#if you want to ask questions about them go ahead!!

[ikeuki]

four-letter word / 니키

( pairing ) nishimura riki x fem!reader ✶ highschool au, one-sided enemies to ??? ; fluff/crack, cursing — ( wordcount ) ?

ᯓ★ ikueki’s note. based off of tom’s monologue in ‘500 days of summer’ when talking about “hating” summer! this fic is from my old stranger things acc: @scwheeler (IT IS MY OLD ACC / MY WRITING) it was for mike wheeler originally…!

synopsis. riki can’t figure out his feelings towards you; he thinks he hates you but is it really hatred if he can’t get you out of his mind?

nishimura riki hates you.

he stared from across the classroom, watching you with crossed legs and back straight. you tapped your number two pencil on the wooden desk repeatedly, making a quiet yet annoying sound. it bothered him so much, only adding to the mental list of things he hated about you.

rather than staring now he was glaring. but he sat behind you and a couple rows over which meant you didn’t even notice. continuing to annoy him without a single thought.

he pressed down his pencil into his notebook until the lead snapped, making him also snap out of this trance. he looked down at his empty paper with a dark lead circle in the middle. he ripped out the sheet and crumpled it up, debating whether to throw it at your head or into the trash can.

he probably had a better chance shooting it at your head than landing it in the trash can according to his sports record but he refrained because your hair looked nice neat.

riki wasn’t suddenly choosing to be sympathetic or anything but he wasn’t a complete asshole.

or he thought of himself not to be. it must’ve taken you all morning for those bouncy curls and he knows how mad his sisters get when riki occupies the bathroom for more than thirty minutes before school. so he kept the crumpled paper and shoved it in his backpack, agreeing he’d either throw it to your head another day or throwing it away at the end of class.

“mr. nishimura—! i asked you a question, what is the answer to the question on the board?” the teacher asked in a stern tone, hands on his hips and trying to get riki’s unbothered attention.

riki quickly looked away from you, hoping you didn’t see him staring straight at the back of your head. you turned around from your seat to look at him as did the rest of the class.

he was out of it—a little preoccupied with thinking about something else, more of someone else.

his paper was blank. other than the crumpled up one he just shoved in his backpack. did he have notes on that page?before he could mutter an excuse or guess and pray to the gods he was right, a hand rose up in front of him.

it was yours…?

your arm popped up and attracted the teachers attention. “yes, ms. y/l/n?” he asked, now trailing his burning eyes away from riki and softening them towards you. unbelievable.

“if riki can’t answer it, i’d gladly do it myself,” you replied softly.

you didn’t speak in a sarcastic or rude manner. riki almost wished you did so then he would have a reason to hate you. but your tone was sincere like you wanted to help him.

“sure that would be great, go ahead,” the teacher proceeded and let you come up to the board. you took your notebook with you, it was covered in bright stickers and shiny gems matching your appearance.

riki watched as you sat up from your desk, the school uniform clinging to your body to fit your slight curves. he could’ve sworn the uniform’s skirt was shorter than you had on.

wait what—! why was he looking at your body or your uniform, nevertheless your existence…!

you picked up the small white chalk and wrote down your answer, copying your equation from your notebook. the class watched but riki observed. he thought about how you saved his ass from getting yelled at the teacher. why? after finishing the equation, you went to return to your seat. but before sitting down, your eyes met riki’s, flashing a quick smile.

in the brief moment, riki looked at you stunned. you didn’t wait for his reaction though and turned back to the teacher’s lecture. he shook his head, whatever. he hated you.

——

i hate her crooked teeth.

——

if he hates you so much, why was he up at three in the morning still thinking about your stupid smile. your pearly white teeth almost blinding him in the middle of math class.

his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes pierced through the ceiling of his bedroom. what was your problem? you didn’t do this to any other person in the school? you left everyone else alone—his classmates, his friends, his enemies—so why did you chose him? was this a punishment?

riki groaned and flipped to his side to face his bedside table, looking at the alarm clock reading 4:27 now. he spent almost four hours just thinking about you and it infuriated him. he liked girls before, girls in his class, girls on the tv, girls in his favorite movies. but he never stayed up thinking about him until this late hour.

also, he liked those girls! they were pretty and hot! he didn’t find you attractive or anything, so what made you so different?

was it your smile? it wasn’t even that nice! he’s seen better smiles in the newspaper and he could say his mom has a better one. yet you were the only thing on his mind and riki couldn’t stand the feeling.

he turned left and right, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep but it was no help. by the time, his eyelids were finally about to shut, they were disturbed by the bright light of the sun coming up. he hated you so much.

——

i hate her 1960’s haircut.

——

the next day at school, riki slung his backpack over his shoulder and waited at his friend’s locker. he agreed to meet heeseung before soccer practice afterschool and it wasn’t the first time the older boy was running late. riki didn’t mind all that much. if anything it meant an excuse to be late for practice, especially since heeseung was the coach’s nephew.

the only unfortunate thing about going to his locker was that yours was right next to it.

he managed to avoid bumping into you almost everyday. weirdly enough he tracked down your exact schedule with classes, meet up with friends, and when you needed your mid day snacks to get through the day.

heeseung commented on it one time, saying his uncalled “hatred” for you seemed more and more like a crush instead. riki almost blow a fuse right then and there in the middle of the soccer field. heeseung hasn’t mentioned it ever since.

unlucky for riki, you were quite an unpredictable person. most of the time you were walking with your usual friends, stopping by your locker to get your bio and calc textbooks. but on the rare occasions you were alone, you spent the entire passing period leaning against the metal wall texting away on your little phone.

this forced riki to hide behind the corner, peering over from time to time like a creep to wait for you to leave. he was even late once or twice just going to his locker at you finally left when the bell rang.

when his teacher asked why his eyes slowly trailed to you, who stared back at him innocently. unknown that you were the reason why he was late and got detention, for the fourth time now.

he could only shut up and take the yellow slip from his teacher. sliding into his desk in the back and staring out into the window in annoyance. why did he need to avoid you?

today was worse. worse than riki could ever imagine. he headed for his locker after fifth period and watched as you walked down the hall to your cheer practice as you always did afterschool. again, a little weird how much riki knew about you. anyways. he hurried to his locker and put in the code, opening it quickly. he grabbed a couple of his textbooks needed for homework and his soccer bag.

as soon as he closed the locker door, he almost had a heart attack. you were standing right there with you back facing him looking into a small magnetic mirror attached to the door of your locker.

you were applying another layer of strawberry chapstick, the one you carried everywhere and put on during first period, third period, and right after lunch by your locker.

so he was definitely surprised to see you standing right in front of him, puckering your lips and looking into the mirror. completely oblivious of riki standing behind you with a shocked expression saying ‘what the fuck!’ you didn’t even notice him staring at you for a full on five minutes.

riki would never admit it but you weren’t such an eye sore as he tried to convince himself all last night.

you were actually nice to look at. well-rounded and cute features that complimented your face. your hair was right in front of his face, the fruity fresh scents of strawberry and peach shampoo filling up his senses. without him even knowing, riki’s frown turned into a small smile.

your perfectly formed curls with a white headband, all sitting nicely on your shoulders made you look like a character from a 60’s cartoon. they moved side to side as you checked yourself out in the mirror, putting riki into a trance. but he snapped out of it as you put the cap back on of your chapstick, signaling him to return to his main goal: get to practice on-time.

he kept his eyes forward and tried to play it cool. walking down the hall, he just prayed you didn’t catch him ogling you for the past ten minutes.

unfortunately, by the time he got to the field, the coach had already started warm-ups and without the excuse of heeseung’s presence, riki only earned the team four extra laps to run. which no one was happy to do. god—how much he hated you right now.

——

i hate her knobby knees.

——

heeseung informed riki that the whole soccer team was required to attend the school’s pep rally as a part of the athletics committee. wanting to spend his friday night off doing better things (aka playing video games in heeseung’s basement until four a.m.), he continuously urged his friend to sneak out.

“what if we just slip out during the principal’s speech?” riki suggested to an unamused heeseung who already accepted his fate.

“if we get caught—our asses are DONE FOR. my uncle’s gonna kill us and definitely tell my mom.” heeseung seemed dead serious about refusing riki’s request, leaving the younger boy to only sit on the bleachers and wait for the soccer team to be announced.

after what felt like hours of speeches and addresses by the principal, teachers, and staff, a bunch of school-color, short uniforms filled the gym. it was the school’s cheerleaders, girls and boys all wearing color coordinated uniforms with scarily happy smiles plastered on their faces.

a single face stood out to riki. one that’s been distracting him in class, keeping him up at night, and keeping him in the hallways. his eyes immediately fell upon you, disregarding the other twenty girls and guys wearing the same outfit. you were the only one that caught his eye and he couldn’t tell why. was it cause of the locker interaction earlier today?

you were skipping in with a cute grin on your face, those stupid pearly whites blinding riki once again. you had pom pom in your hands, waving your arms in the air and saying hi to the crowd.

you didn’t spare riki a glance even once, unintentionally of course—how could you see him in a sea of hundreds of students! but he didn’t mind. at least it meant he could stare at you the entire time the cheerleaders introduction was happening.

what surprised riki was that you walked to the center as everyone got into formation. you were center stage. your smile was warm and lit up an entire room, the entire crowd beginning to feed into every word you said. when you said “go—!” they said “—team!”

then music suddenly started to play and the cheerleaders started a routine. one that you guys probably practiced a million times before. riki could see the nervousness in your face, hiding behind that smile you held so proudly.

he noticed your knees, you had skin tone band-aids all over them. underneath were obviously bruises, cuts, maybe even scars. people might’ve thought they were ugly but riki couldn’t help looking at them.

not like he was a sadist or anything but the bruises made you look more real. like you weren’t just another carbon copy of these cheerleaders who had perfect lives and appearances like the girls surrounding you.

you were different. something about you gave riki a hint that there was more to you than being a shallow popular girl.

you wouldn’t make fun of the so-called losers with the jocks behind the science building during lunch, their cheerleadering girlfriends joining in just because they can. or disregard the entire meaning of attending school to just dance in a tight outfit and fluffy pom poms in front of the entire school.

no, you were nowhere near those areas during lunch, riki saw you spending the time in the classroom, taking a nap to catch some extra z’s before the last two classes of the day or listening to music and researching choreography for the cheerleaders. in class, you always participated. you paid attention and studied, even helping the other struggling students in your free time.

maybe it was the way you helped him yesterday morning, answering his question and cutting off the teacher’s potential wrath. or you simply smiling at him the moment after.

either way, he found himself clapping for you after you finished your dance, enjoying your performance and rather disappointed to find it so short. heeseung was confused, wasn’t riki just giving suggestions on how to sneak out of here five minutes ago? now he was smiling and clapping like his own girlfriend was out there dancing in front of the crowd?

why did you make riki feel this weird? this good feeling he had whenever he saw you? he had to force himself to hate you to avoid his true feelings from spilling out.

and then, riki realized what the indescribable feeling—that takes over him as a whole every moment he lays his eyes on you—really was. he didn’t hate you.

he hated how you made him feel.

[yeeterthek33per]

It's Warm and The Charms-a-workin' (Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir x Reader)

A/n Requested. Gettin back into it, y'all (again)

Content/Warning(s): Fluff, Swearing, Gay. (Idk)

"I swear it keeps getting nicer every time I come back here."

A few heads turn your way with curious gazes at the newly deboarded woman barely wrapped up in a long sleeve shirt, jacket and jeans, gazing around with a warm smile despite the severe chill swirling around the country for the Christmas holidays.

"C'mon you, their waiting at the gate for us, they've been asking when I'm going to bring you back to Iceland. You know sometimes I think they love you more than me."

Your girlfriend shakes her head fondly, taking your hand and dragging your somehow hot running self up the stairs into the terminal from the freezing cold outside, occasionally passed by a rushing flightgoer with small apologies for brushing past in the narrow walkway.

The sun was just starting to crest over the horizon, showing itself finally in its short daily visit over Reykjavik, the early morning flight from Germany to Keflavík and then Reykjavik allowing you enough time to land during daylight hours.

Not that you minded the evening hours in Iceland.

The place was beautiful this time of year, or even just in general but having constantly running festive lighting all year round was certainly a plus.

The airport hustle around you feels somewhat familiar to the one in Munich as your hand tightens in Glódís' to hold her closer to you as you move around the crowd, eventually spotting the familiar faces of your (you're hoping) future in-laws.

Viggó and Magnea both approach you with warm smiles, quickly bringing you in for hugs each, rapid greetings to you and their daughter who's amused look of "Told-you-so" makes you chuckle.

"Quickly, We need to get home before the sun goes down, we have some places to take you to."

"Of course, I'll grab our suitcases and meet you outside the terminal if you go find the car?"

You turn to Glódís, nodding towards the arrivals baggage claim.

"Okay, call me if you get lost again."

