"creature Of Myth."

"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

~  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks. 

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

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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

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

prompts

if one of the prompts is only dialogue, please tell me which genre you would like. also i'm not sure where these prompts r from i just found them on pinterest so pls lmk if u know the original poster.

person A placing their hand on person B's forehead to check is they have a fever

person A scratching an itch that person B can't reach

person A wiping away person B's tears

person A giving person B a massage

person A drying off person B after they've had a shower or come in from the rain

person A lightly brushing person b's hair out of their eyes

person A whispering into person B's ear

person A and person B having a deep and vulnerable conversation

"i can't pretend anymore."

"you need to know that i have grown to care for you, deeply."

"i've loved you since the moment i first laid my eyes on you."

"you deserve to know."

"it's you. it's always been you."

"are you really so oblivious?"

"there isn't anything that i wouldn't do for you."

"i was made to love you."

"i cannot bare to be apart from you anymore."

"please. please just listen to me."

"don't make me say it. i can't say the words."

"you're all i think about."

"i cannot fathom the idea of my life without you in it."

"i dream of you. all i do, is dream of you."

"i am so very in love with you."

"is it so obvious how infatuated i am?"

"for years i have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."

"i know that this is not what you want to hear..."

"after everything you've done, i still love you. with all i am."

"i cannot stand you, and yet i also cannot stand to be away from you."

"please... say something."

"i feel your absence in everything that i do alone, in every place i go without you."

accidentally admitting that the other is really pretty, leading to both of them getting very flustered

quickly sewing back the loose button of their shirt that came off last minute, realising that you two are extremely close

pretending to be married for reasons, feeling very giddy whenever someone refers to you two as a couple

walking past a busy crown, hands entwining on their own and then realising it after someone points it out

rambling about something you both love and all you can do is stare at them lovingly, when suddenly they also turn to look at you and now you're both just staring at each other

making lucky charms for each other, being reminded of the other whenever they look at it

fixing each other's clothes

learning more about their interests so they have a common thing to talk about

thinking that the other doesn't like them in that way, while their friends watch both of them become an incoherent mess in front of each other, wondering when they'll finally ask each other out

hugs that last a little longer than they should

immediately looking at the other after telling/doing something funny in hope to see their smile

making playlists and mood boards for the other

continuously denying others who think they are together

"no we are not together!! .... at least not yet..."

trying to know little things about them by observing

always giving the utmost attention to the other if they are in a crown

associating random things with them

getting matching key rings

hanging out together often

person A falling asleep on person B's shoulder/chest/lap and person B really needs to get up but doesn't want to wake person A

person A falling asleep during a car ride home, person B carrying them into the house

person A and person B sleeping in the same bed and person A keeps waking up cold because person B keeps hogging the blankets

person A singing a lullaby for person B

"i like the way your hand fits in mine"

"you don't need to leave so soon"

"you're a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly"

"wait, don't pull away... not yet"

so clearly i lied… 😅😅

hey guys… it’s been a while… 😁😁 how are you all? (oh my god i haven’t posted in a WHILE pls dont kill me) i’ve been busy with work 😞😞 pls know i am working on reqs and have not forgotten abt my tangled series 💪💪when i’m less busy i’ll be on that grind 💯💯 (sorry LMAO)

I LOVE BRO

THE EYE TWITCHES??? HES SO CUTE

wolf keum – eye twitch

summary : “can’t you believe what you see?” you’re best friends with wolf but your feelings for him are a burden to carry all by yourself. what happens when you actually confess?

genre : fluff – angst (i mean… wolf)

warnings : best friends to lovers, angst, fighting, blood, injuries, bad communication, harsh words, jealousy, wolf’s a bit ooc, stalking because wolf’s actually obsessed?!?!

author’s note : 1st time writing for weak hero and it had to be for wolf!¡! if you like this pairing i’m considering writing drabbles for them so throw a comment if you’d like to read that!

The hand of the clock moved so slowly you could have ripped your own head off in boredom way too many times to count. You never liked Fridays, probably your second least favorite day of the week after Monday.

Your teacher was speaking, probably explaining a mathematical theory you never once cared about, but it sounded more like gibberish.

To your left, Wolf’s empty seat. He did offer you to skip the last classes of the day —not that he actually attended a single class the last two days, but you refused. Your parents were on your back ever since finding out you failed two tests this month.

You drop your head on your desk and text Wolf that you could just kill yourself at this point. You can almost hear his typical snicker in his reply.

You had been friends with Wolf for years at this point, bonding over a bizarre hobby you both shared. Fighting. Well, it wasn’t bizarre for the two of you, more so a daily activity. But you agreed it was uncommon for most people.

Unlike Wolf, you never tried to pick fights over nothing. But you would always retaliate when someone would challenge you. Sometimes you would fight over a simple snarky comment but, hey, they were asking for it.

And when Wolf joined the Union, people immediately assumed you did too. Donald did offer you a position, always open with the idea of creating a branch for women. You knew it was purely strategic, fully aware of the advantages women could bring to the table, especially for business.

You throw a pretty woman with a tight dress in a room full of old and rich business men and you can be sure that they sign any contract if the woman flirts with them, even just a little.

