#you get a glimpse and a part of the art

[edge-oftheworld]

one thing I love about following celebrities/artists who are honest and proactive about their mental health struggles etc is I can’t count the number of times someone I know is going through something and I’m like ‘I’ve got a song for u’ and how much of my life involves telling myself ‘if [redacted] can do something/get better/etc then so can i’ (and having actual real evidence of it in front of me) and I can’t understate how much I appreciate these things.

but at the same time it involves a whole lot of watching people I care about suffer and you learn to read the signs and infer between the lines in songs and interviews, and yes we can never fully know what they don’t share with us, but when they do share things it’s not a big stretch to be like ‘this seems like it’s what life is like for you and I have taken encouragement from it but you deserve so much better’. and it’s easy to find ways to get angry at a predatory industry and realise things that could be hurtful if you’re already fragile.

and we can advocate for some things and help ourselves and the people around us feel better but it’s hard to meaningfully reach your faves as an individual. and there are things we can’t say on the internet in too much detail, speculation becomes the harmful kind of gossip, and so sometimes it’s a whole lot of internally saying ‘you’re doing incredibly well to have gotten to where you are but I wish for your sake things would get better faster’

[byanyan]

oh, someone liking byan's drawings or doodles enough to even consider getting them as a tattoo... one of my favourite things

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[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.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[lowkeyren]

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar. 

alhaitham. 

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%. 

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal. 

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win? 

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings. 

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU. 

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him. 

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you. 

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with. 

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away. 

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway. 

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.” 

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó…  nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you. 

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake. 

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow. 

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath. 

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window. 

alhaitham. 

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why? 

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you. 

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears. 

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot. 

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from. 

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile. 

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you. 

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today: 

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you? 

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still. 

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!” 

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.” 

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.” 

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?” 

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening. 

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her. 

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially.  “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could. 

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions? 

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.  

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE. 

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.  

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl. 

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance. 

alhaitham. 

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave." 

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction. 

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold. 

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable. 

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you. 

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you." 

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."  

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."  

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear. 

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically) 

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket. 

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting. 

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN. 

To [Name],  I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise.  You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you.  If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly,  Alhaitham. 

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it. 

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay. 

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. 

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so? 

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours. 

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.” 

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue. 

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops,  until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm. 

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin. 

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it. 

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub. 

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?” 

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?” 

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.” 

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—" 

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

[illou-sainte]

But, we friends thou? 3k+

pairings: virgin!caleb x virgin!reader

cw: unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, college au, corruption, nipple play, dry humping, messy make out, rough sex, choking, overstimulation, rubbing, loss of virginity, dom!caleb, hentai reader!caleb, cherry popping (iykyk), both are inexperienced, stomach bulge, creampie, pet names (princess, pipsqueak, pretty girl), edging, nasty sex, no penetration, squirting, mentions of blood, crying

Caleb is known for being the heartthrob of the campus. He's everything that people want--smart, handsome, athletic and was rumored to be "big" down there. A lot of girls in the campus have been gushing over your best friend. Many have been saying that he sleeps with different girls everytime--but was it true?

And of course, in your part you don't get the hype about Caleb. Yeah, he's your first kiss but so what? As his best friend, you both share secrets with each other. And one secret that you've kept about him is that....

He's a virgin himself.

As cocky as he is--of course, he'd feed into those rumors about him just to boost his ego. Little do they know, he's just a virgin otaku who reads hentai mangas on his free time. At first, it did bother you that he started reading those--but as time passed by, you got used and even shared some recommendations you've found. And started having interest of his likings.

"Have you seen the new publish?" He asked, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls. You leaned your back against your chair and crossed your arms.

"Of course, the art improved a lot" You answered, crossing your legs while Caleb shows you a panel of the erotic manga he's talking about. "You bet! It looks so realistic!" He chimed, pointing at the part where the girl was getting fucked and you can only push his phone away.

"Seriously, be glad that some of our classmates went out" You scoffed, leaning against your desk as you grab your bag and started putting your textbooks inside. "Come on, I know you agree that scene was hot!" He raised his brow to tease.

"Shush" You silenced him and he only shrug in response while you continued putting your things inside your bag. You can't lie but that scene was really hot--the way that the guy was dicking down the girl so good. Makes you wonder how would it feel like if it was you.

Your thoughts were pushed away when he interrupted. "Oh, I almost forgot" He said, grabbing his bag and reached inside of it. "I just finished the manga that you recommended me a few days ago" Grabbing the book from his bag and placed it on your desk--and you were quick to snatch it. It was embarassing the fact that the cover of the manga was a girl getting railed.

Hugging the book against your chest as you glare at Caleb and punched his shoulder, earning a grunt from him. "No need to be harsh, pipsqueak" He chuckled, as he looks at you in amusement.

You whispered curses at him while you opened your bag wider to fit the book in but something suddenly fall out.

A condom.

"Wha-" He froze, his eyes widened--looking at the packet of condom over your desk. Your eyes shifted to him as you look at him confused.

You hum, and followed where his gaze was at--making your heart drop when you saw the packet of condom over your desk, you quickly grabbed it by your hand and shove it inside your bag. "Haha- my bad...." You chuckled awkwardly while you sweatdrop, closing your bag and rested your hands over your lap--eyes glued to somewhere while you pretend nothing happened.

"I'm pretty sure that was a condom...?" Caleb thought, sweadropping also as he cleared his throat. But at the same time he wants to push your buttons--to see where you'd last.

"...an interesting thing you're carrying around...." He smiled, making you uncomfortable as you felt heat rising through your body out of embarrassment.

"It's just something I bought out of curiosity....." You answered, fixing your skirt because it was revealing a glimpse of your plushed thighs. Caleb noticed how you shift--only makes him want to push further. I mean maybe something might happen after this?

"Oh...I thought you're going to use it"

"Huh- haha no way...."

Awkwardness seeps between the both of you--while you try to not steal glances at the male. Inhaling deep as you question him.

"Do you have one, Caleb?" You asked.

"Have what?"

"Well...a condom?" You whispered, loud enough for him to hear while you toy with the ends of your skirt. Caleb blinks and looks away, leaning against his desk while fidgeting his pen.

"I don't...not like I'd have a chance to use one anyway" He joked, shaking his head lightly. You nod at his words and pursed your lips, you can't help but wonder if all of those rumors about him is true--about "big" he was. Even though you knew he's a virgin there's still apart of you that doesn't believe that.

Class ended early as you and Caleb walked together. Talking about the new mangas that were published while enjoying each other's company.

"I swear that old man should stop giving us new assignments everyday" Caleb sneers, putting his hands behind his head while walking besides you.

"He should, I swear I noticed his bald spot earlier during lecture" You snorts, making him laugh at your words as you joined.

You were glad that everything went to normal--that Caleb forgot about that condom incident earlier. You can only swear that if he brings up the topic again you would just dig your own grave out of embarrassment.

The laughters piped down and you both continued walking together--your eyes focused on your surroundings while Caleb on the other hand is urging to bring up the topic again.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You answered, eyes glued to the path.

"So, that condom talk earlier.." He spoke, looking somewhere while you paused. Cursing at yourself because you knew Caleb damn well--if something peeks his interest he wouldn't let go of it.

Inhaling deep as you face him--he puts his hands inside his pockets and gave you a sincere smile-- not that smile, you knew that he's plotting something which makes your body shiver at the sight of it.

"If someone were to ask you to 'use it' would you?" He asked, tilting his head and waits for your reply. The question makes your body heat rise as you put a hand on your nape.

Letting out a soft awkward chuckle while you look at him "That's way to sudden" You muttered, making Caleb chuckle as he puts a hand over your head--ruffling your hair.

"Like y'know, the thing I read on that manga you let me borrow" He said and your shoulders tensed up. Glaring at him as you pushed away his hand away from your head because it was messing up your hair.

"Hmp, don't bring me into your erotic fantasies" You huff, brows furrowed while you clutch onto the strap of your bag.

But the thought of it sends excitement through your body onto your clothed pussy--I mean you'd always wondered what it feels like getting fucked and would you waste this chance? But the only problem is that, Caleb.

You can't imagine seeing your childhood best friend dick you down--but the thought of it. Too consumed by your thoughts, Caleb pushed the topic further.

"So, what do you say?" He asked, making you snap back at your thoughts. You gulped as you look at him. Lowering your head while you fidget with your fingers-- hesitating if you're going to do it or not.

"We only live once, so risk it!" The voices in your head said in unison.

"I'll let him use it.."

It didn't take long for you two to arrive at Caleb's dorm. Feeling nervous, you try to calm yourself-- while Caleb on the other hand was all chill. You can't help but feel frustrated, can't even believe that you're going to loose your virginity to this man in front of you.

But what you didn't know, is that Caleb was more anxious than you. You both sat besides each other over the edge of his comfy bed as you clear your throat catching his attention.

"So what now...?"

"Right-- Uhm" Putting a hand over his nape as his usual sheepish attitude drains out of his body.

"...let's get naked first." It's rather a command than a question--Caleb nods at your words as he chuckle.

Pouting at him as your hand playfully pushed his face away from your direction "...I don't want you to look.." You confessed, face flustered making him smile as he hums.

"I'm still going to see you naked later, y'know that right?" He teased, only for you to push him away more making him give up as you face his back.

Pursing your lips as you unbutton your top-- starting from the top to the button. Your eyes trailed to the figure in front of you--Caleb removed his shirt in one go, revealing his well-built back. And what got your attention was his muscular biceps. You can't help but stare at it but you were interrupted when you heard him talk.

"Like the view?" He chuckled, making you roll your eyes as you told him to shut up. As you finished unbutton your top, you slowly removed it from your body--leaving you with your lacy bra hugging your plushed tits.

"Hey"

"Hm?" You hum. "Can I look?" Caleb asked, moving his head to the side a bit as he tried to get a glimpse of you behind. You quickly used your arms to hide your tits while glaring at him.

"You sound like a pervert"

"Come on, princess" He pleaded, your gaze focused on his back and you sighed--finally giving up as you removed your arms away from your chest. The man in front of you then quickly shifted his body to your direction--now facing you as his eyes trailed on your plushed tits. His face flushed and licked his lips-- letting out a soft chuckle while smiling.

"Wow....I couldn't tell at all that you're hiding something like these behind your clothes" He remarks, making you gulp while you sweatdrop. "Is that so..." You muttered, lowering your head while your eyes focused on him.

Don't look at him with those eyes--those innocent doe eyes of yours. Makes him want to bend you over and just fuck you on the spot.

Biting your lower lip, you both stare at each other. "Can..I touch them?" He asked, his hands clenching--eager to touch your plushed tits. You nod at his words, he had to look at you again to make sure--his hands tremble as he reached out to your tits in display.

Palm of his hands came in contact with your plushed tits as he gently massaged it--he couldn't believe it, he's finally touching a literal tits right now. His gesture made your body squirmed as you try to bit your lower lip to muffle your moans. Breathing softly as your hand reached behind your back to undo the hook of your bra. Unhooking it in one go as your bra fall from your shoulders and spills out your bare tits to the male.

His hands continued to massage your tits, thumb toying your perked nipple as you let out a moan--making him startle as he retrieved his hand.

"Ah- sorry" He apologized, you shook your head and reached out for his hand--bringing it back to your tits. "N-no...you can touch them however you like" You muttered, making Caleb gulp as he starts to feel heat gushing through his body. You're definitely putting fuel to the fire.

Caleb is anxious as he continued massaging your tits with both of his hands-- thumb rubbing circles and pinching your perked nipples earning sweet whimpers and moans from you. The sight makes his cock harden inside his pants--he can't help but feel aroused seeing you so sensitive to his touch--so needy.

Your soft moans occupied Caleb's mind-- your moans can't even compare to those erotic hentais he watched, yours is too hot-- like music to his ears. You blabber words at him but he's not listening at all--too focused on fundling your tits.

You can't help but feel satisfaction that you're able to fill his thoughts-- smirking as you look at him with your hazy eyes. "Are they your satisfaction, miste--?" Your words were cut off when Caleb suddenly lounged at you and pinned you down over his bed. Both of his palm holds your wrists at both side as his soft lips latched onto your tits earning a yelp from you while you squirmed.

"W-wait-..Caleb--!" But he doesn't budge, continuing to suck your sensitive tits as his hot tongue swirls around your perked nipple making your toes curl. His other hand lets go of your left wrist as he reached out to your thigh and places it on the side of his hip. Positioning his hardened cock against your clothed pussy.

Feeling the arousal gushing through your aching pussy as you feel him grind his hardened bulge against your wet clothed pussy. Finally removing his hand from your other wrist as it moves to your left tit and massaged it while he sucked on the other one. Your hands run through his black locks and tried to push him away from your tits--but he wouldn't, still latching on it like a hungry mad man.

"Ngh-! Too much...C-Caleb....Caleb-!" You moaned, as your hands cup his cheeks pushing his face away--he finally gives up, earning a loud 'pop' when he pulls away from your perked tits. Cupping his cheeks as you can see drool from the side of his mouth making you grunt as you noticed how he filled your tits with his saliva.

"Please..." He pleads softly, rubbing his cheek against your palm like a cat begging its owner for food. His muscular arms sneaks behind your back as he wraps it around your waist--burying his face against your tits. Where did the usual cocky Caleb go?

Letting a soft whimper as you feel him grind against your wet clothed pussy-- shamelessly. Caleb lift his head up as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

"Wanna put it in so bad....but..."

"I don't want to rush you" He exhaled, while your heart flutters in awe. Caleb always prioritize your needs other than his--he wants you comfortable, he's not the type to rush you to do things. You flutter your lashes as you lean closer-- connecting your soft lips to his, Caleb melts against your warmth as he relaxes, continuing to grind slowly against you.

His hand reached to the waistband of your skirt along with your lacy panties as he slowly pulls it down-- discarding it on the floor. Pulling back from the kiss as you both pant--your tongue sticking out as a string of saliva connects to both of your tongues. You're such a hot mess for Caleb-- it makes his cock twitch even more.

"So sensitive just for me...."

His fingers brushed away some strands of your hair from forehead-- you blink, noticing a wet patch on his gray sweats, your eyes then trailed on the visible bulge in front of you. Making your wet pussy twitch.

Caleb is not experienced--but he learned a lot from those hentai mangas he read. And of course a key to start off railing a girl aka his best friend is to penetrate their aching pussy first. He said to his mind.

While you on the other hand was eager-- already wanting to be dicked down by Caleb. Want him to stretch your virgin aching pussy so bad.

"Caleb"

"Yes, princess?"

"Please fuck me"

His brows raise in surprise as he looks at you "But, I need to penetrate you first-- it might hurt if we're going straight at it" He said, tone laced with worry. He feels like he's rushing you--he doesn't want to.

Feeling embarrassed as you looked away "It's okay...I can handle it" You whispered, cheeks flushed red. Caleb is having mixed feelings-- he never seen you so vulnerable, so submissive towards him. He can't help but want to abuse the control he has over you.

He clicks his tongue as he chuckled-- grabbing your hand and intertwined it with his, kissing the top of it as his eyes locked on yours.

"You're going to take it like a good girl." It wasn't a question-- your mind goes hazy, all you can think of is being intoxicated with the heat of both of your bodies. You flutter your eyes at him and nod-- following his order like a puppy.

He lets go of your hand and slowly pulls down his sweats-- leaving him with his boxers, you can't help but look at his visible bulge. Oh he's hard--very hard. You gulped at the sight of it, noticing a wet patch on the part where his tip is-- already oozing pre-cum.

