball Association. After two weeks of this ordeal, Y/N was finally sent through to the person in charge of organising the project. But of all people, it just so happened to be Kuroo Tetsurou. Shit.Â
Despite getting to chase around his old volleyball rivals across the world for scouting, interviews and just regular catch ups. Kuroo hated the mundane parts of his job, emails and project meetings. Managers up his arse about deadlines. His fingers were beginning to cramp into a contorted version of itself with all the typing he had to endure. He swore his email page was burned into the scleras of his eyes.Â
Ping.Â
Another one to the read later pile. It was fifteen minutes till the end of his shift, he wasnât going to stay for overtime this week, he had made plans with Kenma tonight. After weeks of rejection, the self-made entrepreneur finally was willing to leave his room to grab a drink with his long time friend. Before he could shut off his monitor, he read the Senderâs name.
L/N Y/N.Â
Holy fuck.Â
He thought he had buried the last sparks of affection he had for Y/N the morning they blocked them. But no, like a phoenix, the embers within him burst into an inferno. Nothing could quench the burning desire he held inside. Kuroo had forgotten where he was, he was no longer stuck in a mechanical cubicle with the robotic tapping of keyboards echoing throughout the room. He was back in his Nekoma uniform, back with Y/N by his side. He could smell them, touch them and most of all kiss them. Their laugh was ringing in his head, he was high on their perfume. Kuroo begs to any mighty power above him or anyone who could hear his heart, for his yearning to cease. He thought he could leave it all behind but his body, no his soul calls for Y/N.Â
A few clicks was all it took and he plummeted to the pitiful man he once was without Y/N. His eyes darted at the few sentences, he could hear Y/Nâs echoing in his head reading to him.
I hope this email finds you wellâŠLev HaibaâŠwith Bouncing Ball CorpâŠplease contact meâŠbest regards L/N Y/N.Â
By some wicked power that festered inside him, Kuroo saw this as a sign from the universe. Finally letting Y/N back into his life. He could once again feel true happiness, the love that had left his heart with a gaping void for the last few years.Â
Within a few weeks, each team was able to schedule the first table reading for the promotional video. The main plan to have it filmed over a course of two weeks, just in time before the Olympics in Tokyo. Time was of the essence and the only reason why Y/N was pushing themselves to succeed in this collar was the promise of a better life for themselves. The table reading was in a spacious meeting room curtesy of the Japanese Volleyball Association, the room stretched far beyond any hall Y/N had seen before. A titanic monitor casts its shadow over the table, a long aisle of varied refreshments framed the corners of the room. The chairs were individually cushioned, the carpet was soft with the richest woven fibres from the farthest corners of the world.
Y/N had arrived with Lev and multiple representatives from his team, Kuroo was stood under the frame of the entrance door, his jaw ajar. To Kuroo Tetsurou the mere sight of Y/N took his breath away, all he wished to do was run as fast as his legs could take him and embrace them with the strength of a thousand suns. Claiming them to be his all over again. He didnât notice that Y/Nâs face was getting closer and closer towards him, till they were stood shoulder to shoulder, face to face.Â
âMr. Kuroo, a pleasure to be working with you.â Y/N held out their rigid hand.
ââŠY/N,â he whispered, as if saying their name aloud was punishable by death.Â
âMy name is L/N. I expect you to refer to me as such. We will see you inside.â Five seconds. Their reunion lasted five seconds, Kuroo couldnât help but watch Y/Nâs figure walk away, the closest heâs ever been to them, and all he can have in return is the sight of their back.Â
âMy god, theyâre as beautiful as the day I lost them.â Kuroo uttered.Â
The meeting went as smoothly as planned. Any issues were discussed thoroughly and everyone was confident in the project. But Kuroo paid no attention to any of it. His eyes could not keep off of Y/N. The way theyâd speak so eloquently, unlike how childish they were in high school. He admired Y/Nâs new found maturity, this chic version of his love, he was still entranced by their allure years after their split. However, his eyes would dart to the presence of Lev Haiba next to Y/N. A deeply rooted feeling of jealousy to the boy he once considered his underling. The Haiba siblings could see and be around Y/N every waking hour, yet the only time he had with them within his reach, lasted only five seconds. It wasnât fair. He had assumed that Y/N had no more ties to Nekoma, so the thought of Y/N never cross his mind, till now. Seeing them beside Lev Haiba, sparked a new fire within his chest. Distant memories would flash in Kuroo's mind, younger versions of themselves, a first year Lev begging to meet and be around Y/N, his partner of three years. Jokes that he would push aside, confirming how Y/N was separate to volleyball and he had no intentions of merging these two sides of him. Yet there they were, in union with each other. Y/N and volleyball. He felt sick.Â
âI understand that the sport is the focus of this project, but we mustnât ignore the everyday audience who arenât fans of the sport.â Y/N spoke with a tinge of spite, they never mentioned the sport by name. In case the moment they uttered its name, they would be shackled down to its legacy for all of eternity.Â
âLev is the publicâs rising heartthrob, for both his looks and his humour, use it.âÂ
âAw! Thank you Y/N!â The half-russian man tried to coddle Y/N only to be pushed back into his seat by them.