But you had politely declined the offer, not firmly, knowing that you had to let the window open just a little bit to make sure Wolf could be on Donald’s good side. Instead, you had promised Donald to think about it long and hard but that joining the Union was not part of your plan at the moment.

So, you were not directly part of the Union, but being friends, with one of its most important members, you knew you were kind of affiliated with them.

You’re the first on your feet when the bell rings. School is over and your favorite part of the week just started. The weekend. You pack your bag, say bye to your friends and sprint down the halls, ready to meet with Wolf for your usual Friday evening plans.

Your happiness fizzles out when you don’t spot Wolf’s purple hair amongst the buzzing crowd, nor do you see his bike.

Where the hell is that punk? you think as you pull out your phone.

He texted you ten minutes ago and your face falls at the message :

🐺 😈

last min meeting with donald

i’ll text you when i’m done

Well, it looks like your weekend is off to a rookie start. You just hope Wolf isn’t in trouble. You know he isn’t the best at keeping a low profile —even when Donald demands it, so, even if you know that Wolf wasn’t involved in any big confrontation recently, you can’t help but worry a little.

. . .

You were never a bad student. It doesn’t mean you’ve ever been a great student. You would more so say… good on average. You never planned on going to a prestigious college and your parents never tried that hard to make sure you were amongst the best students. So having them check your test scores every time after failing two exams was more than upsetting.

You grunt in front of the paper sitting on your desk, awaiting an essay that isn’t even interesting. Absentmindedly, your eyes land on your phone. No texts from Wolf. It’s ten at night. You’re about to grab the device, ready to call him when a slight knock on your window makes you drop the phone and jump up in surprise.

Wolf’s on the other side of the glass, a cigarette hanging between his lips as he waves with a tiny smile.

The daggers you send his way for scaring you are soon replaced by a heavy sigh. No bruises or blood on his face, his knuckles are untouched. Nothing bad happened during the meeting, Wolf is fine. You open the window and steal the stick from his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke directly on his face.

"Are your parents home?"

You chuckle, "Please, why do you keep asking."

Wolf shrugs and he blinks, taking a good look at you. When he comes over —most of the time without warning, it’s usually early in the morning or in the evening to take you out on a night stroll. Wolf has seen you in your pajamas often. But it’s definitely the first time he’s seen that one.

He raises an eyebrow, "Didn’t take you for a princess kind of girl."

"Uh?"

Wolf doesn’t think before latching a finger around the strap of your silk nightdress, "Princesses wear dresses like that to bed."

Your heart jumps in your chest at the contact. You two can be close physically, usually when no one you know is around, but this one feels different. You can feel your cheeks warming up and you step back, forcing Wolf to let go of his hold.

"How do you know what princesses wear?" you ask. "Do you watch romcoms in secret?"

Again, he simply shrugs, his eyes lingering on your figure as you open the drawer on your nightstand to pull out an ashtray and sit on your bed, still smoking his cigarette.

"Princesses don’t smoke," he says as he climbs into your bedroom. "Or fight."

"Good thing I’m not a princess then."

Shoes forgotten near the window, bag opened to reveal a few beers and some snacks, Wolf picks a CD and starts a track, jumping on your bed. He is lying down, face by the foot of your bed, occasionally sitting up to drink his beer.

He is quiet and you take that time to observe him, eyes wandering by his features. He has his usual bandages, one on his jaw, another one following his neck line. His face is relaxed, eyes gazing at the ceiling, as if his often clouded brain is now peaceful.

"You’re staring."

You blink, almost choking on your sip, and nudge him with your foot. You absolutely hate when Wolf does that. You don’t know if those glasses give him superpowers but it’s like he always knows when you look at him. Sometimes, you happen to stumble upon one of his fights and it only takes him a second to turn around and spot you.

When he sees you and he is busy fighting random guys on the streets, he often winks, "My supporter’s finally here."

Other times, he lets you finish the fight for him. It only happens when he knows you are strong enough to defeat them and because he never once hid the fact he goes feral when watching you fight. He just loves to see when boys go from confident —they always assume they are stronger than women, to utterly terrified and ashamed when you throw them to the ground. What’s even more exciting is that these boys usually don’t even have enough time to try and touch you that they’re lying on the ground in a puddle of blood.

You sigh, putting your beer can on the nightstand, "How was the meeting?"

And that is when something weird happens. Gaze still locked on the ceiling, you notice how he stiffens, eyes darkening at your question.

"S’alright," Wolf replies.

S’alright? you repeat in your head. Well, that’s a first. Usually, Wolf hardly keeps secrets from you. Of course, if things were sensitively confidential, you knew Wolf would never mention them. But you had already been invited to meetings in the past. Mainly in the beginning, when Donald was trying to recruit you.

Your stomach twists at the way Wolf’s attitude changed in a second. You don’t know what happened but you don’t like what you’re seeing. Wolf is usually so… careless. Even when it comes to the Union. He does the job but he never looks worried.

You can tell something is bothering him. And you hate seeing this. It makes you feel like something really bad could potentially be happening sooner than planned. You sit up, ready to change his mind, "Wanna go out?"