"Don't stare at me like that" He snorts, grabbing both of your thighs-- hands gripping the plushed flesh as he placed it on the side of his hips.

Pulling down his boxer as his hardened cock bounced up hitting his pelvis-- your eyes widened when you see his cock in display.

You felt embarrassed--those rumors were indeed true. Caleb's cock is thick and long-- you can see visible veins lining while his angry red tip is already oozing pre cum.

"W-wait-!" You breathed out when you watch him position his aching cock against your hardened clit.

You both locked eyes-- his eyes were filled with love and lust while he continued on rubbing circles against your hardened clit using his tip-- using the pre cum as a lubricant to make it slippery to rub on.

"Let me take care of you..." He muttered, rubbing his tip against your wet pussy lips-- smearing his cum all over it. Earning moans from you as your toes curl, feeling his gritty cock run against your folds to your hardened clit. It sends arousal to your throbbing wet pussy.

Caleb lets out soft grunts and moans as he holds his hardened cock with his palm, pumping it up and down while pressing it against your clit-- making your body twitch with every stroke.

He fastened his pace of rutting his aching cock against your hardened clit. "F-fuck-- I haven't even got inside of you..and I'm already a mess with just rubbing it against your pussy..." He growled, continuing to rut against you making your eyes roll as you felt the bed shaking.

Breathing heavily while you endure the friction against your hardened clit to your puffy slit--a drooling mess as he mixed his pre cum and your juices together and smearing it all over your poor pussy.

Feeling the arousal rising-- you can feel your climax taking over, too overstimulated as you're eager to cum. But just right after you felt the walls of your pussy throb, ready to release--Caleb stopped rutting his angry tip against your hardened clit. Making you whine in return while you look at him with your glassy eyes.

"W-wha- why--,?" You complained, looking at him while he brushed some strands of his hair sticking out of his sweaty forehead. Panting heavily as his gaze towards you darkened. He lets out a husky chuckle while kneading the plush of your thigh with his hand.

"It'd be a waste if I'd cum outside, right? " He whispered, leaning close to you as your perked tits were pressed against his chest. Feeling his hot breathe against your skin-- making you hitch, your ears perked when you hear him reach out to your bag placed over the nightstand beside.

Even feeling intoxicated, you moved your head where his hand was reaching at--you quickly grabbed it as you pull it away from your bag. Making Caleb confused as he breathes.

"What?" He stopped reaching out to the condom inside your bag--you pulled his hand away while you guide it towards your lips. Placing kisses against his fingers with your soft lips as you look at him with your hazy eyes-- just filled with words unsaid. And for Caleb it just translates into "raw, next question"

The sight makes him aroused as he shook his head lightly. "Too impatient? Bad girls like you needs to be punished" He said-- voice low and husky as he slowly pulls away his hand from your grasp and moves it down-- tracing your chin to your neck.

You bit your lower lip-- you try to hide the fact that you're getting more hornier seeing Caleb being so dominant towards you. But your fucked up face didn't helped. You yelped when you felt his veiny hand grab your neck as his grip tightens--not in a way that you couldn't breathe.

"I'll make sure to fuck you so good-- shit, even better than the ones I've read." He chuckled, making your mouth agape as he pressed your legs against your perked tits. His other hand holds his gritty cock while he positioned it against your drooling slit.

Your heart beats faster-- too anxious and aroused at the same time, while you wonder if his cock would even fit inside your tight little pussy. Too occupied with your thoughts, you suddenly felt him push hit tip inside your tight hole-- causing your eyes to widen as you let out a grunt.

"ngh-! I-i...I don't think it will fit--! Ah!" You moaned, feeling him force his tip to stretch out your tight hole. His hand tightened more around your neck as he chuckled. "H-hah-- it's just the tip and you can't handle it?"

"F-fuck, I wonder what would it be like if I slam my whole cock inside?"

Tears streamed down your cheeks while you drool. Seeing him having a hard time pushing his gritty cock inside your pussy--earning loud moans from you while you endure the way his tip is stretching your little hole.

"'ts hurt...s-so much.." You babble, as you bit your lower lip. Caleb pants, as he slowly pushed his gritty cock even more-- your tight hole finally swallowing his whole tip. Even with just the tip inside of you, makes Caleb want to cum and make a mess out of you.

"f-fuck--!"

It's so warm-- he feels like he's in bliss of ecstasy. The way the walls of your warm tight pussy is hugging his tip so good while it throbs-- is such a euphoric feeling. Shit, he can't even describe what he's feeling right now, finally having to empty his balls in a literally pussy and not with those hentai mangas he reads.

You cried out while Caleb struggles to push his whole gritty cock inside your warm tight pussy. Both of your bodies trembles, his hand finally letting go of your neck as it joins to hold both of your thighs together and pressed it against your tits. You finally exhaled and catch your breath--hands gripping the covers of the bed tightly.

"nghhhh-! Hah- 'ts hurt so much, I can't-!"

"Fuck!" You screamed, feeling his whole cock slide inside of you so quick-- tears streamed even more as you cry out, grunting while you felt the pain of his gritty cock stretching your tight pussy so good. You drool as you try to process of what happened, feeling a hot liquid oozing out of your entrance.

"S-shit, tight hole finally swallowed me whole" He chuckled, eyes looking down at your pussy sucking him. Blood dripping out of your entrance--just like what he saw on every hentai mangas he read, a cherry pop. His hand reached for your clit as he rubbed circles against it-- making your legs tremble.

"'m gonna start movin', 'kay?" He muttered, making you nod as you swallow your cries. He leans close to you-- kissing your forehead and brushed some strands of your hair away. Forehead against each other as his lips slammed to yours. Pulling you into a heated kiss--pushing his hot tongue inside your mouth, while he explored every part.

You moaned between the kiss as you feel him pump his gritty cock in and out of your tight pussy. He was only pushing a small distance inside your pussy--trying to stretch you slowly before he dicks you down for real. You swallow his cock so good, he can't help but grunt each time the walls of your warm pussy throbs--on how it hugs his fat cock so well.

Angry red tip kissing the lips of your womb as he continued on with his pace--you felt a knot forming inside while gushing an upcoming climax through your throbbing pussy.

Hot tongues dances and swirls with each other-- leaving you both in drooling mess while you suck on his tongue. This was different from the first kiss you two shared-- this isn't a small peck anymore this is one nasty heated make out.

Hot bodies against each other-- you can feel your juices oozing out of your pussy as it soaks the covers of the bed, leaving a nasty mess under.

His thumb continued on rubbing your hardened clit-- using your juices as a lubricant for it to be slippery to rub on. Your body twitches when you felt him pinch your clit, earning a soft whimper from you.

He pulls away from the kiss, smearing your drool to the side of your mouth while you pursed your lips. You feel him fastening his pace of fucking your tight pussy--making you cry, your hands reached out and wrapped around his back and dig your nails against the flesh of it-- earning a grunt from him.

"fuck-- ha- how d-does it feel? Seeing your best friend taking your virginity" He snickered, the fucking is so sloppy-- you can hear the sound of your pussy slapping against his pelvis.

"'ts so fuckin- hot- ngh-- dicking you down"

The gushing of your blood and juices mixed together as he fucks it back in-- you can feel your climax on its edge, ready to release. You babble nonsense while you cry against the crook of his neck. Sticky body against each other while he plants kisses over your face.

"cum--! Cumming-!" You screamed out, tightening your legs wrapped around his hips as Caleb continued to drill his cock inside of you relentlessly-- stretching your walls so good as his cock fills every part of it.

You bit down his neck and cried, releasing your high as it squirts against his cock and pelvis. Your pussy is definitely designed just to be a cocksleeve for his fat gritty cock.

"hah-...cum for me, pretty girl"

Poor you, your mind is occupied of Caleb's fat cock. It amuses him that you're a blabbering mess-- just letting out words like "too much, hurts, Caleb, Caleb, Caleb, cumming-, cum, Caleb" and he loves you for that. Because, it means he dicking you down so good-- it made you feel like you're in cloud 9.

Caleb grunts as he felt your hot juices against his cock-- squirting endlessly as it drips down like a waterfall. He can feel your hot breath against the crook of his neck while you sob, but he doesn't stopped there.

"d-dont be passing out-- h-hah..on me" He muttered, pulling out his whole cock out as he slams it back in-- he continues his rhythm as his fast pace remains unchanged. Fucking you like a dog in heat like there's no tomorrow.

"no more-! Ngh-! Caleb--!"

He continued drilling his fat cock inside while your mind goes hazy as you feel like passing out. Caleb's breathing unsteadies, feeling his throbbing cock twitching inside of you as he pump it in and out-- he can feel his climax building up to his tip. His thumb pushed down his bulge against your stomach as he continues fucking you-- feeling his tip hit against the walls of your stomach.

The walls of your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock-- preparing for another release. He felt it too, causing him to let out a hoarse grunt as he continued to rut inside. "Fuck..fuck fuck-- I-I'm cumming, pretty girl"

"w-where-" Before he could finish his sentence you replied quick.

"I-inside!"

And with that, Caleb lets out a soft whimper-- shooting loads and loads of his thick hot cum inside your tight pussy, painting the walls white as he fucks it even more inside of your womb. Following, you release your high, squirting as it drips down out of your pussy--oozing along with his cum.

Caleb hugs you against him as his body trembles still shooting more loads inside your aching pussy while it tightens around his fat cock. You hugged him back, feeling you clench around him and your mind went blank--too cockdrunk to say anything as you let him be.

Let him give you a creamy creampie on your first sex.

He collapsed over your body, face against the crook of your neck as you felt his hot breathe against your skin. You squirmed as you felt his hot cum leaking out of your tight entrance--dripping down to your legs and to the covers of the bed.

Caleb looks over you as he caress your cheek, thumb brushing your eye as you closed your eyes--melting at his warmth while you softly sigh.

But oh...he's not done yet.

"Let's....hit it from the back. Want to see your ass clap, pretty girl.."

Don't worry, you'd get used to it. After all, that's what friends do.

This isn't proofread, sorry if there are mistakes T_T

masterlist

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

The lives of a gay couple who lived in a Dorset village for nearly six decades have been turned into an exhibition. Norman Notley (1890–1980) and David Brynley (1902–1981) moved to Corfe Castle in 1923 and lived openly as a couple, despite homosexuality being illegal at the time. The two men were successful musicians who sang together in Britain and the United States and they had many friends in the art world. Photographs and diaries on display at Dorset Museum reveal they lived peacefully with the local community for 57 years until their deaths.

In 1973, local people organised an event for the couple to celebrate their 50 years in the village. Museum director Claire Dixon said: "They were known as 'the boys' quite affectionately by the community. "They didn't throw the party, the community threw it for them. "When lots of people were having to hide the fact that they were gay, or think about their behaviour in public space, it seems that they were able to live quite a peaceful life in the village." The couple shared a passion for creating art as well as collecting and Notley bequeathed his collection of paintings to Dorset Museum. Despite being able to live authentically, the only image in the collection of them being affectionate to one another is a photo of Brynley kissing Notley on the cheek.

Notley died in 1980, aged 90, and Brynley a year later, aged 81. Maisie Ball, an archaeology student at Bournemouth University, began digitising the couple's photographs and transcribing their journals and letters as part of a work placement at the museum. She said: "Being able to share their story has been so important as there are not many collections like this that give a glimpse into the lives of LGBTQ+ people from this time period. "The photographs that have stuck with me the most are the ones with their many dogs and the rare few of Norman on his own, where you get to see a glimpse of his personality." The display, curated by Ms Ball, with advice from Prof Jana Funke of the University of Exeter, is on display throughout February to coincide with LGBT+ History Month. (Full article)

[hel1nn]

Gojo satoru fic recommendations part three !

Pt 1 | pt 2

— sakura by @arminsumi

Satoru who has hanahaki disease.

— glimpse? By @awarmcupofmilk ,sequel

A arguement ends the strong relationship of you and satoru

— dorm mate!gojo series by @mari-the-bimbo

Hurt comfort and fluffy

— love you by @noroi1000

Ahh it made me cry i love her fics sm

— cat and love by @/noroi1000

— im waiting for you in different life by @/noroi1000

— you promised me something by @/noroi1000 , backstory

— bully gojo by @suguru-getos

Toru is so mean 💔

— speak now by @seeingivy

Stopping your best friend satoru from getting married after you realize your feelings for him

— Drabble by @peachsayshi

— Believe me now by @lunarnu

— Satoru gojo x oc by @rin-art-fanfic-universe

i love these time travel fics

— crush by @teatreeoilll

Toru finds out you have a crush on him

— headcanons by @shesinmy

Your younger sister of nanami T^T

— snowed in by @indiewritesxoxo

Yeti toru ^.^

— ex toru by @skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru

— you need me so bad by @/arminsumi

— idk who the author

— going to a private onsen with gojo by @limitlessgojo

— since you asked for it by @/arminsumi

— loser!reader x Toru by @yanderenightmare

— childhood sweeties satoru n fem reader art

A/n : i will post a part four if i find more fics :b

[snowande]

My Senior

(Male x Male reader)

[Warning : no minors allowed , putting cum in drinks, somnophilia, just him being creepy]

Lumi's Note : Hi hi hi hope you enjoy this one! btw should I make a part two of this? If you guys want of course, also! If you want to request a fics or ask, my inbox is open! (Please I need to do something :') ).

Ethan was a freshman year on college in art major, on his walk to his class, Ethan catch of glimpse of you and you are a perfect man he ever seen, you were his senior.

You were kind and polite making his heart pumped, you were his muse, his sketch book is full of you, even a naked sketch, he has a art studio on his apartment and the canvas was all you. He was obsessed about you, his muse, his senior. he just want to touch you, to caress you... fucked you...

Ethan is now in class with his colleague, and the other seniors is here, helping his class with a project, and you were here too. Ethan's heart raced as he saw you walk into the classroom. He tried to focus on the project at hand, but his eyes kept drifting towards you.

He admired your every move, your every gesture. He imagined running his fingers through your hair, tracing the lines of your face, and feeling your body against his.

As the class went on, Ethan watched as you moved about the classroom, helping his classmates with their project. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, his heart racing with each glance.

His heart skipped a beat every time you bent over to explain something to his colleagues. He couldn't help but imagine you in that same position, but his hands gripping your hips. He knew he needed to calm down, but being this close to you was driving him crazy.

As you approached his table, Ethan's hands shook slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. He looked up at you with those doe eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "S-senior... I was having some trouble with this part of the project. Could you... help me?"

You leaned over his desk to look at his work, giving him a view of your back. He swallowed hard as his mind went dirty. "Oh it's like this...." you murmured softly, your face close to his paper.

He could smell your cologne.

feel your breath.

He gets hard.

"Do you get it now?" You asked softly. He snap out from his mind when you ask him and nodded, "Yes, Senior... I got it." He watched you straighten up, his eyes dropping to your backside. He quickly averted his gaze.

As you walked away to help another colleague, Ethan let out a shaky breath. He quickly adjusted his pants under the desk, hoping no one noticed his erection. He tried to calm down, but your scent was still lingering on the air, driving him crazy. Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind.

Maybe... Maybe! he can ask you help him with his unfinished project at his apartment, Ethan hear that you always help your underclassmen, so it's worth a shot, just thinking about you... You! YOU in his apartment, just alone together.

"Senior..." he called out as when you go to his table again, "I'm struggling with this part actually... Do you have some time tomorrow evening? Would you... would you mind helping me at my apartment? I can make coffee..."

He watched your expression carefully, his heart pounding in his chest. "If it's not too much trouble, of course..." He said to you. The idea seemed risky but perfect, having you alone in his apartment was every part of his twisted fantasy. He tried to appear casual, shrugging lightly as if it was a routine request.

