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httpkaulitz · 3 days

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PAIRINGS: Vampire!Bill x Female reader

CONTENT: Smut

SYNOPSIS: Bill is a little addicted to you.

WARNINGS: mention of addiction, mention of blood and bite, manipulation, fingering, oral (f receiving)

You met Bill by chance, after another day of work you were coming home and literally bumped into him. Staggering and somewhat disoriented, he didn't know where he was.

Against all your thoughts of self-preservation you took him home and took care of him.

When Bill told you he was a vampire, you thought he was crazy and when he showed you what he was you strangely remained calm. Somehow you felt like he wouldn't hurt you. And he never did.

All the blood he had from you was given to him willingly. You wanted to help him and so you did.

And it was by wanting to help him that you ended up in this situation.

"What do you want?" Bill asked impatiently.

"What I want?" You repeated, looking at yourself in the mirror. "Nothing. I'm happy."

He let out a frustrated groan before taking a deep breath. You watched him straighten up, though the action was considerably less intimidating. His bleached blonde hair was disheveled and tangled with a light sweat on his forehead.

"Damn it." You observed. “you’re worse than an addicted.”

“Brilliant deduction! Do you want a fucking medal?” You raised an eyebrow.

Bill slapped his face, rubbing his stubble tiredly.

“Can’t you just help me?” He was always ready to dramatize, you already knew his tactics. You turned to him.

“We have already had this discussion. No." You said firmly.

"I can give you-." He started to speak but you interrupted him before he could even continue his speech about how good he could be and give you expensive things that you never had. You've been through this before.

"Nothing." You interrupted, crossing your arms. “I don't want anything from you, Bill. I like my life. I like my boyfriend. I like my job. There is nothing I want from you that can change my mind. Plus, I’m pretty sure I can think of a handful of humans who would be more than willing…”

“I DON’T WANT ANY IDIOTS OFF THE STREET!” His jaw was tense. If he applied more force, you'd think he might break his molars. “I want your blood. Yours. Do I need to spell this out for you?”

He approached you, brown eyes glaring at you.

"Please." His voice was almost pleading.

Inhaling silently, you studied him with half-closed eyes.

A second later and you shook your head.

“There is nothing special about my blood. You're being needy because I was there for you when no one else was. It was my mistake. I won't let that happen again.”

Before he could lift a finger, your arm flew forward. Either he was too weak to fight back or he wasn't even trying. Whatever the reasoning, you were easily able to make him fall back into a chair.

He didn't seem surprised by the gesture, nor did he try to fight it.

“I’m going to meet my boyfriend.” You said approaching him. “When I come back, you will be gone.”

“Liebe.” He whispered with furrowed brows and doe eyes.

“Bill, stop. You're better than that." You paused, grimacing. “I'm serious, control yourself.”

His head fell back and despite your better judgment, you went to his side. The last thing you needed was a drugged-out vampire in your apartment.

The moment one of your hands wrapped around the back of his head, Bill grabbed your wrist.

The pressure was gentle but sticky. His reddish brown eyes tried to mask a poorly concealed despair. Both pupils were dilated.

"You know." He drawled, bringing the back of your hand to his cheek. "You're my favorite human."

“I’m not yours.” You corrected, unable to not find his attention somewhat amusing.

“Oh, but you are.” He snapped and you rolled your eyes, the stubble rubbing against the skin of your hand like sandpaper. “It means your blood is very special. You are my special human. I don’t want anyone’s blood but yours.”

He continued stroking your hand. You found it slightly disturbing and strangely adorable.

“Quick fix.” He whimpered softly, pulling your fingers up to his lips as he blinked rapidly. “Just a taste will be enough for me. I won’t bother you again after this.”

You let out a pained gasp, your thumb thoughtlessly brushing his upper lip. He responded by kissing the tip of your thumb.

“I won't do it again. This is the last time, okay?” You always said that and you both pretended to believe it. The truth is, you couldn't say no to him even if you tried.

"Sure." He agreed, releasing your hand. "Last time."

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

“Oh, Jesus, not again.” You exclaimed impatiently.

This time, he was lying in your bed, with the sheets piled up beside him. Your comforter was thrown somewhere on the floor.

“Liebe.” He greeted you lazily. Despite knowing his name, he never used it. Always using some German word that you didn't know what it meant. “I'm glad you're here. Would you mind giving me some liquid?”