You have this bar you both love to go to, mainly because the owners love you. For an obscure reason, you never dared to ask, too scared to lose that privilege, since you’re not eighteen yet. Well, in a few months but, legally, you’re not allowed in.

You miss the way an almost unseen expression flashes in Wolf’s eyes for less than a second and he shakes his head, "No, I’m good here."

Well, that’s even weirder. Wolf’s always up for a drink at the bar. Actually, he is always up for multiple drinks and you often end on the dance floor after one or two drinks, always begging for Wolf to come with you. You’re not persuasive enough since he’s always sitting on a stool, keeping an eye on you.

"Okay."

And, again, you take a look at him. His eyes are closed now, his breathing is steady and his arms are crossed behind his head. You bite your lower lip at the sight and mentally curse.

It was an eternal battle with yourself to face your feelings for Wolf. Because they settled in your heart insidiously, like a secret your own brain was unaware of. At first, you only thought it was because he looked pretty. Because he did. Amongst the girls in high school, it was always « If only he wasn’t such a psycho, I could fall for him ». Except you knew more than the psycho about Wolf.

He likes to read, alone or with you, and you still perfectly remember the shock on your face the day Wolf mentioned wanting to go to the library with you. You were astounded. Even more when he actually did go, breezing through the library’s alleys and reading back cover after back cover until he settled on a book.

He likes to go eat with you, always okay with whatever place you pick and he is always down to try the weirdest looking dish on the menu.

He remembers everything you tell him. From the strange dreams you’ve had the night before, the next tatoo you plan on getting, your favorite snack and the names of the people who ever messed with you.

And, even if you know he doesn’t talk much, he is always there. You know you can always count on him for anything.

You drop your head back, feeling conflicted. You will have to confess. The feelings are eating you alive, burning and choking you when you barely start to think about them. But you know you might lose him when you do confess.

Wolf doesn’t seem interested in dating. Hell, even flirting seems to bore him out of his mind. You’ve noticed how women try to engage a conversation whenever you go out to the bar. Every time, his eyes leave you to land on the stranger. Every time, he blinks, says something you can never hear because you are too far, the woman blushes in embarrassment and walks away. Then, he sips his drink and looks back at you.

Sometimes, the delusional part of yourself thinks it’s because of you. He likes to tease you about how much you look at him. But he does the same. You may not be as good to spot his eyes on you every time but you catch him often.

Somewhere in your mind, the hope that Wolf may feel things for you exists. And as exciting as it is, it’s just as dangerous. You know Wolf isn’t one to sit on things he wants to say or do. If he does like you, a part of you knows it would be completely out of character for him to stay silent. Wolf is not a passive person, quite the opposite.

That is also why you need to confess. Because you’d rather rip the bandage quickly and be rejected than to keep living in the fantasy that blossoms more and more each day.

It is probably going to hurt. Your heart already aches at the possibility of Wolf turning on his heels and erasing you from his life altogether. But unrequited love always hurts harder in the long run if kept quiet.

You have to confess. But not tonight. No, tonight you want to enjoy his presence a little longer.

. . .

You’ve spent every night with Wolf this past week. Which is strange because Wolf usually likes his alone time.

And, every night, you told yourself you would confess. Only to chicken out. You would start talking, look up to see Wolf’s eyes already on you and a wave of regret would choke the words down your throat.

The breeze blows stronger now that you are on the highest hill of the park. The heavy clouds rapidly moving into the night sky forced the few people already there to pack their stuff and leave.

It’s going to rain, you can feel it.

Something electric lingers in the air, you have to confess now. After spending a whole week with Wolf —he even attended more classes, you can’t stand what’s happening inside of you anymore. The way your stomach twists and your heart races, it just hurts.

Wolf is leaning against the railing, back facing you, as he smokes a cigarette.

You take a deep breath, "Wolf."

"Ah, are you finally gonna say what’s been on your mind all week?"

Touché. You know Wolf is smart and never bought your excuses every time you pretended what you wanted to say wasn’t important. Or that it slipped your mind.

Wolf turns around, eyes boring into yours and it feels like there is no distance between you both. But there is. You would have to take a good five steps to be standing in front of him. So why does it feel like he is right there, so close that your breathing picks up and that you feel your throat tightening.

You can’t back down anymore. Not this time. You tried to make the feelings go away, persuading yourself you were making things up. To no avail. You like him.

Fuck what happens next, you’re prepared for the worst.

"I like you."

A heavier breeze hits your face when the words leave your mouth, carrying the echoes of your confession into the sky.

That’s it, you said it. It’s too late to back out now.

Wolf’s eyes twitch for a second before he blinks once. No, twice. A silence that lasts for longing seconds fills the distance. You watch him, noticing how he seems to be struggling with something. His lips tremble, as if wanting to say something, and a veil cover his eyes.

Suddenly, you wonder. Did he really understand what you just said? Saying you like someone doesn’t necessarily mean in a romantic way. You like all of your friends and are never scared to tell them.

You scratch your throat, "I—I meant, hm, not just as a… friend—"

"Yeah, I got that."

Wolf’s voice is as sharp as ice when he interrupts you. It’s as harsh as your mother’s hand colliding against your cheek.