You seemed to consider his request for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "Sure, Ethan. I can come by your apartment after class tomorrow. Just text me the address and the time," you said calmly, writing down his project details with a pen. Ethan's heart raced with excitement and anticipation.

OH YOU! YOU!YOU! GOING TO HIS APARTMENT!!!

As the day wore on, Ethan found it impossible to concentrate. Every time you bent over to help another student, his mind would wander, and he'd have to adjust himself discreetly. He couldn't believe his luck, you were actually going to be in his apartment, alone with Him.

Finally, the class ended. Ethan quickly packed his things, his hands shaking with excitement. He sent you a text with his address and the time 6 PM sharp. He spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning his apartment, making sure everything was perfect for your arrival.

He anxiously paced his living room as the clock approached 6 PM. He had set out his unfinished project prominently, hiding the disturbing artwork of you behind closed doors. Glancing at his reflection in the hallway mirror, he smoothed his hair and straightened his shirt, wanting to look his best.

The there's a knock at the his door. His heart races as he opens it, trying to compose himself. "You're right on time," he says, stepping aside to let you in. As you enter, he closes the door behind you, locking it softly.

He leads you to the living room, gesturing towards the unfinished project spread out on the coffee table. "So, as I mentioned, I'm really struggling with this part," he says, his voice barely hiding his nervousness. He sits down next to you on the couch, intentionally sitting closer than necessary.

"Umm would... would you like something to drink?" he asks smoothly, already moving towards the kitchen. "I have water, soda and coffe..." he trails off. "ah can I have some coffee please? if you have any of course," you reply back to Ethan

At the kitchen he brew the coffee and grab a creamer for him but for you, he will give a special 'creamer' to your coffee. He quickly glances back to ensure you're not looking and takes a moment to adjust himself, unzipping his pants slightly. He put your mug under his cock, and he started to Stroke his cock slowly.

he started to go faster and silently groan, and thinking about you, under him moaning his name pathetically. he's almost there, his hand moving faster and faster as he can't wait you to drink his creation. He bites his lip to stifle a moan, his cock throbbing in his hand. Suddenly, he cums hard, shooting thick ropes of cum into your coffee mug.

He catches his breath, wiping his hand on his pants. He stirs the coffee mug thoroughly, making sure his cum is well mixed in. He carries the two mugs back to the living room, acting casual as he sits down next to you, handing you your coffee.

You take a sip of the coffee, oblivious to what he done to yout coffee. Ethan watches you intently, his eyes flickering with a dark satisfaction as he sees you drink his seed. He takes a sip of his own coffee, trying to act normal. "Is the coffee okay?"

You nod, taking another sip. "It's good, thanks," you say, completely unaware of his sickening act. He smiles, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. "I'm glad you like it" he replies, his eyes never leaving your lips as you drink from the mug.

As the two of you work on the project, Ethan can't help but steal glances at you, his mind filled with dark and twisted thoughts. Every time you take a sip of your coffee, he feels a surge of power and satisfaction.

Ethan leans back, exhaling with relief as the project is finally completed. He glances at your now empty coffee mug with a secret smirk, proud of his subtle yet deviant success. "All done!" You says, Ethan look at you, his heart races with the thrill of what he's done.

He stands up, stretching his arms above his head,he walks over to the kitchen, rinsing out the coffee mugs. As he turns around, he catches you yawning and rubbing your eyes. "Tired?" "Yeah... I should go home now, but it's kinda late... , I don't know if the bus is out now" you reply.

Ethan's eyes light up at your words, barely concealing his delight. He glances at the clock, nodding slowly. "Actually, the last bus left over an hour ago. You're probably stuck here tonight,"

He walks back into the living room, leaning against the doorway"You can sleep in the guest room if you want. It's late, and it wouldn't be safe for you to try and find a ride home now."

"Ah really? I don't want to burden you..." you said to Ethan, He waves his hand dismissively, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "It's no burden at all. Really." He moves closer to you, "Besides, I have extra blankets and pillows. The guest room's pretty comfortable."

You yawn again, your body feeling suddenly heavy and tired. "Okay... You're sure it's no trouble?" You ask sleepily. Ethan watches you intently, noting your tired movements. "No trouble at all," He assures you, his mind buzzing with dark thoughts.

Hours later, as silence settles over the darkened apartment, Ethan slowly opens the guest room door. He peers in at your sleeping form, a glint of madness in his eyes. Stealthily, he approaches the bed, hovering over you. His breathing grows heavy as he watches your chest rise and fall.

With a wicked smirk, Ethan gently moves the blanket covering you, exposing your sleeping form. His eyes roam hungrily over your body, pausing at your neck. He leans closer, inhaling your scent deeply, a shudder of twisted desire running through him knowing you're helplessly asleep.

Ethan's heart pounds in his chest as he watches your peaceful face, his twisted thoughts racing. Without a second thought, he leans down and presses his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. He backs away quickly, shocked at his own boldness, yet unable to wipe the satisfied smile from his face.

His eyes gleam with excitement as he leans back in, pressing his lips against yours once again. This time, his kiss is not as gentle as the first time. He kissed you passionately, his fingers trailing down your neck and collarbone, exploring your sleeping form with his greedy hands.

You unconsciously part your lips slightly, allowing him deeper access. He growls softly, taking full advantage and pushing his tongue inside your mouth. He kisses you deeply, his hands sliding down your sides, your hips. He hoovers over you.

Ethan breaks the kiss, panting heavily. His eyes are wild with lust and madness as he stares down at your helpless form. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, a dark chuckle escaping him. "You taste even better than I imagined,"

His breath hitches as he releases himself from his pants, his large, hard length springing free. He wraps his fingers around himself tightly, stroking himself furiously as he looks down at your face. He bites his lip, stifling a groan as he pleasures himself to the sight of you. His eyes roam over your body, imagining all the things he wants to do to you. He increases his pace, his breathing growing ragged. He's close, so close... .

He's panting now, his face contorted with pleasure as he looks down at your sleeping form. He's so close to the edge, he can feel it building. He reaches out and touches your face gently with his free hand, his thumb brushing your cheek as he jerks off faster.

"Fuck!" He silently curse, His finger traces your lips gently as he finally reaches his release, hot liquid spurting out onto your sleeping face. He pants heavily, his chest heaving as he looks down at his handiwork, his seed dripping down your cheeks and lips.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes wide with amazement and satisfaction, before finally stuffing himself back into his pants. He hesitates for a moment, debating whether to wipe the mess off your face or not.

With a heavy sigh of reluctance, Ethan pulls a handheld towel from his pocket and gently dabs at your face, cleaning off the evidence of his dark deed. He takes care not to wake you, his movements precise yet reluctant. "Such a shame," he murmurs under his breath.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes taking in every inch of your sleeping face. He leans down one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before backing away and disappearing into the shadows. "Until next time," he whispers before slipping out of the room and disappearing into the night.

In the morning you woke up, sleeping well in the guest room, your stomach growls in hungry for food, you slowly walk out of the room and go to the kitchen and see Ethan makes breakfast. As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and the sizzle of bacon. Ethan is busy preparing breakfast, humming softly to himself.

He turns to greet you with a warm smile, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary. After eating breakfast you ask Ethan to join you go to college together, just the two of you.

"Sure," Ethan grins, grabbing his bag. He watches you intently as you get ready, his eyes darkening slightly as you bend over to tie your shoes, giving him a perfect view of your backside. He swallows hard. adjusting himself. calm himself and he walks with you to the bus.

During the bus ride, Ethan keeps the conversation light and engaging. He asks about your classes, your interests, and even shares some of his own experiences as a senior. His charm is on full display, making you feel comfortable and at ease.

As you arrive at college, Ethan walks you to your first class, his hand lightly touching your back. He waits until you're inside before turning to leave, but not before glancing back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine. "See you later,"

He watches as you disappear into the classroom, his heart fluttering in his chest. He can't believe how close he is to having you all to himself. He spends the day attending his classes, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of you.

Maybe in his next plan he'll have you stay permanently in his apartment. And be his finally. until next time now... My dear senior...

This picture is from Pinterest uzumaki Naruto

Tags list : @nymphea0

[girlkisser13]

going on your first date with the tvdu men would include

damon salvatore

• damon would likely choose a secluded and romantic location, perhaps the mystic grill for a drink, followed by a surprise trip to a hidden spot in the woods or a beautiful clearing with a view of the stars.

• he would pick you up in his blue convertible, making the journey to your date part of the experience, complete with playful banter and a perfectly curated playlist.

• expect witty and flirty conversation. we all know damon LOVES to tease, but he’d also be surprisingly attentive, showing genuine interest in getting to know you better.

• he’d most likely choose your drink for you, something you’d end up loving, showcasing his impeccable taste. if the date involves food, he’d make sure it’s something special, perhaps even cooking for you at his house.

• if the moment felt right, damon will suggest dancing. whether it’s a slow dance in the woods under the stars or a playful dance at the grill, he’d make it unforgettable.

• at the end of the date, damon would walk you to your door. his goodbye would be lingering, leaving you eager for the next time you see him. he’d probably leave you with a teasing comment or a promise of more to come.

elijah mikaelson

• elijah would choose an elegant and sophisticated location, a high-end restaurant with a stunning view or a private, luxurious setting that exudes old school harm.

• he’d OBVIOUSLY show up dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, reflecting his refined and timeless style. every detail of his appearance would be perfect, from his cufflinks to his neatly styled hair.

• elijah would send a classic car to pick you up, or he would arrive himself, ready to escort you to your date with utmost courtesy.

• elijah would be genuinely interested in your thoughts, opinions, and experiences. he’d share fascinating stories from his centuries-long life, offering glimpses into his past while keeping an air of mystery.

• elijah is the epitome of a gentleman. he’d hold doors open for you, help you with your coat, and ensure you feel cherished and respected throughout the evening.

• he would bring you a thoughtful gift, such as a bouquet of rare flowers or a book that he thinks you’d love, showing his attention to detail and consideration.

• elijah would choose the finest cuisine and wine, making sure everything is of the highest quality. he’d ensure the meal is a culinary experience, with each course carefully selected to delight your palate.

• he would engage you in conversations about art, history, literature, and culture, revealing his vast knowledge and passion for these subjects.

• while elijah is a perfect gentleman, there’s always an underlying sense of his power and ability to protect you. you’d feel safe and secure in his presence, knowing he’d go to great lengths to ensure your well-being.

• at the end of the date, elijah would walk you to your door, ensuring you’re safely home. his goodbye would be tender and sincere, perhaps with a gentle kiss on your hand or a soft brush of his lips against your cheek, leaving you enchanted and eager for the next time you meet.

kol mikaelson

• kol would choose a fun and unpredictable location for your date. this could range from a vibrant bar in the french quarter, to a late-night carnival, or even a spontaneous adventure like breaking into an abandoned mansion for some exploring.

• kol would either show up in a flashy car or decide to take you for a walk through the lively streets of new orleans, there’s no in between.

• kol is all about living in the moment. he might suggest impromptu activities, like dancing in the street to a nearby musician’s tunes or trying some exotic food from a street vendor.

• there’s always a touch of mischief with kol. he might pull a harmless prank or engage in a bit of friendly competition, such as challenging you to a game of pool or darts at a local bar.

• kol wouldn’t hide his vampire nature; instead, he’d use it to impress you. he’d show off his speed, strength, and compel the bartender to give you both free drinks.

• the date would be filled with energy and excitement. kol’s enthusiasm is contagious, and he’d ensure you’re constantly entertained and engaged, never a dull moment.

• at the end of the date, kol would walk you home, making sure you’re safely inside. his goodbye would be flirty and full of promise, perhaps with a lingering kiss or a playful comment about your next adventure together.

jeremy gilbert

• jeremy would choose a casual and comfortable location, like a cozy café, a local diner, or a peaceful spot by the lake for a picnic.

• jeremy is a good listener and would be interested in learning about your passions, dreams, and experiences.

• jeremy would suggest doing something fun and interactive, like visiting an arcade, going for a hike, or even attending a local concert. he’d want to create a memorable experience that’s enjoyable for both of you.

• jeremy’s an artist so he might even take you to a local art gallery, or he could even bring his sketchbook and show you some of his sketches (they’re honestly probably all sketches of you).

• jeremy would choose a place with good, hearty food— nothing too fancy, but something that feels comforting and satisfying. if you’re having a picnic, he’d pack a basket with some of his favorite snacks and drinks.

• he also loves being outdoors, so he might take you to a beautiful, secluded spot in nature.

• at the end of the date, jeremy would walk you to your door and make sure you’re safely inside. his goodbye would be sweet and sincere, leaving you feeling cared for and excited for the next time you see him.

malachai "kai" parker

• kai would choose an unconventional and adventurous location. this could range from exploring an old, abandoned building to a spontaneous road trip to a nearby town. he loves to keep things exciting and unpredictable.

• there’s always a sense of mischief with kai. he would definitely suggest something dangerous or illegal, like sneaking into a restricted area or trying out a thrilling activity. he enjoys pushing boundaries and seeing how far you’re willing to go.

• kai wouldn’t shy away from using his magic. he might perform small, impressive spells to amuse you or use his powers to enhance the date, like creating a magical light show or conjuring up something special.

• kai would take you to a unique, offbeat restaurant or café, somewhere with a cool vibe and interesting menu. he’d make sure the experience is memorable and out of the ordinary.

• at the end of the date, kai would walk you to your door with a mix of playful charm and genuine interest. his goodbye would be intriguing and magnetic, perhaps with a lingering touch or a cryptic comment that leaves you wanting more.

niklaus "klaus" mikaelson

• klaus would choose a sophisticated and exclusive location, like a private rooftop dinner with a stunning view of the city, a hidden garden, or a historic site. he loves grandeur and would want to impress you with a memorable setting.

• klaus would pick you up in a luxurious car, ensuring you travel in comfort and style. the journey would be smooth and filled with engaging conversation, making you feel at ease and intrigued.

• klaus is well-read and knowledgeable, and he’d be genuinely interested in your thoughts and experiences. he’d share fascinating stories from his long life, providing glimpses into his complex personality.

• klaus is a master of romantic gestures. he’d bring you a bouquet of rare flowers, arrange for a talented musician to play a private concert, or surprise you with a beautifully handwritten note expressing his admiration.

• klaus has a deep appreciation for art and culture. he might take you to an art gallery, a classical music concert, or even show you some of his own artwork. he’d love to share his passions with you and see your reactions.

• klaus has a penetrating gaze that can make you feel like the only person in the world. throughout the date, he’d often lock eyes with you, never looking away until you do.

• his protective nature would be evident. he’d ensure you feel safe and cared for at all times, subtly asserting his strength and willingness to defend you if needed.

• klaus is a gentleman at heart. he’d open doors for you, pull out your chair, and be attentive to your needs, ensuring you feel respected and cherished.

• at the end of the date, klaus would walk you to your door. his goodbye would be lingering and filled with promise, perhaps with a gentle kiss on your hand or a soft brush of his lips against yours, leaving you yearning for more.

stefan salvatore

• stefan would choose a charming, low-key location for your first date. this might be a quaint café, a scenic park, or a cozy restaurant with a relaxed atmosphere where you can talk and connect.

• he’d pick you up in his car, making sure the ride is pleasant and comfortable. he might even play a soft playlist to set a relaxed mood.

• stefan is thoughtful and would likely bring a small, meaningful gift, like a single flower or a favorite book he thinks you’d enjoy. he values the little things that show he’s paying attention.