The small smirk on her face makes you roll your eyes and huff at her playfully.

"I will not. Now stop it."

She chuckles.

An antic look on her face and your surprised by a very sudden slap to your butt and you jump, nearly swearing at the loudness alone and a soft glare back her way.

"Well get moving!"

Glaring harder at the Icelander, you rather swiftly reprimanding her.

"Damn it, Gló, not in front of your-"

Her parents look back, amused at how quickly you shut your mouth, flustered.

Magnea nudges the ginger towards the door with an amused smile on her face, leaving you to grab the packed bags.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Glódís."

The last thing you hear in the loud airport from them is Glódís' soft giggle as they exit, leaving you staring at the luggage conveyor's entrance to the arrivals lobby.

Standing in silence as you take in the warmth of the air conditioning, blasting through the large building, battling against the ever present cold threatening to overwhelm the area through the ever open automatic doors.

Given how busy Munich always is, it surprises you how much you seem to relax in the busy-ness of Reykjavik.

Maybe it's in the way you find yourself thinking about what you're doing during the trip here for the week.

Maybe it's the thought of the long conversations ahead, constantly going over how to word your one question to the girl you love's parents.

Maybe it's a bit traditional and outdated of you.

Maybe it's something you know she won't be mad about you asking.

You'd talked about marriage before, long before now, back when you were still acclimating, still just friends with the woman.

She'd said marriage was something she wanted in the future.

That whenever it happened, it happened.

You thank the lord every day that you'd gotten an answer that day because any other day would've definitely scared the poor woman off given how quickly you'd both gotten together within your first seven months at the club.

Regardless, she wanted marriage, the question was, does she want it with you?

It's a nervous thought, it makes you tick every day you spend with her because you find yourself falling head over heels in love with this woman.

The fact you even have those doubts worries you.

You're so comfortable with each other, there's no part of her you don't know already.

There's no part of you that she doesn't know or at least have an idea of by now.

She knows your ticks, your nervous habits, your expressions, even somehow conquering the art of your weird southern sayings.

Lord, she knows what you're about to say before you say it.

It takes all of a single look and she knows how you're feeling before you do.

The best part is, it was all so easy to settle into, it wasn't slow, it wasn't fast, just the right speed for you to fall for each other.

The domesticity.

And that's when you realise that your fears shouldn't be fears at all.

The fact Glódís hasn't run away from the domesticity tells you everything.

Why stay comfortable with that if she wasn't in it for the long haul, right?

Not to mention she's been talking a lot about your teammates weddings and...

Oh.

She's been hinting this whole time.

Oh shoot.

She's been hinting this whole time and you've missed it- and you're about to miss the brightly coloured suitcases belonging to you and her travelling past you on the conveyor for the fourth time.

Swiftly grappling onto the straps of the bags, you wheel them out to the carpark, your previous thoughts ringing through your head and you spot the Toyota belonging to Viggó pulled up closer to the carparks entrance.

Glódís looks from her watch held up towards her face, giving you a teasing smile as you walk towards the car.

"Took your time, hey?"

"C'mon, you know they take an age gettin' the bags loaded onto the conveyor. I did NOT get lost."

The cheeky smile on her face as she presses a soft kiss to your cheek makes you pout, and she chuckles, grabbing the bags from your hands to lug them up into the trunk.

The drive back to Kópavogur is shorter than you expected, surprised at so little traffic on the way back to the large town where the woman sitting leant on your shoulder grew up.

Her warm breath puffing against the skin of your neck as she watches you take in the surroundings of the roads through the car window, relaxes you.

The whole time you spend watching car after car go past, the buildings occasionally towering over the highways and side roads remind you of your time back in Portland.

You notice the slowing puffs of air against you, and the woman on your shoulder falls asleep there before the end of the trip, having been awake long before the majority of the trip over here began.

Carefully holding her head there, your hand rests on her face, and shifts to her knee, and you make eye contact with her father in the rear vision mirror, who smiles at the sight behind him.

Ever the protective father, his smile at you stems from the place where he knows his stubborn, intelligent and strong daughter has found someone who'll protect her in even the smallest moments without question, and with no words spoken, gives you a small nod, which you smile softly at and return the gesture.

Upon arrival, you gently stir the woman with a kiss to the forehead and a couple nudges, helping her from the car with a hand down and a wink, which she accepts with a small grin, plus a chuckle from Viggó which earns him a slap to the shoulder from his wife, something to the effect of "Leave them be." exiting the woman's mouth.

Not that you pay him much mind, your eyes locked on your girlfriend who's currently leading you and your suitcase over to her childhood home, her spare key already in hand.

The house is a warm, two story building, with an older brick touch compared to the modern surroundings you'd seen.

The small yard out front neat and clean and from the glimpse you get of the backyard over the side wooden fence, the same goes out there.

Though an old children's swing set and occasional small toys linger out in the grassy snow still, seemingly left there as a memory of the growth of the woman currently holding the thick wooden front door open for you and the older couple.

You step aside to gesture in only for them to practically push you in themselves, insisting guests first.

The house is still warm on the inside, the snow not making it past the concrete path and stoop, a drastic change in temperature for your now Munich accustomed self, much used to the warmth of the ranch you grew up on.

The inside is just as neatly kept as the yards, exceptions made for their home to look lived in, reminding you of your own.

You like a clean home but nobody loves a place not lived in.

It's perfect and you missed it, saying so out loud out of gratitude to your girlfriend's parents for letting you stay there.

"The place is beautiful as always, Ma'am."

Magnea chuckles, patting you on the shoulder as she moves past you to drop her bag by the entryway on the table.

"Thank you, Y/n. You know how I feel about being called that, though."

Your cheeks turn a soft pink, apology on the tip of your tongue until you get an amused pointed look from the older Icelander.

"Habits die hard."

Rubbing the back of your neck, you move to put your suitcase up in the room where Glódís has disappeared to, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and pulled to a corner of the kitchen by the older pair, voices hushed as they gesture for you to come closer.

"You got it, right?"

Back straightening, eyes widening in surprise, you stutter softly.

"Got w-what?"

"Oh come on, no need to hide it from us, we can see that look anywhere."

Glancing back and forth between them, Viggó's eyes in particular watching your own as they flicker trying to work out if they mean what you think they mean.

"Yes, that. Did you find one for her?"

Swallowing, you nod.

"Yeah, but how-"

"How did we know? Please. It's obvious."

Magnea is quick to ease the panicking look in your eyes.

"Not so obvious as for her to know it's happening but we know an approaching proposal when we see it. Especially when you suddenly start getting nervous around us. Your girlfriend's parents."

Viggó nods.

"You've got something to ask us, right?"

You hesitantly nod, going to open your mouth.

"Well don't."

Oh shoot. They don't approve. This is bad.

"We're not the ones you should be asking. Nobody but our daughter needs to be asked."

Oh.

"I completely understand, but it's just something we've discussed previously, and coming from how I grew up, even if I wasn't planning on taking much account of the answer, it's still nice to ask and-"

"And we completely understand, we know our girl would say yes to you in a heartbeat regardless of our answer, and she knows well that we know she wouldn't listen to us if we said no anyway, but our answer will be the same regardless because it's not us you're asking."

Viggó's hand tightens on your shoulder.

"You've shown how much we can trust you with our little girl, even though she's not little anymore, she's our baby, and you've proven how much you love her. And we'll always say yes to the one who protects her and loves her like you do."

Nodding, your eyes tear up a little, a wide smile crossing your face.

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that. And yes, I love your daughter more than anything. And she's given just as much back, more than me actually. I owe her so much and I wanna spend the rest of my life giving that back to her."

"Good, we know you will. In the mean time, you should probably go upstairs, lord knows she's dying to ask you about the conversation we just had."

You chuckle, nodding in agreement.

"Don't forget to show us later!"

Magnea calls up after you on your way up the stairs and at this point, the pink in your cheeks crawls up to the tips of your ears, which you practically have to smack away before you enter through the half closed door of the now rearranged bedroom.

Instead of the old bed there, it's been switched out for a larger queen size, though her old posters and dresser still remain, wanting to preserve her teen years yet again.

The woman is sat twiddling her thumbs on the mattress pretending like she hadn't just been attempting to listen down the hallway, not unlike her younger years when her parents had hushed conversations away from prying ears.

"Cute baby. You're not subtle, though."

Groaning, she flops back on the bed.

"Take that as you won't tell me?"

"Mm, no. You'll find out later. Just some stuff about our plans for the week."

The red head pouts up you as you sit on the mattress beside her dramatically limp body.

"Nothing? Not even a little hint?"

She reaches up, her thumb and forefinger held up in your direction indicating a small gap.

Laughing, you move her fingers together, closing the gap altogether.

"Nada, beautiful. Nothin'. You'll be fine. You, missy, need a lil' patience."

Leaning over, you press kiss after kiss to her face, finally shifting to her lips, silencing her soft grumbles turned giggles, her hands moving to remove your beanie, tangling in your loose long hair, tucking it back behind your ear as you smile down at her.

"Alright, alright. No more plotting with my parents, though. Those two won't tell me anything either, this is so not fair."

Chuckling you poke her nose.

"No guarantees, sorry."

Another soft pout that you kiss away, being pulled back in for a longer softer one, her grip on the back of your neck loosening to let you pull back a few centimetres.

"Now c'mon, we're losing daylight and your parents have stuff still planned for us."

Much to the chagrin of your girlfriend, she finds you constantly having quiet words with the two throughout your walk around the city, occasionally glancing her way with loving, encouraging eyes.

It's driving her mad trying to work out what's happening, not used to being this excluded from conversations, but she let's it happen, knowing it's just you bonding with the pair, remembering how nervous you'd been to meet them the first time around.

----

"Baby, relax, they'll love you."

Your hands grip the armrests of the middle seat on the plane tightly, knee bouncing slightly, much to the annoyance of the seat occupant on your right.

"I know but it's the first time I'm meeting anyone of my partners' parents, let alone yours, Gló."

Her expression softens at the genuinely stressed look in your eye.

She's never given you reason to be nervous, talking about the times her dad had proven time and time again that he wasn't as much of a threat as he liked to present.

Then again, maybe that was the point.

You didn't wanna disappoint the man and woman who'd raised the woman you'd fallen so hard for.

A hand loosening your curled fist and tangling fingers with yours makes you look at her finally, eyes cautiously meeting hers.

"Baby, they love you already, I don't know how many times they've asked me to bring you home for the winter break. There's no possible way they don't love you."

"But what if I don't live up to what they expect to see?"

Her hands cup your face, and your knee finally stops it's vibrating harshly against the carpeted floor of the plane.

"They expect you to be you, not anyone else. They don't expect anything because they wanna meet you, the human being who's behind all the love and time you've given me that I've told them about."

Biting your lower lip, you nod slowly, taking slower breaths to calm yourself as the plane begins it's descent into Reykjavik.

"Okay, I can accept that."

She nods in agreement, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, settling properly back into her seat, ready for landing as soon as possible to get to see her family again finally.

-

"Y/n! Finally, look at you! So strong and beautiful, isn't she, Viggó?"

Your cheeks flush at the praise from the blonde haired woman enveloping you in a surprisingly warm embrace for a first meeting, your eyes darting back and forth between the older woman and your very much amused girlfriend, who's holding back laughter at your reaction.

"Mamma, let the girl breathe."

The woman pulls back, holding you in her grip still, hands on your arms looking over you with a never wavering smile before turning you towards the now standing next to you older gentleman, Glódís' father.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir."

Holding out your hand, you go for a handshake only to have it half smacked away with an amused chuckle and hugged tightly by the much stronger than you anticipated older man.

"None of that formality, we're a hugging family here."

"Do I get my hugs, now, too?"

Having to remind her parents she's there teasingly, she's quickly enveloped by her mother, who presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Sorry, darling, she's so much more beautiful in person, why did you not tell us this?"

"Mamma, don't overwhelm the poor girl, she's about to combust."

"Magnea, dear, she's just met us, save the compliments for later."

Her dad chuckles, arm still around your shoulder squeezing you with a force only the excitedness of a dad meeting a new friend can.

"Yes, well, we're both very happy to have you here at home, now we have so much to do, let's get you both back to Kópavogur so you can rest up in time for it. We have so much to discuss."

----

And, lord, discuss they did.

Everything from your life in Germany right now down to every little adventure you had as a ranch owner's daughter.

Every horse you ever rode, every animal you cared for, everything you did as kid, they loved hearing about it. If it wasn't for the curious wonderment in their eyes, it would've felt like an interrogation.

All your girlfriend did was sit back, smiling behind every sip of her drink the whole time, more than happy to let you do the talking for once.

Her parents knew what she did already, they've seen her life, watched her games, it was nice to have someone take over for a while.

Of course, she didn't escape all of it, but she was letting you take the brunt of it for most of the trip, occasionally nudging her parents away from you for a little while to let you breathe.