That is a good thing you prepared yourself for the worst case scenario. Because it looks like it’s becoming real.

The veil that was covering his eyes vanishes and his gaze darkens. It is the first time Wolf has ever looked at you this way, your blood turns cold at the sight.

The next minute is probably the worst in your life, as Wolf spits terrifying words at your face.

"You think I didn’t know before?"

You can’t stop the blush warming up your face. You didn’t think it was so easy to read you.

"I thought you were smarter than this, honestly," he says with a snicker. "I don’t need friends, even less a girlfriend."

Okay, you weren’t expecting such harsh words. What does he mean he doesn’t need friends? Was your friendship with Wolf a product of your imagination? It couldn’t be. You never forced him to hang out with you, he was actually the one to approach you first, years ago, after seeing you defeating three boys at once.

"I hang out with you because Donald wants you in the Union," he reveals. "Not because I want to."

A part of you knows Wolf is blatantly lying to you. You were friends before he joined the Union. You were also certain that Wolf was glad the day you refused to join the Union. He never said anything out loud but being a part of the Union meant risking your life every day because the stakes were higher than random fights at school or in the streets of Seoul.

And yet, Wolf said what he said. That he was never your friend and was obeying Donald’s orders. What if it was all true, in the end? Because Wolf had proven to be manipulative when it could benefit him or the Union.

Your world came crashing down with the first light rain drops falling on the ground. Even if Wolf’s words were lies —you could still hope all of this was just a nightmare, they hurt. Next to this, a few punches in the face would feel nice and comforting.

Wolf didn’t like you back and chose to spit hatred at your face instead.

A feeling of rage melted with the pain and sorrow. Tears were threatening to fill your eyes but you couldn’t cry now. Not in front of him.

You glare at him, "There was no need to talk to me like that."

Wolf’s eyes twitch again. He has seen you glaring at people in the past. He has seen you seething harsh words at people. But never at him. You were always nice, a bit playful, mostly attentive and caring, even in the smallest of actions.

Now, you’re looking at him like he is an enemy.

"You could’ve just said you didn’t like me back."

But he can hear the way your voice slightly breaks, he can see your eyes glistening.

You turn around, not waiting to see if he wants to reply, and walk away. He’s said enough, ripping your heart in half. He won the fight and you choose to process the defeat far away from him.

. . .

You think the warning of rain in the sky was actually a warning for rain in your heart. Because the clouds are shyly dropping cold beads of water on the pavement but not enough to need an umbrella.

No, the real rain comes from your heart and flows through your eyes. No matter how hard you try to stop the tears, they just keep coming, over and over again.

You feel so weak, so stupid to have ever thought confessing to Wolf was a great idea. You were expecting a rejection. But this one was harsh. So harsh that your friendship with him was thrown in the flames, burning into ashes spread around by the wind.

Until nothing was left anymore.

You replay your friendship with him as you walk down the streets. All those nights he came to your place, climbing into your bedroom with drinks and snacks, lying down on your bed with a book in his hands. The nights you would patch him up after a fight, cleaning his wounds and cursing him for fighting endlessly. The times you would open your bag in school to find a new book in it with a note inside, Wolf would buy those he thought you’d like.

Was it always fake on his part? Was it just part of Donald’s plan to get you in the Union? What if Donald had promised a huge load of money to Wolf if he ever got you to join? After all, those small actions just meant he knew you well, understood what you liked and what you needed to be trustful.

Maybe it was always fake, you think as a whimper inevitably escapes your lips.

"Hey, pretty, why’re you crying?"

You stop at the masculine voice. Who dares speak to you when you are literally going through a heartbreak? You really don’t have the strength to snap at anyone right now.

"Come here, baby," the man says again. "I promise you’ll be the happiest girl when I take care of you."

You don’t even look at the man, ignoring the alarming sirens that boom in your head when you hear the laughters of two other men.

Nothing will happen to you if you just keep walking. These men just like to mess with girls because they need a distraction. Also because they are incredibly stupid. Who thinks hitting on a woman in the street is going to get them anywhere?

You start walking again but the man calls out for you again, "Hey, hey!" Next thing you know, he is standing in front of you.

He is tall, extremely tall, very muscular and carries a disturbingly large smile on his face. Your heart slightly drops in your chest. You know you’re a great fighter but he appears way too strong.

His two friends pop up behind him, sporting equally disturbing smiles as they eye you up and down.

"We’re going to a club, you should come," the first man says. "I promise you won’t be crying no more if you hang out with us."

Rage bubbles in your chest again. Does it look like you want to go to a club with a bunch of strangers? You just want to cry in peace.

"Leave me alone."

The three men share an intrigued glance and the tallest one claps his hands, "Feisty, I like it."

Oh god, they aren’t giving up, you think. You just want to go home, you don’t know what else you have to do to show them you aren’t interested by them.

"I want you even more now," he says, his fingers wiping the dried tears on your cheek.

The physical contact is so sudden, so unexpected, that you freeze on the ground. Did he just touch you? Did he really just do that?

Your fighting style has always been completely different than Wolf’s. Wolf goes straight into it, punching and kicking with all his will, definitely not scared of what his opponent might strike him with.