• stefan would plan a thoughtful activity, such as a stroll through a picturesque park, a visit to a local art exhibit, or a casual outing to a farmers' market, where you can explore and talk.

• he’d pay close attention to your preferences and needs, ensuring you’re comfortable and having a good time. if you mention a favorite food or drink, he’d remember and include it in the date.

• stefan’s demeanor is kind and respectful. he’d open doors for you, offer his arm while walking, and be attentive without being overwhelming, showing his genuine respect and care.

• rather than grand gestures, stefan plan a quiet moment to watch the sunset together or find a peaceful spot where you can talk privately.

• at the end of the date, stefan would walk you to your doorstep. his goodbye would be heartfelt, leaving you with a feeling of warmth and anticipation for the next time you see him.

[berrryparfait]

my online pervert ₊˚⊹♡

♥︎ featuring: zayne, xavier, sylus, rafayel, caleb x fem!reader

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: his secret obsession. his private fantasy. when he needs a little release, he knows exactly where to go... 「it's like i can feel your eyes on me...」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: [nsfw] pure smut, LI spies on reader by hacking into her laptop camera, voyeurism, masturbation (m&f), dubcon / cnc, squirting, messy ejaculation

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: art deco – lana del rey

✧ a/n: please please PLEASE don't judge me for this i'm sane i swear

You know it’s wrong.

But you get so wet knowing he can see you—your anonymous, faceless stalker. A thrill so exhilarating your heart beats out of your chest. Is it really a crime if you’re begging to be his prey? And though you may never know him, a part of you has already devoted itself to him.

So, mystery man…

Are you watching?

ZAYNE has had his fair share of long days at the hospital, but today was exceptionally dreadful. Everywhere he went, coworkers hounded him and patients complained to him and higher-ups micromanaged him—it was exhausting. Never has he felt so strong an urge to indulge in his private fantasy, the dirty little secret he keeps stowed away for times like these…

Fumbling with anticipation, he locks the door to his office and closes the blinds. The lights are switched off, not one else in the silent room save for him, his computer, and… A few clicks of his mouse later, and he’s accessed the Gateway. Your room flashes onto his screen, dark and empty. But it isn’t long before you appear in frame, your face flushed and fingers itching. He watches with rapt attention as you climb onto your bed, already rock hard for you. He unzips his pants, pulls his boxers down. Meanwhile, you lift your skirt up to expose your soiled panties, wet with arousal, and take them off. He exhales, feverish, like he’s just won the lottery. “There you are, beautiful.” Your fingers begin to massage your puffy clit as breathy moans escape your lips, rubbing in circles, side to side, up and down, increasing in speed; and slick drips down your folds as if welcoming your incognito visitor. Overcome, he pumps his cock to the livestream, imagining plunging himself into your tight cunt and leaving his long list of responsibilities behind. “Fuck, ughhh…” he groans as his strokes quicken, needy for your lovely warmth and delicious touch. You rub your pussy so fast and hard the pleasure blinds you, your mouth hanging wide open as you squirt all over your bed and shake uncontrollably, explosively. Zayne’s eyes remain on your perfect, spasming pussy as he cums on his desk, white ropes of his seed landing in places he’s not looking forward to cleaning later. “What’s wrong with me…?” he whispers between pants, hot shame flooding his cheeks. “I fucking need you…”

XAVIER is a man starved. It’s pathetic, how desperate for physical touch he is. He isn’t short of options, obviously, but being a Deepspace Hunter is no joke, not to mention one who takes his job as seriously as he does. But despite the other Hunters practically throwing themselves at him every chance they get, none of them get him off the way you do. When it comes to you, his dire need for intimacy multiplies…

It’s late, and the hallway is empty. Everyone’s probably gone to sleep by now. He gets comfortable in his chair as he opens the Gateway, nothing but shadows in his bedchamber to haunt him. What a degenerate he is—crawling through the dark web for a glimpse of the one girl who fulfills his carnal needs. The intangible object of his most sinful desires. You come into view then, wearing only a bra and panties—both pastel blue. His breath catches in his throat as you lower yourself onto the mattress, a dim, unnatural glow illuminating your curves. “God, you’re perfect.” His dick is out within seconds, all prior admonitions (self-targeted) forgotten. A squelching noise echoes through his speakers as you begin to finger your sopping cunt, two fingers thrusting in and out as you whimper softly. He’s palming his cock now, slow and steady, relishing in your gentle sounds and the imaginary feeling of your heat wrapped around his length. “So tight…” You squeeze a third finger into your pussy, pushing your panties further to the side and crying out in pure ecstasy. His strokes match yours, eliciting groans from deep in his throat. In his head, you’re on his lap, bouncing like your life depends on it and forcing his mind off of those aggravating space missions. Do you know he’s watching your every move? The thought exhilarates him, invigorates him—and he pumps himself impossibility faster before bursting all over his keyboard, the orgasm too intense to hold back. As you squirt onto the camera and draw your climax out, he slumps down in his seat, relaxed, spent, and…mildly ashamed. “Fuck. I’m a creep… But you’re so fucking good…”

SYLUS remains composed on the surface, but deep down, god he’s a mess. Sure, he’s the all-powerful boss of an underground crime syndicate, but he’s also incredibly weak. He’d never bow to anyone, but for you, he’d get on his knees and beg like a sinner addicted to both evil and repentance. He can bark orders all he wants—at the end of the day, he’s a measly slave…

It’s hard to tell when or where the urges hit. Well, the urge is always there; it’s more of a matter of him succumbing to them. Today, he’s feeling extra greedy, extra hungry for that sweet release, and where else is he going to get it besides watching you cum? He wishes he wasn’t so malleable, so easily swayed by these worldly desires. He wishes he wasn’t such a horny bastard. But alas, here he is, ready to breach the Gateway. You’re already spread out on your bed, thighs stretched apart and pussy leaking onto the pillow beneath your ass. “Fuck, Kitten… You’ll be the death of me.” It seems he’s late. No time is wasted as he yanks his pants down and his swollen, erect cock springs out, precum already dribbling down its length. You sit upright and begin to ride the pillow like it’s a fucking bull, rolling your hips and grinding your clit against the fabric with so much force it burns. His eyes are fixated on your lips as they whine and whisper, his right hand pumping his cock to a steady rhythm. He’s captivated. Possessed. “Mmmh… Ride it, baby…” Your languid rolls turn into desperate humps, jerks against the pillow like you’re a rodeo queen and the saddle is his lap. Once again, he’s losing control. His strokes are uneven, hurried, as he chases his release, picturing you around his cock, hot and sticky and— Streaks of hot cum erupt from his cock as you squirt all over the pillow, soiling everything underneath you. His seed is everywhere; on his lap, on the screen—it’s godawful. It’s so, so hot. “I’m going to find you, Kitten… And when that day comes, we’ll see who begs…”

RAFAYEL has a disgustingly large cock. What a shame the only time it’s put to good use is when he’s jerking off in front of his computer, letting his thoughts wander as he edges himself to tears. What a waste, truly—his main source of artistic inspiration stems from a very different kind of passion, one he’s grown accustomed to. Nothing else works for him anymore. It’s you or nothing…

Artist’s block is a pain in the ass. He’s been sitting in front of an empty canvas for hours, trying to exhaust all other options before resorting to…that. Naturally, his paintings are most emotionally potent when they’re born from the ache of wanting, those elegant strokes of his paintbrush concealing an inhuman lust. A savage, thinly-veiled obsession. He finally decides he needs to reference a different kind of model today, one that can only be gazed upon through the Gateway. Wide-eyed, he watches like a puppet on a string as you part your thighs on the mattress, a purple vibrator in hand. “Fuck, I needed this.” Soft curses leave his lips as you bring the device to your throbbing pussy, squirming and writhing at the euphoric feeling of your pelvic muscles tightening in response. He squeezes his cock with surprising force, reeling it in as best as he can. You’re a marvel like this; all eager and doe-eyed for a little dirty relief. “Yeah… Just like that, sweetie…” His wrist has begun to hurt from the ceaseless pumping, but he can’t bring himself to stop. You’re leaking by now, a stream of cloudy fluids spilling onto your pink patterned bed sheet. Every inch of his body tenses as your eyes meet his for a moment, and he subconsciously begins to thrust his hips upwards into his fist, unintelligible moans punctuating the tiny painting room. Paralyzed, you press the head of the vibrator to your clit so hard your pussy starts to shake, and squirt flies out in every direction as you cum hard. He unravels at the sight of you, blowing his load onto the canvas before him and letting his “creative” juices flow. “You’re a fucking masterpiece, you know that?”

CALEB is a man of honor. His shining sense of duty is almost as bright as his smile, and most of his coworkers would label him the most capable man they’ve ever met. But there’s a certain something to him—a hidden edge that he refuses to let slip. Maybe he gets off on the fact that the real him is off-limits, reserved only to feed his one, insuppressible desire…

Many unspeakable acts have been carried out in this cockpit. It’s cozy, that’s for sure. But he isn’t here to get cozy tonight. He needs to both clear his head and cloud it at once before tomorrow’s mission, and there’s only one way for him to achieve that. He pries his laptop open and taps into the Gateway, his breaths slowing as you climb into frame. God, he’s so hard right now it hurts. It’s a chore, putting on a collected, sane front all day, unable to act on his cardinal instincts until he’s locked himself away. But this… This is his favorite part of the day. “I’ve waited all day for you, Pipsqueak…” Sweet sighs float from your pouty lips as your fingers begin to massage your clit, and he finally allows himself some much-needed pleasure. His forearm muscles flex impatiently as he soothes his twitching cock, swearing at the sight of your cream coating your fingers. Your toes curl at the pressure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you rub yourself senseless. “Ughhh… Ugh—” His heartbeat quickens as he fists his cock so furiously his vision blurs, groping and fumbling like his dick is a steering wheel and he’s diving straight into the valley of your thighs. (***my most poetic sentence yet) Suddenly, abruptly, your body trembles and you burst all over the bedroom floor, mirroring his own messy climax. Thick, warm cum soils the control panel, but he’s too satisfied, too spent to care. “Watch out, Pips… You’re on borrowed time…”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[hameesstuff]

"The Space Between Us"

Pairing: husband! jaehyun x wife! reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage | Enemies to Lovers | Smut | Angst | Fluff

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, emotional themes

Word Count : ~3.2k

___________________________________________

A Ring, A Lie, A War Between Us

If silence could kill, the penthouse would be a graveyard.

Jeong Jaehyun sat across from you at the long marble table, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, eyes fixed on his phone. Not on you. Never on you.

Not unless he was annoyed.

You poked at your untouched dinner, the clink of silverware the only sound between you.

“I’ll be in Milan next week,” he said, still not looking up.

“And?”

“It’s in our schedule.”

You finally glanced at him. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me all day.”

He shrugged. “We’re not friends. Just husband and wife, remember?”

Right. Husband and wife.

You were still getting used to that word.

Married. Arranged. Bound by contract and family reputation and the quiet understanding that love would never be part of it.

You both signed the prenup like soldiers signing a war treaty—neutral terms, clean exits, no questions. You even agreed to separate bedrooms. And for the last seven months, it worked.

If avoidance was an art, Jaehyun was a master.

So you retaliated the only way you knew how: coldness.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when you caught glimpses of the man he used to be—the charming, careful boy you’d met once at a gala before this mess began. Before this version of him showed up with sharp words and colder silences.

You used to wonder what changed him.

Now you just tried not to care.

The turning point came on a Thursday.

You were out late—rarely, because Jaehyun hated “unplanned appearances,” as he called them. But this time, you needed space. Wine. Noise. Maybe even a little danger. Anything but the sterile, suffocating walls of your marriage.

He didn’t ask where you were going.

So you didn’t tell him.

You ended up at a rooftop lounge, laughing over a second drink with someone from a design firm. Not a date. Not really. Just a man who looked at you like you were interesting. Like he wanted to know what made you laugh, not what made you tolerable.

It felt good to be seen.

Until it didn’t.

Until you felt a shadow pass behind you, and then—

“Y/N,” came that low, unmistakable voice. Calm. Controlled.

You turned—and there he was.

Jaehyun. In black. No tie. Hands in his pockets. Rage barely disguised in his eyes.

Your companion stood to greet him, but Jaehyun didn’t even look at him.

“Outside. Now.”

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

His jaw clenched. “You heard me.”

“I’m not one of your interns, Jaehyun.”

“No,” he said coolly. “You’re my wife.”

You followed him out of sheer curiosity. And okay—maybe a little because something about that look in his eyes made your pulse stutter.

He stopped at the empty corridor beside the terrace, turning to face you.

“What the hell was that?”

You crossed your arms. “A conversation. With a man who doesn’t pretend I don’t exist.”

His nostrils flared. “You’re wearing our ring.”

“Barely,” you scoffed. “You treat this marriage like a business transaction. So why do you care who I talk to?”

He stepped forward, slow. Dangerous. “Because you’re mine.”

You froze.

The words hit hard. Deep. Like a live wire between your ribs.

He seemed startled too. But he didn’t back away.

“And I hate the way he was looking at you,” he added, voice rough. “Like he could touch what’s mine.”

You stared at him, breath caught.

"You don’t get to claim me now,” you said, breath trembling.

Jaehyun stared at you like he wasn’t hearing what he expected.

“Maybe I should’ve from the beginning.”

The silence stretched between you—sharp, breathless. Then he stepped closer, eyes unreadable.

“I’ve done everything to keep this clean,” he said, voice low. “Uncomplicated. Distant.”

“And it worked,” you snapped. “We’re perfect strangers. Congratulations.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want this!” you shouted. “I didn’t want to be invisible to my own husband!”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply.

You turned to leave—but his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

“Don’t walk away.”

You glared at him. “Why? So you can go back to ignoring me tomorrow?”

His hand loosened, but his voice dropped—rough, desperate.

“I saw him touching you,” he said. “Laughing with you. Like you were his.”

“And why does that bother you?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

So you pushed. “You hate me, remember?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I hate that I want you and don’t know how to have you.”

The world fell silent.

You didn’t know who kissed who first. It didn’t matter. One second you were glaring, and the next—your mouths collided, all teeth and tongue and months of resentment crashing like waves.

His hands were in your hair. Yours clutched his coat like you’d fall without it. When his mouth dragged down your throat, biting, you gasped.

“We’re in public—”

“Car. Now.”

___________________________________________

You didn’t speak on the ride home. Not with words.

But his hand stayed on your thigh the entire time, fingertips grazing just enough to make your breath hitch. You reached down and dragged his hand higher—just to see him lose his composure.

The second the front door shut, he had you against it.

“You drive me insane,” he growled.

You laughed, breathless. “You deserve it.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time—possessive. The kind that made your knees buckle.

Clothes peeled away in pieces. You shoved his shirt over his head. He spun you toward the wall, grinding his hips against your bare backside, groaning into your neck.

“You’ve been mine this whole time,” he murmured, “and I’ve been so fucking stupid.”

“Then show me,” you whispered.

He did.

He carried you to the bedroom—his, not yours. Laid you out on the bed like a promise.

“I’ve wanted this since the day we signed that contract,” he admitted, hovering over you, eyes dark.

You blinked up at him. “Then why did you hate me?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “I hated that I wanted you when I didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Your breath caught.

Then he kissed you like he meant it. This time, slower. A hand on your cheek. One sliding down to cup your thigh, lifting it over his hip as he pressed into you.

The stretch of him was perfect. Deep. You moaned into his mouth, clinging to him.

He moved slowly at first, eyes locked to yours.

“I want to hear you,” he said. “All of it. Every sound you make when it’s me.”

You gave him everything.

