#GREAT question insane answer thank you

[gynandromorph]

You’ve mentioned before that drake would be a far better god than jessie and would deal better with absolute power than most of your other characters, I find this incredibly interesting and I wondered if you could explain why a bit more?

yeah, sure. it's probably going to be a bit incomprehensible because it's 3 am right now (it is no longer 3 am but half of it was written at 3 am and i'm still stupid). drake's ocpd has compelled xem to feel obsessively invested in moral righteousness and to want an extreme amount of control over xyr environment. it's given xem a lot of incentive to think about what they would do differently, how they would make reality better, etc.

so, the main way that drake would be better than jessie as a god is because drake would care more about being a genuinely good god. xe is also not as impulsive or emotional as jessie; xe deliberates at length even for small interactions, and, while this can be debilitating in day-to-day life, if you were an omnipotent being totally exempt from the laws of time, this would not really be an issue. this quality also makes xem more capable of accurate insight and self-judgement.

i talked about shiloh and how as a god she would probably be a nightmarish sadist -- one might see her personality as similar to drake's because she's also more mellow and pattern-oriented. the difference between shiloh and drake (as well as jessie and drake) is that what drake finds gratifying is just worlds apart. drugs, sex, violence and power are things a lot of people find gratifying, but drake is someone who finds like... organizing books by size and color on the shelf gratifying. moving at a slower pace in general, unpredictable explosive experiences that feel exciting and interesting to the two lesbians feel overwhelming and unpleasant to xem. the avoidance of possible distress from possible mistakes is often a source of the gratification, so a lack of novelty wouldn't hit xem as hard, i think. basically being an ethical being WOULD BE what drake finds gratifying as a god because it's what xe finds gratifying already, which is a huge advantage. the fact that xyr desire for control is projected onto xyr environment is just a bonus -- since xe interprets the problems as coming from outside the house, xe's less likely to focus on inner desires for decision-making.

something drake has had to ponder more than many of my other characters is the fact that no one ever asks to be born, and most aren't entirely happy with what they're born with. i think it occurs to most people at some point that no one asks to be born, but drake has spent cumulative years ruminating on this. i find xyr take on godhood and how i conceptualize it interesting based on that even on its own, because drake wants a world where every single thing chooses to be born with an adequate amount of information to make the choice.

i've spent here or there thinking about how xe would try to go about doing this, and so far it's involved some kind of AI-like network which would approximate the entire lifespan of an individual without possessing a consciousness or emotional world of its own, then relay that in a chemical format. if the projected life is suitable for this hypothetical person and they'd most likely consent to living the life, the chemical info enters a matching receptor on a zygote and it progresses. this would happen several if not thousands of times during the process of producing a conscious being, i think. this is believable enough to me w/how much info dna itself can hold, and that wasn't designed with any intelligence. that's the best way i've come up with the chicken and the egg dilemma wrt conscious choice to be born thus far. the other component i've thought about is probably making life able to move about 4-dimensionally, essentially giving conscious beings the ability to time travel as a regular form of locomotion. i gotta imagine this isn't too big a deal when you can alter the laws of physics to your liking. i know that drake would also get rid of (nonconsensual) death not just by canceling it now, but reviving every single conscious creature that has ever died. oh, earth wouldn't support infinitely multiplying life? god can fix that. death is the only thing that makes life meaningful? no it doesn't. not in drake's world. meaning is a sensation in our heads subject to alterations, just like every emotion. some things might not want to live forever? some things might want to feel sadness, pain, anger, and suffering? well, it'd be immoral for drake to decide how they should feel by getting rid of these unpleasant emotions, so xe will give them the choice to die if they want to, and the choice to undie, probably handled by the same network that estimates if they want to be born - the choice to feel sad or opt out, the choice to feel pain or opt out, etc. to drake, this would not only resolve the "suffering gives life meaning" argument, but would also functionally prevent any given subject from forcing another subject to feel anything it doesn't want to. drake would yield a lot of power to xyr subjects, because the power differential between a god and its sims in a sandbox is inherently going to be an abuse of that power in exchanges. you could argue that xe would do well with absolute power because xe would make xyr power... Not absolute relatively quickly after some things were stabilized. given the idea that maybe they could not choose anything at all, like how a fictional character can't choose anything, i think that xe would resort to breaking up xyr infinite amount of choice into tiny pieces compartmentalized away from xem, like someone dissociating but intentionally, and putting that into the subjects instead. this would be an odd limitation, though, and would preclude omnipotence. i just think the decisions xe would make based on xyr sense of ethics would be neat because of how unyielding those moral "rules" are and other elements of xyr personality.

[sanstropfremir]

I saw you reblogged some stuff about them, so - Xdinary Heroes. Thoughts?

many postitive ones!!!. they've been the only jype group with good styling in the last however knows how long, and i love bands so having a new idol band on the scene was going to catch my attention regardless of if i ended up liking what they were doing or not. their debut song seemed to be generally unpopular with people (at least in the circles i'm in) but i thought it was great and it had really eyecatching styling, which is precisely what a debut needs. and they followed it up with a really good mini and this new cb is even better. they can also absolutely DESTROY a cover like nobody's business, they did an INSANE love me right cover on k909 that i need everyone to see like right now. also the tomboy cover that if you haven't seen it already i need you to also see like right now. they also did a drown (bmth) cover like right around debut that i thought was a great showing for so early on and also proves as a good metric for how much they've improved over the last year. if you like rock i'd recommend giving them a listen! my personal faves are strawberry cake, hair cut, pirates, knock down, zzz, x-mas, and ghost!

[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

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[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve and Eddie work together in an aquarium, and Eddie is losing his mind. He's in love, he's got the most embarrassing crush, but Steve doesn't even notice him.

They barely interact, and Eddie only knows Steve's first name. He doubts Steve knows he exists, he's just one of many tour guides (but he's amazing with kids and especially teenagers, so he's actually a great tour guide, thank you very much!)

Back to Steve. Steve, with his lean muscles, easy smile, thick hair and beautiful, but somehow sad eyes. That Steve.

The Steve who works in the aquarium as a merman.

Eddie could watch him for hours, floating in the tank with grace Eddie didn't know existed, with his sparkly yellow mermaid tail, flowing hair and chest hair, and that man can hold his breath for so long? Think of the options, the possibilities!

The mermaid show is insanely popular among all the kids and teens, even adults. His best friend Chrissy was the one who recommended Eddie to the aquarium, she's the main mermaid, and god, if Eddie wasn't gay, she'd have him at her feet. She always looks so effortless, twirling underwater in her emerald green mermaid tail, spinning around Steve. They make such a beautiful pair, it makes Eddie want to weep.

Fortunately, she's already in a happy relationship, so Steve is reportedly still single. Chrissy makes Eddie massage her feet in the evenings - he offered, they're cramping from a bad fit of the tail - and graciously answers all Eddie's reasonable questions, such as "how do his hands feel?" ("Wet. We're swimming, remember?").

She keeps telling Eddie to ask Steve out, but Eddie isn't stupid. That man is the god Poseidon himself, and Eddie is but a humble crab in his kingdom. So he admires him from afar, longing, pining and making Chrissy's head hurt.

But Steve's just so good with kids, Eddie can't keep his mouth shut. He always mutters something to Steve as he's ushering the kids away. "Great show, sweetheart," or "I love that smile, Stevie," or "need help getting that tail off?" He's only a man, and no one can hear him.

Except for a nosy tour coordinator listening in through his earpiece, Robin Buckley. She also happens to be Steve's best friend, Chrissy's girlfriend, and a menace to society.

And maybe one day she tells Steve to just smooch the tour guide, maybe she spills a few of the longing whispers and wishful stares, but she's only human too. A human who's had to listen to Steve's ramblings about the cute guy who always pulls the kids' attention like a magnet, who even through the blurry glass tank seems to be having an amazing time. Steve sometimes asks Robin for an extra earpiece and listens to the rest of Eddie's tour after the show. He loves his enthusiasm. Once Eddie even drew a heart on Steve's tank, can you imagine that, Rob?!

Maybe Robin and Chrissy have to work together to give the two idiots what they need, because Eddie considers himself too nerdy and plain for Steve, ans Steve thinks he's too dumb and shallow for Eddie.

Maybe Chrissy fakes slipping into the mermaid tank and drags Eddie with her. Maybe Robin is there and quickly gets Steve to jump after him. Maybe she makes the innocent mistake of insuating that Eddie can't swim.

And maybe, when Steve and Eddie are back on firm ground, confused and wet, Chrissy splashes them with water and asks if pretending that it's mouth to mouth resuscitation would help, or if they can finally kiss and stop pining for each other.

And one more maybe...maybe in a few weeks, when Eddie ushers the children away after the show, he kisses his palm and presses it against the tank, and watches Steve do the same, before he can give him a proper kiss after their shift.

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[tonixe]

hii i love ur writing and the k you for the noir fic!! there’s not enough content for the boys and i appreciate it so much!! can i request jealous homelander x reader? tyia!

♱ — rapacious — ♱

A/N: I was itching, with no craving to make a homelander fic, and ideas just ran through me, but thank you anon for requesting this, and letting my devious idea run free. P.S. Im not sure bout that black noir fic, this was asked in July, but yk thank you for still requesting <3. Btw H/N is hero name.

WARNING: oral sex, p in the v, no condom we fuck raw, creampies, non-con, tw: homelander, gagging, cursing, non-con, threats, forced breeding and nudity.

PAIRING: jealous! homelander x reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

Life with Homelander was great, something so great that it makes you go insane, crazy...good crazy may be bad for some, but you could take it, right?

Vought, was another thing, watching over your shoulder and making sure everything went well, I mean with you there were a lot fewer casualties than usual. Soon things got less complicated with Edgar and Madelyn being gone from Vought, basically Homelander leading the company with Ashley as a puppet.

It was chaotic per se, where Homelander's watching eye was everywhere in the building. His leadership didn't make anything better but worse. With the seven keeping on being replaced and disappearing mysteriously, surprisingly you were still there with the same everything, no new rebrand, no nothing just staying in place.

You didn't mind it at all, I mean you still had a job and were still getting paid. Even with the weird shift of Black noir, instead of his quiet demeanor, he was talkative which was a change. It was evident it wasn't noir and everyone in the seven knew it, but nobody questioned it. You didn't mind but preferred the change, and even started talking to him.

He was a little better than old noir, not in combat but in being amusing, even spending time with outside meetings and regular superhero activities.

"So how the fuck did you manage to even fly like that?" You asked while you walked with him down the hallway,

"I have no idea, it just happened?" Black Noir II shrugged, you nodded at his words as you took a sip of the peanut butter frappuccino from Vought's cafe, it was a plus that he wasn't allergic to peanuts like the old noir. It wasn't a glow-up from the old noir but a plus. You two chatted as you got into the elevator, it was abruptly stopped by a red, white, and blue cape fluttering into wedging between you both, making you step back, it was Homelander.

The atmosphere immediately got tense than it was once a carefree mood, it was quiet.

"Good morning Homelander," you said, it was met with a nod from him, "Morning Sir," Black Noir said to him, only for him to glare at him, "Don't fucking talk" Homelander ordered, clearly annoyed that he was talking.

It was suffocating being in the elevator, you just took a sip of your frappuccino, praying for the elevator to open up quickly.

Guess your answers were answered rather quickly, as the doors of the huge elevator opened to the meeting room, the giant seven table in front of you.

The Deep, Sage, Firecracker, and A-train were already in their seats. "Good morning sir" The deep stood up, saluting him which made you laugh a little. You immediately took your seat next to Firecracker, and the meeting started. It was a blur to you, something like finding the leak in Vought, which you had many questions about.