You shook your head in disbelief.

"Unless you want me to piss in your mouth, I suggest you get out of here." You responded sarcastically without patience.

“Piss in my mouth?” He repeated slowly. Without warning, he burst into laughter, fingers gripping the sheets in delight.

You made a mental note to change them after he left.

“I’m an eccentric bastard, but not that eccentric.” He said. “You said last time that you wouldn't donate again, but you don't understand. You don't understand the euphoria you give me. It’s… I imagine it’s magical.”

''I'm sure you can live without it.'' Spinning around, you quickly rid yourself of the shirt, tossing it onto a nearby chair. You took a deep breath, arms reaching for the ceiling. The position was maintained until you felt the pleasant burning in your muscles.

"But I do not want." He says thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” You mumbled, taking off your jeans.

He didn't respond to your joke. Instead, he got up from the bed. Not that you heard or noticed it.

Until you felt the unexpected pressure of two warm hands resting on your hips.

“Bill.” You warned, looking at him over your shoulder.

"Hmm?" He hummed, shamelessly pressing into you.

“Get off me.” You whispered seriously hoping he would respect your request.

"I don't want." His grip tightened. You tried to ignore his hardened length digging teasingly against your ass.

“I heard a rumor that you’re not happy with your little toy.” He whispered in your ear huskily. You were so shocked by his boldness that you ignored how your skin crawled.

"You don't have ri-."

"It is not?" Bill asked with a raised eyebrow. “I keep tabs on my favorite human.”

You weren’t sure if he was serious or bluffing.

“So, you have romance, flowers, blah, blah, etc.” He listed, two fingers slipping under the band of your panties but not going any further. “But when it comes to being naughty, he falls a little… boring.”

A calloused hand brushed against your ribcage, nails grazing the skin experimentally. Involuntarily, your breathing became shallow.

“A little sexually frustrated, aren’t you?” He continued.

You were ready to lift a heel and tap his toes when, without warning, he grabbed one of your breasts, smirking when you shivered.

“I could do anything you wanted.” He suggested, brushing the outline of your hard nipple with his thumb. “I could be a good boy for you, if you want. I could easily spend hours paying attention to your pretty pussy, you know. I spent a beautiful day or two thinking about it.”

His breath sent a wave of goosebumps across your shoulder.

“Playing with your clit. Sucking it. Making you all nervous. Always giving. I don't have to worry about my own needs. I’ll put my tongue to good use, ma’am.”

Your hips moved forward as the two previously inactive fingers slid across the opening, not penetrating but brushing the sensitive wetness with tantalizing intent.

Protesting the action would have been counterproductive. Despite Bill's irritating nature of manipulating and being a general jerk, his words were leaving you embarrassingly wet.

And that was what was confusing you.

“You are a pathetic addicted.” You tried to sound angry, but your voice came out shaky.

You felt his shrug before he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You are my conflicted and sexually frustrated supplier. I don’t think we need to point fingers” He said amused.

Biting your lip, you forced yourself not to think about the hand massaging your breast or the two fingers caressing your pussy.

It was a trickery. The word alone made an unpleasant feeling of guilt in your stomach. Your boyfriend was a nice guy. Better than you dated in a long time. He treated you with a respect that's hard to find these days.

So, the sex wasn't the best. Was it really worth throwing away months of a well-paced relationship just for a few seconds of mindless pleasure? Especially with Bill, of all people!

You may not be the best person in the world, but you tried to be good.

On the other hand, befriending him wasn't exactly a step in that direction.

“Mistress?” He was gone. There was no longer Bill in that tone.

You would have found his submission more comical if it hadn't worried you so much. And it intrigued you more than anything.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” He insisted. “Our little secret. Fair deal, I guess. In fact, I'll give you a free sample.”

Unexpectedly, he removed both of his hands and moved away from you. The disappointment you felt at the loss of contact was not something you wanted to reflect on.

You saw him kneel before you, his eyes wide but focused. More focused than you usually witnessed when he craved your blood.

"Come here." He gestured.

When you stayed still, he snorted softly. With a few quick movements, he knelt so he was eye level with your hips.