You, on the other hand, like to think things through. You rarely hit first because it is often the weakest strategy. Instead, you like to let your opponent throw the first punches, dodging them so it gives you enough time to analyze their fighting style.

But that man just touched you. He laid his fingers on your face, stroking your skin as if you belonged to him. He may look stronger but you are enraged, mind clouded with tears and pain.

Fuck strategies, you don’t even think before pushing his hand away and slapping him across the face with all your strength.

The blow is so strong the man stumbles on his own feet and the sizzling sound of your palm colliding with his cheek bounces against the walls.

You can leave now. They learned their lesson.

Or maybe not.

You’re thrown into a dark alley a few seconds later.

For ten minutes, you try to fight back as much as you can. But your first observation was the right one, they are stronger than you. And your mind is too out of it. You didn’t want to fight tonight, that wasn’t your plan.

You just wanted to confess to your best friend, when you still hoped he would confess as well.

Now, you’re scarred, face and knuckles seeping with blood, slightly limping and latching your fingers on the ripped hem of your top.

You don’t notice Jake, Dean and Timothy drinking in front of a convenience store when you walk past them.

They see you, though. And they are quick to understand that the three boys who walked away a few minutes earlier, spitting insults about a girl as they grunted in pain —one of them holding onto his arm as he had a visibly dislocated shoulder, were talking about you.

"Damn, she can really fight," Dean says as they watch you disappear around the corner.

"She isn’t first in the girls’ Shuttle Patch for nothing," Timothy notes.

. . .

You didn’t go to school for three days after that incident. Your parents saw the state you were in and didn’t even try to fight you. They didn’t know what to do with you anyways.

Your body was aching but it was nothing compared to the pain in your chest. Your mind was playing games with you, constantly flashing images of Wolf, reminding you of his last words and the disdain in his eyes.

How long will it take for you to move on? It is impossible to tell. But, with each awake second, the pain is growing, choking you with tears.

Wolf didn’t listen to a word Donald said during the meeting. He didn’t see you for three days, nor did anyone see you at school.

He recalled what happened almost two weeks ago.

Wolf was perched on the roof of Ganghak, waiting for Hwangmo. Looking down, he saw you walking out of the school as your eyes scanned your surroundings. He noticed the way you shoulders lowered when you checked your phone.

You didn’t need to know what he was doing.

When Hwangmo finally showed up on the roof, Wolf didn’t waste a second and pulled out his phone.

"See this number?" Wolf gestured for the unknown contact. "I want you to find who they are."

Hwangmo nodded, typing down the contact on his phone. But he was unsettled. Why did Wolf need help for that? If he had issues with someone, Wolf never hesitated to go give them a beating. What was different this time?

"What’s with them?"

Wolf let out a sigh, locking his phone before his eyes could look at the texts sent by that unknown number.

"They’re threatening (Y/N)."

And that is why he rejected you that night. He didn’t think before the worst words escaped his mouth. Because he knew exactly what to say to make sure you would turn around and not look back.

He considered telling you what was going on. Multiple times. After all, you worked as a pair. But he didn’t because they were trying to get to him. Warning you would have only caused a bigger issue. He knew you could fight back, he just didn’t know what these people were capable of.

If they had been threatening him, Wolf wouldn’t have cared one bit. You, it was different. So he pushed you away, thinking it could be the solution to make sure nothing would happen to you.

"Hey, do you know who these guys were?"

Wolf blinks, pulled out of his thoughts by Jake’s voice. He grimaces at him, "What’re you talking about?"

"Those who attacked (Y/N)."

The world spins when Wolf understands why you didn’t come to school for three days. Were you attacked… No, Wolf couldn’t think it had happened right after the last time he saw you.

Jake awkwardly scratches the back of his head, "Is there trouble in paradise between you two? She… didn’t tell you?"

Wolf doesn’t say anything about Jake’s innuendo. Most of the people in the Union —or who knows you and Wolf, think you have been dating for a while now. Wolf never minded and even less tried to correct anyone. He liked to know nobody would try to flirt with you. It took him some time to understand why he liked that people stayed away from you.

No, Wolf is fuming when his eyes land on Jake, "When and where? How many were they?"

. . .

You’re a great fighter and you’re used to the bruises and cuts but you can’t help the grunt out of your throat when you have to lift the heavy trash bag to throw it into the container of your building.

Dragging your feet onto the pavement, you just want to go back into your house and lock yourself in your bedroom. You’ve been binge watching animes for the last four days and you don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

You stop dead in your tracks when you spot Wolf outside of your house, leaning against your bedroom window. For how long has he been here? You walked out just two minutes ago to take out the trash. You should have heard his bike.

But, then, you notice his appearance. His hair is messier than usual, his eyes glazed and skin covered in blood, lower lip busted, scratch on his cheek and knuckles. He just got out of a fight, you think.

If he wants you to take care of him, he can go fuck himself. What the hell is he doing here in the first place, has he lost his mind? Did he forget what he told you last time?

Whatever, I just have to walk past him, you tell yourself.