The whole meeting was led by a different Sage, your eyes flicked towards Homelander, he was staring at Black Noir. You averted your eyes away,

God, you have to pay attention more often.

You couldn't help but take a sip of peanut butter frappuccino, "Would you fucking stop" Homelander's voice interrupted Sage's presentation, all attention was at him and he was staring directly at you.

"Um...Sorry" You hesitating looked back at him, and you felt eyes on you. You couldn't help but your heart to beat faster,

You watched Homelander rubbed his head in annoyance, closing his eyes before staring to you, "Could you slurp any louder?" He said, his voice dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

"Sorry" You muttered, putting it back where it was,

"No..nope" Homelander repeated, he pointed at you again, "Be a good girl and put it in the garbage" He snapped. You looked around, with everyone staring at you, "Okay" you responded, slowly getting up from your chair, taking the cup in your hand, and throwing it in the garbage before sitting down.

"Good"

With that statement, the meeting continued on, with your face heating up in embarrassment, as you sank further into the chair.

Sage's voice engulfing your thoughts,

You got interrupted by a note being thrown at you, it was obvious it was from Noir that somehow got to you without Homelander looking, you grinned a little bit, secretly opening up the crumbled piece of paper.

[I'll buy you a new drink after the meeting] - Noir

You read the note, before turning your attention to him and smiling, quickly putting the note in the pocket of your suit before Homelander can see it. Combing your hair back and leaning back into your chair.

Soon the meeting ended, getting up from your seat, and everyone else was doing the same, yours scanned and the room soon landing on Firecracker still in her seat. But you didn't care much to ask why, but more excited to hang out with Noir after this awkward meeting.

"Everyone can go expect H/N" You heard Homelander's voice mentioning your name made you freeze. You stopped where you were, "You can go Firecracker" Homelander turned to her,

"But..um Homelander sir—"

"You can go," Homelander said again but in a more threatening tone, "Now" After he said she scrambled out of the meeting room.

Soon it was only you two left in the room, you watched hesitantly as Homelander turned to you. "Y/N, we need to talk," Homelander states, you could hear his voice straining, with concealed anger.

You looked up at him confused, "About..what?" You asked.

You watched as he walked around you, his pace was slow, you listened to his footsteps echoing around the empty meeting room, before he stopped suddenly, " Do you think I'm just stupid?" Homelander said, his tone catching you off guard.

It wasn't confusing that Homelander was speaking to you in anger, you rarely got him angry knowing you both were together and your relationship wasn't publicized due to his status.

"No, definitely not John," You replied, using his name instead of his hero alias, made him freeze before he stared at you.

Jealously was gnawing inside of him when he looked at you, "Tell me...are you fucking him" Homelander snapped at you, your brows knitted together in confusion at his words. "No, we're just hanging out—why would you ever think that?" You stuttered over your words, as Homelander walked closer to you.

He reached out for your face, harshly grabbing your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his eyes. You felt his glove hand digging into your face, his eyes closely turning red, you just felt fear, you were terrified. You knew he could smell your fear, and hear your rising heartbeat. "John...I would never cheat on you, I'm yours" You entreated, trembling under his grip.

Finally, his grip got looser and then he dropped your face, making you stumble a bit.

"Then show me," Homelander said,

You were confused about his words, "What?"

"If you love me..show me" Homelander sat down in the seat in front of you. It took you some time to process his words, confused at what he was saying, "Come on, strip for me" signaling towards your chest.

Your brows furrowing, "Come on, if you don't do it" Homelander leaned in his seat, "You won't like it if I do it" He finished,

"Now strip" He repeated, his tone more irritated.

You took a breath in and started undressing. Unzipping your suit, feeling the cool air on your bare skin. Your suit falling on the marble floor echoed through the room, leaving you in your bra and panties.

"Bra and panties too" Homelander eyed your chest.

You comply, putting your hand behind you and clipping your bra off, discarding it on the floor, and stepping out of your panties, leaving you fully naked in front of him.

"Come here" He patted his lap, "Crawl" he pointed at you. You sank down to your knees and crawled towards him and stopped in front of him. "Come on, you know what to do" You felt his hand on your cheek, stroking it.

You looked down at his growing member in his pants. Hesitatingly looking up at him through your lashes, as you started to undo the bottom of his suit revealing his cock, you looked up at him, "Use your mouth" You leaned in and inched his cock into your mouth, before taking him whole. Homelander moans out feeling your warm mouth enveloping his cock, feeling his hand gripping your hair making you wince.

You slowly bob your head down on his length, his grip on you getting tighter. Your ears perched up at his straining voice barely containing his whimpers as he watched you intently, taking him whole. "Fuck, your good at this" Homelander groaned, jerking you away, taking his cock out from your mouth. Staring at your disheveling appearance, spit dribbling on your chin.

His hand still fisting your hair, "Your pretty when your like this" Homelander chuckled, before forcing you down his cock, making you gagged. Tears prick on your waterline, saliva staining your chin, his grip never loosening as he abused your throat,  thrusting into your mouth, the sound of slick, the sounds of wet suction filling up the room.

His pace turning frantic, fucking your mouth.

Homelander threw his head back as waves of ecstasy washed over him. His hips buckled uncontrollably as he lets out a guttural groan, filling your mouth with his cum. "Fuck, ..." He pants, chest heaving, before he gripped your face, "Be a good girl and swallow it" He threatens, feeling the hot liquid going down your throat, swallowing it.

His grip loosening and releasing you. You panted for air, feeling his gloved-hand stroking your cheek. "Now, stand and lean over at table" Homelander ordered, as you got up from the floor and obeyed his order, propping yourself on the table, and bending yourself over the glass. You couldn't help but to feel excited for the pain, the slick dripping down your legs. You waited in anticipation,

Before feeling his cock stretching you out, biting down at your lip at the simmering pain, arching your back. His hands on back of your waist, "Fuck" you mumbled, gripping the end of the glass. Before he thrusting into you, "You think Noir would please you like I do" Homelander growled into your ear, his breath warm on your skin "N...no" you mumbled, feeling his cock tearing you open, feeling himself stretching your cervix.

His ministration was more painful next than the next, feeling his cock stabbing you over and over again. The sounds of flesh slapping filled the room, letting out a gasp, your voice wavering in pain. His thrust driving deeper into you, clenching down on his cock, feeling his grip digging into your skin.

You hated how you were slowly enjoying this, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. Your body tensing up as you feel your skin warming up,

His hips stuttering against yours, "Fuck, I'm close" You felt his hands stroking your hips, "What if I just cummed inside you, breed you myself, have my kids, and have a family...then ill have you to myself" He whispered,

You felt your heart in your throat, "Pull out" You tried to get away from stone grip, "Homelander, please" You begged, only for your face to be shove down on the glass table. Scrambling underneath his grip, just to get him off you. "please" you cried.

His pace getting frantic until he thrust into you for the last time, feeling on cue your body shuddering as he came into you. Feeling himself spilling inside you, making you freeze on the spot.

Feeling him finally pulling out of you, leaving you there stunned. He kissed your shoulder, the kiss feeling lingering on you.

You heard the sound of him putting his pants back on. He stared at you before walking towards you, before sighing, you turned your head to him, "I forgive you, you know" He said, his hand behind his back watching your pitiful form,

"Just don't do it again" he pats your head,

"Now get dressed, we have a date" He smiles, listening to his footsteps descending from you.

[grimoirguestbook]

Book of Bill Website Codes

(Organized by category with notes)

Here's my list of inputs that work on the website :)

Hopefully the read more works like I think it does and I don't accidentally spoil anybody

That being said by clicking read more you will see All of the codes I have found so far

Please be mindful and try not to spoil anybody else with this information. So please be careful if reblogging

I got everything I have collected/found on here, it's a bit messy right now but After I take a small break I'll reorganize and add notes but for now everything's on here, please so check out the posts linked in the log as once I lost all leads I looked to their post for other inputs :)

Also feel free to put any you know of that Aren't on here in the replies I'm sure there's some missing

I will be updating as I find more so check back in if you can! :)

Thank you!

They'll be categorized by

Neat Tv text- Nothing special the tv just gets some text to it

Tab pages-brings you to another tab/website

Audio/video- Audio/video clip plays

Readables- A picture will pop up on screen that you can read

Printables- You can print them :D!

Other- Hard to categorize

Note:

If an * is next to a name that means that you can get different results for the same prompt

(Any personal notes will be in parenthesis)

-> An arrow means that the Passwords are found in the previous page

ex- Page with code that translates to "dork"-> Dork

Slashes/mean/that/any/of/the/prompts/listed/will/take/you/to/the/same/page

Blue text with an underline is a link! Haha! would you look at that! it works!

Will Keep this updated as I find more and will Note the logs at the end of this post

?????

For the mason page anagrams I know WHO they are I just don't know WHAT to do with them, i know it says cryptogram codex at the bottom i think i have to do something with the anagram results but I'm unsure what that is. Stanford Pines Stanlie Pines Gideon Charles Gleeful Preston Northwest Pacifica Elisa Northwest

Notes to Dipper Prompt: (Unsure why- Maybe going to Blind eye page and blurring it but changes from dipper being told to stare at the sun to "I THINK ITS WORKING! STARE HARDER! HARDER!" and the page looking burnt I Think it has to do with how many input codes you enter, It now says "you've almost solved it" and is even more burnt than before, it is now full black)

Neat Tv text-

Pines

Blendin

*Triangle

Axolotl

Ducktective

Book of Bill

TJ Eckleburg (Great Gatsby)

Nothing

Something

*Ciphertology

Deer Teeth

Scalene

Scrimbles

No

Fortnite/skibidi/ohio/rizz/crypto/elon/gyatt/Doge

Life

Death

Portal

Question

Answer

Euclid

*Well Well Well Being

Reality

The Universe

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Theyll see/They'll all see/I see

Filbrick

Disney/Disneyland/Mickey Mouse

CIA/FBI/NSA

333 Sundapple Lane Cozy Creek IL 60714-94611

Season 3

Season 2

Season 1

Caryn

Euclydia

Skeleton

Who are you

Burnside

Family matters

When will I die

Multilevel mark/caesaratbashvigenere

Scientology

Easter egg

Sevral times

oh yes they both

Am i Blanchin

Bye gold

Youre insane

History

Hologram

Scalene

Euclid

Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Text Chain (You get questions who's answer is another password)

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611-> MutliLevel mark->emmaline butternubbins->Dispense my treat

What i thought it was (with answer sources):

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Answers found in TBOB- Don't Know, NA, Mcguckets dream page, Medieval page, Anti-Cipher Section- tonic page, Anti Cipher Section- Newspaper, Top Secret page, Textbook page- Skin, Dark Ages Page, Anti Cipher Section-Epilogue, A winter break- footprints page, Book of Bill Cover options page, Never trust a wizard page, Have you dreamed this fellow ad (references informercial in show)

Tab pages-

Abuelita

Dippy Fresh

Alex Hirsch/Alex/Hirsch

*Stan/Stanley (his outfit in ebay searches plus a READABLE with SICK music mind you-Check readable section for more info)

Grunkle Stan

*Gideon (second option unlocked after fully "mableizing" the room)

Waddles

Mcgucket/ Old man McGucket/Fiddleford

Bill/Cipher/LLIB/LLIBREHPIC

Bill Cipher/Rehpic

Zyler (Goes to same place as Craz)

Craz (Goes to same place as Zyler)

Toby Determined

Gravity Falls

Mystery Shack

Not a phase

Blanchin

Peak

Cray Cray

Fixinit1

Meow

Fuck alex/Fuck you alex

Globnar

Monster

Audio/video-

Babba/Discogirl

*Gideon (unlocked after fully "mabelizing" the room)

Tad Strange

Pinata (DEFINATELY WORTH WATCHING)

Vallis Cineris (Found on wall when lightning strikes)

Hey Nerd

Weird (Love him)

Spookemups/Spooky/Scary

That's just a/Theory/Gametheory/Matpat (<3)

One Eyed King-> Naitsuaf (Morse Code) ( early years page)

Forget the past

Im still on your mind

Dorito/Nacho

Just fit in

Rubberhose

Love/Boyfriend

Hectoring

Conspiracy

God/Frillium/Help me

Burned inside

Kook

Kubrick

Small/audio log/music (nothing showed up at first, turned off tv and strange audio played, needs to be reversed)

L is real 2401 (soos my boy)

Readables-

Mason (Dippers real name)

*Dipper (personal notes in ???- keep opening the card to get different results)

Pacifica-> PlatinumPaz

Ford/Standford/Sixer

Wendy

Robbie (def worth a look IMO)

Soos-> Pinata

Cursed (Translated from candle in background)

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Blind Eye->Theyll see (Will blur if clicked on, cannot un-blur, may change dipper?)