You knew what he was about to do. This, perhaps, was the worst part. You knew and you felt…excited. Relieved, even. For the first time in months, you were about to receive as much as you gave. Appropriately.

It was selfish and terrible, but equally thrilling and exciting.

“Open your legs a little for me, baby.” You did as he said, teeth firmly gripping your bottom lip.

"My God, you've been a lecherous young lady, haven't you?" Bill smiled, hands steadying himself on your hips.

"Shut up." You mumbled, ignoring his embarrassment.

"Yes ma'am." His fingers hooked into the elastic and slowly slid your panties down. The entire time, his tongue was stuck between his teeth while his eyes never left your pussy.

You took off your panties, almost shaking with excitement when he threw them over his shoulder.

“Hmm.” He marveled, tilting his head. "I was right. Beautiful."

The compliment made you not only blush but also become slightly irritated. Were your priorities really that far off?

That depressing thought spurred your next action.

Quickly, a hand grabbed Bill's hair by the roots. With a push, you pulled back, ensuring his eyes locked with yours.

“If you want my blood, you work for it. Got it?" You didn't even realize you had a dominant streak until Bill's obedient nod made you smile. “If I don't reach my high, you certainly won't reach yours.”

"Yes ma'am." He responded obediently. No sign of sarcasm or mockery.

You looked at him for a second longer and let go of his hair. Bill wasted no time.

It didn't take more than five minutes for you to cum. Whether this was a result of not having pleasure for so long or Bill's genuine talent, you weren't sure.

What you could be sure of, when a hand found his hair again and kept his tongue and lips attached to your clit, was that you were entirely willing to make that bargain again.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

This arrangement lasted a solid month. Which surprised you. You thought the moral of exchanging blood for sexual acts would disgust you. At least enough to present a bigger argument the next time Bill showed up again. But that wasn't the case.

The next meeting was certainly a little awkward. You came home from your shift and found him sitting patiently on your bed. He didn't say anything. He just watched you as you tiredly took off your clothes. His submission was strange but attractive. It wasn't until you were blessed with a quiet Bill that you realized how much you appreciated him.

"How are you doing?"

It was strange, but you couldn't help but ask. Bill may have been an addicted and willing to do anything to get what you wanted, but he was still a living creature beneath that stupid desperation. Completely degrading him brought you no pleasure and wasn't something you felt completely comfortable doing.

“You won’t hurt me.” Bill complained. “I'm a big boy. Do your worst."

“Do you want a safe word?” Yet you asked.

“Unless you have plans to kill me, I really don’t see the point.” That was the last discussion about a safe word or words in general.

Bill came three times a week, sometimes four. Always when you were alone. His snark, thankfully, wasn’t present and he did everything you requested of him.

At first, you were careful about boundaries. The first week was spent mostly in your bed, with Bill buried between your thighs. He was surprisingly energetic, licking and sucking you like a hungry animal. His fingers were excited too, starting to pinch your clit and moving in and out of you at deliciously insane speeds.

No orgasms were faked, and if you were taking a while to cum, Bill worked with impressive voracity to ensure you reached your high.

That's what made you bolder.

In the second week, you ordered him to touch himself.

"What?" He asked confused.

"I want you to touch yourself." He studied you with half-closed eyes.

"You understand this isn't about my pleasure, right?"

"Yes. It's about mine. Drop your pants, sit on the chair and touch yourself.” Your voice didn't even tremble.

His confusion was evident, but he did as you asked.

As you guessed, watching him masturbate was a deeply satisfying sight. On some level, you wanted him to feel pleasure from this arrangement, but that had more to do with fascination. Fascination with being able to make someone bigger and stronger take off his underwear, sit down, spread his legs, wrap his hand around his generously sized cock and slowly start stroking himself. In front of you. Simply because you ordered it.

The control was intoxicating.

You didn’t ask him to do anything else after he climaxed with a strangled moan. And it was one of the first times you realized that Bill had no idea what your game was. Or at least why you were enjoying watching him cum.

The rest of the month followed roughly the same schedule. You would give him an order and after a brief but curious glance in his direction, Bill would obey.

Many of the commands required you to cum. At you request, Bill got into the habit of bringing a vibrator. Which he used on you very well.

Some days the commands were to get him out. You were creative and it was never the same way. True, he always touched himself, but sometimes it was kneeling on the bed or bending over a chair so you could admire his cute ass. Once, you even deprived him of his vision with a scarf, taking advantage of the slight uncertainty his hand felt when caressing himself.