Not that you minded any of it.

They were intense.

Hoo boy were they intense.

But it was nice and you enjoyed the feeling. Not that your own parents don't ask and talk to you, but it's different coming from people who aren't traditional southern farmers.

Your parents, albeit proud of how far you've come, don't quite find the excitement in your life that Glódís' parents do, and you find yourself appreciating that more than you want to admit.

This time around, though, it's less about your life growing up.

A lot about your national team games, a heck of a lot about the time you've spent with Glódís and more catchups from the last time about six months ago when you'd seen them in Munich.

It's just as the sun starts cresting back over the opposite end of the skyline when you realise you'd been talking for a good four hours at least.

From going to get food and some fresh groceries, to hanging out with Viggó while Glódís and Magnea went to go find coffee for the lot of you, which your aching tired body was practically begging for by the time the sun fully sets and the pair return.

Given how cold it is out, your girlfriend finds herself missing your warmth and eventually pulls you away from the pair long enough to tuck herself into your side, much to your amusement, given how you'd figured she'd be the one holding your shivering self, again, much to your surprise.

You grow up in one of the hottest places in the US and here you are taking the cold in one of the coldest countries on the planet like you were on a holiday in Ibiza.

Of which, if you looked down long enough at the red head who grew up in said cold climate (which Glódís would argue isn't even the coldest part of iceland, far from it) , you'd see the annoyed tick in her eye as she shivers her way under your jacket, gotten far too used to the mediocre temperatures in Germany.

The walk for the most part is quieter than the initial part of the day, both you and the other couple enjoying the sights of the night side of Reykjavik.

It takes until you hear and feel the constant yawns from the woman tucked into you that you finally mention that you should head back to the house for rest, given how little sleep the older woman had before you'd left.

She half protests, having been enjoying the stroll, but then she yawns again, and your amused smirk down at her makes her roll her eyes and concede, her parents leading you back to where you'd first started the walk.

On the drive back home, a couple things catch your attention, despite your eyes fighting to shut tight for the night wrapped up in the warmth of the a/c in the car and Glódís dead asleep on your shoulder on the way home.

One, there's a lot of city activity for... you check your watch with a soft expression of surprise.. six pm.

Two, driving slowly along a high pedestrian area, something out the window catches your eye quickly, feeling a soft giddy excitement you haven't felt since you'd first come to Germany and found the horses on the farm just next to where you were currently living on the outskirts of Munich.

Trotting happily along the snow ridden paths, a fluffy white Icelandic horse, strong and beautiful in it's journey. Beside it, another one, a deep brown in colour and attached to the rest of it.

Decorative reigns and a sleigh, designed in time for the Christmas holidays, and sat in said sleigh, a happily giggling couple gazing around at the slow falling snow that had begun about half an hour into your drive back home.

It gives you an idea.

----

You awake to an alarm you hadn't even realised you'd set on your phone, still not used to the limited daylight hours, instead of the creeping sunlight through the curtains, you can still see the vague flashing of Christmas lights outside the bedroom window.

Tucked into your side, your love groans softly, tugging you closer to her in an attempt at sheltering herself from the blaring notification going off on your side of the bed.

Finally, with bleary eyes, you attack the phone with enough hand that it stops ringing and you glance at the clock.

"9:00"

In a graceful attempt at trying to get your brain cells to communicate, you think it's nine pm with how dark it is out still and ignore the alarm you'd set before bed.

Within ten minutes, there's a soft peak of glare attacking the white snow out front of the house that sparkles up through the gaps in the blinds.

A soft mumble of, "You didn't close them all the way." huffed into the skin of your jawline as she presses tired kisses against your skin.

Finally, you turn and pull yourself close enough to the blinds to close them fully, a hand drags you back into the oven warmth of the blankets, curling into your chest once more, happily taking a few more minutes of sleep.

Then, a soft knock at the bedroom door awakens you again, this time to nearly full sunlight and a head of blonde hair poking in past the frame to your affirmation to come in.

Magnea smiles softly, shaking her head at the woman buried under ten layers of blankets barely visible to the outside world, and then your half of the bed half empty of said blankets and your form curled around the wrapped up lump.

"You two best be getting up, I swear, Germany has done that woman's sleep schedule no good."

You chuckle, half asleep still, but relent, managing to wrench your sleep shirt away from the iron grip of the defender, wrapping her up a bit tighter to let her sleep longer and tug on a pair of pants to join her parents downstairs, wanting to discuss with them the idea that popped into your head last night.

"You mentioned Glódís loved horses as a child, right? Or the Icelandic ones, at least, am I right?"

Viggó nods, gesturing to a framed photo on the wall of a young strawberry blonde girl on the back of a saddled Icelandic horse, smiling gleefully, clinging to it's mane, face just about buried in it.

"Loved them, obsessed with them. We were convinced she'd become a farmer when she grew up but, well, football became an interest at a slightly older age than then. Why do you ask?"

"I think I know what I wanna do for the... you know."

Viggó slowly nods, a raised brow in your direction.

"You know I love horses myself so I figured this might work out perfectly for us. A Christmas sleigh ride. Maybe coordinated with dinner and well... a proposal."

Nodding thoughtfully, Magnea looks to her husband for a few moments and then grins.

"That sounds wonderful, she'll love it. She'd marry you no matter where but she'll definitely love this more than anything."

Humming, you take a sip of the coffee that Viggó sits down in front of you with a thank you and a grateful smile.

"I know we discussed the dinner by the coast but I just fell in love with those horses when I saw them last night, plus seeing those people, it just reminded me so much of us and-"

Soft, slow padding footsteps down the steps interrupt your sentence and your head perks up to watch the doorway, a tired looking Glódís wandering into the kitchen and you pass her your cup with a small smile and kiss to the cheek, knowing she preferred a slightly cooler coffee than straight from the pot.

"Good morning, Prinsessa."

There's a soft teasing in Magnea's voice, though it goes mostly ignored by her daughter bar the small amused eye roll.

"I'm so used to Germany now, my sleep schedule, my cold tolerance. I need to come back to Iceland before I retire, I swear."

"Sounds good to us."

A small chuckle and Viggó clinks his mug with his wife's.

You chuckle along with them.

"Considering I'm the American here, I genuinely don't understand how I have the better tolerance for the cold than you right now. I grew up in Texas, woman."

"Shush."

Poking your tongue out at her, you stand up to move towards the coffee pot, helping yourself to another cup, setting another brew on knowing this wouldn't be the last one of the morning before you all left to your business for the day.

Letting silence take over the room, you slowly drink the freshly poured beverage in your hand before it's sneakily snagged by the other woman, already having finished your previous coffee for you as is.

Luckily, you don't mind sharing your morning coffee with her if it means you get to see the cheeky, grateful smile on her face, and you get to receive the sweet peck she gives you afterward.

Her body slots against yours easily, cuddling into your side as she browses her Instagram while you glance over the local paper that's been sat on the bench since yesterday morning.

You haven't quite mastered the language, but you know enough to get by whilst going over the various little bits and pieces of the latest news in Kópavogur and Reykjavik.

The warmth in the moment has you melting into the domesticity and you find your heart racing a little as you glance down at the no longer phone occupied woman, instead noticing she's watching you.

Her eyes watching your expression, a cute little focused look on your face as you glance over the wording on the page.

The twinkle in your eye as you put each word together on the page with connection and context.

She loves how much effort you put into life with her.

Every little thing, from the language she grew up speaking to the way she enjoys her coffee to the exact temperature she takes her showers. You're unbelievably sweet to her, and she loves every bit of you for it.

Feeling her eyes on you, you turn your head in her direction with a soft smile.

"You 'kay, darlin'?"

Even that makes her heart flutter. She thought she might be used to it by now. The pet names, the little drawl. But no, here she is blushing at the littlest flirt from you.

She hums, pressing a soft peck to your lips nodding.

"M'fine. Perfect. Just thinking."

You shift, arms wrapping around the other woman's waste and she sets her cup down to not accidentally spill any.

"Thinkin' about?"

"You."

Raising a brow down at her, your hands shift to rest on her lower back, fingers intertwining to rest there.

"Yeah?"

She hums, straightening the no existent collar of your sleep shirt.

"And the fact you've been sneaky planning something for today with those two, and you've yet to tell me what we're even doing."

Her head nods to the pair sitting drinking and reading their papers at the kitchen table.

"Well that's the point ain't it? It's a secret, can't tell you til we get there."

A soft protest leaves her lips.

"But I don't even know what I need for today. What clothes do I wear? Do I need extras?"

Chuckling, you silence with another soft kiss.

"Warm clothes, preferably something comfy to walk around the snow in."

"That gives me nothing."

The soft whine from her lips elicits another chuckle from you.

"Like I said, you'll find out when we get there. Just relax for the day, we don't have anything to do for a good couple hours."

"But it'll be dark out then."

"That's fine, we can do something in the mean time if you want?"

"Do we have anything else planned?"

"Nope, whatever you wanna do."

There's a soft twitch in her brow that you know anywhere, that's her tell-tale sign to holding back laughter.

Sighing, you shake your head at her response.

"Not that. Cheeky. Good lord, your parents are right there, hush with that."

The response only makes her actually laugh.

----

It seems Glódís only wanted to spend the day with just you, thus allowing her parents to do what you needed from them and make a couple phone calls without suspicion.

Thus, you'd both taken a long walk into the city to look at some of the day shops.

You note she's eyeing up the local arcades and decide to steer her that way, cashing in some cards and spend the extra time racing between machines, both of your competitive streaks running free.

Between bragging about being able to get more kills than you in the zombie shooter, and you bragging about having better shooting skills in the basketball game, there's plenty of laughter between you and your heart skips several beats throughout the day watching her eyes light up with every win.

By the time you leave the arcade, it's with a couple arm fulls of prizes (mainly you carrying the majority at your own insistence, your girlfriend knowing you'd only stubbornly attempt to carry the lot if she argued any more).

The walk back to her childhood home takes you until well past sunset and exactly around the time her parents send you a message that you need to be back soon.

As soon as you both stumble in the door, much to the amusement of a patiently waiting Viggó and Magnea, both sat in the kitchen chatting quietly, you urge her to run the stuff upstairs and you stop by the kitchen to quickly go over everything once more.

You head upstairs, making sure to grab an extra jacket to bundle the woman and yourself up a bit more for the night weather.

"So do I get to-"

"Nope."

"Aw come on."

She's just about pleading.

"You'll like this one, promise."

The whole way there, she's chatting animatedly about some of the funnier moments of the day with her parents, so she doesn't put as much thought into the location of where the car stops as she would have.

There's a small lit pathway that leads between and over a small hill that she almost thinks she recognises but it's only when you encourage her to head up the hill first, sharing a quick grateful hug with her parents and them wishing everything goes to plan giddily.

The crest of the hill gives way to the sound of consistent crunches in the snow by occasional other people walking the area, mainly couples arm in arm, quietly chattering between them, soft giggles and huffed chuckles.

And then the occasional jingle of something she recognises to be Christmas style bells and she only realises what they belong to when she turns the corner at the bottom of the hill once again, you following closely with a small nervous smile and a new weight in your inner jacket pocket.

It's when she freezes, turning to you with a small smile like she's holding it back a little.

"Did you book us a sleigh ride?"

Nodding, you gesture towards the attendant at a small table by the building where there's a currently stationary sleigh, one horse being reigned up and the other being walked back into the stables away from the sight.

"Quite possibly. Go check it out."

She absolutely melts at the way you shuffle kick some snow, the bashful smile peaking out of your lips.

Walking back to you, she drags you in by the hand for a sweet kiss.

"I love it, let's go."

All but dragging you over to the attendant, you give them your name, and they nod, directing you over to the sleigh that's just being reigned up as you approach.

"But wait, where are Mamma and Pabbi, are they coming?"

"They had to book for later but there's a little extra after, now come on."

Easily guided up into the sleigh and handed a couple extra blankets, the horse moves out towards the tree surrounded path in the snow.

The Icelanders face is lit up the whole time, curled up into your side enjoying the ride, but gets confused when an attendant guides the sleigh off the usual path and down another less travelled path, sending you both a small wink and you do your best subtle thumbs up.

"Just that little extra I was talking about."

The path is lit nicely, and diverts down a small hillside through some trees, opening up beside a small frozen over lake with a small litup almost campsite area, chairs, tables and fairy lights strung up between the area.

The sleigh stops, the horse snorting, and huffing at the attendants waving hand to slow the sleigh.

Jumping out, you encourage the woman down into your arms,

The area is big enough that the attendant simply smiles, waves you both off and you trek down to a small table lit with the warmth of a couple campfires dotting the area, a single candle and some warm food sitting in thermos waiting for you.

A thick waterproof mat covered with a blanket lines the ground near the campfire, the warmth crackling and popping around the area.

Glódís watches in awe as you take her hand to sit her down at the table.