Every gasp, every cry, every broken syllable of his name as he thrust deeper, harder. You writhed beneath him, legs trembling, nails dragging down his back.

“I should’ve claimed you sooner,” he panted. “I should’ve never pretended not to want you.”

When you came, it was with his name in your mouth and his hands holding you like you’d fall apart.

He followed right after, collapsing onto you with a guttural moan and shuddering breath.

___________________________________________

You expected him to leave after.

You expected the silence again. The cold.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, Jaehyun stayed curled against you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder like he couldn’t get close enough.

“I never thought I deserved you,” he said quietly. “Not when I came into this with a closed heart.”

You turned to face him. “Why?”

“Because I was angry,” he confessed. “At the world. At my parents. At myself for letting them use us like pawns.”

“But I’m not them.”

“I know that now.”

You hesitated. Then pressed a soft kiss to his temple.

“I never hated you,” you said. “I just hated how lonely it felt to love you.”

His eyes widened.

“You… love me?”

“I didn’t want to,” you admitted. “But I couldn’t help it.”

He pulled you into his chest, arms tightening.

“I’ll make it right,” he promised. “Starting now.”

EPILOGUE:

Two months later, your shared bedroom was no longer just his.

There were flowers on the windowsill. Two toothbrushes. Your favorite tea in the kitchen cabinet—because he’d memorized the brand.

You woke up to him every morning, arms tangled, warmth shared. He no longer traveled without telling you. He sent photos, videos, little messages that made you laugh even on hard days.

And some nights, when the world went quiet, Jaehyun would pull you close and whisper:

“I still remember the first night I saw you smile for someone else. It wrecked me.”

You’d kiss him gently.

“And now?” you’d ask.

He’d smile, soft and rare. “Now I make sure you never have to smile for someone else again.”

___________________________________________

Feedback is welcome :)

[steveseddie]

‘H’

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: gift | rating: t | wc: 996 | tags: steve is a sweetheart, his love language is gift giving, the return of the battle vest

read on ao3

When everyone starts gathering their Secret Santa gifts so they can go home, Steve asks Eddie to stick around. 

“I have a gift for you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together. “But I’m not your Secret Santa.” 

Steve already gave Will a bunch of art supplies and his own Members Only jacket, and Eddie himself got the coolest rings and heavy metal tapes from Max. He didn’t expect to get anything else tonight. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve shrugs. “Will you stay?” 

Eddie doesn’t even try to say no to Steve’s fluttery eyelashes. “Of course, Stevie.”

While everyone piles into Nancy and Jonathan’s cars, Eddie lingers by the door, waving his friends goodbye.

After seeing everyone off, Steve comes back, smiling when he sees Eddie. “So the gift is in my room–”

“Steve.” Eddie grabs his arm before he starts guiding them upstairs. “You didn’t have to buy me anything. I didn’t buy you anything. I blew through my weed money to get Nancy that curling iron for Secret Santa–”

“Eddie, it’s okay. Besides, I didn’t actually buy it–”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “You made me something?” 

Steve purses his lips. “Not exactly.” 

Before Eddie can ask what he means, Steve grabs his hand and drags him towards his room.

He tells Eddie to sit on the bed while he goes to his closet. Eddie arches his neck impatiently but he only catches a glimpse of denim before Steve hides the gift behind his back. 

“So much secrecy, Stevie.”

Steve fidgets as he approaches. “So, uh, remember when we were in the Upside Down–”

“Vividly.”  

“After I got hurt, uh, you gave me your vest-”

“Which you never returned.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, finally showing Eddie what’s behind his back. “Now I am.” 

Eddie gasps because in Steve’s hands is Eddie’s battle vest.

“I thought it was ruined,” he says, his eyebrows shooting up his face. He reaches for it, carefully touching the familiar fabric. 

“It was, that’s why it took me months to get the blood and the goo out and then I had to fix the rips-”

Eddie blinks at him. “You’ve been working on this for months?” 

Steve bites his lip and nods. “Uh, yeah. It’s not perfect. I had to wash it like, a bunch of times and some of the patches came off so I had to sew them back on, and as hard as Nancy tried to teach me I didn’t do a particularly great job–”

“Steve–” 

“But Dustin told me how much you worked on it and I know that Wayne got you some of the patches so I tried really hard–”

“Steve!” Eddie says, louder so that Steve stops rambling. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, watching as Steve sighs in relief. “Shit, sweetheart, I mean it. This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“You’re welcome, Eds,” Steve says, ducking his head with a shy smile. 

Before Eddie can do something stupid like kiss it off his face, he shrugs the vest on and walks over to Steve’s mirror, smiling at the familiar picture he sees there. 

He twirls a few times like a little girl showing off a new dress and hears Steve chuckle behind him. 

On his third twirl, something on his vest catches his eye. Something new. 

He moves closer to the mirror, blinking repeatedly as if waiting for the green ‘H’ to disappear but it stays stitched to the denim, next to a Metallica patch. 

“Steve?” Eddie asks, tracing it with his finger. “What’s this?

He catches Steve’s eye in the mirror. He’s looking at Eddie like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh–”

“Did you–” 

“Sew the ‘H’ from my letterman jacket onto your vest?” He finishes, hanging a hand from his neck. “Yeah, I did.”

“Your basketball letterman jacket?” Eddie asks, turning around, his jaw dropping a little. 

Steve’s face pulls into a wince. “Yeah. And before you go on a rant about your hatred for sports, I know, okay? But I guess I wanted your vest to have a little part of me–”

“Other than your blood?”  

“Hey, I washed all my blood off it,” Steve says with a scoff. “Look, if you hate it you can just rip it off. I told you I didn’t do a great job stitching it on.”

“I don’t hate it,” Eddie says, surprising himself. He should be appalled by the idea of having anything related to Hawkins High or basketball on his vest, but he can’t when it’s also related to Steve. “Just– why?”

“I thought it would be easier to get you to wear that than my letterman jacket.”

Eddie freezes. “Why would you want me to wear your letterman jacket?” 

A blush creeps onto Steve’s cheeks. “You know why.” 

“I most certainly do not,” Eddie says with a voice that is an octave higher. The only reason why he’s seen people wear someone’s letterman jacket is if they’re dating that person, but Steve can’t possibly mean–

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Steve says and oh, Eddie must have said that out loud. 

“You– you want me to date you?” he stammers out. 

When Steve nods, Eddie nearly passes out. “Holy shit.” 

“Do you want that? I feel like we’ve been dancing around it for a while with the flirting and the touching, but if I’m reading this wrong–”

“You’re not!” Eddie blurts out a little too loudly. “Of course I want that.”

Steve’s smile is blinding and it makes butterflies erupt in Eddie’s chest. “Good because I worked really hard on that vest and I tore up my letterman jacket-”

Eddie chuckles. “You didn’t need to do all that–”

“I really wanted to give you something,” Steve says with a shrug.

Eddie gets an idea. “Well, I want to give you something too,” he says, “right now, actually.”

“Eds, you don’t have to,” Steve says with a pout. 

“Shut up,” Eddie says, tugging him close by his sweater and kissing the pout off his face.

[natsaffection]

Redline. (Bonus 2) | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha × Younger Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), Fluff, Fluff, Fluff, 18+! MINORS DNI! Thigh riding, begging, multiple orgasm, oral (N and R receiving)

Word count: 8,1k

A/N: Here we are again!! Here, we focused more on Natasha. This isn’t everything I have in mind because it would probably explode Tumblr’s word limit. And once again, this is filled with a lot of requests! Thank you all for keeping the series alive. <3

The rumble of engines thrummed against Natasha’s chest like a comforting rhythm. Outside the control room, your car carved through the track, tires biting into the asphalt with a grace Natasha could only describe as beautiful. It was pure instinct fused with practice, the kind of skill that couldn’t be taught, only sharpened.

“Uh, boss. She’s…She’s got her music on again. Radio’s not gonna work.” Someone said cautiously, not quite meeting her gaze.

Natasha’s fingers paused over the radio switch, a smirk pulling at her lips. She didn’t snap or scold him for pointing out something she was already well aware of. “I know.” Her voice was calm, the words deliberate.

She’d tried before, many times, to convince you to ditch the habit. Music while driving? A distraction, a dangerous one, especially on her track. But then Natasha saw how you moved when the music was on. Saw how your shoulders relaxed, how your steering smoothed out. How your eyes gleamed with that familiar spark of determination mixed with reckless joy.

It was frustrating at first. Maybe even a little insulting that you ignored her safety advice for something so…unprofessional. But Natasha had come to understand it. More than that, she respected it. Even if she’d never outright say it.

Her pen scratched softly against the notepad, notes forming in neat, clinical handwriting. Adjust braking patterns. Smoother transition into turn eight. Minor correction on corner five. And yet, her eyes kept drifting to the live feed of your car. The way it sliced through the track like it was a natural extension of your body. Wild. Precise. Almost hypnotic.

The music had become part of your ritual. Natasha didn’t know what song was blasting in your ears, but she’d caught glimpses of your playlists before. Everything from classic rock to synthwave. The music wasn’t just noise. It was your heartbeat. Your pulse. So, Natasha had stopped fighting it. She’d even found herself curious, more often than not, about what you were listening to. What melody accompanied your fierce concentration and artful control.

Even now, Natasha’s hand hovered over the radio, a pointless gesture. Habit, more than anything. It made her feel like she was still part of the process. Even if you couldn’t hear her, Natasha’s gaze followed your every move, eyes narrowing whenever she detected the slightest flaw. She wrote down pointers, things to work on. But nothing about the music. Never about the music. Not anymore.

You guided the car into the garage. Your adrenaline was still high, heartbeat synced to the last few beats of your music. You let out a satisfied breath, fingers loosening around the steering wheel. The moment you unbuckled and started to climb out, a hand reached around you and plucked one of the earbuds from your ear.

“Still distracting yourself, I see.” Natasha’s voice was low, even, but there was a hint of exasperation underneath. You startled, not expecting Natasha to be there, your face a mix of amusement and irritation. “Nat! You scared the crap out of me!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, ignoring the flustered tone. “I’ve told you before. The music is a distraction. You could miss something critical. A sound, a warning. And then what?”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “You know me. It helps me focus. Just…makes the world feel smaller when I’m out there. Nothing but me and the car.”

“I know.” Natasha admitted, her gaze softening despite her words. “But it’s still a bad habit. One that could get you hurt.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into that playful smile Natasha couldn’t stay mad at. “And yet, you’re not exactly telling me to stop.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened for a moment before she sighed. “Because you’re good at what you do. But just because it works now doesn’t mean it’s perfect. And I can’t always be around to make sure you’re okay.”

There. That hint of worry she tried so hard to hide under professionalism. Your gaze softened. “But you’re here now. And I’ll be fine.”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Let’s go over your run. And next time, maybe consider turning the music down just a little?”

“Maybe..” you replied, your grin returning. “If you ask nicely.”

You leaned in, pressing your lips against Natasha’s, feeling the warmth and tension melt away for just a second, until Natasha pulled back, scrunching her nose with exaggerated disgust. “You stink.”

You blinked, a little stunned. “What?”

“Like sweat, motor oil, and whatever bad decision you made for lunch.” Natasha folded her arms, smirking. “Go shower before you try that again.”

You chuckled, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “You could always join me, you know?”

“Tempting.” Natasha admitted, her voice dropping slightly, “But some of us actually have work to do.”

You pouted but found yourself smiling at the genuine warmth that slipped through Natasha’s cool professionalism. “Fine, fine. But don’t miss me too much, okay?”

“Just go, before I change my mind and lock you out of the track.”

The hot shower did wonders for your sore muscles, washing away sweat, grime, and the lingering adrenaline from the track. After drying off, you slipped into a clean shirt and some comfortable sweatpants. Fresh, relaxed, and still grinning from your earlier exchange with Natasha, you made your way to Natasha’s office.

Just outside the door, Natasha’s secretary, Emma, looked up from her computer and frowned. “Y/n, I wouldn’t! She’s…well, she’s in one of her moods.”

You chuckled, unbothered. “When isn’t she?”

“I’m serious.” Emma pressed, her gaze worried. “She’s been on a call for some minutes. Some contract negotiations fell through, and she’s been ripping people apart..”

“Thanks for the warning, but…” You gave her a reassuring wink. “I know the drill.”

Before Emma could protest, you slipped through the door. Natasha was pacing behind her desk, phone pressed to her ear, eyes blazing with frustration. Her words were sharp, precise, the kind of tone that could make anyone on the other end of the call shrink in terror.

But when Natasha’s gaze landed on you, the smallest flicker of relief washed over her features. Her shoulders eased, but her expression remained tense as she continued her conversation, barely acknowledging your presence.

You leaned against the wall, waiting patiently. You’d learned by now that there was no point trying to speak when Natasha was in business mode. Instead, you just studied her. Noticed the tiredness etched into her features, the stiffness in her posture.

The call finally ended with Natasha’s usual clipped goodbye, her phone clattering against the desk as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Idiots. The lot of them.” Natasha muttered.

“Hey..” you said softly, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around Natasha’s shoulders from behind. Your warmth pressed against Natasha’s back, “You’re working yourself into the ground again.”

Natasha sighed, her head tilting slightly toward your touch, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s called doing my job.” she replied, the snap in her voice dulled by exhaustion.

“And you’re doing too much. Way too much.” Your voice was a soothing murmur. “You need to take care of yourself. The world won’t fall apart if you take a break, you know.”

Natasha huffed, her fingers grazing your arm as if trying to keep you there. “Feels like it might.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just because you’re so used to fixing everyone’s messes. But even you need a breather.”

Natasha closed her eyes, leaning back into your warmth. She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just let herself exist in the quiet, inhaling the faint scent of shampoo still clinging to your skin.

“I’m serious, Nat. You’ve got me here, okay? Let me take care of you for once.”

Another beat of silence. Then, finally, Natasha’s shoulders relaxed. “You know, if you keep talking to me like that, I might start getting used to it.”

“Good. Because I’m not planning to sto-”

The shrill ring of Natasha’s phone cut through the calm like a knife. Natasha groaned, her hand twitching towards the receiver, her fingers already itching to strangle whoever dared to interrupt her moment of peace. But before she could react, you reached over and snatched the phone from its cradle, pressing it to your ear with a casualness that bordered on infuriating.

“What the hell are you doing?” Natasha’s voice was sharp, but you just shot her a smug grin.

“Hello, Natasha Romanoff’s office. She’s currently unavailable and very much not interested in whatever business disaster you’re trying to dump on her right now. Thanks. Byee.”

And just like that, you hung up, your thumb slamming down on the button with finality. Natasha’s jaw dropped, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you, torn between amusement and disbelief. “Did you seriously just-”

“Yep.” You placed the phone down like it was nothing, then made your way around the desk. “Because you need a break, remember? And honestly, I don’t think you care all that much about whoever was on the other end.”

“Whether I care or not is irrelevant. You just…took my call.” Natasha’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “You’re either really brave or really stupid.”

“Or maybe I’m just good at prioritizing your sanity over unnecessary stress.”

Before Natasha could argue further, you slipped into her lap, straddling her thighs and cupping her face. Natasha’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing in mock irritation.

“You’re impossible.” Natasha murmured, but her hands instinctively found their way to your waist.

“And yet, you still love me.” you replied, leaning in to press your lips against Natasha’s, slow and gentle.

Natasha’s resolve crumbled, her fingers tightening around your hips as she melted into the kiss. The stress, the frustration, the endless noise of business and responsibility…all of it faded under the warmth of your touch.

“Alright, fine..” Natasha whispered against your lips, voice laced with reluctant amusement. “You win. But only this once.”