By the four week, you were comfortable enough to ride his persistent tongue into pleasure without an ounce of shame or embarrassment.

On the days Bill didn't show up, you questioned what you were doing with him. In public and surrounded by friends, you were passive and sociable. On nights when the two of you were alone, you were loose and experiencing some serious dominance kink.

For a long time, you were puzzled and faintly appalled by your actions.

Then one night, it hit you.

When would you ever get that kind of sexual freedom again? That ability to explore what made your toes curl and grip the headboard until your mind went blank and your voice hoarse.

Nights with Bill made you feel liberated. They made you feel like a woman. The vampire never judged you, although in the end he received your blood, so that was his triumph.

Regardless, the ability to delve deeper into your sexuality and learn the new ways your body responded to stimulation was one of the biggest reasons you never withheld your blood from Bill.

If there was any guilt you held onto, it was because Bill did the things you asked for your blood, nothing more. It would have been nice if his actions were genuine. But he was an addicted, you reminded yourself.

This, when you looked back on the whole fiasco, was ultimately where you made an error in judgment. Assuming Bill regarded your meetings as nothing but a necessary task in order to gain the true source of pleasure: your blood.

In fact, you were completely unaware that after only two weeks together, he’d completely kicked his blood habit.

And that he was testing you.

It wasn’t until the month was complete that you found out why.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

He wasn't sitting on the bed this time.

Instead, he was standing tall and physically looked immaculate. Hair combed, beard trimmed and he looked at you differently.

The moment you absorbed all these changes, you felt a distinct shift in power.

It was definitely not in your hands anymore.

“You look healthy.” You greeted. “Who finally got to talk you out of it?”

A part of you couldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. You sessions would probably come to an end. And the Bill before you certainly didn't look like he was taking orders.

But you weren't selfish enough to deny feeling genuine happiness that he was no longer an addicted. No one deserved to be a victim of this desire. Of course, he will always have to live with the desire to drink blood, but now in a controlled way.

“That’d be you, darling.” He revealed. “Put plenty of things in perspective for me.”

"Good." You encouraged, offering him a soft smile.

He continued watching you without blinking.

“See yourself in the mirror lately?” He asked.

Immediately, a hand patted your hair.

“Did a bird shit on my head again?” You walked over to the mirror, fingers examining you head.

Bill appeared behind you and stopped your search by grabbing your wrist.

You looked at him.

“Skin doesn’t have the vibrant glow it normally has.” He whispered calmly.

Eyebrows furrowed, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Wow. How did you miss that?

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered.” He continued. “Always giving me the amount of blood I ask for is not an easy task. Or a healthy one. But I can’t allow you to get hurt.”

You nodded absently. Your brain became more fuzzy at the consideration Bill was giving you.

"Why are you being nice?" You asked, looking at him warily.

“Like I said… I got a little perspective on things.” He replied.

“Do I need to be worried?” You asked apprehensively.

"Hardly. Not only have you fulfilled my needs, but you did so discretely. As an added bonus, you even made personal sacrifices. That right there... that's the way to a man's heart."

“I think you’re overestimating my worth.” You pulled your hand away. The conversation starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Honey, you’re underestimating yourself. Let me explain what happened last month to you. I was vulnerable, needy and weak. Instead of making a name for yourself - which I'm beginning to doubt even crossed your mind - and taking advantage of me, you quietly gave me my fix. With me so far?”

“Anyone would have done it.” You knew this was a lie the moment it passed your lips.

“Mm… I’m afraid not, liebe. I don’t find that kind of loyalty.” You weren’t sure if you should feel flattered or flustered.

“Now, this is where it gets interesting. After I got my addiction under control, I couldn't help but wonder why you were helping me. So selflessly, in fact.”

“I got off on telling you what to do.” You defended.

“No, I understand that part. But you started making small sacrifices.” Swallowing hard, you took a step back.

"Like what?" You asked confused.

"Well, like breaking up with your little toy, for example." Bill hummed in amusement.

“He didn’t deserve to be betrayed. It had nothing to do with you.” Bill smiled at that.

“If it weren't for my mouth on your pussy three times a week, you never would have let the poor guy go. I had a little input into that.” Something inside you twitched with discomfort and pleasure.