Kuroo Tetsurou was torn. He wished to be the one to coddle Y/N. He hated how formal this all was, never had he thought of Y/N as this pragmatic android that spouted the same endless bullshit his co-workers would repeat. He wanted to see them laugh again, he wanted to bring them crying on their knees from tears of laughter. Maybe if he did that stupid impression of their father that always made them laugh, maybe then Y/N would go back to how they were in school.Â
The meeting came to a close and the rounds of production was set in stone. Kurooâs work continued to pile, he couldnât stay on set with the boys anymore than a day and any moment he did have on set, Y/N was never there. Filming ceased and everyone returned to their original teams, muttering away on their desktops and laptops to meet the deadline their bossesâ had set. Lev Haiba went back to modelling for big brands, Kenma increased the number of live-streams in the weeks forward after having a week off for filming. Whilst Hinata was preparing the announcement of him joining the Japanese National team.
Kuroo was stuck in his monotone cubicle again. The sight of his friends succeed in things beyond the mundane 9 to 5, that he was a slave to, was not an idea that came to mind at first. Originally, he loved the thrill of working behind sports promotion. But now, as a settled employee, he felt his life drain by the second. Only the thought of Y/N pushed him, once the project is uploaded and succeeds, he could see them at the celebratory party. If everything goes to plan. Then he could finally speak to them. Apologise. Tie everything up in a pretty bow so he could feel, complete.Â
The promotional video saw millions of views and trending hashtags across multiple social medias. They had, of course, prepared for this case. Releasing behind the scenes content, exclusive photographs and interacting with online fans.
It was as Y/N had planned, down to the T. It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders, they knew within a few days the money would come rolling in through sponsors and new deals for their company. The Japanese Volleyball Association along with Bouncing Ball Corp allowed the teams to work in a private office space for the collaboration to increase cross communication. Y/N had spent night after night working endlessly on multiple PR plans that would cover all of Levâs possible mishaps. The moment everything succeeded, they crashed. Their face plummeted to the keyboard and drifted into a deep slumber.
Y/N was at the entrance of Nekoma High, their uniform was slightly creased because they forgot to iron their shirt the night before. First day of high school and they already felt nauseous. They hated how their uniform sat on their frame, they hated how they had they ended up in a school where most of their old middle school classmates joined them. They felt stuck in an endless cycle of the same boring, mundane life they always lived.Â
âYa gonna go in?âÂ
The light spring breeze blew the tall boyâs black hair to fly upwards, revealing his other eye. He quickly flattened it to hide his forehead. He looked ridiculous, his jumper was slightly too big for him, his parents probably went a few sizes up awaiting for his eventual growth spurt.Â
âL/N câmon, let me copy your English homework! Just this once!â Kuroo pleaded, training behind Y/N like a cub to its mother.Â
âKuroo this is the fourth time! Remember last time, the teacher called your mom in for a meeting about you cheating!â
The boy had grown to tower over Y/N now, he was freakishly taller than the day they first met. His long limbs made him be twice as fast as well. âIâd much rather get told off for copying than get told off for bringing nothing at all.âÂ
With a huff, Y/N couldnât help but chuckle. Their dynamic was a breath of fresh air for Y/N, who previously was so used to an isolated world. But by Kurooâs side, Y/N felt like they belonged. Somewhere within Kurooâs circle, Y/N had a place fit just for them.Â
Kuroo would always tell people that he asked Y/N out first, that he prepared a romantic dinner at his place and popped the question as if it was their last night on earth. In truth, Y/N caught him amidst his plans and cut him to the chase. But Kuroo Tetsurou, the ever-so secret romantic, wanted everyone to believe that he swept them off their feet.Â
âIf weâre going to be together weâve got to do good morning and good night texts,â he huffed whilst Y/Nâs arms cradled him into a tight embrace. They laughed in response for his childish acts, as a way to get back on ruining his plans on asking them out, Kuroo insisted on being as romantic as he could be with them. Holding hands, spooning, kisses in public. He didnât care for the stares, he didnât care for the whispers. He was happy. Y/N was happy.Â
âY/N,â Kurooâs face was so close yet each time Y/N reached out their hand, it faded into nothingness.Â
âY/N! Y/N!â He kept calling their name yet Y/N couldnât reach him.Â
âTetsu?â
A sudden jolt caused Y/N to shoot back up, their shoulders were covered with a distinct black jacket. Beside them was of course, the man who emerged straight from their dreams. Kuroo Tetsurou.