“Oh, I plan to win way more than just once.” you quipped before kissing her again. The kiss deepened, Natasha’s grip tightening, her mouth moving against yours in a way that made your entire body feel like it was humming. But then..

The door swung open, and both of you froze. “Well, this is an interesting way to spend a workday.” Melina’s voice cut through the charged air like a whip.

Natasha jerked back, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed. You had never seen your girlfriend look so caught off guard. The always-calm, always-composed Natasha Romanoff looked like she’d just been doused with ice water.

“Mother. I- What are you doing here?” Natasha’s voice was tight, her posture suddenly ramrod straight.

“I thought I’d drop by. Business meeting in town.” Melina’s eyes flicked to you, still very much perched on Natasha’s lap. “But clearly, you two are…occupied.”

“Can you give us a minute?” Natasha said, her tone clipped but her gaze pleading.

“Of course, darling.” Melina’s smile was almost too innocent. “But don’t take too long. I would hate to miss out on the rest of the show.”

And with that, she strolled out, shutting the door with a little too much force to be accidental. You burst out laughing, your forehead dropping to Natasha’s shoulder. “God, I think my soul just left my body.”

Natasha’s hands were still resting on your hips, her fingers gripping just enough to betray the lingering frustration. “That woman…” Natasha muttered, eyes fixed on the door like she could will her mother to disappear. “Of course, she’d show up unannounced.”

“Maybe she missed you?” you offered with a grin, fingers tracing along Natasha’s shoulder, the warmth of your earlier kiss still lingering between you.

“More like she wants something.” Natasha sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “She’s been pestering me about dinner since last week. I told her I was busy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And now she’s here. Guess she’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Clearly.” Natasha’s hands slipped from your hips to rest on your thighs, her touch still gentle despite the tension in her jaw. “I should’ve known. She’s been talking about how I’ve been ‘hiding you away’ from her ever since she figured out we were together.”

You glanced back at the door, then down at Natasha, your fingers brushing against Natasha’s jawline. “You’re really worked up about this, huh?”

“I just…” Natasha’s lips tightened before her shoulders slumped a little. “I wanted it to be perfect. Introducing you as, you know. Not just my racer. But it’s Melina. She’s like a bloodhound when she wants something.”

“Hey.” you murmured, tilting Natasha’s chin up to meet your gaze. “It’s okay. I’m not expecting perfection. I’ve already survived her first impression when I joined your team, remember? If anything, I think this time will be easier.”

“Maybe.” Natasha’s voice was quieter, but the tension in her expression was slowly melting.

“Definitely.” You kissed her again, just a gentle press of lips meant to calm. “Now, what do you say we go out there and deal with your mother before she barges in here again?”

Natasha groaned. “She would, too.”

“Exactly. So, let’s face the music.” You slid off Natasha’s lap but kept a firm hold on her hand, coaxing her to stand.

“Alright. But I swear, if she starts making comments about us..” Natasha shook her head, but there was a hint of affection beneath her grumbling.

You laughed. “She’s definitely going to. And you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Natasha’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still holding my hand.” you teased, swinging your entwined fingers lightly.

“I guess I am.” Natasha’s voice softened, the warmth returning to her eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”

You walked through the track, the cooling evening air swirling around you. Natasha’s hand was still clasped tightly in yours, but the nerves buzzing under your skin were becoming harder to ignore.

“If you had joined me in the shower earlier, you wouldn’t be heading out like this..” you said with a crooked smile, trying to lighten your own mood.

Natasha’s lips twitched, amusement briefly crossing her features. “You know I was tempted. But I had a call and…well, here we are.”

“Yeah. Here we are..” you mumbled, your gaze dropping for a moment as your nerves caught up to you. Natasha noticed instantly, her thumb rubbing slow circles against your hand. “You okay?”

“I mean, sure, if you count being a little terrified as ‘okay.’” you admitted, your voice light but your smile faltering. “It’s just…this feels different. Melina knowing we’re together. Officially.”

“She already likes you. You know that.” Natasha’s voice was steady, the cool confidence that always drew you in. “This dinner thing is just…her being her.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t like me like this?” You said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “As…your girlfriend?”

Natasha’s expression softened, the tension from earlier easing into something far gentler. “I wouldn’t be with you if I thought she’d be a problem. And besides, you can handle her.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. If you say so.”

The sound of a car door opening snapped your attention forward. Melina stood beside her sleek, black Mercedes, arms folded and an amused smile already on her lips. “Get in, both of you.”

You swallowed and climbed into the backseat, your nerves flaring as Melina’s attention lingered just a moment too long. Natasha slid in beside you, her presence reassuring but still carrying that undercurrent of tension.

The car ride was quiet at first, Melina’s gaze occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror, catching your eyes before turning her attention back to the road. You could feel your heart racing, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of your pants. This felt different. More important. Because you weren’t just a driver on Natasha’s team now. You were the woman dating Natasha Romanoff. And Melina’s approval felt like a much bigger challenge to earn.

“Relax.” Natasha whispered, her hand finding your knee, her touch warm and grounding. “You’ve already won her over. Just be you.”

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Easier said than done.”

“Trust me.” Natasha replied, her voice low and sincere. “You’ve got this.”

The restaurant Melina had picked was cozy but sophisticated, with low lighting and quiet jazz humming in the background. A place that screamed exclusivity without trying too hard. Natasha was clearly unimpressed, her jaw tight as they were led to their table. You couldn’t tell if it was the ambiance or her mother’s intrusion earlier that had her in a mood. Maybe both.

The table was already set, the polished silverware gleaming under the soft, amber glow of overhead lights. Three elegant flutes of champagne stood waiting, the bubbles rising lazily in each glass.

“Seems the restaurant knows us well.” Melina commented smoothly as she took her seat, her eyes flicking between Natasha and you with that same, all-knowing smile. You reached for one of the glasses, the chill of the glass refreshing against your slightly clammy palm. But before you could even lift it to your lips, Natasha’s hand shot out and gently plucked the glass away.

“No. That’s only for the podium.” Natasha said with a smirk, her voice carrying the kind of playfulness you were slowly getting used to. The kind of protectiveness that masked itself as nonchalance.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile. “You’re seriously gatekeeping champagne from me now?”

“Tradition is tradition.” Natasha replied, settling the glass out of your reach with an irritatingly smug look. Melina chuckled, her amusement only adding to your embarrassment. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure the waiter can bring you something more to your taste.”

True to her word, Melina flagged down a server and ordered you a glass of the restaurant’s finest Wine. The smooth, amber liquid arrived quickly, poured over ice that clinked gently against the glass.

“Now..” Melina began, leaning forward with her eyes focused keenly on you. “Congratulations are in order. I heard you clinched the championship. Well-deserved, I’d say.”

“Thanks..!” you replied, a flush creeping up your neck at the praise. “Couldn’t have done it without your daughter kicking my ass in training every day.”

“An understatement.” Natasha muttered, sipping her wine with a sly smile.

“And the two of you…” Melina’s gaze darted between you. “How exactly did this happen?”

Your eyes darted to Natasha, silently pleading for her to start. But Natasha only tilted her head and lifted her glass of wine, gesturing for you to begin. Of course, she would make you do the talking.

“Well, um…” you started, your fingers tightening around your glass. The whiskey suddenly felt like liquid courage, warming you from the inside out. “I guess it was…a slow thing. I didn’t even realize it at first.”

Natasha’s eyebrow arched, amused. “That so?”

You let your thoughts drift back, the memory unfurling like an old photograph. “It was after the championship photoshoot. The one where the whole team was crammed into that little studio. And you…” You looked at Natasha, your eyes turning soft. “You looked so…powerful. All eyes on you, telling the photographer what to do, how to make the shots perfect. It was like you controlled the whole damn room. And when you finally stepped in front of the camera, there was this… ease. Like it was effortless.”

Natasha’s gaze remained on you, a flicker of surprise breaking through her cool exterior.

“And I remember just…staring. At you. At how confident and unbothered you were. And thinking..I’m done for.”

Melina’s lips quirked upward in obvious satisfaction, but she stayed quiet, watching the two of you with a curiosity that seemed to border on approval.

“But you weren’t exactly subtle either.” Natasha cut in, a glimmer of amusement coloring her voice. “I remember you practically vibrating with nerves when we had to take those team photos. Couldn’t even stand still without fidgeting.”

You flushed, the embarrassment made worse by the knowing smirk on Natasha’s face. “Okay, yeah. Because the photographer made me stand beside you. And I could barely think straight, let alone smile for the damn camera.”

“That bad, huh?” Natasha teased, but there was warmth in her tone, her eyes softening as she took in your embarrassed expression.

“Pretty bad..” you admitted with a chuckle. “But somehow, you made me feel like it was okay to be nervous. And then I figured out why.”

“So you’ve been harboring this little crush since then?” Natasha mused, leaning back in her chair with her fingers delicately circling the rim of her wine glass.

You shrugged, but your smile was honest. “Pretty much. And you’ve been dealing with me ever since.”

“More like tormenting me.” Natasha corrected, but there was something impossibly fond in her expression.

Melina, who had been watching with quiet amusement, spoke up. “Well, I have to say…the way you two interact is rather delightful. I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?” you joked, trying to mask your nerves.

Melina’s smile was genuine. “You’ve survived my daughter’s training, her schedule, and apparently her mood swings. And yet, you’re sitting here like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Can’t imagine being anywhere else.” you said, your voice a little quieter but no less certain. Melina’s eyes flickered with approval, the smile now softer. “Good. Now, may I see this infamous photo?”

You blinked. “What photo?”

“The one where Natasha apparently looked so powerful that it made you fall for her.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling stupid. “Uh, yeah. I actually have it..” You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, scrolling quickly through your gallery before finding the image.

You handed the phone over, the photo showing Natasha standing with that impossible confidence, arms folded, eyes locked on the camera like she owned the world. It was a little blurry, but the intensity of her expression was all that mattered.

Natasha’s eyes widened as she glanced at the screen. “You…kept that?”

You shrugged, feeling your cheeks heat up. “It’s kind of my good luck charm. I look at it when I need to feel, I don’t know…inspired.”

Melina chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with something approving and almost fond. “Well, Natasha. Looks like you’ve managed to find someone who actually sees you. All of you.”

Natasha’s expression softened, her eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. I guess I have.”

Dinner continued with Melina throwing occasional questions your way, her eyes keen and voice deceptively casual. But it was clear she was interested. Genuinely so. She even offered you advice on handling certain sponsors, advice Natasha tried to cut off with a sharp glare but didn’t entirely disagree with.

The teasing, the conversations, the occasional moments where Natasha’s hand found yours under the table…It all felt surprisingly warm. Comfortable. Like maybe, this whole ‘meeting the parents’ thing wasn’t so terrifying after all.

Eventually, Melina’s phone buzzed and she checked her messages with a grimace. “I hate to cut this short, but I have a meeting I can’t miss. Duty calls.”

“That’s alright!” you said, your smile a little shy but genuine. “I’m just glad we got to catch up.”

“Likewise, darling.” Melina replied, her smile too genuine to be anything but sincere. Her gaze flicked to Natasha. “Take care of her, Natasha. She’s too good for you.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched for a second before she relaxed. “Yeah. I know.”

Melina gave you one last approving look before gathering her things and heading out, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly-lit restaurant.

“She likes you.” Natasha murmured, a little stunned herself by how well the evening had gone.

“Seems like it.” you said, grinning. “She was practically rooting for us by the end of it.”

“She has an interesting way of showing approval.”

You shared a look, both of you breaking into quiet laughter. But as the laughter faded, a sense of calm settled over you. The night had gone better than either of you expected.

Natasha had already booked an Uber for your way back, her arm draped loosely over your shoulder as you walked out to the curb. The ride was quiet, the city lights flashing past the windows like lazy streaks of color. It wasn’t until you were both comfortably settled in the backseat, the hum of the car providing a soothing backdrop, that you spoke.

“So…” you began, your tone hesitant but curious. “You know how I told you about when I first fell for you. The whole photoshoot thing.”

“Yeah?” Natasha’s voice was soft, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your knee.

“I was just…wondering. When did you fall for me?”

Natasha went still for a moment, her hand pausing before resuming its slow, gentle tracing. Her gaze stayed forward, eyes unfocused as if the memory played just beyond the darkened streets.

“You were so damn stubborn.” Natasha started, her lips curving slightly. “Always talking back, always challenging me on the track. You drove me insane most days.”

“Sounds about right.” you chuckled. “But that’s not when you fell for me, is it?”

“No. It’s not.” Natasha’s eyes flicked toward you, the usual sharpness dulled by something softer. “That night after Training. You were exhausted, barely keeping your eyes open, but you were still so damn determined to get better.”

“I remember that.” You smiled, your voice lowering as the memory floated back. “I fell asleep on the couch in the break room.”

“You did. And I found you there at like…three in the morning. You were dead to the world, curled up with your phone still playing some playlist you must have put on to stay awake.”

“Sounds like me.”

“But then I saw it. Your phone screen.” Natasha’s gaze softened, the memory clearly etched into her mind. “It was a photo of me. Smiling. And you were just…holding onto it like it meant something.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You never mentioned that.”

“Because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit what it meant. That someone was willing to see me, care about me, in a way that had nothing to do with the racing world. You weren’t just in it for the glory. You wanted…me.”

“Natasha…” your voice was barely above a whisper. Natasha’s hand slipped from your knee to your hand, fingers lacing together. “That’s when I realized I was falling for you. And I’ve been falling ever since.”

You squeezed her hand, your chest tightening in the best possible way. “You know, you’re not so bad at this whole feelings thing.”

Natasha smiled, genuine and free. “Only for you.”

Natasha’s phone vibrated, the screen lighting up with yet another email notification. She groaned, clearly considering ignoring it before finally checking the message. You watched her, expecting Natasha to launch into work mode at any second.

Instead, Natasha’s gaze softened as she scrolled through her phone. Then, she leaned forward, her voice calm but firm as she addressed the driver. “Change of plans. Take us to my place.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Nat, you’ve got work tomorrow. Meetings, training sessions, all that important stuff.”

Natasha’s gaze shifted to you, her expression somehow both determined and gentle. “It’s just business. Nothing that can’t be pushed a day or two.”

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing for a second. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.” Natasha replied, her lips curving into a fond smile. “I’ve spent all day trying to juggle business, family, and…us. And I’d rather spend the rest of the night and tomorrow with you. Away from everything else. Just us.”

The words settled between you, soft and sincere. You felt your heart do a little flip in your chest, your hand squeezing Natasha’s just a bit tighter.

“You’re really throwing work away for me?” you asked, your voice disbelieving but warm.

“Not throwing it away.” Natasha corrected. “Just..prioritizing better. And right now, you’re my priority.”

Your cheeks flushed with happiness, your grin breaking free and unstoppable. “You’re way too good to me..”

Natasha shook her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “If anything, I’m still making up for lost time.”

The rest of the drive was silent, but it was a warm, comfortable silence. Your hands stayed clasped, and every now and then, Natasha’s thumb would trace gentle circles against your skin. It was perfect.

Days later, the garage was bustling with the usual chaos, engineers running between workstations, mechanics barking orders, and the occasional clang of metal meeting metal. But somehow, it all seemed to hush when Natasha walked in. Her presence demanded attention, her sharp gaze enough to make everyone double-check their work.

You trailed beside her, clearly enjoying the view of everyone’s attempts to impress the Boss. The engineers were quick to gather their notes, practically tripping over each other as they prepared to present the latest upgrades to your car.

“Alright, what have you got for me?” Natasha’s voice was firm, steady, her eyes fixed on the nervous-looking group.