“So, as we saw, you neglected your appearance a little. You didn't even realize how much blood I was taking from you. And yet, you continued to give.” Taking a careful breath, you tried to get your thoughts in order.

"You deserved to get what came to me for." It seemed like a lame excuse, despite its veracity.

“And that’s the fun part!” Bill exclaimed. “This whole time you were under the impression that I hated it. I hated making you cum, I hated cumming while you watched, I hated the total attention you gave me. I'm not sure if you've heard, but I have a bit of an ego. And you caressed it until I was weak in the knees. You had so much control in your hands and had the courtesy to worry about my own pleasure. Not very mistressy of you, liebe.”

“If you were so confused about it, then why the hell didn’t you stop?” You retorted. “If you didn’t like me not playing my role, you should have stopped playing yours.”

“Ah, but I liked my role.” He assured, eyes slowly scanning your body. “In fact, if you knew how much I enjoyed it, you would be more worried about disappearing so I could never find you.”

"Are you-?" Your voice died in the middle of your throat.

“Ah, I left my favorite human speechless. Well, let’s see if I can remedy that.” Before you could blink everything went dark.

When you woke up you were in a huge room with incredibly expensive furniture. The place was well lit and looked very modern, you could see some paintings on the walls around it. The tables held a variety of food and drinks. Some, you noticed, were among your favorites.

Your mouth officially dropped open when you noticed it was king size and the sheets were brown. Also expensive, it seems. Above that, your eyes sharpened on the silk ties tied provocatively to the headboard. That was certainly a vision that spoke for itself.

“I will not be your mistress!” You argued, quickly getting up from the bed.

“I prefer the term girlfriend.” He didn't move from his seat once.

This gave you the confidence to try to escape. You ran towards the door but it was locked.

“Nice trick, isn’t it?” Bill mentioned, pride coloring his voice. “I blocked your exit, my dear.”

“Bill let me go.” With a tight frown, you stared at him.

“I will give you anything you want.” He promised. “In the meantime, you might consider this vacation a little more…permanent.”

“You are imprisoning me!” You screamed, anger burning through your veins.

"Keeping." He corrected. “I'm keeping you. Considerable difference in terminology.”

You tried to regain control of your breathing, but your current situation didn't allow for that.

“I like you, liebe.” Bill stated seriously. “You are charming, adventurous, and deceptively thoughtful. More than that, you are trustworthy. And has a sexual appetite that rivals mine.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that without kidnapping me?”

"Keeping." He remembered. “What would you honestly have done if I told you I was pretending to be an addicted because I was more addicted to you? Which sounds as terribly sentimental out loud as it does in my head. Shame. I thought it would translate better.”

You backed away until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Tremblingly, you sat up, palms hitting the sheets beneath you.

“I was kidnapped-.”

“-kept-,” Bill said helpfully.

“-all because I was…nice.”

Bill shrugged. "Opposites attract?"

You lost consciousness right after you finished laughing. Rest assured, you found the situation more grim than hilarious.

Sighing, Bill walked over to your unconscious form. He sat up and gently picked you up so you rested against his chest.

The urge to smile and grimace fought violently within him.

“This could have been worse.” He confessed, looking at you.

He rested his chin on your head. The desire to smile won. He was happy.

#bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer

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kentocalls · 1 day

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gojo satoru | mine regency!au (bridgerton), sfw. i started bridgerton s3 and well ✨inspired✨ brief mention of panic. not proofread...i will write a part 2 (spice) later. Prince Suguru will get a story as well is Duke Ryomen. if it's cheesy and sweet that's on purpose. okay bye! taglist: @actuallysaiyan @g-kleran

The room is all too untidy, you fret about the mess you’ve created. This is the last time you listen to the writing of organized folks. You understand in theory, color coordinating all your gowns and jewelry and shoes is ideal. It makes for faster selection, you’d have more time to set your hair and makeup but there is an issue. And that is you indecisiveness.

Now now, you pat yourself on the back for deciding to place your favorite dresses into the large armoire decorated with blue flowers. And delegating the less adored gowns to the back closets but selecting which gowns, shoes, trinkets belong where is getting too much.