Weirdmageddon

Lies

Sorry

Booberry (Decoded from popsicle stick)

Even his lies are lies (Front paper)

Tantrum ( code on Bills Mugshot page)

Suck it Merlin

Shave your Grandma (leads to dippy fresh page)

Baby Bill/baby/lalalalala/daddy/mommy

Owl Trowel

Hotxolotl->Seven eyes-> r34lity

Love ya bro

Fuck/Shit/Fuckyou/bitch/slut/sex

Baaaa-> Black Sheep

naitsuaf (click are you ready-> Sign "pleasure doing business with you -candle light turns blue- OR be a coward (losing sound effect plays)

oroborous-> Frillium

Glass sand beach

math/trigonometry/

horror/creepypasta

destruction is a form of creation

unreality

you can't kill an idea

virus

Occurremusiterum

*Stan (click multiple times to get-once there click "how he beat me several times)

Card

Theraprism

Dionarap->stod eht tcennoc

Printables-

Tyrone/Clone/Paperjam

Curse Wittebane (translates runes on page about witches)

Paper is just book skin ( BE WARNED: automatically downloads a photoshop file and crashses the cite)

Irregular (has code on it)

Divorce/breakup

Other-

Mabel (You get fun stickers and a popping sound :) )

*Giffany ( You put her name in multiple times and it forcibly downloads pictures of her and a text document to your computer, scared me a little Not gonna lie here)

Kings of New Jersey (downloads "secret code" font)

cryptogram codex (downloads cryptogram fonts)

dispense my treat-> Kook (downloads a bunch of cool wallpapers)

Log:

One hour after posting: Added 17 new words

Found by me: Booberry, Mountain Dont, Xgqrthx, titans blood, lyre liar, haralds ramblings, union made

Accidentally found by looking at a post: Sorry

Gifted by replier (Thank you!): MATPAT, yes, no, Fortnite, life, death, portal, question, answer

30 minutes after last update: 9 Words added

Found by me: Theraprism, 29121239168518, Grebley Hemberdreck, Rat, 3466554, Tinsel Snake, Torture Mentally, Fordtramarine, Gun (shocked that worked It was a joke- "bill cipher has A GUN")

Like THREEEEEEE ish hours later?

Found by me: one eyed king, well well well being, shave your grandma, paper is just book skin, even his lies are lies, forget the past, irregular, euclid, tantrum, suck it merlin

Like 12 hours later

Found by me: Reality, Baby Bill, Reality, The universe, Giffany (why is it two Fs, Blarg) They'll see, I'm still on your mind, Journal 1, Journal 2, Journal 3

Gifted to me by a replier (Thank you!): Owl Trowel

Idk- Later

Found by me: hotxolotl, lova ya bro, kings of new jersey, fuck, just fit in

Found on twitter(JasonRitter): Dorito, Blanchin'

Gifted to me by Replier(Thank you!): Gideon's option knowledge

Even MORE later:

Me: Seven eyes, r34ality, filbrick, disney, skibidy, rizz, ohio, love, cia, fbi, rubberhose, 333 sundapple lane cozy creek il 60714-94611, bahhhh, black sheep, naitsuaf, oroborous,theyll see, theyll all see Frillium, occuremusiterum (some of these i gave myself because i was really close but just missed a small detail/spelling)

Taken from here and Here Because I got stumped: Season 3, Season2 , Season 1, Glass shard beach, caryn, Euclydia, Peak, Theory, Cray Cray, Help me, mickey mouse, hectoring, divorce, breakup, skeleton, math, history, monster, gyatt, who are you, fixinit1, conspiracy, riddle, cryptogram codex, horror, creepypasta, trigonometry, god, boyfriend,baby, lalalalala, scary, trigonometry,just blendin, morality, burnside, family matters, when will i die, elon, multilevel mark, goodnight sally,paper jam, tourist trap,the duchess approves,shape, scientology, meow, nacho, crypto,sevral times,easter egg, oh yes they both, daddy, mommy, burned inside, destruction is a form of creation, i see, unreality, you can't kill an idea, am i blanchin, fuck alex, fuck you alex, fuck you, shit, bye gold, nsa, globnar,disneyland,kook, kuibrick,virus,that's just a, you're insane

Next day

Found online: Dionarap, stod eht tcennoc, dispense my treat

[imthebadguyyy]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

pairing : f1 drivers x reader fandom : f1 synopsis : the grid is there to watch you flourish with a broken heart. warnings : angst and insane amounts of platonic fluff

I can read your mind, "she's having the time of her life", there in her glittering prime.

The press conference room was buzzing with excitement. Cameras flashed, microphones were adjusted, and reporters shuffled in their seats, eager to ask their questions. You sat at the table, the only female driver on the grid, proudly representing Mercedes. Beside you were Lewis Hamilton and George Russell, both offering reassuring smiles as they prepared for the barrage of questions.

The session began with the usual inquiries about strategies, car performance, and race predictions. You answered confidently, drawing on your experiences and expertise. The lights refracted sequined stars off your silhouette every night, making it seem like you were having the time of your life, there in your glittering prime.

But then, a reporter in the back stood up, his tone sharp and probing. "I can read your mind," he began, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's having the time of her life," he quoted, a mocking tone in his voice. "But given the recent incidents, do you think you're emotionally strong enough to handle the pressures of Formula 1, especially as a female driver? Some might say you're struggling to keep up."

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. How dare he question your strength, your dedication? You squared your shoulders, looking the reporter straight in the eye.

"I can show you lies," you said, your voice steady and strong. "One, two, three, four. You don't get to tell me about sad," you continued, your gaze unwavering. "I've faced challenges and pressures just like everyone else on this grid. My gender doesn't make me weaker or less capable. If anything, it makes me stronger."

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. But then, Lewis leaned forward, his expression fierce. "We all face immense pressure in this sport," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And she's proven time and again that she belongs here. Her strength and resilience are unmatched."

George nodded in agreement. "She's one of the best drivers I've ever had the privilege to race alongside. Her gender has nothing to do with her capabilities. She's here on merit, just like the rest of us."

Sebastian Vettel, sitting a few seats down, chimed in as well. "Respect is crucial in this sport. We support each other, and we stand by her. She's earned her place on this grid, and nothing can take that away from her."

Valtteri Bottas added his voice to the mix. "We all have our struggles, but it's how we handle them that defines us. And she's handled everything with grace and determination."

Checo Perez, who was at the press conference as well, spoke up. "It's easy to criticize from the outside. But we know what it takes to be here, and she has it all. She's not just a great driver; she's an inspiration."

The support from your fellow drivers warmed your heart. You felt a surge of gratitude and pride. They saw you for who you were—a talented driver, a fierce competitor, and a valuable member of the F1 community.

The reporter, realizing he had crossed a line, shifted uncomfortably and mumbled an apology. The press conference moved on, but the impact of that moment stayed with you. It was a reminder of the solidarity and respect that existed among the drivers, a testament to the bond you shared.

After the press conference, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You're stronger than any of them know," he said with a smile.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. "Thanks, Lewis. And thanks to all of you," you said, looking around at your fellow drivers. "I couldn't do this without your support."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a team of incredible people standing by your side. And that made all the difference.

'cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit

The race had been intense, a whirlwind of speed and strategy. You pushed your Mercedes to its limits, navigating the twists and turns with precision and skill. As the only female driver on the grid, you had a point to prove, and today, you were doing just that.

But then, in the final laps, an incident occurred. Another driver made a reckless move, causing you to swerve and lose valuable time. Despite the setback, you fought your way back up, crossing the finish line in third place. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as you made your way to the podium, your heart pounding with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

Standing on the podium, you felt a surge of pride. You had earned this. But as the ceremony began, an official approached, a somber look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but you've been given a penalty for the incident on the track. You've lost your podium place."

Your heart sank, but you quickly composed yourself. 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, you reminded yourself. The decision was unfair, a blatant disregard for the fact that you were the victim of the incident. But instead of letting it break you, you chose to rise above it.

With a defiant smile, you raised your trophy high, celebrating as if nothing had happened. The crowd roared in approval, sensing your silent rebellion against the FIA. You waved to your fans, your expression one of unwavering confidence and determination. You were here to stay, and no unfair penalty could take that away from you.

Lewis Hamilton, standing beside you, exchanged a glance of admiration and support. He knew the situation was unjust, but he also knew you were strong enough to handle it. As you all sprayed champagne, the message was clear: you wouldn't let anyone diminish your achievements.

After the ceremony, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis was waiting for you. He pulled you into a warm hug, holding you tightly. "You were incredible out there," he whispered, his voice full of warmth and pride. "I'm so proud of you."

You hugged him back, drawing strength from his support. "Thanks, Lewis. It means a lot coming from you."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with genuine affection. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You've got the heart of a champion, and no unfair penalty can change that."

Oscar Piastri, who had finished second, gave you a nod of respect as he approached. "That was a tough break," he said quietly. "But you handled it with more class than most could."

You smiled at Oscar, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Oscar. It’s moments like these that show what we're made of."

As you walked away, Lewis kept his arm around your shoulders, a silent but powerful gesture of solidarity. "Remember," he said softly, "we're a team. And we're all here for you."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. "I know. And it makes all the difference."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges. But with your resilience, the support of your team, and your unwavering determination, you were ready to face whatever came your way. And that made all the difference.

babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did

The season had been a rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows, but you had handled it with grace and determination. As the only female driver on the grid, you constantly faced scrutiny and doubt from the pundits who seemed to neglect your achievements. Every podium finish, every hard-fought point, was downplayed or overshadowed by your male counterparts.

Despite this, you kept your head high. One particular pundit, known for his sarcasm, had once sneered, "You just have to fake it 'til you make it, right?" His dismissive comment stung, but you channeled that frustration into every race, using it as fuel to prove your worth.

Then came the breakthrough. Four consecutive wins. It was a streak that left everyone in awe, and there was no denying your dominance on the track. Each victory was sweeter than the last, a testament to your skill and resilience. But what you relished most was the silence from the pundits who had so often dismissed you.

After your fourth straight win, you stood on the podium, the crowd roaring in approval. You soaked in the moment, knowing you had earned every bit of it. As you descended the podium, your eyes locked onto the group of pundits, including the one who had made that sarcastic remark.

With a confident stride, you walked straight up to them. The surprise on their faces was evident as you approached. You could feel the tension, the unspoken acknowledgment of your triumph hanging in the air.