Alex, an engineer cleared his throat, his hands shaking slightly as he adjusted his notes. “So, uh, based on your feedback, Y/n, we adjusted the weight distribution and refined the suspension. Should give you better control during high-speed cornering. Also, we reinforced the front wing for more stability.”

Natasha nodded, her gaze sharp and analyzing. “And the braking system?”

“We upgraded the hydraulic system, boosted response time by about twenty percent.” Alex continued, his voice growing steadier under Natasha’s relentless focus. “It should shave a few milliseconds off the braking reaction.”

Natasha’s nod of approval was almost imperceptible. “Good. Schedule a test run. I want telemetry by the end of the day.”

Your fingers began their playful dance along Natasha’s forearm. Soft, barely-there touches, your fingertips tracing delicate lines over Natasha’s skin. It was subtle enough that no one would notice. No one except Natasha.

Natasha’s jaw tightened for a split second, her eyes flickering downward before snapping back to the papers. “What about the suspension?” she repeated, her voice crisp, though there was a noticeable edge to it.

“Yes.” Alex continued, oblivious to the silent war happening right beside him. “We recalibrated the system to better absorb the pressure during sudden braking. The responsiveness has increased by approximately fifteen percent.”

“Good.” Natasha managed, her voice steady, though your touch was starting to feel anything but innocent. “But I want you to run simulations for all weather conditions. No point boosting control if it’s only effective on dry tracks.”

“Understood.” Alex nodded quickly, making a note on his clipboard. “We also adjusted the front wing. Reinforced it to improve stability during high-speed turns.”

While Alex spoke, your fingers slid down Natasha’s wrist and circled her knuckles, your touch light and almost soothing. Then your thumb brushed the sensitive skin just above Natasha’s pulse point, applying gentle, rhythmic pressure. Natasha’s entire body stiffened for half a second, her eyes narrowing as she fought to keep her focus. “And the braking system?”

“Hydraulic system’s been boosted. Should improve response time by twenty percent,” Alex replied, nodding along like he had no idea his boss was currently fighting a losing battle against distraction.

“Mm-hmm..” Natasha hummed, her eyes shifting to you just long enough to shoot you a pointed look. The kind of look that said, Stop it. Now. But you just smiled sweetly, your fingers now lightly squeezing Natasha’s hand before continuing their playful dance over her knuckles.

Natasha’s hand twitched, her nails pressing briefly into her palm before she forced herself to relax. “Good. Make sure to get me the telemetry results before the end of the day. I want a full comparison between the old setup and the new adjustments.”

Far away, a group are discussing the work, “Yeah, the new adjustments should give her better control on those sharper turns..” one of them, was saying. “But if you ask me, it’s all about the driver’s guts. Not the specs.”

“Maybe so..” another engineer laughed, “But you know who’s gonna have the final say. If the Boss likes it, it stays. If not…”

Someone snorted. “The Boss, huh? I think she’s mellowed out a bit. You saw her the other day with Y/n, right? Almost sweet. Which is wild, considering it’s Romanoff.”

“Guess love does that to people.”

“Yeah, makes me think maybe she’s not so terrifying after all.” The group laughed, clearly feeling safe enough to crack jokes now that Natasha wasn’t breathing down their necks. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at their bravado, even if a tiny part of you was relieved that they were easing up around Natasha.

At least, until Natasha’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “If you’re all done gossiping about my personal life, perhaps you could focus on actually doing your jobs?”

The group went dead silent, the laughter dissolving into a collective tension so thick it felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees. Natasha’s eyes were hard, her arms folded across her chest as she stared down the group with the kind of intensity that made even the most confident man feel like a scolded child.

“Or did you all forget that I’m the one who signs your paychecks?” Natasha continued, her voice like ice. “Because if you think being friendly with her gives you a free pass to slack off, I can assure you, it doesn’t.”

“No, Boss. Sorry, Boss.” They stumbled over their words, their face pale. “We were just…talking.”

“Talking, sure.” Natasha’s gaze swept over the group with chilling precision. “But if I hear one more word about me ‘softening up’ because of my relationship, you’ll all be reassigned to parts inventory. Understood?”

A chorus of hurried “Yes, Boss” and “Absolutely” followed, everyone looking properly terrified. They scattered like ants, heads down and energy now fully directed at their work.

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, shaking your head as you walked over to Natasha, whose expression still held that cold, steely edge.

“And you! What the hell was that?” Natasha asked, her voice low and almost dangerous.

“What?” you replied innocently, though your grin was anything but. “I was just…keeping you focused.”

“Focused?” Natasha scoffed, but her lips were twitching. “More like you were trying to completely derail me in the middle of a meeting.”

“And did I succeed?” You tilted your head, your smile growing wider.

“Barely.” Natasha’s hand shot out, catching your wrist with a grip that was both firm and possessive. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

The track tests later were underway. You had already done a few laps, the new upgrades working smoothly. But as always, Natasha wanted more data. More details. More everything. And you were more than willing to keep providing…just not always in the way Natasha intended. Whenever you were talking strategy, you would lean too close. Whisper suggestions in her ear with a voice just low enough to be suggestive. When Natasha handed you a water bottle, your fingers brushed her hand just a little too deliberately.

“Your focus is slipping, Romanoff..” you teased when Natasha’s fingers trembled slightly under your touch.

“Enough teasing, detka. You know what will happen if you continue pushing my buttons.” Natasha threatened, though the slight blush on her cheeks betrayed her usual control. You just laughed, your playful energy never dimming.

By the end of the day, the team was packing up. Natasha’s office was quiet, the soft hum of the building’s power the only background noise as Natasha finished her reports. But you were there, leaning against her desk, fingers tracing over Natasha’s arm in those infuriatingly light patterns you’d been taunting her with all day.

Natasha’s hand finally slammed down on her desk, her eyes blazing as they met yours. “You’ve been driving me insane all day, detka.”

“That was the plan..” you replied, your smile triumphant. “Is it working?”

“Oh, it’s working.” Natasha’s voice was low, dangerous, but laced with amusement. “You think you can keep pushing my buttons without consequences?”

“Maybe I want the consequences..” you whispered, your fingers trailing along Natasha’s jaw now, your touch still gentle but clearly challenging.

Natasha’s hand caught your wrist, her grip firm but not harsh. “Well, in that case…I think it’s time I give you the attention you’ve been begging for.”

You were straddling her lap, knees pressing into the cushioned leather chair, hands cupping her jaw, your lips fused to hers. Her fingers gripped your hips, her tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that left you breathless, needy, desperate.

And fuck, you loved this. Being pressed so close to her, feeling the way her muscles tensed and relaxed beneath you. Feeling the way she made you feel like the only thing that mattered.

But then..She pulled back. And you whined, the sound breaking embarrassingly from your throat.

“Nat-”

“As much as I enjoy having you in my lap, sweetheart..” she murmured, her smirk both adoring and smug. “I actually have work to do.”

You blinked, momentarily dazed, your head spinning from the kiss. “Then why’d you let me get this close?” you muttered, trying to regain some of your dignity.

Natasha’s fingers traced slow circles against your hips. “Because I needed a little motivation to get through the rest of the evening.”

She shifted slightly, her thigh pressing up against you, the friction igniting a spark of heat. Your breath hitched. And Natasha noticed. Of course, she did.

“Now..” Natasha continued, her eyes flickering back to her laptop, her fingers still firmly on your waist. “I need you to be a good girl and get off by yourself.”

Your eyes widened. “W-What?”

Natasha didn’t look away from her screen, fingers already clicking through files, typing like nothing was out of the ordinary. “You heard me.” she murmured. “I have work to do. So, go ahead. Make yourself come on my thigh.”

Your entire body went rigid. “Nat-”

“You wanted to be here, didn’t you?” she continued, her voice so infuriatingly calm. “So needy. So desperate for my attention.”

Her thigh shifted beneath you, pressing up against your core, making you shiver. “Go on.” Natasha urged, her eyes flicking up to meet yours for just a second. “Be a good girl for me.”

You stared at her, your chest rising and falling too quickly, your mind struggling to process her words. But her hands were on your hips, guiding you, encouraging you. And fuck, the way she was looking at you, with challenge, with possession, with something that made your stomach twist into knots.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks burning. “I-I don’t usually…”

“Oh, baby..” Natasha cooed, her hands sliding down to your hips, pressing you firmly against her thigh. “You can do it. I’ve got you.”

You shuddered as she kissed you again, her mouth warm, her tongue coaxing yours, her lips moving with a confidence that made your head spin. Her fingers gripped your waist, guiding you, making you move. And you did.

Slow, hesitant rolls of your hips, the pressure building where you needed it most, the heat coiling low in your stomach. But Natasha kept kissing you, her voice a low purr between your lips.

“That’s it.” she whispered. “Just like that. You’re doing so good.”

Your breath was already ragged, your body already craving more. Natasha’s lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, pressing kisses that made you shiver.

“Feel good, baby?” she murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

“Mhm..yeah-” you gasped, your fingers digging into her shoulders.

“Then don’t stop.”

After a moment, Natasha’s hands slid away from your hips, her gaze burning into yours. “Keep moving for me, sweetheart.” she urged, her voice turning into a low, encouraging hum. “Show me how much you want it.”

Your hips kept moving, desperate, needy, rubbing against her thigh, but.. It wasn’t enough. It was like chasing something just out of reach. You tried to keep going, your breath hitching, your thighs shaking. But it was useless.

Natasha watched you, her expression knowing, her smirk growing with every passing second.

“What’s wrong?” she taunted, her tone still laced with that infuriating gentleness. “You can’t get off like that, can you?”

You whimpered, your forehead dropping against her shoulder. “Natasha, please..”

“Please, what?”

“I-I can’t-“

“Can’t what, baby?” she teased, her hands finding your thighs again, fingers digging in just enough to make you squirm. “Can’t come all by yourself?”

Your breath shuddered, your body practically vibrating with frustration. “You need me to help you, don’t you?”

“Yes-fuck..please-”

Natasha sighed, a low, mocking sound of pity and amusement. “Guess I’ll have to help you, then.” she murmured, her fingers sliding up your thighs.

The next thing you knew, your back hit the cool surface of her desk, your legs parting automatically as she lowered herself between them. Your eyes widened, your body already shaking from anticipation.

Natasha’s gaze was dark, hungry, completely locked on you. “You’re so fucking desperate, baby.” she groaned, her hands gripping your thighs, her lips pressing kisses along the inside of your thigh, teasing, devouring.

“You couldn’t even do it yourself, could you?”

Your chest heaved, your fingers grasping at nothing, your body already losing control.

“Natasha, please..”

“Pathetic little thing.” she continued, her breath hot against your skin. “Can’t even get off without me.”

Her mouth finally reached your core, her tongue pressing against you with slow, devastating precision. You cried out, your body jerking, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

But there was nothing. Just the smooth, cool surface of her desk, nothing to ground you, nothing to keep you steady. And fuck, the sensation of having nothing to cling to made you fall apart even faster.

Natasha groaned, the sound vibrating through you, her tongue working you over with a relentless, sinful hunger. Your thighs trembled, your body arching off the desk, your hands still clawing uselessly at the air.

“Fuck- Nat, p-please!!”

“Come for me.” she commanded, her voice low and demanding, her tongue circling your clit with deadly precision.

And then..You shattered. Your body convulsed, pleasure crashing over you with violent intensity, your voice breaking into a wrecked, helpless cry.

Natasha’s mouth stayed on you, drawing every last bit of pleasure from your body, refusing to let you come down. Your fingers clawed at the air, your body completely hers.

And the way you broke apart for her, the way you looked so wrecked and helpless and beautiful..Made Natasha’s own arousal surge.

She couldn’t stop herself. Seeing you so vulnerable, so desperate, so completely hers..It made her fucking feral. Her own arousal was pounding through her veins, her breath coming out in ragged gasps, her body burning with a need she could no longer ignore.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” she growled, her fingers tightening on your thighs, her eyes dark with hunger. “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

Her mouth never left you, her tongue continuing to lick and suck and devour, even as your body twitched from the overstimulation.

“N-Nata-..!” you whimpered, your hands still searching for something to cling to, still finding nothing. The sight of you reaching for her, so helpless, so needy, It made Natasha’s own arousal skyrocket.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Natasha taunted, her voice breathless, wrecked, completely lost in you. “You can’t handle it? You can’t even keep your hands still, can you?”

Her lips curled into a dark smirk, her fingers trailing down your inner thighs, her eyes locked onto yours. “Maybe I should just keep you here.” she continued, her voice rough with desire. “Tied to this desk, begging for me. Completely fucking mine.”

Your eyes widened, your body already responding to her words, your thighs clenching instinctively. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Natasha purred, her hands still holding you down, refusing to let you pull away.

“Would you like me to make you come over and over until you can’t even speak? Until you’re just a desperate, helpless little thing?”

Her tongue is circling your clit with deadly precision again, till you shattered. Your body convulsed, pleasure crashing over you with violent intensity, your voice breaking into a wrecked, helpless cry.

You lay sprawled out on Natasha’s desk, your chest heaving, your legs trembling, your skin slick with sweat. Every nerve in your body felt like it had been set on fire, burning under Natasha’s relentless, brutal touch.

And fuck, she looked so damn smug. Natasha slowly rose to her feet, her lips slick, her breathing just as ragged as yours, but her eyes.. God, her eyes were still dark.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her chest rising and falling in steady, slow breaths. “You’re incredible, Y/n..” she murmured, her voice wrecked, but smooth. “Completely fucking beautiful when you fall apart like that.”

You tried to form a sentence, but it came out as a shaky, breathless whimper. Natasha smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, her fingers brushing over your trembling skin.

“I think you need a moment to catch your breath.” she teased, her gaze locking onto yours. But as she started to pull away, you moved. Your legs still felt weak, your body still trembling, but there was a determination building inside you.

You pushed yourself up on shaky arms, your eyes not leaving Natasha’s as you slid off the desk. Natasha’s eyebrows rose, her smirk deepening. “What do you think you’re doing?”

But you didn’t answer. Instead, your hands found her waist, fingers fumbling with the buckle of her belt, your breath still coming out in uneven gasps.

Natasha’s eyes darkened instantly. “Oh?” she purred, her voice still heavy with arousal. “You want to return the favor, huh?”

You nodded, your fingers finally getting her belt undone, tugging it from the loops with desperation you couldn’t hide. “Fuck, baby.” Natasha groaned, her voice dropping even lower, her hands gripping the edge of the desk for balance.

But you weren’t done. You pushed her back, making her fall heavily into her office chair. “Now, it’s my turn.”

Her legs spread slightly, her chest heaving, her gaze completely locked onto you. “You sure you’re up for this?” Natasha taunted, her voice filled with mocking affection. “You’re still shaking, sweetheart.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to steady myself.” You whispered, your hands already working to pull down her pants. Natasha let out a low, shaky breath, her smirk slipping as her eyes grew darker.

Your knees hit the cold floor, the chill biting against your skin, but you didn’t care. You were too focused. Too lost in the way Natasha’s eyes had darkened the moment you pushed her into her chair, the way her lips parted with a mix of surprise and raw hunger.

Your mouth pressed against her, your tongue licking a broad, slow stripe that made Natasha’s head drop back against the chair. “Oh, fuck-”

Her voice was wrecked, strained, the sound of her falling apart already making your thighs clench. You swirled your tongue again, your lips closing around her clit, sucking just hard enough to draw a deep, shuddering moan from her chest.

“Fuck, just like that, Y-Y/n..” she groaned, her fingers twitching against the armrests. You could feel her muscles tensing, her breathing already turning ragged. But you weren’t going to let her get away so easily.