"Dinner is served, beautiful."

"This is so- how?"

Smiling knowingly, you nod towards the guy standing attending the horse back at the path.

"I had a favour to call in from the last time I was here. Remember that time I took off for couple hours those seven months ago for a couple days?"

Nodding slowly, she eyes you suspiciously, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I was helping him get a newly adult horse trained up for the rides. I'd been missing home a bit, so I figured someone would need some ranch-hand experience somewhere."

Melting at the starry look in your eye as you eye up the majestic creature currently huffing and puffing as the guy gets into the sled and leads it back up the path, she grabs your cheeks with her gloved hands.

"I love you so fucking much."

You're smiling back at her so much it almost hurts, and you lean in pressing your now slightly cold lips to her mostly freezing ones, and she hums, taking in your warmth.

"Love you, too, Dream girl."

Finally, you sit down across from her at the table, popping open the steaming pots to see what looks to be some really nice stews and a flask of tea.

Humming softly at the warmth, you both tuck in, the woman across from looking at you with a soft sparkle in her eye, now, almost like she knows somethings up.

It's mildly spicy, and brings a warmth to your chest as you have a few spoonfuls.

Glódís practically melts into her chair across from you.

"I missed this. Stew in the winter is so good."

Smiling at her as you take another bite and swallow.

"Remind me to cook more when we get home."

It's not long before you're both sitting in silence and cuddled up on the blanket looking out at the slowly falling snowflakes now starting to blow in for the night.

She's curled up into your chest, just about falling asleep as she murmurs occasionally, chatting about little things.

Shifting slightly, a small crease in her brow as she almost frowns at the feeling a small object poking her through your jacket.

When you notice what's happening you nudge her to sit up.

"What's in your pocket ba-"

"Another part of this evening, actually."

Sitting back on your ankles, you reach into the inner pocket, pulling out a small object wrapped up in a square folded cloth, fiddling but not quite revealing the precious metal beneath the soft fabric.

"Gló, since the day we met, there's been something about you, something intriguing, something brilliant, something that drew me right in and had me obsessed with you. Admired you. Saw something in you that pulled every string in my heart just bein' near you."

Your girlfriend sits up, hair catching snowflakes as they fall, mild confusion crossing her expression as you talk, though it only takes seconds for her expression to melt and she's smiling up at you as you speak.

"You gave me something other than business as usual to look forward to. This beautiful, powerful, caring, strong woman leading the team with all the love and support in the world. You had me hook line n sinker. I had no chance."

"Even now, it's moments like these, I spend every moment thinkin' about how lucky I am to have you. In the quiet, peaceful moments away from the hectic life we live. I've spent my whole life chasing victory, chasin' the big life, chasin' dreams my parents or myself never thought possible because I was just a plain ol' ranch hand to be the moment I was born."

Her hand grips your non occupied one, fingers squeezing comfortingly around yours.

"Here you are, I found one of the best things to happen to me since that scout in Houston. You mean everything to me and you've given me everything I was never able to ask for out loud."

There's a shine to your eyes as you sniffle slightly.

"You make me feel so small yet so damn big. Small because I'm constantly in awe of everything you do, Big because you build me up in ways I'll never be able to wholly thank you for, you make me feel like I'm able to do anything with you there, which is why, here and now, I'm asking one thing aloud."

Shifting to one knee, letting the sides of the cotton cloth fall away from the top of the ring held between your thumb and forefinger, tears wavering on the very cusp of falling.

Looking into her deep brown eyes, sparkling in the fire light, tears brimming her own.

"You wonderful, beautiful, sweet, strong, caring, gorgeous, intelligent, fearless, breathtaking- did I mention beautiful?"

She giggles but it's half muffled as her hand moves to cover her mouth in disbelief and tears do start falling down her cold kissed cheeks.

"The Love of my life. Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir, will you let me spend the rest of our lives loving you, caring for you the way you have been for me, will you marry me?"

Waiting with baited breath, though it feels like forever, it's a second and she jumps on you, hands cupping your face to kiss you, falling back onto the blanket.

The air is sucked from your lungs, and you kiss her back just as hard, though the growing grins on both of your faces makes it hard to keep your composure.

She barely pulls back enough to give you a verbal answer, her hands tangling in your hair under your beanie.

"God yes. Hell to the yes. A thousand times over. Every life time, yes."

Your hand still clutches the ring like your life depends on it, afraid to lose it in the small tussle.

Forehead pressed tightly to hers, sucking in a shaky breath as you press the ring around and onto her finger, the platinum shining brightly, encrusted with gems along to top of the band, one sat peeking out at the top brighter than the others.

It's beautiful, it shines under the moonlight, sparkling between the two of you.

It's the best thing you've done so far.

It's perfect because you've spent so much time waiting for this and it's finally here.

It's perfect because it's Glódís.

And you wouldn't change a damn thing.

The kiss she pulls you in for as you both fall back onto the blanket, giggles, more tears and the warmth of the surrounding campfires, says all you need to know

She wouldn't change a thing either.

You, her favourite charmer.

You, the love of her life, the one who swept her off her feet and now hold her so close.

And you feel it in every kiss from that point on, too.

[creature-wizard]

I'm gonna post my controversial thoughts about Jesus 'cause they've been stewing in my head for awhile and I gotta let 'em out.

This isn't going to be me just hating on Jesus for the sake of it. However, it's also challenging to orthodox views of who Jesus is, and I can't say it's all going to be flattering.

Read ahead or don't; but if you do, don't say I didn't warn you.

So. My controversial thoughts on Jesus basically come down to: I think he was a complicated human being, living in a complicated time, responding in a way that made sense to him.

I've read the Gospels with particular attention on Jesus's character, and... in terms of his overall personality and behavior? He reminds me a lot of self-styled spiritual leaders who have a lot of wonderful high-minded ideals where some things are concerned, but are also kinda up their own asses at times. Like the way his followers will ask him some normal question or respond to something in a completely normal way, and he treats them like they're stupid because they didn't manage to clock his quite frankly incomprehensible headspace.

Of course, the narratives are on Jesus's side, so we're supposed to believe that if these guys had just read the Scriptures a little better or had been in a holier headspace, they'd have immediately figured it out. But lots of life experience has taught me that this isn't how anything works. I've also met people who act like this, and I have learned that they are often best avoided, and never to be taken seriously as spiritual teachers.

Also, some of the stuff the Gospels have him doing and saying suggest to me that he may have been prone to mood swings. Like he says a lot of great things about love and compassion! But then he also says a lot of stuff that's just... kinda mean, if not vindictive. Which, that's a characteristic shared by a lot of spiritual leader types that I have come to learn are not the kind of people you want to get too close to.

When I look past the miracles (a number of which are very easily demonstrated to have been embellishments of somewhat less glamorous historical fact), the overall picture I see is someone who had the same kind of charisma as a lot of the people I research. These people also want you to believe that their odd, erratic, and even mean behavior is a manifestation of their divine or enlightened nature.

Do I think this means Jesus was incapable of having good opinions, or that he never said anything worth our attention? No, absolutely not! Again, I think he was a guy, living in a time, doing his best. Sometimes he was a dick, sometimes he threw out bangers. I think love and compassion are supremely important, but I also don't think he has a monopoly on it. (I also think Christianity thinking it knows love better than anyone else and believing it can provide the best access to it is kind of an ego issue.)

And of course, I don't expect to talk anyone out of being Christian with this, nor is that even my aim. These are just my personal opinions based on my observations, that's all.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

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Chapter 12

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: consumption of alcohol, Reader gets drunk, mention of self-harm (wanting to bite thumb. Again.), thinking of self-harm (Reader wants to make herself pass out by smashing her head against something), probably near panic attack, one (1) tiny undescriptive vomit scene, kind of implied death threat/threat(s) in general (?),  slight obsessive and possessive themes, overall slight yandere themes near the end, toxic relationship/marriage, underage drinking (only a sip but still), Lant being the POS he always have been. Please tell me if I missed any.

Not exactly NSFW warnings: encouraging implied non-con

NOTE: if he’s completely out of character, just pretend Dion’s sleep deprivation is finally catching up to him.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICW, ART, ETC.) DNI

= = =  

The walk to the dining room feels like a death march. Every step makes your legs grow weaker, knees throbbing harder. The echo of your heels sets your nerves on fire, imagining it getting louder and louder as you run away, until you reach the front doors. But, of course, you would only get lost in this maze-like structure. And if you somehow manage to reach the front door, you would be killed on sight.

That much is obvious. 

The truth of the fact only makes you crave to bite your thumb. Almost giving in until you see Hana shake her head no once she notices.

You wish you were back in the room with Anne and Charis. To hear them gush over ‘girly’ things while Hana scolds them for not doing their job. 

You wish you were home. 

Your mouth is shut tight, shoulders stiff as your head hangs low. Like you were being led to your own execution, Lant giving the order as Dion carried it out. You wouldn’t be surprised if that were to happen, someday. Sooner rather than later.

The black lace at the hem of your dress covers your shoes, barely grazing the floor. The cold air nips at your exposed skin. Your bun is starting to feel a little too tight, pulling at your scalp despite Hana being extremely careful with it. The neck piece has been choking you, but now it’s suffocating. 

You feel light headed. 

You’re on the verge of panting, flight-or-fight response knocking on the door of your sanity. Legs stiff, begging you to stay in place before your heart gives out from the stress, you continue on despite the way your head starts to feel dizzy. No, you think, no.

If you faint, it’s all over. If you faint, Dion may become brasher with his advances on making you as crazy as he is. If you faint, Lant might decide you’re not worth the trouble and give you to someone as a toy. 

Or hand you back to your parents in a bodybag. 

“-Lady? My Lady?” 

“Huh? Wh-what?” Owlishly blinking, your thoughts are driven away at the sound of Hana’s ‘concerned’ voice - you look ahead of you. A single door.* Wait.

No. 

This - this -

“This isn’t the dining room, is it, Hana?” It comes out more as a statement rather than a question, voice low as your entire body becomes rigid. This looks more like a personal room. Important.

“...yes, my Lady. It’s where they hold the grand feast.” You think there’s slight guilt in her voice, and the thought does little to ease your nerves. Well, you think, it’s not like she told you you were going to the dining room. Your idiotic self just assumed so. And perhaps, out of pity, Hana didn’t tell you, giving you the illusion of being in an open space and not in a closed off room.

…yeah, God really does hate me. 

Then you remember that you shouldn't know what the grand feast was - thus, you ask her about it a moment later. 

“It takes place once a month. Each month, the siblings are evaluated based on their accomplishments for the month - there are three top spots. Whoever does the best are evaluated highly, making them the most useful to the Agriche family.”

The most useful to Lant.

She continues, “young master Dion is always at first place, Lady Roxana second, and the third place tends to be a different sibling every other month. I heard a rumor that young Master Fontaine may be at third spot this month.” Once she’s done giving you information about it, you nod your head, hiding the fact you already knew that with a small gulp.

If anyone were to find out you did, your head may roll off your shoulders. After they question you, of course. Torture you too.

“I see. Interesting. I didn’t expect any less from those two,” you lifelessly chuckle out, ignoring the odd look Hana gives you. She doesn’t question you, instead knocking on the door before opening it after Lant gave permission loud enough to be heard from the other side. You can hear the pulsation of both your blood and heart in your ears. It almost drowns out all other noises. 

Lant is the first one to make eye contact with you. They remind you of a snake, already squeezing you alive as his presence wraps itself around your body, restricting movement and threatening to choke you. You can barely breathe, lungs working overtime just to take in oxygen.

You feel faint. 

“Congratulations on joining the Agrich family,” your twisted father-in-law begins as he stands in front of the window, “I heard you’re adapting rather quickly. An accomplishment, all things considered.” His grin spells egotistical as his hands remain in his pockets. 

Go kill yourself.

Too much of a coward to say your true thoughts, you give a wavering smile. Keep your head upright. Straighten your back. Feed into his ego. 

“Thank you, father-in-law,” you bow, wanting to smash your head against the floor so hard you’ll pass out. “It’s truly an honor to be here - both as your daughter-in-law and as Dion’s wife.” When you lift your head your smile becomes pretty, just as you practiced. But the corners of your lips threaten to fall into a frown. It becomes more painful as the seconds pass. 

This alone reminds you that you are not Roxana. Cunning and manipulative - none of which describe you. You’re nothing more than a rabbit about to be torn into by a hungry pack of wolves. 

Your skin crawls when he smiles.

“And you already know your place - I knew I made a good choice in choosing you.” His smugness only adds fuel to your fear along with finding the idiotic fool even more detestable. However, Lant is the one in power here, not you. You have to play under and by his rules. 

Even if it means bearing a child you might not be able to love. 