That and buzzing, bumbling, big man parading himself around your room. Your dearest friend has returned. After a year away, his carriage pulled up a mere three hours ago and he’d instantly darted to your father’s home and not his.

His babbling about Italy has been nice. He calls it a trip and you can’t help but frown. It wasn’t a trip, it was a year long. Didn’t he miss you? If he did, why didn’t he write? Instead he’s flipping through all the post-cards he would’ve sent but doesn’t freely hand off.

And you want to jest, want to poke at his stories and pull the cards from his hands but if you don’t clean up before the first ball of the season, you’ll never find the right dresses for the whole program. Nor the shoes or gloves. Thankfully this last minute organization hasn’t made way to your hairpins.

“And there is this cool cream, something whipped heavily and deliciously. My darling, listen…” You nod along, he watches you roam from side to side. Eyes eager and pleased to rest on your form. The cards are a clutch, something he uses to hide behind when you do spare him a glance. He was gone for eight or nine months. The longest he’s ever been away from you. He cannot believe he survived such torment. Granted, he had visotrs but you were not one of them.

You are his dearest one, his closest friend, and you must pay him with full recognition.

He craves his fill, must have it, it’s why he shuffles his postcards back into his long jacket and blocks you from hanging his favorite light blue gown and pulling you into a dancing stance. “Oh, so you have warmed up to touch.” He muses.

“Satoru!” you purr and he clicks his tongue.

“I see you’ve taken company with Suguru again.” He still holds you close, moving to a song only he can hear.

“Prince Suguru was kind enough to check in on me multiple times after the lake…incident and your disappearance.” Your voice falters at the end as does Satoru’s grip and you gently shoo him back to what he claims is his favorite seat. The one angled towards your bed, the sunlight graces it with warmth and leads you to entertain rumors that maybe Satoru is other worldly. But his grip on your hand is firm, the mischief in his eyes clear, you cannot give into him, no matter he mere man or angel.

And Satoru itches, fingers resolute in want, if he could pull you into his lap he’d fully captivate your attention but that’s a line he can’t cross.

You are his best, doting, lovely, gentle friend. He has called you his darling with esteem, ensuring the entire ton knows how full with good regard he is for you. He will not have anyone dismay your reputation. He will not break your trust. But his touches do linger, more so now that he has return from Italy.

You had been so innocent in your proposition during your second season and no prospects of marriage, claiming it’s your shyness getting in the way. And maybe it was. You were quick to tense whenever a male reaches to hold your hand or place an arm across your back as you walk or fumble conversations of the flirtatious nature. You didn’t want a ruined third season, where you were named the diamond, you needed help and who better than your friend, the most coveted, Duke Gojo Satoru. And the Duke had easily stepped in, continues to step in. Being a good, dutiful friend.

He’s simply following your request, to help ease your anxieties with touch.

You bestow this honor on him and only him.

So it’s only natural he remove himself from the seat and follow you closely, handing you dress after dress and talk your ear off. He’s been gone for so long, has to relish in the moments of freedom before your father’s carriage will round the corner. Despite family friends, you knows no one will understand the innocence of your meeting with Satoru. He is a Duke, an eligible bachelor, being alone with you for hours on end does not bode well for either of you. Even if he is simply, humbly, here to talk. Nothing more.

“Don’t you want your gift?” Satoru pouts, you’re sitting on the floor now, unladylike but that’s what Satoru prefers. No airs between you two, society forgotten in the tiny walls of your room. Satoru is not a Duke and you are not an eligible bachelorette, the diamond of last season. No here, he’s allowed to be your friend, steal your time and attention freely. (You’d never go to his place unchaperoned. Would never have your hair such a mess or dress so wrinkled.)

Your eyes perk up, a smile that warms his heart. A part of him wishes to hide it away from the rest of the ton but alas, the first ball will make it known you have captured the sun. Perhaps you’ll be named diamond again.

“Really?” You ask, almost childlike. As if any fiber in Duke Gojo Satoru’s being is capable of traveling far and wide without bringing a slice beauty back for you. He nods, drapes himself in your bed and wiggles his eyebrows and laughs at your scoff as you resume deciding which shoes belong in the prestigious armoire and which will go to the back closest.

He dangles a beautiful white and blue sapphire necklace in front of your face, the light catches the gems and sends stars across your room. “This is so exquisite.” You say mesmerized, it’s fit for a Princess, fit for a Queen. Fit for a Dutchess. Satoru muses, eyes never leaving your happy face.