Wolf, on the other hand, is taking in your appearance. You’re wearing your « lazy » pajamas, as you like to call them. An oversized tshirt and shorts. He’s seen you in those a lot. Big bags under your eyes, Wolf knows it means you didn’t sleep much these past few days.

And then he sees the bruises. All over your arms, some on your legs, but the worst one is around your neck. These bastards choked you, Wolf knows.

Your eyes gaze past him and you start walking with your heart thudding in your chest. Just a few steps and you will be inside your house. Just a few steps and you can pretend he was never there in the first place.

Wolf stands up and blocks the way, standing in front of you.

"Move."

Wolf doesn’t budge, instead pointing a finger at you, "What’s this?"

"Makeup," you snark, finally letting your eyes connect with his. "I’m considering a career in special effects."

His jaw clenches at your sarcastic tone, that is something he’s always liked. Not now, though.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me," you say as you step aside to walk past him, "I have stuff to do."

Wolf pulls you back by the wrist and you hiss in pain, terror flashing in your eyes when you notice Wolf’s cold gaze on you, "You thought I wouldn’t find out?"

You yank your wrist away, "What the fuck do you want, Wolf?"

Silence settles between you both. You see the same expression on Wolf’s face, the one he carried when you confessed. The one you didn’t understand. But, honestly, you’re done with him. What brings him here?

"Can’t you just let me be?" you rage. "Didn’t you do enough last time? Wanna go at it again?"

"You’re so fucking dumb sometimes, Y/N."

That’s when you lose it. For the second time this week, you attack first. How dare he call you dumb when you’re just… sad and confused?

Wolf, who’s good at predicting when and where people will hit, is struck by lightning when your palm comes in contact with his cheek. He had never experienced your strength. Now he knows why you’re so good at fighting.

In the blink of an eye, you’re pressed against a wall with Wolf’s hands on your shoulders.

"How dare you call me dumb?" you growl, desperately trying to push him away. But he is too strong. "Why are you here? What’s your fucking problem!"

Wolf doesn’t express feelings often. Besides anger. That he knows how to express. It’s easy, all he has to do is count to three. You, on the other hand, bring other feelings into action. Feelings he doesn’t understand himself.

But seeing how determined you are to get out of his grasp, you who’s always so keen to be gentle to him, is enraging.

He snaps, "I didn’t fucking mean what I said last time!"

Your heart stops at his words but isn’t it too late now? You relax against his hands but a snicker fills the silence, "Right, of fucking course."

Wolf blinks in confusion, you’re smirking and rolling your eyes at him. You’re… making fun of him.

The surprise causes him to relax his grasp and you slightly push him away, "You can go fuck yourself, Wolf."

He won’t let you go away so easily. No, instead, he pushes you back against the wall and you barely have time to understand what’s happening that you feel one of his arms wrapping around your waist and one of his hands resting against your cheek.

Your heart jumps to your throat and you gasp when he crashes his lips on yours.

His lips are chapped and you can taste the blood on the tip of your tongue but you can’t help but melt into his embrace. You hum against him, using one hand to pull him even closer by the collar of his shirt as you let your other hand grab his hair.

He groans into your mouth, kissing you more feverishly, tightening his grasp on your waist. You know you’ll have a bruise shaped like his fingers tomorrow morning.

It feels so good, you don’t want this moment to ever stop. There is a clear fight for dominance as your lips clash and you bite his lower lip, pulling on the flesh. He kisses you harder after that.

Wolf is kissing you, you’re kissing him. It feels so good but, then, his words echoe in your brain.

"I hang out with you because Donald wants you in the Union. Not because I want to."

Wolf breathes into your neck, biting the skin under your ear before licking his mark.

"I don’t need friends, even less a girlfriend."

He is kissing your collarbone, you shiver and your heart flips in your chest. It feels so good to have him like that, you wrapped around him as he touches you in places you’ve fantasized about for way too long.

But you push him away.

He looks at you in confusion and you don’t linger on his lips, they’re swollen and you don’t want the memory to ever be engraved in your mind.

"I… You can’t be doing that," you pant with trembling lips. "Maybe you didn’t mean what you said but I can’t fucking forget those words."

You walk back into your house before Wolf even has time to understand what just happened.

. . .

For the next two weeks, you barely cross paths with Wolf.

Well, you try not to but it’s like he is everywhere you are.

First, he attends more classes. You wouldn’t go as far as to say he is here every day of the week. But you notice the surprise on your teachers faces when they spot his purple hair in the classroom more and more over the past two weeks.

He tends to go more to the cafeteria as well, followed by Hwangmo and Hayden.

Next thing you know, the whole school whispers about you two in the hallways. Because you are seen in the same place but never together. The rumors of a potential breakup —wait did they really think we were dating?, keep everyone on the edge of their seat but you pretend not to hear a thing.

And when you are out with friends, you know he is somewhere amongst the crowd. You never try to look for him but it’s like your eyes can’t help but fall on him.

Because a part of you misses him. Those past two weeks stretched to feel like an eternity. The memories of Wolf definitely hold a sour taste now —mixed with the pain inflicted, but your heart still flutters at the simple thought of him.

You can’t erase his arm around your waist, his lips on yours, kissing you like you provided him with oxygen, unlocking a new addiction.