Freezing fear starts to collide with heated hatred the longer he fuels his self-conceit, marveling over his ‘brilliant’ idea. Yet when he smiles at you again, eyeing you, gaze scanning your entire body, it makes your hairs stand on edge. Thankfully, there is no lust in those eyes - rather, pending judgement. 

He nods his head in approval as your husband keeps his attention on his father. Quickly glancing over at him in his seat, you notice that his eyes don’t hold indifference as they did in the manhwa - no, rather, it was -

“Come sit down; our introduction as true in-laws is long overdue.” At his command you take a seat across from Dion as Lant sits at the end of the table near the window. Any thoughts about Dion are driven away as Lant continues to talk. 

His voice makes your head hurt and your ears bleed. 

“You were one out of three girls I had my sights on. The first one was too haughty and the second wasn’t even allowed to attend public events more often than not - it was hard to gather any information on her.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a sip. 

Three girls…? I didn’t know about this… wait, why is he even telling me this -

Oh. 

He’s saying I’m replaceable. 

The realization hits you like a truck, leaving you a mental mess as you keep - attempt to - appearance. Your hands shake almost violently in their place under the table and on your lap. Sweat starts to pool on the back of your neck as you pat your temples down with a napkin the second the death flag turns his attention to Dion, your husband staring right back - after he takes a glance at you, and you shudder at the look he gives.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking and you’re not sure if you want to. After all, ignorance is bliss. 

And it’s that same ignorance that prevents you from seeing how those scarlet eyes soften ever so slightly, unaware of how beautiful he finds you. Well, even if you did, you would just say it’s part of your imagination. 

The idea of someone like Dion harboring any romantic feelings towards anyone - yourself included - nearly makes you sick to your stomach. So, therefore, your truth must be the right one.

Dion switches his attention to his father when he asks him a question.

“So, son? How well is her training going?” The bastard really did see you as nothing other than a pet. The metaphorical leash around your neck tightens. You can basically feel Lant tugging at it. 

You wait with baited breath for your husband’s answer - you weren’t exactly… ‘obedient.’ Avoiding him, refusing and rejecting his advances that took place on the second day, ‘talked back’ during the thumb incident, pretending to be asleep the second you heard and felt the bed creak when he woke up. Unable to act like the ‘perfect wife,’ shivering in fear even when he’s not doing anything, just laying with his back towards you on your shared bed. 

Wait, he’s a sadist, you tell yourself. But he’s also a perverted creep. Wanting to touch you despite knowing your dislike for it and -

“She wouldn’t be here if you didn’t approve of her,” is his answer as he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn’t even bother to make eye contact with him while answering. “She would be dead.” 

Your mind shatters as your heart drops. You’re forced to bite your lip just so you wouldn’t become hysterical with tears. You already expected this interaction to flow in a similar direction.

Even so, it doesn’t stop your anxiety.

So, he really was only keeping you to study how a sane mind breaks. Little by little, he’ll observe you until the day you either become like them or kill yourself. And then what?

The answer is unknown to you. But did they already have it?

Of course they do.

They’re Agriches.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Lant raises an eyebrow only for his face to draw into a disgusting grin. “That’s an interesting answer. But yes, you’re right; the girl wouldn’t be breathing right now if she disappointed me.” They’re talking as though you were not in the same room as them.

No-one has touched their food, only the wine that was already served. You take a sip yourself, holding back the grimace from the bitterness. They don’t notice, lost in their own little world. But the topic - you - doesn’t change. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to wed you off - but I’m glad I did now. The younger the better, right?” Chuckling out the last part, your father-in-law leans over to pat your husband’s shoulder and you swore that he twitched just a bit.

The stress must be making you see things. 

Another sip as you slowly start to mentally check out. If you don’t you really will lose your mind and sanity. After considering it, you start to poke at your food before cutting into the steak and taking a bite. Juicy and delicious, the flavor only reminds you of just how rich this family is - how easy it was for them to handcuff you with a shiny little pretty ring.

Neither you nor your husband wear the damn thing, the cursed item still in the deep blue box in some drawer. The memory of it makes you take another bite, hoping that you’ll be distracted by the delicious meal. 

The pieces threaten to choke you as they slide down your throat, taking another swing of the bitter, red wine to wash it down. You don’t even notice that Dion was starting to eat as well, leaving Lant the only one who wasn’t. 

Drinking some more wine to overthrow the sour taste of vomit as you throw up in your mouth, quickly swallowing it down before it threatens to overflow and drip down your chin. Holding back the gag reflex caused by the repulsive taste, a buzz is starting to fill your head. It’s barely there, faint in the background, your hand wrapping around the stem, swishing the liquid around, studying the color through the transparent glass.

A rich red.

The wine you drank on your eighteenth birthday was sweeter than this. You also didn’t drink much of it, preferring the tea your father gifted you. The memory of placing it on the table, only for Zac to taste the alcoholic drink only for you to scold you as soon as noticed it surfacing. 

The memory contracts the current situation so vastly. It only reminds you of how fucked you are, toes curling in your heels. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

Blinking, you continue on your journey to finish the drink, keeping your mouth busy before you start to beg and beg and beg for the two men to release you peacefully. 

Suddenly remembering there was a plate of flavorful food in front of you, you resume eating it.

Your fork and knife clink against the plate, sound echoing in your ears as the two male voices drown out in the background. Stabbing the steak with your fork, you fail to notice your husband taking a quick glance at you only for his eyes to land on his father when he addresses him. 

Another sip of wine. 

Another bite of meat.

The more you eat the more you drink. 

The buzz in your head is only starting to get stronger, accepting a refill a servant offers. While he pours it, the voices of Dion and Lant starts to become distant, their figures slightly blurry but not by much. Lant doesn’t look your away the entire time, praising his son about a mission he completed not too long ago. Since when did the topic change?

It’s becoming harder not to down the drink, vaguely aware of the confused and concerned look from the servant. However, he doesn’t deny you a second refill much less than a third, keeping an eye on your behavior, worried you’ll act out of line. It wasn’t for your safety but rather his - there’s no telling if your father-in-law would blame him for your drunk behavior. And yet, despite knowing this, the worried man still doesn’t deny you the drink that’s only making the buzz get stronger, cheeks feeling hot and a feeling of relaxation you oh so needed. 

It’s a miracle you’re able to lift your fork effortlessly and not choke on your meal. 

Their conversation is one-sided, with Lant doing all the talking as Dion listens. Quickly, your eye flicks upwards and across from you, curiosity biting at your fuzzy mind. It’s almost becoming a need to see your husband’s stoic face, slight amusement at the thought of him not caring and maybe even resentful towards and for his father.

Only to be met with scarlet.

How pretty.

Your head tilts, pondering why you’re so interesting to him - always catching his attention these days. Yet before being wed to him, you were nothing more than a plain and common flower in the garden; there, playing your role but unnoticeable. Only noticed once in a while when he had to turn his head. 

The more you think about it, the more you question it -was it really only to study how your sanity dwindles?

He confuses you.

He scares you.

He annoys you. 

Every emotion he stirs from within you is never positive. You wonder just how aware he is of that fact. If he enjoyed it, even. 

You blink once. Twice. A third time brings out a small smile - the alcohol has finally run its course, your judgment impaired, nothing but confusement and pity forming for the horrible man. 

Does he know you’re planning on asking Roxana for help to divorce him? To escape from this torturous place and start a new life, not wanting to drag your family further into this mess?

Does he know his ‘kindness’ is only driving you away? That you’re so sure he’s only keeping you around willingly to see how you bend and break?

Does he know your ‘affection’ will never be earned if some small part of him is also hoping for that?

The longer you smile the more his eyes widen, surprised you were able to show him a genuine one. However, neither of you keep it up for long, quickly returning to your practice and his default expressions. Lant doesn’t notice this, too busy commanding the servant for a light once everyone is done eating. 

The older man puffs it before talking once more. The room starts to smell like heavy smoke. Thanks to your drunkenness it doesn’t bother you as much.

“But yes, that’s what I’m planning. Not anytime soon but in a few months. I expect you to help prepare the preparations before taking care of the vermin once everything is said and done.” His cocky demeanor is gone, serious as he talks about…

Actually, what is he talking about?

Does it involve you? If not, why bother having you here with him? To use it as a scare tactic? If so, it’s not like he needed one - you’re already terrified of them as is. 

Feeling eyes on you you turn your head, making eye contact with Lant. taking in your appearance, he grins, turning to Dion next. You don’t understand what he means with his next words directed at your husband.

“Girls like her are easier when drunk. It’s best to get busy with her already - to get her used to it. We’ll put her on contraceptives for now until it’s time.” Your drunken state entertains him and you’re not sure why. 

However, your (e/c) eyes travel to Dion, curious as to why his grip on his fork tightens just the slightest bit. Eyes only narrowing for a split second, a faint scowl across his handsome features. It quickly goes away before Lant notices, the man chuckling at his own ‘advice.’ 

Oh well, you think. Your glass is almost empty, accepting your last refill for the night. The bitterness doesn’t go away. You only got used to it.

Will it be the same for you towards your husband? 

“While it’s amusing to see her get drunk, it’s time to cut her off.” Lant gestures to the servant to put the bottles of wine away after getting his own refill. The dinner is about to come to an end, it seems. 

At the ring of a bell two maids come in, cleaning up. You take one last swing before they take away the glass from your loose grip. Head softly rocking back and forth, the buzz and warmth of your person starts to make your eyes feel heavy. 

When was the last time you got drunk? Probably in your previous life, right before -

“Let’s call it a day.” Both daughter-in-law and son look at the oldest with the highest authority in the room. Facial muscles relaxing, one could almost confuse him for a normal man. 

“You’re both dismissed.”

- - -

You can barely walk on your own two feet. Supporting yourself on Dion’s arm, your own looped with his, your vision slightly blurry. Had you been fully aware of your surroundings, you would have noticed the small shudders he would give each and every time your head leans into his arm. 

Meanwhile, your husband is having a dilemma. He should carry you. You would weigh nothing to him, and it would be faster. Maybe too fast. 

Dion has no intention of sleeping with you in your state, the thought distasteful. But the suggestion from Lant was only to be expected, his morals worse than the majority of the family’s. It wasn’t a surprise but it doesn’t make it any less worse.

Annoyed doesn’t even begin to describe his feelings towards it. His face has been looking rather punchable lately and -

His thoughts are disrupted as you trip on your own feet, and had you not been holding onto him, your face would have kissed the floor. After a blink you look up at him and drunkenly giggle. You reek of alcohol.

In spite of that, he can’t help but to find you cute - his eye twitches. He wasn’t raised this way. He didn’t desire much if anything, going along with the flow. Even after seeing Roxana cry for the first and only time, the void that is him never truly got filled. 

He’s a horrible person. He knows that much, hands stained red and sins etched into his bones, hell already reserving a spot for him. The day he dies will be the day he’ll willingly walk into the fiery pits of hell, expecting to see the rest of his family there. 

He’s startled when you nuzzle your head into his arm, looking up at him with such dreamy eyes. But there’s also a hint of something close to resentment, not fully clear as it’s also mixed with something else he can’t put his finger on.  

Like you know him. 

But it’s not as clear as his own gaze, it’s not as certain whenever he gives into temptation and looks at you. You sigh out his name, breathless but oh so familiar, like you’ve known him for years and not months. 

Then, it hits him - you know little bits and pieces about him, but not enough to see the full picture. Aware that something is off despite only meeting him a handful of times. 

That night where your guard was down was already pointing in that direction, but now it’s confirmed. There is no fear inside him at the realization, but rather he grins - how long until you come to accept and acknowledge his feelings? 

Or rather, will you be capable of that? To accept everything that is him - the sins, the crimes, the blood and sadistic tendencies that are unremovable from him. 

He finally decides to pick you up when you start to doze off, your head fuzzy and judgement impaired. Maybe he’ll keep this part of the night a secret - it would only serve to drive you away further. Dion thinks about taking a bite when you snuggle into his chest, yawning as you do so. 

But then your eyes open again, looking up at him as you say -

“You’re horrible.”

He’s a horrible husband. For finding your words amusing despite how honestly you say them. He can’t tell if he’s smirking or giving a rather ugly grin, all things considered. Obsession and possessiveness are both dangerous things. Combine the two together and add him to mix, it only makes Dion Agriche all the more detestable. 

Even more so when his grip on you tightens, unrelenting, not giving you any room to wiggle out of his grasp, the one and only time he’s able to hold you so close without his lovely wife overthinking his every action. Not that you do, sighing as your eyes flutter close, sleep finally taking over. You look so pretty in his arms and the urge to hide you away gets stronger. And had you opened those pretty eyes to look at your husband, you wouldn’t be able to deny that he’s absolutely obsessed and he’d rather die than let you go, scarlet eyes unblinking as he admires you. 

And perhaps that was for the best, the twenty-year-old male knowing it would only scare you off more. 

“That doesn’t and won’t change things, wife.”

Even so, it’s hard to ignore the small sting of your honesty.