"You remember that comment you made?" you asked, your voice clear and unwavering. "About faking it until you make it?" You let the words hang for a moment, letting the weight of your achievements settle in. "Well, I did just that. And look where it got me."

Lando Norris, standing nearby, gave you an encouraging nod, his eyes filled with pride. Carlos Sainz, too, offered a smile of respect and admiration. They had witnessed your journey, your struggles, and your victories, and they knew how much this moment meant.

The pundits, momentarily speechless, nodded in acknowledgment. You didn't need their praise or recognition anymore. You had shown the world what you were capable of, and that was enough.

As you walked away, you felt a surge of satisfaction and confidence. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but you knew you could face them with the same strength and grace that had brought you this far. And with every race, you would continue to prove that you belonged at the very top of the sport.

Lando joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You handled that perfectly," he said, his voice full of admiration.

Carlos came up on your other side, grinning. "They won't underestimate you again."

You smiled, feeling the camaraderie and support from your teammates. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the future was bright. You had the talent, the determination, and the support to achieve anything you set your mind to.

lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, and the glamorous event was bustling with high-profile guests, flashing cameras, and a sea of paparazzi. You, the only female driver on the grid, were attending a high-profile gala, and while the event was supposed to be a celebration, it quickly turned into a showcase of unwelcome comments.

You walked into the venue, dressed in a stunning outfit that was both elegant and bold. However, instead of admiring glances, you were met with snide remarks and superficial comments about your appearance. People were whispering about your body, your outfit, and your presence, making jabs and sarcastic remarks about your place in the spotlight.

“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you thought to yourself, trying to maintain your composure. Even when you felt like the criticism was overwhelming, you knew you had to keep up a brave front.

Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton, who were both at the event, noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding you. They were determined to support you and stand by your side.

As you mingled through the crowd, a particularly obnoxious guest made a loud comment, “Nice outfit, but are you sure you’re not just here to be a pretty face?”

The remark stung, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you turned to the person with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, absolutely. I’m just here to make up the numbers. But hey, if looking good and putting up with this nonsense is part of the job, I guess I’m killing it.”

The crowd fell silent, taken aback by your sharp retort. Charles, standing nearby, stepped in with a smile that was equal parts supportive and mischievous. “You know, I think she’s doing a lot more than just looking good. It’s impressive how she handles this kind of stuff.”

Lewis, also by your side, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and I’ve seen her drive circles around the competition. I’d say she’s got more than enough talent to match that smile.”

The remarks were met with a stunned silence from the onlookers. The shift in tone was palpable, and the crowd seemed to recognize that they had crossed a line. You gave Charles and Lewis a grateful smile, appreciating their support.

As the night went on, you continued to navigate the event with a blend of poise and sarcasm. The comments faded into the background as you enjoyed the company of those who genuinely respected you.

Charles, as you were leaving the event, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, his tone warm and sincere.

Lewis joined in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of sass to set things right.”

You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. “Thanks, guys. I’ve learned that sometimes, you just have to give as good as you get.”

As you left the gala, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you felt ready to face whatever came your way.

im so depressed i act like it's my birthday everyday

The breakup had been brutal. Your boyfriend, a famous tennis player, had ended things in the most public and humiliating way possible. Since then, he’d been making snide comments about you in interviews, trying to tarnish your reputation. Despite the heartache, you continued to show up and perform on the F1 circuit, determined not to let his words break you.

"I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day," you thought bitterly, putting on a brave face for the cameras and the fans. The Monaco Grand Prix was approaching, and as always, the media was in a frenzy. You had a press conference lined up, and you knew that questions about your ex were inevitable.

You took your seat at the press conference, flanked by Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen. The room was buzzing with anticipation as the questions started to roll in. It wasn’t long before one of the reporters brought up your ex-boyfriend’s recent comments.

“Your ex has been quite vocal about your breakup, making some rather harsh remarks. How do you respond to that?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar sting of his words. But instead of letting it show, you decided to turn the tables with a sarcastic comment. “Well, he’s clearly got a lot of time on his hands now that he’s not busy winning matches. Maybe he should consider a career in stand-up comedy.”

The room erupted in a mix of gasps and chuckles. Before you could say more, Lewis jumped in, his expression serious. “He’s too stupid for his own good if he thinks he can undermine her. She’s shown more strength and class than he ever will.”

Charles nodded in agreement. “He let a gem slip out of his fingers. His loss is the racing world’s gain.”

Carlos added, his voice full of warmth, “She’s got more talent and heart than he could ever understand. We’re lucky to have her here.”

Max leaned into his mic, a rare smile on his face. “And let’s be honest, she’s the one who’s truly winning. Both on and off the track.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their support. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

The bond between you all was palpable. The camaraderie and mutual respect you shared were evident, and the crowd could see it. The reporters seemed taken aback by the united front, realizing they wouldn’t get the reaction they’d hoped for.

As the press conference continued, the focus shifted back to racing, and you felt a sense of relief. You answered questions about your performance, your strategy for the upcoming race, and your goals for the season. With each answer, you felt stronger, more confident.

After the press conference, the guys surrounded you, offering words of encouragement and support. Lewis gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “You handled that perfectly. Don’t let anyone get to you.”

Charles grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “Yeah, and if he keeps talking, we’ll take care of it.”

Carlos laughed. “I don’t think he stands a chance against all of us.”

Max added, his tone sincere, “You’ve got us. We’re in this together.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship and support. “Thanks, everyone. It means a lot.”

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you could face whatever came your way.

i cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art

The morning of the race, you found yourself hiding in the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. The pressure of the season, the recent breakup, and the constant scrutiny had finally taken their toll. You sat on the floor, head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art," you thought bitterly, trying to pull yourself together.

Outside, the sounds of the paddock were a blur, but the faint knock on the bathroom door was unmistakable. "Hey, you okay in there?" It was Lewis's voice, filled with concern.

You tried to steady your breathing, wiping your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, your voice trembling.

The door creaked open slightly, and Charles's worried face appeared. "We heard you crying. Do you want to talk, Speedy?"

Carlos and Max were right behind him, their expressions mirroring Charles's worry. "You don't have to do this alone, Champ," Carlos said softly.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you broke down again. "It's just... everything. The pressure, the breakup, the constant comments... I can't handle it."

Lewis stepped inside, kneeling next to you. "We're here for you, Superstar. You’re stronger than you know."

Max nodded, his usually stern face softened with empathy. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Ace. It's okay to have moments like this."

Oscar, who had just arrived, added, "And after all this, we know you’ll go out there and show everyone what you're made of, Rocket."

Their words, their presence, it all felt overwhelming in the best way. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Thank you, guys. I just... I need to get through today."

Lewis helped you up, giving you a reassuring hug. "And you will, Star. We believe in you."

With their support, you made your way to the grid. The race ahead seemed daunting, but you channeled all your emotions into your performance. Lap after lap, you pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could rise above it all.

When the checkered flag waved, you had done it. You won the race. The crowd erupted in cheers, but all you could think about was the breakdown you had just hours before. As you climbed onto the podium, flanked by Max and Oscar, you felt a mix of triumph and relief.

During the podium ceremony, the emotions threatened to overwhelm you again, but you managed to keep a brave face. When it was your turn to speak, you decided to lighten the mood. "I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art," you said with a smile. The crowd laughed, appreciating your honesty and humor.

Max and Oscar both hugged you tightly, their support evident. "You did amazing, Lightning," Max whispered.

Oscar added, "We’re so proud of you, Champ."

The three of you stood there, arms around each other, a united front against the world. The bond you shared was clear, and for a moment, all the pain and pressure seemed to fade away.

As you looked out at the cheering crowd, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown today, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And for now, that was enough.

i was grinning like I'm winning i was hitting my marks, cuz I can do it with a broken heart!

The final race of the season was here, and Abu Dhabi was buzzing with anticipation. You stood on the starting grid, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. The breakup, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the season had been overwhelming, but you had kept pushing forward.

As the race began, you found your rhythm. Lap after lap, you were grinning like you were winning, hitting your marks perfectly. The focus, the drive, the determination—it all came together. "I can do it with a broken heart," you thought, channeling all your pain into every turn, every straight, every maneuver.

When the checkered flag waved, it was you crossing the line first. The roar of the crowd was deafening as you realized you had just won the World Championship. Tears of joy and relief streamed down your face as you brought your car to a stop. You had done it. Despite everything, you had achieved your dream.

Climbing out of your car, you were immediately swarmed by your team, who lifted you high in the air, cheering your name. Amid the chaos, you saw Lewis and Charles running towards you, their faces lit up with pride and excitement.

As you stood on the podium, the reality of your accomplishment sinking in, you took the microphone for your victory speech. "This season has been the toughest of my life," you began, your voice wavering with emotion. "I’ve been through hell and back. Heartbreak, pressure, and so many nights where I didn’t think I could keep going. But I did. Because I’m stronger than my fears, stronger than my pain."

You paused, looking out at the sea of faces cheering for you. "To everyone who ever doubted me, who said I couldn't make it—look at me now! I was grinning like I was winning, hitting my marks... because I can do it with a broken heart!"

The crowd erupted in applause, and Lewis and Charles were the loudest, hollering and cheering for you. They rushed onto the podium, drowning you in hugs, their pride and love for you evident in their eyes.

Lewis pulled you into a tight embrace. "You did it, Superstar! I knew you could!"

Charles joined in, wrapping his arms around both of you. "You’re incredible, Speedy! We’re so proud of you!

The three of you stood there, holding each other as the celebration continued around you. The bond you shared was unbreakable, forged through countless races, challenges, and triumphs.

As the champagne flowed and the confetti rained down, you felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. Despite the broken heart, you had achieved your greatest dream. And with Lewis and Charles by your side, you knew you could face anything the future held.

This moment, this victory, was yours. And it was sweeter than you could have ever imagined.

try and come for my job

The afterparty in Abu Dhabi was in full swing. The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement after the thrilling end to the season, and tonight was all about celebration. You had just won the World Championship, and the energy was electric.

Dressed in a dark pink glittery dress, you let yourself get swept up in the festivities. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and everyone was ready to let loose after a long, grueling season. Your team was gathered around you, along with many of the other drivers, all celebrating your incredible achievement.

As the night went on, the mood became more jubilant. Someone handed you a shot, and you raised it high, feeling a surge of adrenaline and joy. The crowd around you cheered as you climbed up onto a tabletop, ready to make a statement.

Holding the shot glass in one hand, you looked around at the sea of faces, all eyes on you. You grinned mischievously, feeling a boldness take over. "Try and come for my job!" you shouted, downing the shot in one go.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Lewis and Charles were right there, cheering the loudest, their faces beaming with pride. The moment was captured on video by several people, and within minutes, it was already going viral on social media.

You continued to dance on the tabletop, feeling the music pulse through you. The crowd chanted your name, the energy infectious. Lewis and Charles joined you, clambering up onto the table and dancing alongside you, their arms around your shoulders.

Lewis leaned in close, his voice filled with laughter. "You’re unstoppable, Superstar!"

Charles, grinning from ear to ear, added, "No one’s taking your job, Speedy! You’re the best!"

Max and Oscar were below, cheering and laughing, capturing the moment on their phones. Carlos handed you another drink, shaking his head in amazement. "You’re a legend, Rocket!"

As the night went on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. You felt an overwhelming sense of camaraderie and love from everyone around you. The hardships and struggles of the season melted away in the light of this celebration.

Later, as you finally climbed down from the table, breathless and exhilarated, Lewis and Charles stayed close, their support unwavering. "We’ve got your back, no matter what," Lewis said, his tone sincere.