Please Satoru pulls the necklace away from the light, gently lays it back into the jewelry box with matching earrings and firmly clears a section of your armoire, ignoring your protest. “This will not do, my darling, there isn’t enough space here.”

“I want all my favorite things in here.”

Satoru moves back, assess the armoire, it was a gift from him when you debuted three seasons ago. It’s held up but he can tell it needs repainting and new handles. You’ve tried to be careful to it but alas, your diamond season left you almost running out of dresses. Satoru happily obliged, gathering many fancy gowns and gems from far away lands. His only hope was that you’d return the favor when his sister is ready for debut.

“This will not do at all. I’ll have a new one made, a larger one.”

“No, you will not, I like this one!” You are standing now, wedging yourself in between Satoru and the furniture. And he forgets how attached you get, forgets how easily you mind of all his doting and spending. “This has served me just fine, will suit me just fine. Besides, flats in London are much smaller than here, so I wan-“

“London?” Satoru has pushed himself onto almost all your family trips afar, he would surely remember London.

“Oh…the…there is interest from a Viscount?” You start voice even, you don’t have to be careful with Satoru, he’d take all your secrets to the grave but you can’t let on that you are unsure about this new development. Satoru would squash anyone who makes you uncomfortable and right now you’re not sure about the Viscount.

You move away from Satoru, stepping over the mess of shoes and start to box the dark green ones away.

“A Viscount from London?”

“Yes, Viscount Nanami. He is considered an upright citizen, owns a publishing business, and teaches at schools on the weekend. Hasn’t looked for a wife until apparently I caught his eye when we visited Spain. Mentioned something about how struck he was by my keen focus on a painting. I don’t recall anyone around me, I do recall the painting. It was of a lake.” Satoru is half paying attention, he knows you, knows you would be well informed of everyone in the ton. And your mother, clever Lady, would never allow an interest from a strange man.

But no, no, no that’s not what causes him to alert, it’s the “He is well read, though he prefers more serious literature…Authors names I’m not sure how to pronounce. He’s sent me a few books too.”

“Well read?” If Satoru’s tone is less than inquisitive and more accusatory you rush past it. Standing and roaring about your room, it’s much more tidier now and the armoire is filling up. Satoru’s eyes half notice the dresses the dresses, shoes and gems that have been deemed worthy of the armoire are one’s he’s gifted. His heart fills with pride. But he does frown are other dresses he hasn’t gifted, they seem a bit too modern for your taste but that thought flees as soon as you mention “We’ve been writing, his penmanship is spectacular.”

Spectacular his rear, the only writing Satoru’s eyes are able to decipher is yours, you write in a unique fashion that is easy and flows beautifully. And Satoru knows penmanship, has spent countless ours at his desk forced to read note after note as part of his Dukehood.

What has this Viscount Nanami done to earn praise from your lips?

If Satoru spots ill hidden letter that happen to fall into the trash bin, well his Duke has always warned you about keeping your windows open. The wind is petulant at best.

👑

The evening is bustling, many new debutants, a new season and the Queen resolute on Prince Suguru’s marriage has left everyone buzzing. Your mother is helping dress you tonight, eager to see the new corset dress that Viscount Nanami has gifted. It’s a deep cobalt blue that pairs nicely with the necklace Satoru has gifted you. Your mother does not mention the necklace only traces its delicately.

“Satoru…Duke Gojo has returned then?” You nod and hold your breath as your dear maid LillyAnn has mustered the strength of five men and is pulling the drawstrings of the corset so very tight. You can barely breathe, but that’s how it’s supposed to feel.

“Mo….mother I do not think I can breathe.” She pats your face and powders your nose some more. “It’s the latest fashion, only Lady Ryomen and a few others have one. You will stand out beautifully, perhaps be named diamond again.”

“It’s my forth season mother…” you try to not sound sad, you aren’t. You are more than capable of handling yourself should spinster life be what comes. However, your brother will also want to pursue a wife and you do not want to hinder his chances or be a burden. You have been given more freedom than most other Ladies. Adored by your family since your first steps, educated more than most men, even worked with your father in his business.