===

Note: *in the manhwa  it looks like it’s just one door in chapter 4 when Roxana and Jeremy go to attend the great feast or whatever. I also don't know if it's his office or not.

tags: @tiny-mimi

[vigilante-3073]

Signs & Symptoms

Gregory House x Female Psychiatrist Reader

Summary: House notices some peculiar changes in his significant other that make him curious.

TW: Mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy symptoms, lab tests, marriage and abortion.

Y/N was sitting across from House at his desk as they ate lunch. They didn't get together at work very often, they were both department heads and their workloads kept them rather busy. Y/N was one of the chief psychiatrists who oversaw patients in the inpatient and outpatient mental health units. She mainly worked on children and adolescent mental health, but she also had patients on the adult mental health unit as well.

House's meal sat in front of him, he had barely touched it and seemed to be a bit distracted. He stared ahead, his eyes trained on his girlfriend's chest as she picked away at her food.

Y/N looked up and noticed that he wasn't eating, "Do you not like your food?" She questioned, setting her container on the edge of his desk.

"Your breasts are massive," House stated.

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head, "My breasts are the the same as they've always been," Y/N replied.

"Are they tender?" He asked.

"Greg, we're not talking about this right now," She said.

"Your period was late this month," He said.

Y/N moved to take another bite of her food, she hesitated with her fork hovering above her bowl, "How did you know that?" Y/N questioned.

"Your lady products don't actually disappear when you shove them to the bottom of the garbage can in the bathroom. You do know that, right?" He asked.

She dropped her fork into the bowl, "Being late one time doesn't mean that I'm pregnant," Y/N said.

"Doesn't mean that you're not either," He stated.

A nauseated look suddenly crossed her face, she placed the lid on top of her salad. Y/N picked up the container and leaned over, dropping it into the trash can beside his desk.

House looked between her and the garbage can, a smirk slowly appearing on his face as she took a sip of her water.

"You just got nauseous," He said.

Y/N shook her head, "They just gave me the wrong dressing... I need you to listen to me, House, I'm not pregnant," She said.

"Fine, you're not pregnant, I'll leave it alone... Want me to walk you back to your office?" He questioned.

"Sure," Y/N replied.

He stood up from his chair and moved around the desk, Y/N grabbed her purse and stood up. House stared at her before he quickly reached out and pushed on her breast.

"Ow, you ass," Y/N snapped, swatting his chest before covering her chest, "What the hell was that for?" She asked.

"Your breasts are tender," House stated.

Y/N scoffed, "I'll see you at home," She snapped.

"Let me take some blood, just to check," House said.

"No, you're not poking or pressing anything else on me. Let it go," She stated.

House watched her walk out of his office, he looked over at his desk and smirked when he realized she had left her water bottle. He grabbed a glove from his desk drawer, putting it over the top of her bottle before carrying it off to the lab.

...

Y/N looked up from her laptop when House walked into her office. She shook her head with a huff and returned her attention to the screen.

House reached into his blazer, pulling out a folded piece of paper and holding it out to her.

She glanced up at him, "What is this?" Y/N questioned.

"Results of a saliva test," House stated.

"You tested my saliva? How did you even-," She started, "You left your water bottle in my office," House said.

Y/N took the paper from his hand, unfolding it and reading over the results. She gulped, mouth suddenly feeling dry as she realized what the results meant.

"Mazel tov," House began, "Looks like I'm gonna be a daddy," House said.

Y/N folded up the paper and set it down on her desk, "I told you not to test me," She stated.

"You knew I wasn't going to listen," House replied.

"Are you okay with this?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

"Is it mine?" He questioned.

"Of course it's yours," She answered.

"Then yeah, I'm okay with it... Are you?" He questioned.

"I don't know," Y/N mumbled, sitting back in her chair.

"What if we get married? Would that help you make a decision?" House asked.

"You seriously want to get married?" Y/N questioned.

"No, but I'm gonna be there for you either way," He said.

Y/N huffed, "I really thought that I would be more excited," She said.

"That comes with time, right now it's just a crazy idea," House replied, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk. He bounced his cane on the floor between his knees, watching her as she stared off into space.

Y/N picked up the phone, dialing a number and lifting the handset to her ear. She waited a moment for the person to pick up, "Hey, can you meet me in my office?" She asked.

Y/N listened to the person on the other end of the line before she nodded, "Okay, see you in a bit," She said. Y/N hung up the phone and the room settled into a tense silence.

House had an idea of who she called, it was the person they would always call when issues arose. His suspicions were confirmed when Wilson entered her office a few minutes later.

The Oncologist looked between his two friends nervously, "Is everything okay?" He questioned.

"I'm pregnant," Y/N said.

"I would say congratulations, but the tense silence makes me wonder if we're excited or not," Wilson said.

"We don't know, guessing that's why she called you," House stated.

Wilson shifted on his feet, "How far along are you?" He asked.

"Takes at least 3-4 weeks to show up the saliva," House stated.

"Why would you-?" Wilson started before quickly turning his attention to House, "What the hell is wrong with you? You tested her without her knowing?" He questioned.

"I had a hunch and I was right," House shrugged.

"I already tore him a new one," Y/N said.

Wilson looked over at her, "We should start with a blood or urine test and an ultrasound after that. Then at least you know how much time you have if you decide not to continue with the pregnancy," Wilson said.

"Thank you for your help, Doctor, we would've been at a loss otherwise," House said sarcastically, Wilson shot him a look.

"Greg, stop," Y/N said softly. He sat back on the couch, bouncing his cane on the ground silently.

"I just want your opinion on this... You know me and you know House, do you think that we can do this?" Y/N asked.

"I have no doubt that you can do this. The question is whether or not you want to," Wilson said.

"Thank you for coming down," Y/N said.

"Feel free to call me if you need to talk, okay?" Wilson questioned, Y/N nodded.

He left the office and the eerie silence settled over them until House eventually returned to his office.

...

Y/N laid in her bed as she read from her book, she was six months pregnant and everything had been going incredibly well. Y/N had repurposed her home office into a nursery, filling the room with furniture, baby clothes, blankets and toys.

House stayed at her apartment almost every day, he had been attentive and supportive throughout the pregnancy. House was present at every appointment, he tracked the baby's measurements, heart rate and development each week. House even insisted on measuring Y/N's belly and taking her blood pressure to ensure that she was healthy as well.

They had found out the gender and Y/N was excited to discover that they were having a girl. House was right about his earlier comment, although having a baby seemed crazy when she first found out, things were beginning to fall into place. Y/N was ready to be a parent and she hoped that House felt the same way.

House made his way into the bedroom, Y/N remained focused on her book as he got into bed next to her. She looked over at him when she felt something light being set on her bump.

Y/N lifted the book, her eyes widening when she saw the small velvet ring box with a simple diamond ring tucked inside.

"House," She said softly.

"Will you marry me?" House questioned.

"You don't have to marry me, House. We talked about this," Y/N mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"I know, but I want to marry you," House said.

"Are you only doing this because of the baby?" Y/N asked, watching his expression closely.

"No," He stated.

Y/N looked back at the ring box, the glittering diamond made her heart speed up in her chest.

"Since you didn't give me an answer the first time I asked, I'm gonna take another run at it... Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Yes," Y/N answered easily, eyes glossing over with tears.

House picked up the ring box and plucked out the engagement ring, he held out his hand. Y/N set her left hand in his and smiled as he slid the ring onto her finger.

"It looks good on you," House stated, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

Y/N wiped a happy tear away with her other hand as she nodded her head, "I love you," She said.

"I love you too," House replied.

Things were not always easy for House and Y/N but they were able to overcome their challenges and stay together. They knew that their baby would be born to parents who loved them, even though they weren't exactly planned.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Sonic x fangirl reader, she’s always obsessing over a new band, artist, or actor. Has posters all over her room and spends her leftover money on merch, and frequently takes Sonic and friends to concerts and shows, what would he think about readers infatuation? :3

“From One to Another”

Pairing: Sonic the Hedgehog x Female Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You had many, many obsessions. You didn’t expect Sonic to pick up on any of them.

Notes: Aw, this one is cute! Thanks for the request, anon! I hope I do it well! And I…may project onto Reader with the band choice…Hehehe…I want to go to one of their concerts one day.

(Reader will use She/Her pronouns.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

When you two first moved in together, Sonic did not expect to see so many posters.

Or plushies.

Or collector’s items.

Man, was your house packed.

Not that he minded! It’s just a lot to take in.

He whistles as he looks around the place.

“Nice posters, [Name],” Sonic says.

“Thanks!” you say with a grin. “Do I have permission to rant about them?”

Sonic inwardly sighs, an amused smile on his face. Here they go.

“Go on ahead,” Sonic says.

You proceeded to talk his ears off for the next two hours, with him asking questions here and there.

The next time he had noticed your obsessions, you had invited him and a few other friends to a concert, having bought everyone tickets with an excited grin on your face. The only one who declined was Omega (which was fine, you understood why).

Who was the band playing at the concert?

Your favorite band of all time, Set It Off.

You had the time of your life, singing the lyrics to each song as loud as you could, Sonic watching you do so with a fond smile on his face. He was happy to see you so happy.

Though, after the concert, your voice was basically gone for the next two days.

“It was so worth it,” you had told him.

He shook his head, amused, but he knew you meant it.

So, when your birthday came along, you were surprised to see a ton of gifts from Sonic, one of those gifts even being a limited-edition figure that you didn’t have.

You cried so hard out of happiness that Sonic had to come over and comfort you, pulling you into his arms.

You two wouldn’t trade each other for the world.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 803: Kishigami Komari

Pag 1

2: Alright, I replaced the wheel

Number 42

3: Kyofushi's Kishigami!!

4: Huh? Ah, thank you

5: Don't be discouraged!! It's a shame you fell behind because of a flat tire, but don't give up, I'm sure you still have a chance!!

Pag 2

1: Yeah

I found something a little interesting

Pag 3

1: He's so fast

3: The guy we just saw with a flat tire... that purple jersey...

It was the strong Kyoto Fushimi

Kyofushi!?

4: Yeah, so that means that right now ahead of us Kyofushi only have five people, hyee

They're unlucky...

Kyofushi didn't participate neither in the sprint nor in the mountain stage....

5: So this year's Kyofushi...

Yeah!! Maybe they've gotten weaker!!

Pag 4

1: “Kishigami Komari fell behind alone because of a flat tire”

What this means is...

2: He's Midosuji's second in command

The “ace assist”

3: If someone with an important role gets a flat tires, in road racing

4: there's always at least another member who stops and waits for them

5: And then, to bring him back to the front, he'll be his windbreak and pull him

(Important player

Assist)

6: Kyofushi is a well-organized team... the fact that Komari “fell behind alone”, means...

It must mean “they have it”...!! They have it...

Pag 5

1: This year's Kyofushi must have one more ace assist!!

3: Mi!!

4: In other words... this year's Kyofushi... is even more powerful!!

5: But the Kyofushi guys are a little scary

You're right. I can't see guess what they're thinking

6: It's best to keep rumors to a minimum

Kishigami, the one who had a flat tire and fell behind

Pag 6

1: Has already caught up to us!!

Woooah

Huh!?

He's among us!?

Hyee

Pag 7

1: He got here so smoothly!!

2: Eh!? Huh!?

He's beside us!?

So fast!

3: Ahead of us!? From there!?

4: So I was right

7: It's the small-fry meat!!

Pag 8

2: Small!?

3: Small-fry!?

Meat?

4: He's talking about Sugimoto-san!!

Pag 9

1: You want to touch me!?

2: Like you did last year, before the start

3: to Imaizumi!!

7: Touch you? No way...

Pag 10

1: No way I'll ever touch such small-fry meat on purpose!!

Apaa!!

2: I understood it when I looked at you. Just your appearance is enough

It was the same last year, wasn't it? I barely glanced at you?

4: I'm only interested in touching

5: high-quality meat!!

Pag 11

2: Ah, well

Ah, I was wrong. Just now, it was all... a lie. Please forget it

I always stumble when I'm nervous

3: Last year, too, with Imaizumi-san, and with Kuroda-san and Izumida-san too

5: What's with this guy....

As expected, I really can't guess what the Kyofushi guys are thinking...

6: Sugimoto-san!!

Pag 12

1: There's no need to deal with this, with such a rude guy like this

Let's go ahead, only us

2: You're a second year, I saw it on the list!!

I'm a second year too!!

3: Lemme say it clearly, Sugimoto-san is a great guy!!

The people who look down on him, I won't...

4: Sugimoto-san

forgiv-

5: You... oi, I was talking!!

Kobayashi-san

Actually, I have-

Pag 13

1: a question for you

2: A... question...!!

This is just right

I was told to ask

3: if I had the chance

4: Midosuji-san told me so

5: Midosuji....

Pag 14

1: To me....!!

2: Oi, I'm talking to you!!