Charles nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. "You’re a champion in every sense of the word. Never forget that."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their words. "Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have done it without you."

The night continued, filled with laughter, dancing, and countless toasts to your success. The viral video of you downing a shot and declaring your dominance spread like wildfire, capturing the essence of your fearless, unstoppable spirit.

As the party finally wound down, you knew that this was just the beginning. With your friends and teammates by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And for now, you were content to bask in the joy of this unforgettable night.

a/n : ahhh I've been waiting for this one!! happy reading 🩷 and as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

TAGS

f1 : @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @superlegend216 @theonly1outof-a-billion

ttpd series - @ateezseonghwanot @khaylin27 @imgondeletedis @jj-ever-lovely-jewel @stylestastic

charles : - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegend216 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1lover20 @livsters @inkfable @ssararuffoni

[draconic-desire]

DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)

Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!

Incident #3 — The Interrogation

Bright light floods your vision, eliciting a hiss as you repeatedly blink to regain your senses. Shielding your eyes is useless; your hands are pinned tightly behind your back, your wrists already starting to throb.

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself tied to a chair, arms and legs bound to the wooden frame with thick rope. A few tugs and attempted kicks lead you to quickly relent that your bindings aren’t budging.

Shaking the fuzz from inside your head, you examine your surroundings.

While most of the room is cloaked in shadows, your chair is illuminated with a bright spotlight, highlighting the laminated flooring beneath your feet. Directly in front of you stands a long bar, perched upon a podium to elevate any individual behind it. The room is completely bare otherwise, giving a cold, clinical appearance.

How in the Aeons’ names did I end up here?

“Ah, you’ve finally regained your senses.”

You jolt, the voice to your left sending gooseflesh across your skin. It’s deep, full of condescension and authority, and almost certainly male. Sweat trickles down your neck.

Confirming your suspicions, a tall, muscular figure steps from the shadows beside you.

Your already rapid heartbeat skyrockets. Despite his scowl, the man is undeniably handsome—golden eyes to complement his dark purple locks, full lips and strong, toned arms on display thanks to his single-sleeved attire. You’d typically be blushing as he grips the back of your chair with one arm and leans down close to your face, if it weren’t for the unwelcome and compromising position you’re in.

You struggle to swallow. “I—um, sir, there must be some mistake—”

“You are (Y/n) (L/n), are you not?” he interrupts. His breath, minty with a touch of sage, tickles your nose as he closes the gap between the two of you even further.

“Um, yes…?” You cringe at how pathetic you sound, but really, how else are you supposed to react when a stranger has you apparently kidnapped and tied up?

The man rolls his eyes. “Come now, at least admit to your own name. If you can’t do that, how can you own up to the consequences of your actions?”

Head spinning, you ignore the fact that you think he just implied you’re stupid to instead focus on his latter comment. Despite your situation, you can’t help the spark of indignation that rages in your chest. Maybe that’s what makes you stupid: your sharp tongue. “Excuse me? Consequences? Are you lecturing me? And how do you know my name? Who even are you? Why am I here?”

Tilting his head slightly, the man lets a subtle smile pull at his lips. “Finally asking the right questions.” He stands and paces behind the podium in front of you, appearing like a judge presiding over court.

“My name is Dr. Veritas Ratio, and you, (Y/n), are my wife.”

You jerk back like you’ve been hit. That is certainly not what you were expecting.

A startled laugh escapes you. “I don’t have a husband.”

Ratio hums in response, jotting down something in a book he pulled from his robes. “And what is the last thing you remember before you woke up here?”

“Woah, woah, are we just going to glance over the fact that you’re claiming we’re married?!” you shout, panic creeping into your bones. So not only have you been kidnapped, but the individual holding you is also insane. Great. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

A deep sigh fills the room, followed by the sound of lead scratching against paper. A low mumble that you can barely discern contemplates, “Perhaps the dosage was too high this time? Such an amnestic response is unusual… Could a physical stimulus be required to invigorate her hippocampus?”

The damn man is treating you like a science project!

Before you can retort, he pulls out two small vials of liquid, both no larger than your thumb. He sets them down on the table before you and gestures to each individually.

“You now have a choice. Drinking this,” he motions to the right, at the vial possessing a golden liquid flecked with sparkling, iridescent particles, “will restore your memories. You’ll remember me, and everything that led up to this point.”

Remember him? Did he drug you into forgetting, and this was the next step in his experiment? If what he claims is true, why would a husband ever do that to his wife? Your head throbs.

“Or, choose this vial,” he points to the lefthand bottle, a concoction so dark it mirrors the midnight sky, “and you will forget everything and get to walk out that door shortly after.”

Your eyes narrow at him. Surely there was some sort of catch. His language was too vague to be of any comfort at all.

“Why are you making me choose at all? This all seems like one really fucked up joke.” You tug at your bindings again, letting out a growl of frustration.

Ratio pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You’re lucky I’ve grown so fond of you that I can overlook your insipid questioning. You will choose.”

“And what happens when I do? Surely it’s not as simple as remembering you or being freed. You don’t seem like a man who would go to all the trouble. What’s in this for you other than forcing me to be your little lab rat?”

After a pregnant pause, Ratio clucks his tongue. “Fine. I suppose it doesn’t matter if I give away the answers. You’re clearly not thinking straight.” He places his notebook down and picks up a vial in each hand, holding the small things between his thumb and index fingers.

“The gold bottle here will completely restore your memories. You want to know the whole truth about us? How you ended up in this room? Why it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation?” Your breath hitches; what did he mean not the first time. “Then drink this one. It will probably give you a leg up, since you’ll recall all those past times you tried oh so fruitlessly to escape me.”

He then raises his opposite hand as your horror builds. “Alternatively, this vial will completely wipe your memories, but only of me. You’ll recall everything about yourself, your life, hobbies, et cetera…but in doing so, you will be helpless the next time we meet. You will have no defenses, and one way or another, you will be my wife again. That much has already been proven true.”

The floor falls from underneath you. Aeons, how many times have you taken that midnight liquid? How many times have you been in this very scenario, drugged into forgetting him, only for him to court you time and time again. Clearly you must reject him each time, but he’s so lost in his obsession that he has to reset you each time you try to flee. The thought makes you immediately nauseous.

Despite your dry throat, you manage to croak out, “And if I refuse to take either?”

Ratio’s expression darkens, his chin tipped up haughtily. “Don’t test my patience, (Y/n).”

You gulp, eyes flicking back and forth between this two hands. You must choose.

[inuyashaluver]

MORE MAYA PLEASE 🙏🙏

handsy - maya le tissier

maya le tissier x reader

description: in which your best friend is an extremely handsy defender, completely testing the limits of your friendship when you contemplate if it really is platonic

warnings: nothing really!

a/n: you do not have to tell me twice. maya le tissier has my heart. thank you and please enjoy! ❤️ i haven't written for maya dearest in soooooo long, it was much needed!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

maya le tissier has a problem, and it was a problem she didn't even know she had.

she’d been told by countless people that this problem was going to lead her into trouble, but how was she supposed to fix it if she didn't know what the problem was?

this problem that maya had, you were no stranger to, in fact you were the one always caught in the crossfire of it. and this was your best friend’s incredibly handsy self.

maya le tissier was extremely touchy and affectionate with everyone, but mainly you, and it was starting to drive you insane.

—

it’s always been like this, being best friends with maya and then questioning your whole relationship with how touchy she was.

whether it was a simple touch on the arm or a prolonged hug that had your heart beating out of your chest, you were confused. she was confusing you. heavily.

you both met in the youth england teams, bonding because you were the same age. both similar yet different, a perfect balance that had many people envious of the relationship you had carefully constructed with each other.

ever since you were both 15, you've pulled your hair out in frustration over the brunette, something she wasn't even aware of.

“hey, babe” maya flopped down next to you in your cubby at the u17’s lionesses, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, kissing your cheek gently.

your cheek filled with pink from the contact of her lips against your skin, desperately hoping she doesn't point out how flushed you looked right now.

“hi, may” you chuckle, feeling maya’s arm slip behind you around your back, pulling you directly into her side. “you look gorgeous, as usual” she smiles, gently budging your shoulder with hers.

you look over at her in surprise, flattered by her words but also incredibly shy about them.

“i’m wearing the same thing as you” you point out, a hint of teasing laced in your words. “yeah but you always look way better” she winks, her arm moving from your back to rest on your thigh, fiddling with the end of your shorts.

your breath hitched a little, was she clueless or was she strategic?

“you okay?” she asks, handing your your water bottle, “you look a little flushed” she said with genuine concern, answering your earlier question, the girl was clueless.

“i'm all good! just a little warm” you excused, fanning your hands for added effect, maya’s eyebrows quirk but she chose to believe you.

the brunette grabbed a random paper from the cubby next to yours, fanning you down diligently, asking you constantly if you were okay. and if this doesn't sum up your ultimate confusion with your best friend, you don't know what will.

—

you were both signed to manchester united as well as the senior england team so that bond between the both of you only grew tenfold.

it was impossible for the two of you to be apart, mainly because you now lived together and that was an ultimate struggle.

each and every moment of your lives were together, it was a rare occasion to see the two of you separated, and thus, the rumours surrounding your relationship only grew larger, it was really taking its toll on you.

the thing is, there were numerous moments where you truly thought maya liked you back, how could you not?

there were occasions where she looked at you in a way that made your heart flutter, the petnames, the acts of service, and especially the way she would talk about you in interviews.

—

“yeah, thats a great question! i definitely think my biggest form of motivation is my (y/n), shes absolutely amazing inside and out and i just love her. to be honest, i don’t think i would be where i am without her and i know it's the same for her, well i hope” she laughs, thanking the interviewer again for the question.

ella and alessia, the ones that had to see everything under the magnifying glass knew this would drive you insane.

they sent you the video before having a group facetime call where they intricately analysed each word, each facial expression and they concluded the girl was in love with you.

and you concluded that you were in love with her, and something needed to happen, immediately.

—

you were at camp with england, mary begging you and maya to join alessia and her in a tiktok video, something about hot shots?

you weren't really listening, maya was drawing shapes on your back and therefore no coherent thoughts were present in your mind, and so here you all were, set up in a line in front of mary’s phone.

you and maya couldn’t stop giggling in the corner, making mary and alessia stare at you both with amused smiles until you nudged maya’s thigh with your own, hushing your giggles as best as you could.

“now that they're done, hello everyone, we’ve got a challenge for, me, alessia, maya and little (y/n) today” mary snickers, you scoff after she finishes her sentence.

“alright?” alessia chuckles, “what did you call me little for?” you point at mary, making her press her finger against yours that you couldn't help but laugh at.

“you’re the youngest” mary teases, “maya is three months older than me?” you exclaim, nudging maya for backup but the girl only gave you a cheeky smile back.

“oh whatever, go on” you roll your eyes, maya grins at you, squeezing your hand quickly before letting it go.

“we’ve got, hotshots, like the hotshots we are” everyone giggles, mary ripping them out of the package and giving one out to each of you.

“here, babe” maya grabs yours out of your hand, smiling at you before shaking both of your little bottles.

“she can’t shake her own bottle?” alessia teases, making maya giggle shyly while shaking her head, “nah, she gets princess treatment from me” maya winks, making you slap maya’s thigh with utters of “i do not!”.

maya puts one in between her thighs and opens yours, giving it to you before she opens her own. “i can smell it from here” alessia grimaces, “yeah, alessia eats with her nose” mary teases, maya smells it herself and coughs a little, pushing your hand down when you went to smell it yourself.