You check your reflection in the mirror one last time, fixing the strap of your dress and you leave your house. You planned to go out for drinks with your girl friends, knowing just the bar that would let you all in.

The owner greets you warmly when you walk in and your nostrils flare at the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and strong cologne.

You lean towards the bar and fist bumps the owner as she speaks, pointing a finger to her left, "Wolf’s already there!"

A dragged sigh escapes your lips when you see Wolf sitting on a stool, carelessly toying with his drink. Your friends grimace at your sudden blank face and they shake their heads when you sprint towards the purple haired boy.

Wolf turns around when someone taps his shoulder. He bats his eyelashes a little faster, eyeing you up and down.

"Can you stop being everywhere I go?"

His eyes linger where your dress stops, mid thigh, and he gulps. He still carries his usual smug, though, and you’re too annoyed to notice the effect you have on him.

He licks his lips as he makes eye contact with you, "Princess dress again, uh?"

He doesn’t have the right to give that type of look. That’s the type of thing that only happens in movies, the type of scene that would have you screaming in your pillow before you’d start internally complaining that this never happens in real life.

You want to punch that smirk off his face, "This isn’t funny, Wolf. You can’t erase everything by acting like a stalker."

What you don’t know, though, is that Wolf keeps an eye on you because the three boys who attacked you last time were not those who threatened to come after you.

He made the mistake to let you be by yourself once, he isn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

Wolf’s smirk vanishes and he blinks, "You’re pretty."

Suddenly, you don’t know how to breathe anymore. His voice had been soft, such a contrast compared to the last times you exchanged words with him. You want to believe him so bad. So bad.

Because you know Wolf can manipulate others but would he go that far? It was clear you wouldn’t join the Union anytime soon. Especially not after what had recently happened. And Wolf was smart enough to know that fixing your relationship wouldn’t change your mind on that.

Wolf can tell your mind is racing, he knows because you always do this thing with your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought. He wants to know what you think, hell, he wants you to stop thinking and start believing him.

He hates how you avoid him because you’ve always been such a safe person for him. Even he needs a break here and there. You were always there to provide that for him, even when he was fighting.

He tries to reach for your hand but you turn around and walk away, somewhere between anger and on the verge of tears.

"Let’s go," you deadpan, "I don’t wanna be here anymore."

"What?! No, come on, Y/N," Minji pouts.

"Please… I don’t feel good."

Yujin raises an eyebrow, "Hey, we don’t know what happened between you and Wolf. You don’t have to say a thing about it if you don’t want to."

No, you don’t want to. Everything in your head is twisting and nothing makes sense anymore. How did things end up so terribly, anyway? If only you had kept your damn mouth shut, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

"There’s nothing to say, I just don’t know if anything with him was ever fucking real."

"Yo, stop acting like such a pick-me," Minji warned. "We hate those, remember?"

"Yeah, I don’t get why you think it wasn’t real?" Yujin says with a chuckle. "Wolf’s been obsessed with you forever."

"Preach!" Minji wooed, giving Yujin a high five. "I think you’ve been blind too long cause boy only ever had eyes for you." She looks away for a second before shivering, "It was a bit creepy at times, if I can be honest."

Yujin pushes you to the side, "Just go talk to him. Like talk for real."

The two girls push you even further and you know you’ll have no other choice but to confront him. But what is there to say? Can you two fix things?

Deep down, you’re terrified to forgive him but hold a tiny piece of grudge on the inside. Because that’s what could cause your relationship to break in the long run. Wouldn’t it be best to end things right now?

Your heart aches at the thought. Because you want things to get fixed. Hell, you’d rather go back to just being friends with him if it meant moving on from what had happened.

You take small steps, unsure of how to approach him now. Knowing Wolf, he could just laugh at your face for breaking so easily.

A woman is sitting next to him, leaning forward with the most flirtatious smile you have ever seen. The way your heartbeats speed is unmatched and you can feel yourself glaring at her from where you’re standing.

Wolf’s eyes flicker to you and you don’t waste a second, latching a hand around his wrist and tugging him away from there.

This time, you’re walking with a purpose and you roll your eyes when you hear Wolf snickering behind you. He can judge you all he wants, you’re walking out of this place with him.

You squint your eyes when the cold breeze hits your face but you don’t halt your footsteps, the streets are too crowded, you need to be alone with Wolf.

"Ah, where’s the princess taking me?"

"Shut up."

Wolf laughs a little louder, "Bossy, even with me."

Finally, you find the perfect place. An empty kids’ playground. Wolf raises his eyebrows when you drag him there. You release the grip you have on his wrist and point a finger at a swing, "Sit there."

Again, that is the first time Wolf experiences this side of you. He knows you have a tendency to dominate and that you like to feel in control of everything. The funny thing is, Wolf is like that too, but none of you ever tried to be in control of the friendship. As if you both naturally balanced each other out.

Usually, Wolf hates being told what to do. He doesn’t know why it does something different to him when it’s coming from you.

And it does something to you when Wolf sits down without batting an eye. Your mind wanders at the sight of him, oh how easy would it be to take just a few steps and lock your arms around his shoulders. He would lift his chin up to make eye contact and you would only have to lean in a little to feel his lips on yours again.