âSorry but, theyâre shutting the building soon. You shouldnât sleep here, itâll hurt your back. I know that very well,â he chuckled beneath his breath.Â
Y/N hadnât realised this before, but Kurooâs eye bags had sunken deeper into his face. He had more noticeable crows feet and the wrinkles between his eyebrows had settled in already, quite concerning for a man still as young as him. He had changed his cologne again. He went back to the faint powdery scent, with hints of elderflower. The cologne Y/N bought him for their second anniversary. They didnât know they still made that scent. His hands were still as calloused as they were years ago, bulging veins decorated his wrists and forearms. He maintained his built form, Y/N could see it through his button up shirt. He hadnât changed much but was still an entirely different person.
âI was just tired Kuroo.â Y/N shimmied out of the manâs coat to return it, but Kuroo remained still.Â
âItâs weird to hear you call me that.â He chuckled, âI was always Tetsu to you.â
âYeah well that was when we were kids.âÂ
Kuroo smiled, a sad empty smile that held the years of regret that he harboured. Kids in love, he thought.Â
âIâm going home now, thanks for waking me.â Before Y/N could step out of the office door, Kuroo grabbed their wrist. He knew this was the last time he would ever see them, he sensed it. The moment they walk out that door itâll be over. He had to fight, it was now or never.
âIâm sorry Y/N. Iâm sorry for how I treated you all those years ago. Iâm sorry I didnât pay attention to you. Iâm sorry I was never there for you.âÂ
Disgusted. Pained. Relieved. Scared. Y/Nâs stomach felt like a pit of snakes colliding into each other, trying to consume one another but failing miserably. Kuroo Tetsurou was a shell of a man now, the pain of heartbreak that lasted an eternity was killing his body slowly. He hadnât mourned Y/N properly. He hadnât mourned their relationship properly.Â
âWhy?â
âHuh- What?â Kuroo asked, dropping his grip on Y/N.
âAfter all these years. Why are you apologising to me now.â You could hear a pin drop from the deafening silence between the two.
âBecause I love you. Iâve always loved you Y/N, I wonât ever stop loving yo-â
âShut up.â This was straight out of teenage Y/Nâs dreams, the Kuroo Tetsurou who was begging them to stay. The Kuroo Tetsurou that they used to cling to in hopes of a final embrace. He was finally right in front of Y/N. With glassy eyes, proclaiming his undying love to them, his body craving Y/Nâs own. He was right there, and he was pathetic.Â
âYou donât get to talk to me like that. If you did love me, you wouldâve done this the night we ended it. But no, you barely said anything to me. In fact what you did, hurt me more than our actual split. You left me. You left me alone. Not just in our time together. I was never included in any part of your life beyond me. Despite being together for three years, I was completely, utterly alone." Warm tears that Y/N had suppressed for years began to arise from the dead.Â
âI thought you wanted me by your side, that you needed me because I had a place in your life. But you proved me wrong time and time again! I came second to everything in your life! Not once did I feel like a person to you. You took me for granted.âÂ
It was like a slap in the face for Kuroo Tetsurou, he hadnât realised it till now. In his eyes, Y/N was someone he once wanted to possess, to have and hold forever. He saw them just like his old pair of glasses he lost down the coach pillows. It took a few blinks to realise in front of him, was a person who had seen love and loss, found liberation and had it taken away. A person who had worked their life away to see the riches of their hard work. When they were in Nekoma, Y/N would always cheer him on from the sidelines, he thought it was fine. He thought they were okay with just watching them afar, he knew they didnât really like volleyball but he didnât care to talk about it anymore. He didnât care. He didnât care for having Y/N meet his teammates and hang around them, he wanted to keep them to himself. He didnât care. His indifference was his demise. After over five years, he realised this.Â
âI have lived a thousand lifetimes since I left you. I think itâs time for you to do the same Tetsurou. Stop clinging to the past.â
Kuroo Tetsurou, the man who yearned the joys of his youth, could see clearly now. Y/N didnât look back at the man. They picked up their bag and stepped out the door. Phone in hand, ready to dial up their friends, to celebrate a life well lived.Â
#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#hq x reader#kuroo tetsurĆ#kuroo tetsuro fanfic#kuroo tetsuro angst#anime#anime and manga#anime fanfic#anime x reader
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wait wait wait, your requests are open for noble bell for this weekend only? (if i got that right?!) sound perfect gimme 14 of em. anywhos if i did not getting the date wrong i have one! and if i i did please just let me shrivel up and die, thank you.