“love, it’s gross, don’t” maya says protectively, leaning forward to adjust herself, she placed her hand on your knee and as she sat back properly, her hand slid up from your knee all the way to your thigh, making you freeze in your spot.

maya looks at you questioningly, “i’m fine, i can just smell it” you lie, maya smiles at you, “gross, right?” she smiles, making you nod along with her.

“(y/n), i know exactly how it's gonna taste and i don't want it” alessia shivers, making you giggle at her. maya stares at you while you giggle, grinning brightly at seeing you so happy.

“less, if i do it, you do it” you laugh, making the blonde groan but agree.

“my god, we need (y/n/n) around more, look how fast lessi agrees and how excited maya is” mary says to the camera. “right, let's go!” mary demands.

you all grimace but begin to drink the shot, maya drinks it quickly and begins to laugh, coughing as she got up from the frame.

mary and alessia begin to laugh, promptly making you laugh as you watch maya. maya scrambles to get her bottle of juice from your bag, continuing to cough.

“you okay?” you grimace, the ginger burning the back of your throat, maya nods, “it got up my nose” maya chokes out, drinking the juice.

you finish your shot as maya comes back to sit next to you on the bed, “god, you're like a baby” you scold, lifting your hands up to cup maya’s face, wiping off the remaining shot and juice off her nose and her lips.

maya lets you do it with no complaints, watching you with a smile as you still taste the shot in your mouth.

when you drop your hands, maya lifts up her own, squeezing your cheeks together teasingly before putting the bottle of juice in your mouth.

her arm coming around your back to draw comforting circles on your back as you had the juice, passing it to alessia when you were done.

maya giggles as she makes fun of mary, drawing you closer every couple of seconds. “lessi, you need to finish it” you say to her, alessia shakes her head.

“no, i don't want it” alessia says with disgust, “come on, less, please” maya says, joining you in convincing the blonde, alessia rolls her eyes but does it anyone, getting a cheer from the three of you when she finished it.

“i’m so proud of all of you for that” mary mocks, ending the video with goodbyes and maya tackling you to the bed, claiming that now she was traumatised from the shot and needed comforting.

mary hops on both of you while filming it while alessia laughs in the back, distantly saying “such a third wheel!” making mary laugh when maya pressed a firm kiss to your cheek.

let’s just say you replayed each and every interaction that night before you went to bed. maya liked you back and you needed to do something about it.

—

a couple months later, you were back in manchester with maya, waking up early for training to make you both some breakfast.

“good morning” maya yawns, placing a hand on your hip with a kiss to your cheek, you let out a shaky breath before replying.

“morning, love, breakfast is there” you nod your head to the kitchen island, maya gasps in appreciation, thanking you and kissing your cheek repeatedly, pulling giggles out of you.

after you both finished eating, she just answered some texts on her phone as you stared at her, “you okay?” maya chuckles, glancing over at you, turning her phone off and swivelling her chair to face you, prompting you to do the same.

you don’t know where the surge of confidence came from but something came over you in that moment.

“can i try something?” you ask slowly, maya nods without hesitation, “whatever you like” she says sweetly, slightly moving closer to you.

you let out a quick exhale, swallowing the lump in your throat. there was so much riding on this, you could lose her forever or you could have her forever, and it was all on this.

but you couldn’t back down now, you owe it to yourself to do this. “if you hate me forever after this, i’m sorry for it now” you say wearily,

“babe, i could never hate you, it’s literally impossible” you says with full confidence. you nod at her, your eyes flickering between her eyes before quickly dropping to her lips and then back up.

she gives you a soft smile, you’re both on the same page. she wants you to make the first move.

you bite the bullet, surging forward to press your lips against hers, feeling them move together in sync without an ounce of hesitation. you both wanted this.

her hand cupped your chin and she stood from her chair, standing between your legs as she continued to kiss you. she places a hand gently on your thigh, your own arms wrapping around her neck softly.

she hums against you, kissing you sweetly with a smile lightly playing at her lips, making you chuckle against her.

she pulls away softly, bumping your nose cutely with yours as she giggles to face you. “you finally caught on, huh?” she teases, you roll your eyes, making maya pull you into another kiss, this one more purposeful and passionate before she pulled away again.

“you could’ve said something” you mock, maya interlaces your hands together, kissing the back of it gently.

“i said it everyday, i just wanted you to come to me in your own time” maya smiles, pushing a stray hair off your forehead.

you smile at her but almost sadly, the thought of both you and maya’s pushing your feelings away for so long.

“but what if i didn’t say anything?” you frown, gently caressing her face with the pad of your thumb, tracing over her cheek, maya smiles at you, moving closer to you.

“but you did, baby” she says softly, pecking your lips gently, “and it’s okay if you didn’t, i would just be your best friend and that’s it” she says earnestly, you pull her in for a hug, a tight one.

she gently sways you side to side as your legs slightly wrap around her waist. “i love you” you sniffle, maya tears up herself, kissing your cheek as she moved back.

“i love you” she says looking right into your eyes, kissing all over your face before settling on your lips, kissing them a couple of times before hugging you again.

“as much as i would love to kiss you all day, we have training” maya groans, grabbing both of your hands to help you down off the chair.

“so you wouldn’t kiss me all day?” you gasp mockingly, giving her a teasing smile, maya rolls her eyes affectionately, pinching your hip warningly.

“i would love nothing more, but we have a job to do, we can kiss all night” she winks, pecking your lips before ushering you out the door.

—

you’ve now been dating for over a year and have never been happier. the amount of relief everyone felt when they found out you were now dating was quite funny.

now everyone just had to get used to more flirting then usual but it was worth it, especially since you and maya were so happy.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you! ily lessi x

liked by alessia and 44,232 others

mayaletissier: i know im supposed to watch the game but she’s incredibly distracting

view all comments

yourname: yeah sure, IM the distraction

↳ mayaletissier: you are, my love

↳ yourname: so sweet you are

alessia: they grow up so fast

↳ maryearps: our kids are big girls now 🥺

↳ mayaletissier: adults but okay xx

[vietcrepes]

moments with the sbg characters that made one of you wonder — is there more between you two?

◡ ✶ featuring: the main 6 from school bus graveyard

notice board: gn!reader as always, logan is ooc, so is aiden lowk, this is not my best work (💔), not proof read, mentions of food in logan taylor n tyler's part, the occasional swear word

◡ ✶ word count: im just a girl

୨୧ ASHLYN BANNER

you two were killing time before ashlyn's ballet lesson, although her mom was nowhere to be found. "shit, I need to do my hair" ashlyn muttered, returning to her room where you were scrolling through instagram. peeking behind the pillow you were rested against, a light bulb formed.

"I'll just do your hair, what could go wrong?" to be fair, you've had a fair amount of experience doing hair, and considering how long ashlyn's was, it'd either be a dream or nightmare to style. for your sake, let's say it was the former.

so that's how ashlyn landed sitting in front of you, sat between your legs as you attempted to replicate the hairstyle you'd seen ashlyns mom do so many times before. "thanks for doing this" she spoke up, her limbs felt frozen. she's very in tune with her emotions, but this one she couldn't figure out. why was she so nervous around you suddenly? it's not like this is anything new or out of her comfort zone. it's her hair, it's constantly being done by other people.

"it's no problem, you know im always there for you, right?" you stated, not thinking much of it, but ashlyns brain was put in overdrive. she tried rationalizing it, you were attractive. normal people are usually nervous and flustered around attractive people. yeah. that's exactly it. by the time you finished doing her hair, ashlyn had two explanations for what she was feeling. either she was just flustered by your kindness or she was flustered by you.

the last smile you sent her way answered which one it was as she entered ballet class with one question in mind, how?

‧˚₊꒷ click for the rest!

୨୧ AIDEN CLARK

"let's go to the fair" replayed in your mind as aiden clark dragged you to the brightly colored festivities. he had asked you at 6pm, when you had already decided to eat dinner and play games on your phone for the rest of the day. you trudged along, squeezing your eyes shut to adjust to the harsh lights.

your sordid mindset about the fair quickly changed in the face of the countless plushies and games to be won. sure, they were rigged, but who cares? you were getting ready to play your 4th game of the night when you felt a tug on your sleeve.

"let's go on that ride" aiden's eyes sparkled and had a shine brighter than any of the nauseating fair lights as he pointed to the biggest ride in the damn park. honestly, you should've known this was going to happen... it was only a matter of time

"aiden, no-" you paused, wondering how the hell you were going to talk aiden out of a premature death by rollercoaster. oddly enough, you didn't have to. aiden dropped your sleeve as he returned to helping you with whatever game you wanted to play, a smile dawning his face like always.

this cycle continued for the rest of the night, aiden trying to drag you to the insanely large rides, you declining in favor of something tamer or, even better, something that wasn't a ride at all. by the end of it you had managed to evade every death defying ride available. "well that was fun!" aiden said, looking up at the sky as the two of you headed home. your reply was laced with confusion, "even if you didn't get to ride those things from hell?" masked as a joke, it didn't take a genius to know that it was odd for aiden to listen to others so easily.

"who cares about some ride?" he said, kicking a rock that had come across his path, "I didn't go to the fair for the rides, I went there to hang out with you" the gesture was sudden, and you avoided looking at him due to the sudden nature.

"what the hell is wrong with you..." aiden only grinned further at your meager attempt at an insult "I'm great, what do you mean?"

୨୧ BEN CLARK

ben had recently broken his earbuds. it wasn't news to him, they were old but even with the damage it was still usable. soon enough, the daily annoyances that came with using anything broken got to him. today especially, as his earbuds were officially rendered useless and his mood turned sour.

as luck would have it, today was a free work day in class (aka do whatever the hell you want). while his other classmates chatted away, he was taking a nap. at least, he was. a post-it note hit his desk, and he quickly recognized your handwriting. 'you look like you've been in an off mood lately, so I got you a gift!' he failed to register just what the hell you meant until a brand new set of earbuds appeared in front of him.

looking up, he found you beaming down at him. he pulled out a pen, his mind running as he attempted to analyze what this could mean. you took a seat in the desk next to his and watched intently as ben unwrapped and got a feel for the new earbuds. they were nice quality, similar to his old ones but worlds better. it had been a well thought out, attentive, and all in all considerate gift. the more he registered what was happening the quicker his heart paced. he scribbled on the same post-it you had handed to him.

'thanks, i appreciate it'

୨୧ TAYLOR HERNANDEZ

you were exhausted, working at your family business had driven you insane and constantly picking up calls to be met with bitter temperament surely wasn't helping. you had just finished up a rather mundane task, and were ready to enjoy the few minutes of rest as you pulled out a book. unfortunately, the business phone rang. you groaned, dealing with people who couldn't even hear you properly through the ancient box that was the business phone was not your thing. you let the phone ring for a bit before answering, quickly going through the "how may I help you" line you've repeated countless times today.

"it's taylor hernandez, is Y/N working today?" the bright voice chirped, and you bit back a smile "this is Y/N, what do you need tay?" you leaned back in your chair.

"oh that's great! take a look outside" taylor abruptly hung up, leaving you confused as you glanced through the windows. there, in all her glory, was taylor holding a bag of your favorite food place. you knew she was working at her mechanics shop that day, so why would she go out of her way to spend her lunch break (and money) on you? the questions were left unanswered as taylor walked in, beaming and graciously handing you the bag.

a quick glance and you recognized it, your exact order from this place. you never recalled telling taylor what your regular order was, but you didn't have the opportunity to ask questions as she was gone as quickly as she came. your relatives and the regulars quickly swarmed you with questions. namely "is that your girlfriend?" obviously, you had denied all the allegations, but you couldn't ignore the part of your brain that wanted to tell them that you two were dating.