Oh god, just focus, you think. You cross your arms over your chest, "Explain yourself."

The smugness stretching his features is replaced by something more serious. His eyes leave yours and land on something random behind you as his breathing picks up. Just a little but it’s enough for you to notice.

You know it’s best for you to wait, Wolf isn’t one to talk much and you know you’re asking for a lot. But your mind runs wild with the possibilities.

"There’s nothing to explain."

Oh yeah, you should have expected that. Typical Wolf. You’re glaring, the words coming out sharply out of your mouth, "Why did you lie?"

Another beat of silence and you’re growing more fed up by the minute, "Did you even fucking lie?"

"You don’t need to know."

"Are you serious right now?!" you scoff and you groan when Wolf’s blank expression doesn’t budge. "I can’t fucking believe you, do I have to… beg you?"

"Don’t bother," he deadpans, before a smirk tugs his lips. "As tempting as it sounds."

You ignore his last words, "Then why are you following me around?!" you ask in frustration. "Do you… do you actually want us to be friends again?"

Wolf gives you an unimpressed look, "No."

You’re completely out of words, what is wrong with him. Is he serious right now?

"Y/N, I can’t kiss my friends."

You throw daggers at him with your eyes, "Stop, this isn’t funny."

"I’m not joking."

"I don’t believe you," you reply in a heartbeat. "One day you say you were never friends with me, now you say you want to kiss me. What am I supposed to believe, uh?"

Wolf is so done with you at this point. It was funny seeing you act stubborn for a few minutes, now he wants you to look at him. He leans forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him forcefully.

You gasp in surprise, forced to press your arms against in chest to avoid falling face first into him.

"Can’t you just believe what you see?" Wolf asks in a whisper.

Time stills when you finally look down and focus on him. Your heart skips a beat when his arms lock around your waist, securing your body against his. You could die for his eyes, the way they’re traveling between your eyes and your lips, twitching behind his glasses.

And you recall all those times you caught his eyes on you.

One day, you were stretching after PE class and Wolf was waiting for you on the bleachers because you had planned to ditch maths class afterwards. When you made eye contact, you barely noticed how his eyes twitched before he blinked.

Another day, you were reading in a park, enjoying the sunlight, when your attention was drawn to a couple walking their dog. Honestly, the dog was the cutest thing you’d seen all day and you were literally fawning over the little fur ball. You felt Wolf’s eyes on you and looked at him with the biggest smile on your face. Again, his eyes twitched.

One time, Wolf was at your house, sitting on your desk chair with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. You were reading the instructions on the box of hair dye. It was the first time you were doing this and your heart was hammering in your chest with fear. You really didn’t want to mess this up. You knew you were just touching up his roots but it still felt like an incredibly important task. When you looked at the mirror, Wolf’s eyes were already on you.

Maybe you’ve been blind all these years. Because it feels like you just put together all the pieces of the puzzle. You always wondered how Wolf was able to feel your eyes on him. Could it be because his own eyes were always settled on you?

Your friends words resonate, the rumors at school, the way strangers always looked at you both, how boys never dared to approach you.

Wolf is holding you so close it feels like your bodies could actually melt together. Your heart is racing and you can feel your stomach twisting and flipping around.

You have to kiss him now. If you don’t, you feel like you’ll run out of oxygen. So you do.

You press your lips against his and you fold when you feel Wolf kissing you back instantly. His hands tighten around your waist, grabbing you so strongly you wonder if his fingers didn’t just go through the fabric of your dress to burn your flesh.

Your lips move slowly, much slower than the first time you kissed, and you let the tip of your tongue touch his bottom lip. Wolf’s mouth slightly opens and a low grunts echoes into your mouth when you start playing with his hair.

This sound of his becomes your favorite, causing you to kiss him harder. Wolf picks up your pace, chasing your lips like a thirsty man.

His hand slowly travels down your body, sending shivers down your spine when his fingers brush against your ass before grabbing the back of your thigh.

You pull away from his lips with a gasp, eyes opened wide. You can already feel yourself blushing, his hand latched around your naked skin like that was where it always belonged.

Wolf’s eyes are half opened but you’re ready to lose all self control when he quite literally bites his lower lip at the sight of your swollen lips, "I really like that dress."

You’re full-on red at this point and you drop your head in the crook of his neck with a chuckle and you can feel him smiling.

You teasingly bump your nose against his when you finally look at him, heart jumping in your throat when Wolf leans forward, brushing your lips with the clear desire to kiss you again.

Fuck, he wants me that bad? you think before you give in, pressing your lips together for a few seconds.

A choked moan is swallowed by Wolf’s throat when you feel his thumb stroking your thigh and you pull away for good before it all becomes too much. You’re outside and he is touching like there is no tomorrow.

You scratch your throat and step back, missing the way Wolf is looking at you. You’re too busy fixing the strap of your dress and soothing the beating of your heart to see Wolf’s stunned eyes and partially opened mouth.

But you do see the way his eyes twitch when you finally make eye contact.

"Wanna go eat?" you offer with a tiny smile dangling on your lips.

He nods before he can even think to breathe.

hooray

Plot twist