You sure are cheerful

Sugimoto-san is amazing!!

3: So, shall we prove it with a race?

You and me, here

4: You, with the eyes like a fallen acorn

5: Acor....

Pag 15

1: Let's do it!!

Please do it, Kobayashi-san!!

Please stop, Kobayashi

Lemme do it, please!!

2: A race until that traffic mirror we can see over there!!

3: Oooooo

Stop, Kobayashi

4: We're going'

5: Really?

7: I'll show you what I can do!!

Stop, Kobayashi!!

Pag 17

2: Huh!?

3: A hand!?

Pag 18

1: Huh!?

2: Hu- waaaaaa

Pag 19

3: Just now, something like a giant hands... was crushing!? Me.....?

5: I didn't stop him, did I?

Pag 20

1: Just now I saw a giant hand....?

You too!?

Was it.... his pressure...? It was huge!!

2: I lost the race... just when I started running...!!

3: What an amazing pressure.... I can still feel the after-effect...

4: He's even stronger than last year!! This is this year's Kyofushi!!

5: Now

Again, can I ask you?

6: Earlier, I fell behind because of a flat tire

If

Pag 21

1: the person who had gotten a flat tire on that difficult downhill had been Sohoku's Onoda Sakamichi

2: Would you have helped him?

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

rough art tips to learn and then break at your leisure.

the distance between your eyes is roughly one eye. the corners of your mouth dont extend past the middle of each eye. ears are roughly in the middle of the tip of the nose and the eyebrow. the eyes are in the very centre of the head. the neck is just a Little slimmer than the width of the head (varies with fat distribution, but fat tends to build up under the chin). hair is easier to draw when you plot out the hairline and then where it parts. leaving appropriate distance on the side of the face (cheekbone area and back to ear) contributes to making characters look more realistic/hot as hell. i dont know specific tips for that so use reference. an amazing reference/study site is lineofaction.com . if you think of the face in planes it makes it easier to construct (look up tutorials). if you draw a spiral like a tornado it can help you figure out awkward perspective for extended limbs (look up foreshortening coil technique). tangent lines are when two lines intersect and cause visual confusion (when it looks like a line that defines an arm is part of the line that defines a building, for example) and avoiding them makes your art way easier to comprehend. quick trick to good composition: choose a focal point (where you want your viewer to focus), detail that area the most, and make sure various elements of the piece are pointing to that focal point. you can use colours to contrast hue, saturation, and brightness and make certain elements of your drawing stand out. drawing in greyscale can help you figure out values. using black in a piece isn't illegal but you should know what you're doing when you do use it- it desaturates a piece and if used as a shading colour can desaturate and dull whatever youre shading too. if you use almost-black lineart and then add black to darken the very darkest areas it will do a lot to add some nice depth. the tip of your thumb ends just above the start of your index finger- your thumb also has two knuckles and all your other fingers have three. if you see an artist doing something you like (the way they draw noses or eyes or hair or anything else) you can try to copy that and see if you want to incorporate it in your style <- this is ENCOURAGED and how a lot of us learned and developed our styles. there are ways to add wrinkles to faces and bodies without making the character look a million years old, you just have to keep experimenting with it. The smile wrinkles around your muzzle dont connect to your mouth or to your nose; there should be a small space in between smile or nose and the wrinkle line. eyes when viewed in profile are like < aka a little triangle shape. think of the pupil like a disk and apply foreshortening to it (it looks like a line when seen from the side instead of a full round dot). subtle gradients can add a LOT to a piece. texture can also add a LOT. look up Tommy Arnold's work (his murderbot pieces are some of my FAVOURITE) and zoom in. find those random little circles he added and try to figure out why he added them there. light bounces. there's lots of way light bounces. sometimes it even spreads through the skin. i do not know these light tricks yet but i want you to know that they exist. draw a circle to indicate hand placement, draw a straight line between that circle and the shoulder, and then (normally at a right angle) draw a straight line on top of that line to find the placement of the elbow. elbows are normally placed Just above the hip when standing and your arm is at rest. there are no bad colour combos if you're brave enough about it, just fuck with the saturation and brightness until it works. keep playing. try new things. add your own tips to this post if you want or even expand on some ive mentioned here. good luck go ham etc

[bogos-bint3d]

Since I have absolutely nothing the fuck to do right now and for the next like 4 days I'm gonna be like pretty much entirely gone, next 72 hours are go ahead and ask bogos' ocs anything the fuck the fuck you want and they'll answer probably week

[fyrefrostanimus]

So I drew my basic design sketch of the Balloon Circus Bonnie (you know, the little figurine ones).

I hope nothing bad happens to him!

[sttoru]

pls pls pls 🥹 older bf! gojo fucking the attitude out of his gf

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru picks you up after your lecture to spend quality time with you, only to realise you got an attitude that needs some fixing.

tags. dom older bf!gojo x female reader. smut, pwp but also with plot. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). rough. hints of degradation. p in v -> unprotected. standing doggy. semi-public. spanking. hair pulling. name calling. creampīe. nicknames ‘princess, baby’. wc: 3.2k

“mind telling me who that was, baby?” satoru asks while he fixes his sunglasses. he pushes his hair back a little, walking beside you through campus. you had just finished your study session with a boy who’s in your statistics class. your lovely boyfriend offered to pick you up and take you back home after that.

though, despite the kind gesture, you’re still visibly stressed after revising the material. your mind is occupied with all sorts of stuff you need to know before your exam on thursday.

“just a classmate,” you respond curtly, not even looking at satoru. you’re speeding ahead of him, wanting to rush home already. you nibble on your bottom lip and your brows are furrowed due to the distress, “why do you care?”

that sentence came out harsher than you had expected it to. you don’t mean to be bitchy, but you’re under too much stress at the moment. your body reacts before you can withstand it.

satoru is silent for a few seconds. he’s surprised by the tone of voice you used. he keeps on following you, however, not letting your little comment ruin the conversation. he’s there to help you, not to make you even more upset.

which is why he tries to lighten the mood.

“oh?” satoru chuckles, his dimples showing. he easily keeps up with you, his long legs carrying him around quite fast. the white haired man pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear ever so gently, “did someone upset my little princess today?”

you don’t answer him. you’re focused on your phone, hurriedly texting your friend back while speeding past all the other students. you don’t even notice how the girls are gawking at your man—whispering about how handsome he is and who he might be.

satoru doesn’t pay them any mind. his sole goal is to gain your attention back. he frowns after his question is met with silence. the clicking of his dress shoes increases as he tries to get you to stop and face him.

“c’mon,” your boyfriend sighs and stands in front of you, stopping you to an abrupt halt. he holds your wrist tenderly yet firmly, letting you know that he wants to properly communicate with you, “y’ can’t ignore me.”

you yank your hand back, your irritated attitude visible in your actions. you look up at satoru, not caring about what he thinks or wants at the moment. you just want to go home and relax. everything is overstimulating you.

“i can and i will,” you huff before stepping aside to continue your journey out of the university’s terrain. your boyfriend’s frown only deepens. you’re not the only one who’s currently getting agitated. you push past a group of students who stood in your way, “let’s just go home.”

satoru’s eyes narrow. he doesn’t get upset fast—he rarely feels any kind of anger—but right now he can feel something itching inside of his chest. he’s tried not to let the jealousy get the best of him at first, but now with all the other emotions coming into play, it’s nearly impossible to hold himself back.

satoru considers himself a fairly mature man. he’s always been one, yet when it comes to you he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t have any control over his emotions. his body and mind act on their own.

“aht aht. not so fast, little lady.”

you suddenly feel yourself being dragged to the side. satoru’s grip around your arm isn’t harsh, but it sure is enough to make you stumble along with him. you click your teeth in slight annoyance after the initial shock settles in. you know there’s no fighting it; you don’t want others to witness your little squabble.

“hey, where are we going?” you ask, a slight whine leaving your throat. you simply want to go lay in your bed and avoid everything and everyone else. your eyes are focused on the back of satoru’s head as he guides you along. he doesn’t bother to face nor answer you.

you sigh and simply allow yourself to be dragged away. if you’re going to get a scolding, you don’t mind. you’re just going to hear him out and nod along so you can go back home faster.

you raise an eyebrow when satoru arrives at the bathroom on the second floor. “what the—” you’re confused as to what your boyfriend is trying to achieve. you quickly look around to see if anyone has seen you.

no one seems to be close. this part of the building has always been empty around this time frame anyway.

you’re pulled into the men’s bathroom after satoru made sure that the coast was clear. he gently pushes you into an empty stall and locks the door. “satoru, what’s up with you?” you sigh as you stumble back against the bathroom wall. it’s a hypocritical comment considering your own nasty attitude.

you try to push him aside, only for your boyfriend to force your arms around his neck, pulling you flush against him. your eyes lock into his and that’s when you notice how . . dark they are. the usual playful look is nowhere to be found.

“i’m just thinkin’ that y’r attitude needs some fixing, hm?” satoru whispers. a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—it’s a twisted one. wicked, with the thoughts of what he’ll do to punish you for your actions. he rarely has that expression when he’s with you.

he tips your chin up with quite some force, “i can help with that.”

everything else happens at a blink of an eye. one of satoru’s large hands slithers up your back to tangle in your hair and yank it back, exposing the column of your throat for his hickeys to take shape on. his other hand swiftly makes work of your pants and undergarments.

his jaw is clenched—the usual hint of gentle love in his eyes is replaced by lust fuelled by jealousy and frustration. satoru is not playing around either. instead of taking his time like he usually does when it comes to intimacy, he’s quick to discard both your clothing.

“fuckin’ tease,” the white-haired man mutters under his breath, panting with desire. he zips down his pants and frees his big cock from his boxers. “always pushing my buttons. isn’t that right, baby?”

satoru lets out a breathy, mocking chuckle. he fists the shaft slowly while his blue eyes roam over your body caged against him and the wall, “but i guess tha’s part of the reason why i love you—hah.”

you’re basically in shock at the sudden switch. your jaw is slack and your eyes are wide, but there’s an undeniable feeling in your chest that tells you you’re loving this change. you can’t deny the fact that you’re turned on. extremely turned on.

“‘toru, i don’t think it’s smart to do this here,” you murmur in a small voice. you’re trying to have some dignity, even now, when your panties are soaked and the scent of your obvious arousal is driving your man crazy.

“don’t care,” satoru shakes his head with a smug grin. his long fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear before flimsily tugging them down to your ankles. his eyes darken the second he sees the webs of sticky, translucent slick clinging from your panties to your puffy folds.

he grunts, his cock twitching painfully in his hand. he’s thinking of simply jerking off to the sight of you in front of him, but he decided otherwise. satoru smacks your clit with his fat tip, “should’ve thought about that before catchin’ an attitude with me.”

suddenly, he turns you around so you’re facing the wall. your nails dig into the flat surface of the tiles, catching onto nothing. you’re hoping that no one will walk into the bathroom. last thing you need is everyone knowing that you were getting your back blown out by your boyfriend on campus.

not that satoru would mind those rumors. it’d only fuel his (already) huge ego.

“oh, yeah— shit. you need this ‘s much as i do,” satoru groans as sinks his cock into your pussy, agonisingly slow, inch by inch. you shudder and hold in your moans as your velvety walls make part for him.

his hands spread your pert asscheeks, smacking the full globes before kneading them to soothe the pain. he continues in a low, dangerous voice, “you wouldn’t be so stuck up if y’ didn’t need this fuckin’ dick to shut you up.”

satoru doesn’t stop pushing in until his heavy balls are resting snugly against your bottom, warming his sack full of cum that’s aching to be released in your dripping cunt.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you bite your lip and try not to orgasm just from the feeling of being full— so full of cock that it makes you see stars, “just like that.”

the white-haired man responds with a satisfied grunt, sweat forming on his forehead from how hot and wet it is inside of you.

“oh, there she is,” satoru coos once he hears your whiny voice, that sweet voice he cherishes and loves. it isn’t cold nor avoidant anymore like before and that’s really all he wanted to acquire. he licks a stripe from the tip of your ear to the lobe, voice husky, “there’s the girlfriend i know. moan some more f’ me.”

you shiver as satoru’s lips connect with the back of your neck. after wetting the skin with his saliva, he bites. not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. you clamp around his dick in response and he curses under his breath.

“please, fuck me,” you breathe. you need more stimulation, need him to absolutely ruin you. the shallow and slow thrusts he’s giving are nothing but torturous.

satoru grins and rests his chin on top of your shoulder, large hands rubbing around your hips and lower abdomen, teasing your clit every now and then to get you even more pent up.

“fuck you?” he tilts his head, as if contemplating. he clicks his tongue and gives your ass a firm slap that nearly sends you over the edge. “hah, you should be grateful for what i’m givin’ you.”

but satoru’s weak for you. even if he’s trying to be the ‘mean’ and ‘cold’ dominant guy. his cock is aching to plunge in and out of your wet hole, to see you come undone and feel your juices coat his balls and thighs.