୨୧ TYLER HERNANDEZ

you and tyler weren't close, but the two of you were tasked with a quick snack run since the seven of you had emptied the kitchen in aidens house. it was comfortable silence, and you briskly walked to the nearby convenience store, hands in your pockets to ensure you wouldn't lose the precious money given to you. all was going as expected, idle chat filling the physical space between you two until tyler slowed his pace.

he grabbed your arm, his hold gentle and his eyes directed away from you, as he moved behind and next to you. now, he was walking next to the bustling traffic and you were trailing behind, dazed and confused.

"what are you doing? hurry up before aiden starts texting me complaints" tyler called back, clearing his throat and covering a part of his face. if you looked closely enough, you could see a dark red hue resting on his ears.

"right, sorry" you mutter in apology before going on to talk about which candies to get. a part of your brain didn't move on from the event that had occurred though, and the fluttering feeling you felt only confirmed things further; you fucked around and found out (caught feelings).

୨୧ LOGAN FIELDS

the two of you had decided to a bit of research on possible explanations and something logical behind the phantom realm you'd found yourself in. countless websites had been pulled up, and a quick trip to the library had proven fruitless, ending up with the two of you getting some food to raise your spirits.

as you nibbled away at your cookie, you scribbled nonsensically. "find something?" logan asked, joining you on his bedroom floor. "yeah, a really bad drawing of a phantom" you said, ripping the page out of your notepad and passing it to him. you sighed, ruffling your hair as your brain reached mental capacity.

mindlessly brushing off any possible cookie crumbs from your face, you redirected your attention to the only website that has given much of any information about your situation. it was bleak, but it was better than nothing. "you missed something" logan pointed out, and your eyes darted through the website, hoping for some new discovery. you were only met with his smile as he reached his hand up to brush away the crumbs you had missed in your haste.

"... oh" you said, swatting away his hand as he laughed, both of you having pink hues that were blissfully dismissed. after all, you two were just friends. but it was odd, how that moment had led to you both being clumsy in the midst of the groups midnight adventures, and how everyone had noticed how the air shifted between you two.

writers note: referenced red's Instagram stories for ashlyns bit and it helped a ton 😭 some of these have happened to me irl but I had to change things up a bit to keep it interesting 😷 hopefully it turned out good enough tho, I got carried away with aiden's bit. i dedicated my entire soul into this Tumblr algorithm do me a favor and my life is yours

ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ requests are open ⁺ ✦ ᰍ̠

‧˚₊꒷ likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[elllisaaa]

Hiiiiiiiiiii!! I love your work, and I get so excited whenever i see one of your posts pop up 💗💗

Idk if you'll be able to do anything with this, but this was just a random thought I had after a very real experience at the gym but

What about reader getting intimidated by a member bc of their muscles/height? Like maybe they're friends or in a relationship, and it's just like a cute sweet little moment (i can see this with anyone in svt tbh, but obv gym line would be best)

It's okay if you don't wanna do this! I just thought I'd throw it out there lol

Anyways, I hope you have a great day/night!!!!! 💖

you're so cute anonie !! thank you so much for reading my works, and i'm so glad to bring you joy with my silly posts ! but i totally get what you're saying, whenever i go to the gym without my friends, i'm so intimidated by the big guys so i get you ! plus i looove it whenever someone comes in my inbox to let out some random thoughts like that, keep doing that please !!

and to this screams MINGYU, who is so tall and big, but sometimes forgets how impressive it can be for other people. he sees you struggling to reach the bar of one of the machines because you're too short, and he runs to you to help you pull it down. you shyly thank him, and he goes back to his workout, but he cannot help stealing glances at you whenever you're at the gym at the same time as him. and sometimes, he catches you also looking at him but you always turn your eyes away and he doesn't understand why.

but mingyu doesn't want to annoy you during your workout, so he doesn't say anything. except that one day he sees you preparing to squat and he comes by quickly and asks you if you need someone to spot you. he's so cute with his cheeks all red that you cannot say no.

from this moment on, the two of you keep talking and you become his gym crush immediately. he already thought that you were insanely pretty, but now he's also aware that you're the sweetest human on earth and he's smitten by you. some weeks after you grew closer and started to workout together, he will start to wonder why you didn't approach him sooner.

"do i look like a bad guy ?" you giggled at his little joke, shaking your head. "not, that's not it. but you're… well, you're quite impressive." mingyu seemed so surprised you couldn't help but laugh again at how dumbfounded he was. "impressive ? me ?" - "don't play dumb gyu, you're so tall and big, it's a little intimidating at first."

mingyu tries to process the information for a moment, as he didn't think he could've impressed you just because of his size. but for some reasons, it fuels his ego and it feels good to know that he must also look dependable because he wants you to ask for his help everytime you need it.

"do you still find me impressive ?" he questioned, honestly curious about your answer, but he also had other thoughts in mind. "physically ? yes, don't think i didn't count how much you can bench press. but i also know that you're very sweet, and cute, and you take good care of me, so how could i be intimidated ?"

a soft smile takes over mingyu's face as he leans in, getting closer to you until your lips are only inches away. "does this intimidate you ?" - "no… not at all." this time, you take it upon yourself to make a move and kiss him softly. you can feel his lips stretching in a big, gummy smile against yours. and you can't help the giggle you let out when he looks you in the eyes, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes letting you know everything you needed to.

[aeruia]

⟳. WIND BREAKER

a scenario about you always getting flustered easily whenever you try to talk with suo.

word count : 482

note : i hope i did this ask correct because i cannot think of any scenarios 😭 request r still open yes keep them ask coming 🗣️ ( talk to me pls im going insane )

꒰ request 𖦹 masterlist 𖦹 wbk masterlist ꒱

[ scenario one ]

i don't know if this is just me or not but i imagine suo had read a few books about china or other countries because he can speak other languages other than japanese !?!?!!

so uhm let’s say suo loves accompanying wherever you go in the library maybe to scare off people who had bad intentions or just to spend time with you.

he made a mental note that you love reading books so when it comes to your birthday his gift was a book.

you thanked him sheepishly while you played with the edge of the book which he found adorable. then whenever your birthday comes you expect a book gifted by him.

the book you wanted to read was on a shelf you couldn't reach, jumping or even standing with all your might. you saw suo just beside you, scanning the list of books they have on the shelf. contemplating whether you ask him for help or not.

he turned his head to where you are and smiled at you. “ need my help? ” he asked which made you tensed up as you looked away, sighing.

“ uhm, can you grab that book there? ” you asked shyly, pointing at the book you’ve been trying to reach for the past few minutes. he didn't reply but just reached out for the book and gave it to you.

blinking at the action he just did, looking up to him. “ thank you.. ” you said, flustered before walking away to sit on a nearby table.

[ scenario two ]

suo knows you get flustered easily when you talk to him and how does he know that? he tested it and proved it meaning it was proven and tested by him truly.

he always strikes a conversation with you whenever he sees you at the café taking a break just to get a reaction from you.

“ how’s your day going? ” he begins. sitting beside you while you almost coughed out the drink you were drinking when you heard his voice. “ i also heard it’s your school’s exam today, how did it go? ” your eyes are almost about to pop off when you hear what he said.

“... i’m doing great ” you answered as if hesitant to answer his questions, playing with the handle of the cup you're holding. “ the exam, it was pretty hard but i think i will be able to get a passing score. ” you said a small smile coming into your lips.

tbh he would probably tease you about it because of how easily he can get you flustered. maybe even make a joke about that you and sakura might be long lost siblings because of how you two can get flustered easily.

if you and him are a thing and you still get flustered every time you're talking with him, be ready i know this man will nonstop talk to you to get a reaction.

date posted : 070224

[kisseobie]

making up w jongseob after an argument…🙏🏽

thank god i’m getting jongseob requests ohhhh my goddddd he makes me feel insane. he’s such a sweet boy that i feel like making up with him after an argument would be so wholesome but for the sake of hard hours!! let’s go with this..

it can either go two ways

1. you pissed him off so bad that he can’t help but fuck you into submission and remind you who you belong to

or

2. you both fucked up and said some really hurtful things to eachother in the heat of the argument, leading to tearful apologies and slow lovemaking in your bed

for the first option, i can see jongseob being very hyper-focused and calculated with his work, and when he chooses to work from your shared apartment, he can’t help but get annoyed at your constant interruptions and nagging. it’s nothing too serious, and the first few times you sparked up a conversation with him, he was happy for the break from all of his stress. eventually though, you begin to become impatient, murmuring under your breath that he isn’t giving you any attention, that he’s always too invested in work, that you’re bored and the dishes from breakfast are still not clean and he said he was gonna do them tonight! maybe he overreacts, but when you try to pull him out of his desk to spend time with you, he pulls his hand away and scolds you for not allowing him to focus, which pisses you off and leads to the two of you uselessly bickering over little things. after awhile of fighting you decide to cut the arguing short, grab your purse and keys, and make your way to the door to go anywhere away from him, but he reacts quicker, pulling you back in his direction (much to your dismay)….

after some resistance on your part, you both are able to silently sulk in the aftermath of your argument. seob surprisingly is the first to admit his wrongs, admitting that he might actually benefit from a break and that he was just being stubborn. you however, opt to be a brat, shutting down his excuses and irritating him once again. he finally decides to shuts off his pc and make his way towards you, apologies still woven into his lips as he pulls you into a hungry kiss to shut you up. it’s almost laughable how easily you melt into his embrace, but he doesn’t give you enough time to bask in the kiss before he’s pushing your back to the couch, climbing onto you, and taking off your pants in one swift motion. fucks you into oblivion, angrily thrusting into you and mocking your tears, not allowing you to apologize at this point because “weren’t you so hell bent on being a brat earlier?”. he’s not usually this dominant, this mean, but he figures you’ve forgotten basic manners and respect and he needs to fuck those principles back into you. after a few orgasms, you both lay next to each other spent, panting and making out some more before you break into a fit of giggles at how ridiculous the argument was. you definitely keep in mind, however, that if you ever want to get pounded into next week again, pissing your boyfriend off is the ideal way to go.

for the latter of the scenarios, i believe the insecurities of dating an idol could possibly catch up to you, and instead of jongseob being reassuring like he typically is, he isn’t in the best mood already and your constant questioning of his love makes him feel like he isn’t doing enough for you. tensions are high as he brushes your questions off, indirectly calling your insecurities silly, and on any other day you would agree with him and laugh at yourself for ever doubting how he feels about you, but on this instance, you take it more personal. you pause whatever movie the two of you are watching and continue to demand answers out of him, which leads to a huge fight that neither of you anticipated. the breaking point for jongseob is when you angrily ask “do you even love me?” to which he takes great offense, yelling back that “maybe i shouldn’t, i wouldn’t if i knew it was going to be this hard!”. he regrets his reply as soon as it exits his mouth but it’s no use, your eyes well up with tears and he can feel his heart sinking as he begs you to forgive him. eventually you both are in tears, with seob frantically explaining that he never meant it, that he loves you so much more than you’ll ever know, that he’s sorry he hasn’t been showing you that well enough.

when the pair of you’ve settled down from the fight and the tears have stopped spilling, jongseob pulls you into a kiss, taking breaks every now and then to whisper “i love you” against your mouth. the feelings and regrets become so overwhelming that you need to be close, need to feel each other, need to hold on to each other because you’ve never fought like this before, and kisses become hungrier as jongseob undresses you with the utmost love and care, never going a minute without telling you he loves you as your bodies connect to become one. your boyfriend’s thrusts are slow and passionate, both your eyes and fingers interlocked the entire time as the two of you continue to push apologies and words of affirmations from your lips. jongseob kisses you deeply as you both climax at the same time, the emotions only making the feeling more intense.

later, when you both have regulated your breathing, you cuddle up to eachother, jongseob peppering kisses all over your skin as he whispers more sweet nothings at the latest hours of night. your naked chests are pressed up tightly against each other, as if the two of you are afraid of letting go. jongseob strokes your bare back as you begin to fall asleep, and finally, you both feel at peace

a/n: i rambled so much this is a mess sorry..