post college rollo and reader who live together as âroommates.â theyâre 100% more than roommates and everyone can see it but them. rollo is probably some senator or something and insisted reader moves in with him cause he insists that since heâs making laws more just for magicless people thereâs literally no where safer for them to be. just basically some domestic fluff with two people who act like theyâre married and donât even realize it. i personally think it would be way cuter to read from the perspective of a third party but if youâre willing to write this you can do it anyway anyhow and iâll still be happy. thank you! <3
(if i got the weekend wrong i will absolutely die so please let me down gently, i am accoustic so i no no understand very basic things such as âthis weekendâ or ânext saturdayâ if the day of the week is before a saturday)
oooh a bit of a future au... this is cute

*à©â©â§âË and they were roommates
type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda written from a 3rd perspective
Rollo Flamme's favoritism had never been a secret.
He might have been quiet, reserved, repressed beyond all reason, but there were some things even he couldn't hide behind his star-spotted handkerchief.
The very moment you arrived at Noble Bell College, you were his.
Rollo Flamme beheld you with a sort of reverence that could be called sacrilegious. That is to say, one had never seen idolatry until one had seen the way he looked at you, the way he touched you as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he could break you with an unclean hand and a breath.
His coldness and cordiality towards the others never changed.
For all your kindness, your smiles, your gentle touches upon his cheek that he would never have let anyone else give, you could not change him. And you did not try.
It was a tragedy in two parts.
Not that it mattered, of course. Not to you.
As far as you were concerned, the world began and end with each other. In a room full of people, mages and scholars and royalty, Rollo Flamme would still only look at you.
Nothing was confirmed. Your affection for one another was kept to lingering touches and burning glances across the long, morose hallways of Noble Bell.
If anyone had asked, and they certainly did, Rollo's handkerchief would come to sit over his mouth and he would remind them that gossip is unbecoming.
And to be decent, thank you.
Yet the rumors could never be smothered, and they lingered after Rollo's first graduation, and another, and to his seat on the Fleur City Council.
You lived with him.
You lived with him, in his family home.
And he would continue to deny anything romantic, giving the same excuse that he had since Noble Bell, that you simply had no one else to look after you, and it was his duty as a civil servant to see to your care.
Which was utter bullshit.
But, perhaps, bullshit that you both believed.
Outside of the council, it was rare to see him alone. When he went out, he went out with you. When he attended public events, you walked by his side. When he worked at home, you sat in his study, by the fireplace, as if you had always belonged there. With him.
Rollo would excuse himself from small talk and after-hour business like so:
"It's been lovely talking to you, Senator, but I'll be late for dinner,"
"Please, come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'm expected at home,"
"I'll have to be going, now. I have an excursion on the town tonight. With whom? Well, whom else?"
It became widely accepted, amongst his colleagues and the public, that Rollo Flamme was married. One might not have guessed, of course, from his cold demeanor, but rumors of the magicless alumni from Noble Bell that he so adored smoldered.
Rollo did not concern himself with the whispers or the knowing looks his colleagues gave each other, until a warm day in late March where a well-meaning secretary from another branch asked if he had any children.
"Children?" he had scoffed. "Why would you ask such a thing?"
The poor secretary looked like he had seen a ghost. "Well... you're married, aren't you?"
"Absolutely not. What gave you such an idea?"
And he seemed reluctant to answer.
Rollo had gone home that night with much on his mind. When you asked him if anything had happened at the council, he said "Nothing eventful".
To Rollo, who had lived in Fleur City, lonely yet not alone, for so many years without a kindling of friendship and not a thought on romance, he had never once questioned your relationship. You were his companion. His first, and last. That's all that matters.
Isn't it?
He could ask for nothing more than you. Your voice, your smile, your hands and warmth mingling with his. He was happy with you. Your friendship is enough for him.
Isn't it?
Despite what he tells himself, that night, when you sit close to him in front of the fire, reading a book he recommended simply because he recommended it, Rollo finds himself looking at you twice as much as usual.
He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, and you stay there, as if you had always belonged there. With him.
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COACH ROMAN IN FULL PROTECTIVE MODE - Headcanonđđ»đ

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Coach Roman is deep in his sheâs mine and Iâll ruin your academic career for her era.