“fine. i’ll fuck you,” satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, acting like he isn’t desperate for you too. he grips your hips in a bruising manner and bites your shoulder, “—fuck you like the brat you are.”

your hands save your face from making contact with the wall as your body suddenly jostles back and forth in a speed you can’t even process.

“satoru!” you nearly scream his name out of pure surprise. the pleasure comes crashing down in waves, your pussy uncontrollably spasming around his girthy cock.

satoru grumbles something incoherent as he pistons his hips, ramming in your sloppy cunt while his eyes are fixated on your bouncing ass. white locks of hair stick to his forehead as he splits you open on his dick.

“so pretty,” the older man sighs. he turns your head sideways so you can look him in the eyes while he fucks you silly. he caresses your cheek gently, a contrast to the mocking grin on his lips and the rough thrusts against your ass, “too bad y’ got such a potty mouth on you.”

satoru pushes his index and middle finger between your lips to muffle your noises, “…but don’t worry, i’ll fix that for you. gladly.”

you eagerly suck on them between quick gasps of air, saliva trickling down his hand. your boyfriend redoubles his efforts, the fat tip of his dick hitting that special spot deep inside you.

his free hand reaches down to circle your clit. the double stimulation sends you into a state of pure bliss. your pupils are dilated as you struggle to find satoru’s gaze, head lolling back and forth with each powerful stroke.

perhaps this really was all you needed to help destress and forget all about your responsibilities. it feels good to not think about anything at all— your head empty except for the feeling of your cunt being filled.

satoru’s cock twitches inside of you with the urge to release a load in your womb. “give me it, please,” your voice is muffled as you plead with him. your hand sneaks downwards, trying to find his balls, “w-want your cum.”

your fingers toy with his sack once you find it. his pre-cum and your own juices now coat your skin as well, your hand enclosing around his balls, massaging them. it’s like you’re trying to coax his potent semen out of them and that alone makes satoru throw his head back in ecstasy.

“little cumslut. . .” satoru growls, brows furrowing as he tries not to shoot his cum inside of your greedy cunt right that second. the hand that was keeping you quiet quickly snatches your wrist and pins it against the bathroom wall.

“are you that desperate to get filled? yeah?” your boyfriend huffs, not stopping to catch his breath at all. his hips pound faster against your ass with renewed passion.

your lips are parted and they move, but not a single answer comes out of your mouth. you’re unable to think or talk because of the pleasure.

satoru takes that as a yes. the erotic sight of you being so lost in sin is enough to fuel his desire to fuck you harder. his hips never falter as he scoffs at your pathetic self, “tch, so addicted to my cock y’ can’t even answer me.”

you shake your head and search for your words. however, you fail, and all that you’re capable of communicating is what you need, “fuuuuck, yes i am—‘toru, need your cock ‘n cum— more.”

satoru lets go of your wrist to grab your jaw. he forces your head back again before he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. his tongue plunders inside your mouth, exploring every inch.

he pulls back to gasp for air and releases your jaw with a slight shove to grab your hips again. “more? hah,” the white-haired man lets out a haughty chuckle. he gives a particular hard thrust against your butt, tip kissing your cervix painfully yet deliciously, “y’ think you deserve more after that shit you pulled?”

satoru yanks your head back by your hair. the stinging sensation makes your scalp itchy, but it also increases your pleasure. he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice dangerously low, “nah, you gotta make this work.”

you could. you can make it work and that’s the truth. he could fuck you with just his tip and you’d be able to cum a couple times in a row.

jolts of pleasure run down your spine as satoru drives into you harder, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. you’re seeing stars and the words roll off your tongue, “please, mhh, almost there!”

satoru groans. he can feel the delicious fluttering of your cunt around his cock, the telltale signs of an orgasm building. he has half a mind to pull out completely and let you writhe and beg him some more.

he contemplates it for a few seconds. the second your eyes start to roll back, signaling your impending climax, his cock slips out of your pussy. you whine and push your hips back in search for his dick- to fill the void he left.

satoru jerks himself off at the pitiful sight. he rubs his veiny shaft between your slick folds before slapping the tip against your cunt, letting it catch onto your entrance for a few times.

“begging like that isn’t going to get you anywhere. y’ can do better,” your boyfriend encourages in a sultry tone. one of his hands rest on your tummy, fingers splaying over your clothed skin. another filthy smack of his tip against your slit makes you shiver, “come on.”

you bite your lip out of frustration. you arch your back each time the fat head of his cock catches onto your gaping hole, hoping to slip it in, but you can't. you tilt your head back and lock eyes with satoru close up behind you.

“please let me cum, 'toru. i'll be good, i promise,” you beg with a lewd pleading expression. one that make satoru's balls tighten with the urge to cum as well.

with a low groan, satoru snaps his hips forward, burying his dick inside of you once more, “there ya go. good girl, knew y’ had it in you.”

the praise and familiar feeling of his dick stretching you open is enough to push you over the edge. you nearly black out as your cunt spasms around him, your juices gushing out to coat his length and balls.

satoru grits his teeth once he feels your tight cunt clench viciously around his throbbing cock. your orgasm has a domino effect on your lover, causing him to hastily chase his own release. “shit! take it, princess. take it all inside this greedy fuckin' cunt,” he hisses and grinds his pelvis against the fat of your ass.

satoru buries himself to the hilt before his cock jerks and pulses, emptying his balls deep inside of you. his fingers dig into the meat of your butt, holding you in place as he grinds against you, making sure every last drop of his seed is nestled into your waiting womb.

“there y’ go, mhm—taking my load so deep,” your lover sighs and lowers his head, resting against your back. he hugs you tightly to his chest while you both catch your breath. he rides out his orgasm slowly, still grinding against you while he leaves lazy kisses on your nape.

a minute passes before you've regained your composure, somewhat. you smile as satoru kisses your temple lovingly, praising you for taking him so well. the switch back to his usual gentleman personality is much needed after such an intense moment.

“thank you, babe. i needed that,” you giggle as you rest back against his chest. thick, pearly globs of cum escape your pussy, dripping around his cock and onto your thighs, but neither of you could care less. the clean up is a problem for later.

satoru chuckles back at you as he leaves another loving kiss against your cheek. “i knew you did,” he murmurs and pets your head, “my poor girl has been working so hard on her assignments, hm? poor, poor baby.”

you playfully roll your eyes at the overexaggerated concern in your lover's voice, however you appreciate it.

satoru doesn't bother to pull out. first things first; he needs to get you all comfortable again and give you the aftercare you deserve. his hands massage your hips as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, acting all lovey-dovey like he hasn't just shown you a more dominant side of him.

“how ‘bout we go home and order some food? we can cuddle and watch a movie together, ‘kay? i’ll take care of you, princess.”

[bluebellthesponge]

how it feels when you try and put effort into someone and they don’t reciprocate the same effort back

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

~  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks. 

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

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

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

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[ozzgin]

Yandere! House Monster x Reader (II)

It’s officially a smutty sitcom: you, the oblivious gamer boyfriend, and the tentacle monster lurking in dark corners.

[First part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut

Do monsters have a sense of humor? This creature seems to be greatly amused by the little "game" you've devised behind your boyfriend's back. Although you don't have much input in the affair, and most of the time you're merely a witness to the events unfolding before you (or in you).

First, there's the mild, inoffensive annoyances. "Babe, did you see my controller? I swear I left it on the couch". Some pranks are harder to swallow than others, such as the occasional lack of Internet. You know exactly when it happens, because you can hear your boyfriend's enraged shouts and rattles. It's always during important matches. No one knows why it happens. The repairmen who cross your threshold can only scratch their heads in confusion, confessing that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Then, the unfortunate coincidences. "How about we have some fun after my game?", the boyfriend will suggest with an anticipative grin. Alas, moments after he stands up, he is overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling. His stomach twirls and throbs, and he curses under his breath. "Some other time, perhaps", he concludes begrudgingly. You see, the creature is very possessive. The only thing that has saved your beloved partner from being torn to shreds already is his crassly comical obliviousness.

The mischief aimed towards the boyfriend is, however, a secondary source of entertainment. Nothing could ever come close to spending time with you. Yet another irony to this ridiculous situation: you haven't been caught yet, despite the rabid clinginess of the tentacled monster.

It just loves surprising you. For example, when you exhale dramatically at the end of the day, relaxing in the bathtub and enjoying your peace. Just as you hear an impatient knock on the door, you notice a familiar dark tendril slithering its way out of the water. You won't be leaving the bathroom anytime soon. "Did you steam yourself over there? You look like a lobster", the boyfriend will remark with a raised eyebrow upon seeing your panting, feverish face. "Y-yeah, I guess so." You limp outside, struggling to hold the towel around your body. Or more specifically, around the many marks left on your skin by hundreds of suckers.

In fact, its shamelessness reminds you of a poorly written erotic scenario, the likes you'd see on some adult website with a clickbait title. How would you name this current setup? You grip the edge of the table, pursing your lips to prevent any moans escaping your mouth. Your boyfriend is, once again, scrolling on his phone, indifferent to your presence. The water boiling on the stove drowns the wet, slippery sounds of the appendages pumping in and out of you underneath the table. “You might want to give it a stir in a moment, or it’ll overflow”, the boyfriend remarks without lifting his gaze. You mumble in agreement, slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re at your limit.

One may be tempted to ask, is this entity bound to its house? You pondered the same question until your recent IKEA visit. You and your boyfriend had been looking for a new wardrobe. "What do you think of this one?", you asked, closing the door and turning around. Your eyes scanned the empty model-bedroom. The jackass had wandered ahead without you. You sighed and were about to go find him, when a cold grip suddenly tightened around your wrist. You winced and snapped your head back. Thick tendrils had made their way out of the closet, tugging you to join them inside. So it can follow you around, you thought, climbing into the cramped space. Between the silent whines and breathy begging, an idea emerges from your dazed mind. New hypothetical video title: mercilessly molested in the IKEA store by monster partner.

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[tojbnuy]

little halloween drabble!! 🎃 ps: toji is definitely the type of dad to cut into every piece of candy megumi got before letting him eat it. (likes reblogs always appreciated <3)

“right go on buddy go knock.”

toji watched as his son waddled towards the door ahead of him. he had to admit megumi looked really fucking cute. he had been going on and on about dressing up as mario for halloween so toji had done what any good dad would do and he bought him the full costume. the kid even had a fake mustache stuck to his upper lip.

“and remember to say please and thank you megs okay?”

“yes daddy i know.” megumi replied with a little too much sass in his tone.

his little fist knocked a couple times on the door until it opened and then there was. you. toji was a bit too focused on laughing at his sons costume that he hadn’t realised someone dressed up as bat-woman had opened the door. toji himself was dressed up as batman (if you could call keeping the batman mask atop his head dressing up). you were matching. and you were fucking gorgeous. toji was busy taking in your long bare legs when he heard the sudden screech leave you at the sight of his son.

“oh don’t you look adorable!!”

he was definitely gonna buy megumi some pizza on the way back after this.

“uh thank you. trick or treat?”

“hold on let me grab my bowl of candy.”

toji couldn’t help but stare at the rest of you as you turned your back on them. you returned with a massive pumpkin shaped bowl full to the brim with sweets and wrapped cakes.

“go on honey take as much as you like.”

and megumi did not take that sentence lightly. toji scoffed as his son grabbed as much as his chubby hands could carry and stuffed it into his bucket, all the while you grinned and cooed at the boy infront of you.

“does daddy want some?”

toji looked at you and the smirk on your face at your little question.

“nah i’m good thank you.”

just as megumi was about to turn back to his dad toji reminded him, “say thank you baby.”

“thank you baby.” megumi very confidently turned to you and said and you had all but melted. you were in a fit of giggles now as toji held a palm up to his face. megumi looked up at his dad wondering what the commotion was about.

“sorry about that.”

“no you’re good, that’s just made my night.”

you were just staring at each other now, neither of you wanting to break away without saying something more.

“hey we’re matching.” and there was something about your smile. he couldn’t get enough.

“yeah i realised.”

god what should he say. he didn’t want to just ask for your number he was clearly older than you.

“haven’t seen you around here before you new?”

“yeah i uh moved in last week.”

he watched every word come out of your pink painted lips. watched as you tucked a strand of black hair behind your ear.

“daddy why are you staring?”

that got another laugh out of you as you ruffled little megumis hair. there was a small hue of pink now dusting your cheeks however.

“nothing brat. well i’ll see you around then.”

“yeah hopefully.” and with one last smile and wave at megumi you closed your front door and toji was left standing there staring at your closed door and wondering if and when would be the next time he saw you.

“do you love her?”

“what??”

“you keep staring at her it’s weird.”

“i’ll be eating your candy when we get home.”

a/n : do we want a part 2 ? 🤨