Your tongue continued its relentless pace, your lips kissing, sucking, devouring her, determined to make her come completely undone. And Natasha?

She was already crumbling. “You’re so good at this..!” she panted, her voice shaking, her body already struggling to stay steady.

You smirked against her, the vibration making Natasha’s hips twitch, her breath hitching in her throat. “Fuck- Oh, God, yes!”

Your hands gripped her thighs, your fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, your mouth working her over like you couldn’t get enough.

But then, Natasha’s fingers sank into your hair. Her grip was rough, desperate, her head tossed back as a wrecked gasp tore from her throat.

“Fuck, baby! Just like that!!”

The sudden pull on your hair sent pain radiating down your scalp, but it only made you more determined. You groaned against her, the sound deep, wrecked, raw. The vibration made Natasha’s hips jerk violently, her entire body tightening under your touch.

“Fuck, o-oh fuc-” Her fingers tangled deeper into your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she held you against her.

Your tongue flicked over her clit, your mouth sucking with ruthless precision, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Natasha’s legs trembled, her chest heaving, her face contorting in pure, raw pleasure.

And then..She came. Her body arched, her head snapping back, her mouth dropping open in a silent scream as her orgasm tore through her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she chanted, her fingers pulling at your hair, her body shaking violently.

You didn’t stop. You kept licking, sucking, devouring her, determined to drag her through every last second of pleasure.

Natasha’s thighs clenched around your head, her breathing coming out in ragged, desperate gasps.

Her fingers tightened in your hair and she yanked you away.

“N-Nuh uh.” Natasha rasped, her voice still shaking, her chest still heaving. Your eyes widened, the sudden pain of her grip making you shudder.

“But-”

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Natasha murmured, her gaze heavy, her eyes dark and gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

You swallowed, your breathing uneven, your lips still slick from her release. “I was just-”

“Trying to overstimulate me?” she interrupted, her fingers still tangled in your hair, her voice dripping with amusement and challenge.

You stared at her, unsure of what to say. Because yes, you had been trying to wreck her. You had been trying to make her feel as desperate, as ruined, as completely destroyed as she’d made you feel.

But now? Now you were the one feeling completely undone. Natasha smirked, her fingers tightening their grip, pulling you up so you were kneeling between her legs.

“Nice try, sweetheart.” she taunted, her voice low, breathless, but still so completely in control.

“But you don’t get to win this one.”

You tried to fight back, tried to push yourself forward, to resume what you had been doing. But Natasha’s grip was iron-strong, relentless, unyielding.

“Natasha-”

“No.” she whispered, her voice turning into something darker, something that made your stomach twist in both fear and excitement.

Her hand cupped your cheek, her thumb tracing over your lips, her smirk turning almost cruel. “You did good, baby. Real good.”

Her other hand slid down your neck, her touch gentle but possessive. “But now?”

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against yours, her breath warm, her eyes completely locked onto yours. “Now, you’re done.”

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening, your entire body burning with frustration and need. But the way she was looking at you, the way her fingers traced over your skin, the way her smirk never faltered- You couldn’t fight back. You were completely at her mercy.

-

-

-

-

[worksby-d]

That Steve Guy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x grad student!Reader

Summary: The older, attractive guy in your university art class has kept to himself all semester, but you get him to open up and have a little fun. 

Warnings: Age gap

Word count: ~1,300

a/n: There shall be a part two, don’t worry 👹

It’s the final night of your art class. The room is full of paintings and drawings on display as your fellow classmates and strangers who pop in as the evening goes on walk around to look and hear about everyone’s pieces.

“I bet it’s killing him having to actually talk to people…”

Your friend’s voice knocks you out of the trance you’re in. 

“Huh?” You ask, but you’re both looking in the same direction. 

“That Steve guy,” she laughs. “You know, the one you’re staring at.”

“I wasn’t staring,” you huff, straightening out some of your pieces on the table in front of you.  

You both have spent the semester joking about him being attractive. He’s older– both of you coming to the conclusion he has to be in his forties. Fit, broad shoulders, blue eyes that you’re jealous of. 

So on second thought, you weren’t really joking.

But he keeps to himself. You don’t think you’ve ever really heard him talk. 

“Go ask him about his stuff,” she nudges you, flashing you a smirk. “Let me know if his voice is as hot as he is.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to ignore her. But you just let a few minutes pass before stepping away from your little corner, weaving through everyone standing around until you make it to Steve’s side. 

He’s standing there like you’d expect – hands in the pockets of his jacket, only talking when someone asks about his stuff. 

Before introducing yourself, you catch a glimpse of some of his drawings.

“Wow,” you say quietly, studying them closer before looking up at him. “These are really good.”

The small smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter a little. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you smile back, offering your hand. 

He lets out a laugh as he shakes it. “I know.”

That catches you off guard. Your cheeks heat up a bit.

“Right,” you chuckle. “I just wanted to say hi… And let you know some of us are going out after this. Wanted to invite you.”

“Oh, thanks…” He shifts a little and you can tell he’s unsure. “I don’t know–”

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” you try to assure.

He looks amused, but still hesitant. “Where are you guys going?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know yet…” You pause before grinning and holding your hand out. “Give me your phone.”

When he just looks at you, almost looking confused, you can’t help but joke with him. 

“You do have a phone right?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “I’m not that old.”

“Wow,” you drag the word out, teasing him. “I didn’t say anything about your age.”

“I know you were thinking it though,” he rolls his eyes and hands it to you. 

“I’ll put my number in it and text myself.” It takes just a second for you to do and you give it right back. “I’ll text you when I know where and when, okay?”

He just nods and you mirror his gesture before turning to walk away. He has to snap himself out of watching you as you make your way back through the crowd of people. 

The bar your group ends up going to is packed by the time you get there. You’ve about had your share of people for the day, but you want to stay since you were the one that asked Steve to come. 

Your eyes flicker toward the entrance every so often hoping he’ll show up. 

When he finally does, you catch yourself as your face lights up and hope no one around you notices. 

You find yourself once again making your way through a crowd of people for this guy. You can’t help but laugh to yourself at how uncomfortable he looks as he scans the room looking for someone he knows. 

“You made it,” you grin once you reach him. 

He looks relieved to see the familiar face and follows you back to where everyone else is hanging out at a group of tables in a corner.

He’s quiet at first, slowly drinking a beer, and again only talking when someone else talks to him first.

You make an effort to get him to loosen up a bit, conversing with him when no one else is. You ask him more about the art that you can’t stop thinking about and the reason he took the class in the first place. 

“I used to draw a lot,” he explains. “Then life happened and I did it less and less. But I have some time now. Figured I’d try getting back into it.”

“Good for you,” you smile.

His eyes linger on you the same way yours do on him, giving you that same fluttering feeling in your stomach as before.

As the night goes on, you don’t know who’s buying the drinks, but it surely isn’t you. They’ve given you a bit of a buzz – enough to give you a nice warm feeling and a dizzy one when you move too fast.

When you get up to leave, Steve’s hand gravitates toward your waist, bracing you as you nearly trip over a dropped cup. 

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning closer to you so you can hear him over the music that’s gotten louder. “Can I give you a ride home?”

You blink at him, clearly confused. ‘What?”

“I watched you down quite a few drinks…” He’s careful with his words, not wanting it to sound like you can’t take care of yourself. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t at least offer.”

You know deep down he’s right. It’s probably for the best that you don’t drive right now. 

“Okay,” you nod. “That would be great. Thank you.”

The drive is quiet at first. His radio is set to some news station– exactly what you’d expect. You have to try hard not to laugh at it.

The bright city lights are a blur as you watch them out the window. You glance toward Steve for a better view. He’s even more handsome closeup. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you speak up softly. 

In hindsight, you were nowhere near drunk enough to need a ride home. Your buzz is already starting to wear off.

He steals a quick glance of you before looking back at the road. “I wanted to.”

He eventually pulls his car up in front of your place, but neither of you move very quickly– he doesn’t force you out and you don’t want to leave him quite yet for some reason. 

There’s an undeniable tension of some sort. 

“Do you…” You begin to break the silence. “Want to come in? Like, just for a bit?”

“I’d love to…” You feel a twinge of excitement, but he lets out a breath and you know he’s about to put a stop to it. “But I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, shit,” you sigh, letting your head fall back against the seat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to misread this or make it weird.”

You reach to open the door before you can say anything else wrong, but he stops you. 

“Wait–” It’s definitely not that he doesn’t want to. “It’s just… Thank you for including me tonight. I don’t go out a lot. It was really nice talking with you. And I’d like to do more of that.” He pauses. “Could I first take you out sometime?”

Silence. Just for a moment. 

It comes to an end when you playfully swat at his arm. 

“Ow–”

“You scared me,” you scoff. “Oh my god, I thought I made a fool of myself!”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing his arm. “So?”

“I’d like that,” you agree and offer a wink before reaching for the door for real this time. But first– “You have my number. Your turn to let me know when and where.”

He shakes his head as you get out of his car, and smiles as he finds himself once again watching you walk away.

part two

Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @mrspeacem1nusone @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

[orphicsun]

hi!! could u pls write about prison vi or ellie x sweetheart reader who works as the librarian at the prison <3

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. (𝐕𝐈)

content: fem reader who works at stillwater's library, prisoner vi, fluff, powder mention, mention of implied sa, kind of angsty because i can't write stillwater without mentioning the injustice.

a/n: hi anon sorry for the long wait for this request i've been brainstorming for it but decided to wait until frenzy was out to start it. as for ellie, i have an ellie and sweetheart reader fic i've been working on! it's still deep in the drafts though. i hope you enjoy this:)

Stillwater's contents are harsh and hard to look at. The walls, stacks to the highest of heights, are simply grey bricks with cracks that will never see maintenance. The cafeteria's lighting is low and depressing, and the view of the prison from afar is of the alcatraz, only that prison would be a heaven for stillwater's inhabitants.

The cells are even worse, and that is where prisoners stay most of their sentence. Writings on the drab-toned walls is not uncommon. The beds are made of cheap steel, the springs imprinting into the backs of prisoners even through a mattress layer. Stillwater is the type of place you'd see parents make up scary stories about to keep their children out of inevitable trouble.

However, inside the high fence surrounding the institution, there lay one part that is less Edgar Allen Poe-esque.

You take pride in the library you've been given. Just on the first floor and to the right, prisoners can enter through the doors if they are permitted free time. Inside is your job and where you try to make the miserable a bit less miserable.

You were born in Piltover to a wealthy family, though you didn't care for the life of arts and exquisite tastes. Instead, you secured a well-paying job at a prison most people would rather gauge their eyes out than step foot in. It was when you caught a glimpse of a face through a dark, hidden cell that you accepted the job, and from there, you've tried your best to correct enforcer wrongs.

You sit at the front desk, a pen in your hand.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

Around you is the library you've furnished with books-some your favorites, some you've found as donated treasures or upon a relative's dust-collecting shelf. Though it isn't much, you work with the budget given to, as the council calls it, "provide prisoners with educational resources." You'd like to say that it's more than that for you, however.

You've grown fond of a few prisoners, and some are regulars. Many don't bother with the library, but the ones who do are often the people that you think about at night. Their stories keep you up.

A single mother whose choices were limited, while the mouths she needed to feed were needy.

A man whose daughter was spotted on the street by a group of thugs, a man who would rather be put on trial for murders than know that the men walked freely.

Countless stories of people who deserved a lesser sentence or none at all, while the council's own crimes stack like a pile of dirty magazines.

One girl in general separates herself from the rest, however. You find yourself thinking about her the most.

Click, click, click, click.

You hear the door open, two enforcers present behind Vi. They shut the door behind her, and she walks towards you without much hesitation.

"Got anything new for me?" She asks, eyes briefly glancing over the stack of paperwork at your desk before meeting yours.

"It's been a while since you've visited." You notice, as if asking for an explanation.

"What, you miss me or somethin'?" Vi teases, laughing at the small, embarrassed huff that slips past your lips.

"I'm allowed to care for the people here, especially you. Please tell me you didn't get yourself into anymore trouble, Vi. I told you it worries me." Your tone carries a hint of worry that Vi is unfamiliar with in other people. She doesn't get much bonding behind bars, and to be frank, she doesn't know how to take it.

"It wasn't my fault." She says quietly, not quite meeting your concerned gaze. "I just want something to read. Anything new for me?"

You nod, stepping behind the desk and leading her to an aisle a few rows down. It's further out from your desk, and your heels are loud on the ground, especially loud with just you and Vi in your library.

"I'll never get how you walk in those shoes." You hear Vi say from behind you, and you laugh despite the jab.

"I'm used to it." You simply tell her, leading her down through the aisle.

"I forget you're a Piltie." Though that is another insult, there is something fonder hidden behind it. You know how much Vi hates the better-off, and if she forgets she hates you, isn't that a good thing? "You know, when me and my sister were little, I remember how much she wanted a pair of shoes just like those. I always thought they looked silly, but they kinda suit you." She says quietly, a softness in her voice.

You stop at the end of the aisle and grab a novel from the fourth shelf. You turn back to Vi and hold it up for her eyes to read over the title.

"Your Native Land, Your Life." Vi reads aloud, brows furrowed in confusion. "A poetry collection?"

You nod, a small smile on your face. "Yup. Some of her poetry took me a while to understand, but I think the read is worth it. Really beautiful stuff."

Vi nods, and you're glad she doesn't make a move to leave. You take in her tattoed face and the sharpness of her jaw. It always bothers you how little they feed Stillwater prisoners, but at the same time, something in Vi carries a beauty that you like to admire when you're allowed to.

You think that there is something sweet in Vi that can't ever truly die. You see many prisoners harden with their experiences in here, but not Vi. She carries herself with violence in her cell and throughout the hallways with the rest of the group, but the bits of information she shares with you regarding her sister tells you otherwise. The way she speaks to you makes you want to ask what you are to her, but you refrain. It's mere kindness, and you should be professional.

Still, you don't move away or scream for the guards as she currently leans in. You let her breath hit your face.

"You confuse the hell out of me." She tells you, quietly and intimately. When you seem confused, she continues. "I know you've heard the stories about me. The things I've done to people in here. Yet you still look at me like I'm as innocent as a doe."

"You aren't automatically a horrible person because you're here, Vi."

She scoffs, but doesn't step away from you. "I've done shitty things. Doesn't that make me a shitty person?" She speaks, low and vulnerable. Her voice is unusually small.

"I don't think you are." You say quietly. You can't help but smile at each other. Before you can even think, Vi's lips press against yours in a soft, hesitant but sweet kiss. You process what is happening and return the kiss. Your hands cup her jaw, fingers threading through her soft hair. She presses you against the shelf with a hand around your waist, but she doesn't press for more. Her lips move against yours affectionately for a few more seconds, lingering before she reluctantly pulls away.

This is what always gets you-that look in Vi's eyes, vulnerable and loving. You see it when she talks about things she loves, and you long for it when the prison weighs her down. Her thumb makes contact with your cheek and strokes the soft skin.

"You need to get back to your cell. It's almost lights out." You reluctantly say, still not pulling away. Neither of you can seem to seperate, wanting to prolong the moment. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble?"

"If it means I can visit you again." She plants one last kiss on your lips before letting you go.

You truly feel sympathy for all of Stillwater's prisoners. You think of them and their situations. You think about their families back in the undercity. However, you think of Vi the most, in the dark of your room. You'll let yourself think of her until you drift asleep tonight, and imagine if she were with you, her hands keeping you cozy and tight in her embrace.

taglist: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz (if the tag doesn't work it's because of your settings!)