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @cysier @fishsquishh

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

❤︎

[dailyrothko]

Scans ( a little long)

When I ask people not to steal my scans I assure you it has nothing to do with my ego. I have relationships with a number of people that trust me to provide full credits and copyrights and supervise, as much as possible, how things are used. And it gets a little complex, like some people will give me a photo I can only use on instagram. I have to honor these agreements.

And, Rothko paintings are copyrighted so, unlike some artists, if you make tee shirts or use it in a movie or something , it's actually illegal (without permission) They are not going to come after you for casual use of you own, but I know of many examples where people were hit with a copyright notice for trying to profit in the work.

It took me a long time to build these relationships and get all of these scans, including many i have done myself. I gave myself this Rothko job I do, and because of that I didn't have background to give me things or answer questions. It was only after years of doing it that people started to reach out to me in a bigger way and help.

The art world is strange, I was talking to a museum curator recently and there several questions I had that I was told they were not at liberty to answer. In the case of Rothko, there's nothing really cloak and dagger about it, it's just the family (who I think are great) fought really hard for these rights and spend a lot of time trying to control how the work is used and seen. It's a good thing because we get things like the Paris exhibit which took an insane amount of planning, loans, insurance etc. All the paintings had to be inspected before they were shipped over seas, in case damage was done to them over there. These paintings are BIG and in the hands of many different people, so it really took tons of effort and (sadly) money to do it, but it's something like (can't recall exactly) 179 paintings. The biggest Rothko show since 1978.

People on tumblr do sometimes (as we all know) take stuff from here or from my other social media accounts and I know it's typical social media behavior, as people like the credit and notes to their own blog, but I mention this now because I have some things coming up that almost no one has ever seen and I don't want to lose this privilege because I won't be able to show you cool stuff and big scans.

So, sorry for the ponderousness, I just thought a little background might explain that I'm not just being grumpy about it. I think people may see it as "It's the internet get over yourself" but I honestly feel a responsibility to do the best I can for people following these accounts and I am just trying to keep doing it and hopefully, expand as I go.

This blog started on out tumblr and it was the support of all of you that made me continue it, I will be 10 years in July. I can't take a lot of credit for it, it's not my art. My only idea was the once a day aspect. However, I try to do my homework and striving for accuracy is part of that, including copyrights and credits.

So thanks for everything too, people participating in this has been very valuable and educational for me.

[risuola]

ummm hello! idk how to say this without sounding like a request :)) but I read some of your writings and I really love them 😭🫶 when you have the time and inspiration, or if you want to write something really fluffy and comforting and idk romantic with teen geto? like idk, both reader and geto are studying in jujutsu high, they are best friends and one night reader can't sleep and sneak into geto's room and talk with him about things idk and they end up together.

just if you want. thank you 🙏

SLEEPLESS NIGHT — GN. READER x GETO SUGURU

It was one of those nights that kept you up. You just couldn't fall asleep, no matter how much you tried and the view of your own ceiling began to drive you insane. You decided to pay a visit to your school friend.

cw: pure fluff, both are 18 years old — 1,8k words

a/n: asking me if I want to write fluffy suguru? the answer is yes, always. thank you for the suggestion! also, thank you for the kind words! it means the world to me that you enjoy my writing dear 🖤

You couldn't sleep. It was one of those nights when thoughts kept piling up in your head and you couldn't find any comfort in the softness of your pillows. Listening to music didn't help either, your concentration was off, everything seemed wrong, and as you lay there with your eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling, you decided to get up before you completely lost your mind.

Maybe some water would help? Or a snack. Yes, a snack would be great. With that in mind, you pulled a hoodie over your pajamas, the one that you stole from one of your classmates, and headed for the vending machines outside the dorms on tiptoe, careful not to make too much noise. Everything had been dark for hours now, the clock read almost 1am, and the last thing you wanted was to be scolded by Yaga for walking around campus at night. The man had no chill.

"Gotchu," you mumbled, fishing the chocolate bar out of the compartment at the bottom of the machine. On your way back, you noticed the faintest streak of light coming from under the doors of one of the rooms. Suguru's room.

It took you a minute to think, staring blankly at the door. Maybe he was asleep and forgot to turn off the lamp? Or maybe he couldn't sleep, just like you? Both of you had been under a lot of stress lately, and you know from your own experience that if you try to hide your problems during the day, you will definitely suffer at night. So, you approached the door, carefully pressed your ear to the wood, hoping to find out if he was sleeping or not, and finally, you gave in and knocked softly. The quietest hum answered, and then a series of small sounds that led to the doors opening.

In the dim light of his bedside lamp, Suguru's form met your eyes. His hair was down, slightly disheveled, and he wore only shorts. He clearly wasn’t sleeping yet, but probably tried to force himself to doze off.

"Come in," he whispered, pulling you in gently before anyone noticed you weren't in your own room. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah..." you sighed and followed him to his bed. "You?"

"Same," he motioned for you to get in, and as you slipped under the covers near the wall, he did as well, making sure you had enough blanket and a pillow. It wasn't the first time you sneaked into his room late at night, you'd been in his bed before, but usually the two of you were on top of the sheets, so this was new. You didn't complain though, you're quick to get chilly. He turned off the light so no one would notice your little escape to his room. The darkness was comforting and you were sure if that’s because of his warm presence next to you. Darkness in your own room seemed cold.

"What's bothering you?" he finally asked when you were both comfortably on your backs. The question got you exhaling deeply, melting into the cushioned surroundings, saturated with his scent. The comfort of his room, his bed made you wish it was a place you could come back to every night. You always look forward to any activity that involves Suguru Geto and sometimes you’re lucky to share a mission with him. There is a suffocating feeling of longing inside you that you couldn’t really act upon.

"I don't know, it's just... it's a lot of everything lately. I feel like I'm not good enough to be a sorcerer, I find myself helpless more often than actually useful. It sucks," you muttered, and it felt good to get it off your chest, to say it out loud. Joining Jujutsu High was something that gave you hope and the opportunity to help people. You wanted that, to use the weird things that your body can do to bring safety to others, but somehow you couldn't find a place for yourself. "Everyone around me is so amazing... I mean, the first years, Nanami and Haibara are both so cool. Shoko is amazing with her reverse curse technique. And then there's you and Satoru on a completely different level."

"You're too harsh on yourself, y/n," Suguru said, his voice soft as honey, and without fail, the tone in which he speaks your name always makes your heart skip a beat. Geto has a way about him that really draws you in. To say that you have a little crush on him would be an understatement, but you kept it to yourself. Having him as your best friend is enough for you, you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world, and you would never risk making your relationship with him awkward if the feeling wasn't reciprocated.

"You're strong," he smiled, still looking up. "And you really are doing great. It's just our reality that not every time we can help others. Sometimes, we fail. Even Satoru fails, believe me. I fail too."

That made you chuckle.

"You always seem so perfect in everything you do."

"Oh, don't be fooled," he shook his head slightly. "I am far from perfect."

"Thank you, Suguru," you whispered finally. "What bothers you?"

"I'm not even sure..." he exhaled and tucked one of his hands under his head. "There have been a lot of missions, a lot of stressful situations, and Satoru obviously takes everything so lightly because he can. I mean, he processes everything in his own way, I'm sure, but for me... I feel like it's weighing me down a lot."

"There's a lot on your shoulders. Strength always comes with responsibility," you whispered, grabbing the hand he'd raised from its place on his stomach and stroking it with your fingers. It was a small gesture, but it made Suguru sigh softly as the warmth of your fingers radiated through his palm. Somehow, the smallest touches from you, even the accidental ones, held a power over him that he himself didn't quite understand. Sometimes he'd catch himself thinking about you, his mind wandering to where your image was saved and his body aching for anything connected to you. Those tedious car rides when your thigh would be pressed against his as you sat between him and Gojo, or those long train rides the two of you had to take sometimes when you would stand up with your arm wrapped around his middle because you couldn't comfortably reach the top handle so you held onto him instead. Every little brush of your fingers against his hands, every single one of your touches is stored in his mind and cherished, along with every mental picture he took of you smiling or scrunching your nose so cutely. Yeah, Suguru is head over heels for you, and those sleepless nights when you come to his room are sacred to him.

"I guess so," he said finally, letting his body relax, pushing away the tension. "But I feel the same way you do. The people here are out of this world, and even though I'm, let's say, strong or whatever, I often feel like I'm still lacking so much. It's frustrating. And my technique... Disgusting, really."

"I find your technique amazing," you muttered quietly. "I mean... you told me about the taste, and I get it. But I feel like... I don't know, most of our techniques are purely destructive. Isn't it incredible that you can take the curses that already exist and use them to do good? To fight, to protect people, shit, you can fly with them. That's so dope."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

He sighed, as the quiet once again filled in the air. Silence between you two always was relaxing. It felt natural, carrying no awkward undertones, as you focused a little longer on drawing circles on the palm of his hand, and he allowed you to do it without thinking much about it.

"It reminds me a bit of our first days here," you began again, keeping your voice down, not much above a whisper. "We were both so clueless about everything, and after the first few days, we met here and talked about everything on the floor."

"And we ate the frozen pizza that we tried to heat up on the stove," Suguru chuckled as the memories flooded his mind. "God, it was awful."

"Hell yea, it was," you joined in the laughter. "But I loved it."

"I liked it too. Time with you. It's always grounding. Not the pizza though."

"Definitely not the pizza," you agreed.

Suguru was a safe place for you, and as the two of you continued to talk about sweet little nothings, reminiscing about the two years you had already spent together in Jujutsu High, sharing muffled laughs and long exhales at everything you found funny or sad, you found yourself urging to tell him about your feelings. You shouldn't, you knew that, but sometimes you felt like maybe, just maybe he might like you back? He is always so warm and open to you in a way he isn’t even to Satoru and they are basically brothers.

"Suguru?", you finally called his name after a little while of silence. Flipping to your side, you analyzed his slow and regular breathing, his eyes closed, and you thought he might be asleep already, but he hummed softly in response, encouraging you to continue. "I... I like you. I really like you." Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the night, you were impressed that you could speak so loudly about the feeling you’ve been keeping to yourself for almost two years now.

You watched him for a moment, his beautiful profile that even in the dark you were able to admire, but nothing changed in his stance. His features were still neutral, his chest was still rising in serenity, and you thought that maybe he really was sleeping. Maybe the hum he gave you was not a response, but rather a random noise he made. That's probably for the better, you thought and closed your eyes, exhaling and hoping to get rid of the tightness in your chest. But Suguru shifted, slowly turning his body towards you and carefully wrapping one of his muscular arms around your frame, pulling you to his chest. Your entire being heated up in shock, but somehow the tension quickly faded, leaving you relaxed as never before.

"I really like you too, y/n," he whispered against your hair, planting a kiss to the top of your head. Smiling, you snuggled even closer, pressing your ear to where his heart beat.

"We're gonna get in trouble if I stay here," you whispered, having no intention of getting up.

"Yeah, probably," he murmured, tightening the embrace, closing every gap between the two of you, and you could feel him relaxing as sleep began to overtake him. "Seems like a tomorrow problem; Not gonna worry about it now."

"Good night, Suguru," you smiled, closing your eyes and melting against him.

"Good night, y/n."