This man is skipping film review to bring her granola bars. Heâs printing her published research and taping it to the locker room like itâs a damn scouting report. A freshman flirted onceâhe transferred. Toby disrespected Islaâs scarfâhe got a lecture.
Heâs protective, petty, and fully domesticated. And heâs doing it all in Georgia Tech sweats with a clipboard in one hand and baby name suggestions in the other.
These 20 headcanons are full of soft threats, low growls, and a man so gone for his woman that HR may or may not have questions. Reblog at your own risk. You will fall in love with him:
Isla bends down to grab her charger during a faculty mixer. Roman watches a TA stare too long. Doesnât say a wordâjust adjusts his stance so his entire 6'3 frame blocks her from view.
Isla gets a headache during finals week. Roman cancels his own practice, shows up with Advil, coconut water, and that specific granola bar she likes.
An undergrad makes a TikTok thirst trap about Isla after seeing her at a lecture. Roman sees it. The TikTok vanishes within 48 hours. The student transfers to remote learning.
Isla mentions walking to her car alone at night one time. Roman now picks her up from campus every eveningâeven if he has meetings. âYou can be independent, and I can still give a damn.â
He downloads Find My iPhone and never admits he checks it unless sheâs out late. âJust making sure youâre not dealing with one of your circuits exploding or whatever.â
Islaâs talking to her old classmate at a tech conference. Roman walks up behind her mid-sentence, hand around her waist, low voice: âHey, babe. You good?â The man clears his throat and walks away.
Someone at the university calls her âMrs. Reignsâ by accident. Roman doesnât correct them. Just smirks and says, âNot yet.â
Islaâs research gets picked up by an academic journal. Roman prints out the article, highlights her name, and tapes it to the team bulletin board with: âBest thing to ever happen to this school.â
Toby gets tangled in Islaâs favorite scarf. Roman carefully untangles him, folds the scarf, then proceeds to give the cat a full lecture on respecting women and their property.
Roman doesnât say âI love youâ often. But he says âI got you,â âYouâre not doing this alone,â and âIf anyone ever makes you cry again, Iâm not calling HR first.â
Islaâs advisor once âjokinglyâ suggested she scale back her workload now that she was pregnant. Roman showed up to the next department mixer, stood silently behind Isla while she presented her research, and smiled like a lion watching someone dare to get too close to his mate.
Roman has a whole Google Calendar blocked out as âIsla Time.â If anyone asks to schedule a meeting during those hours, he replies with: âUnavailable. Period.â
Isla forgets to eat lunch during a coding sprint. Roman walks into the lab with takeout and glares at everyone like they shouldâve reminded her.
A freshman nervously handed Isla a note after class that said âI think youâre beautiful.â She didnât even get the chance to tell Romanâhe found it crumpled in her bag while grabbing her laptop. The next day, Roman stood outside her lecture hall with his arms crossed and a very visible Georgia Tech staff badge. The freshman turned around and dropped the class.
Isla was walking too long at an alumni event. Roman literally crouched down and rubbed her ankles in front of two Deans like it was normal. âYouâre carrying our child. Let âem stare.â
When Isla felt insecure about her growing body, Roman kissed every stretch mark. âThis is what strong looks like, baby. Youâre the strongest person I know.â
He once stopped in the middle of a coaching huddle because Isla texted âbaby kicked so hard I saw stars.â He walked off the field. No explanation. Came back 10 minutes later like it never happened.
A tenured professor called Isla âemotional.â Roman leaned over the faculty lunch table and calmly said, âYouâve never carried something worth fighting for, huh?â The table went silent. Isla never had to deal with that man again.
Roman secretly installed extra locks and a camera outside Islaâs apartment before she moved in with him. âJust in case,â he said. She rolled her eyesâthen hugged him for three minutes straight.
Isla jokes that heâs overprotective. Roman shrugs. âYouâre the love of my life. I donât do casual when it comes to you.â
đ Authorâs Note: Yâall⊠Iâve been thinking about feral, overprotective, but soft-for-one-woman Coach Roman all day and couldnât hold this in any longer đźâđš Heâs got his headset on, a clipboard in one hand, and Isla's name written all over his soul. This headcanon lives rent-free in my brain, and now it lives in yours too. You're welcome đ«¶đœ
Your reblogs, tags, and asks keep me writingâthank you so much for engaging with my work! đ
Your support means the world. Seriously. Gracias, amores. đ«¶đœ
â written by your local emotionally destroyed girl who believes Coach Reigns would absolutely cancel practice for his pregnant Isla
#the code we carry series#roman reigns fanfiction#fanfic headcanons#roman reigns headcanon#roman reigns x black oc#roman reigns x oc#wwe fic#wwe
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