“My delicate flower, this will be your year, I can feel it.” Your mother’s hands are tender, soft and comforting. You stand a bit too quickly, waltz across the room too fast before the dizziness catches you. Pairs of hands steady you by the window chair and LilyAnn is off to fetch a glass of water. Through the windows, your mother’s eyes catch the bouncing platinum head of Duke Gojo Satoru, even under the evening light he shines brightly. Perhaps his eyes wander to your window but he dare not look or linger, your mother cannot confirm. Your mother wonders if she’s indulged too much, the friendship between you and Satoru is special, she hasn’t seen such trust and care between other duos. But you are not a couple, Satoru has never made intentions to court or wed you known. Oh, how anger finds your mother’s fists.

You are tender and kind, you would not impose anything on the Duke who does not understand the reason you’ve been left unattached after three seasons are his eyes.

“Mother…I…I do not think I can breathe.” You can be late to the ball, your mother decides. Latest fashion or not, your mother cannot have you passing out at the first ball of your forth season…you won’t recover from two fainting incidents.

👑

The Dutchess Ryomen throws a wonderful dashing and beautiful ball. The dance floor is darker than others, allows for more hushed conversations and stares to be returned secretly. The adults complain but you quickly find Lady Ryomen and offer her your thanks. Complement the decorations and her dress, where others are miserly with their praise you are eager to make her acquaintance. She has tamed the untamable Duke Ryomen Sukuna, a man feared and rumored to be dangerous and yet he treats his Lady with such regard.

You do mention the punch is needing more fruit though, a good hostess should receive accurate information on her meal preparation after all. This is her first ball and you want it to be a hit, you like Lady Ryomen, although the Duke is scary. The Dutchess does not have many friends but finds no reason to be weary of your kind words and heart. It is only the pair of azure eyes and the form that carries them that makes her a bit uneasy.

But you are quick to glare at Satoru and drag the Dutchess (and by extension the Duke) away, give them tips on hosting duties and free yourself to find your mother.

You will not be dancing tonight, you have made two rounds and guarded your dance card with the swiftness of eagles. You need to get home, this dress is too tight. London fashion be damned. “Darling, I’ve just heard Viscount Nanami has invited us to his home this summer. Oh I must speak with Lady Yu about this, her son is rather close with the Viscount. Be sure to greet Lord Haibara, yes?” And poof, she’s gone. Off to be the best mother out of the lot and leaving you unattended.

Even in this low lighting you can feel the eyes of the ton on you, the corset dress adding dips and pushing your bosom to new heights. Heights you fear will not matter since you cannot breathe. No matter, off you go to find your carriage, perhaps you can use one of the butter knives to loosen a stich or two.

Alas, your plans are interrupted as the Queen’s eyes have landed on you, it is only polite you courtesy and make pleasant talk. You have half a mind to introduce yourself to her, thank her for naming you a diamond last season and then what? Are you…are you supposed to wish her a successful season? Are you to mention the Prince? Oh gosh, where is your Mother, she is the talker. You don’t know what to say to a QUEEN.

She assess your form, asks where your dress is from and you reply honestly that it’s a gift from Viscount Nanami, that he is from London and you will spend the summer there. There’s a hushed gasp and a smirk on the Queens lips. Before she nods and is gone. You feel like you did something wrong, you always feel like you did something wrong. The only person you can speak easily to as you do with Satoru, sometimes is Prince Suguru.

You two were pushed together all last season and it resulted in no success but a fond friendship. But the Prince is busy dancing his night away, his name is gracing many dance cards tonight. And Satoru is…well where is he?

The things Satoru likes about balls are far and few. He likes dressing up, showing off his long legs and physique. He likes the music and food. Always eager to try new delicacies and hear the ton gossip. He despises everything else. The hungry mothers, the seemingly always eyelash batting Lady’s and Lords who seek his company to gain from his reputation. Can’t a Duke simply exist?

He finds himself munching treats on one of the many stairwells that adorn Duke Ryomen’s mansion. He doesn’t like the man but can respect wealth. Satoru has all but finished his latest goodie and figures he could make one more round, maybe dance with two eligible somethings and call it a night. He hasn’t seen you either! He needs to make sure you’re not speaking to anyone unsavory. Although, he knows, your mother has likely kept you close to her. There’s a Viscount after you now, the ton exhilarated with the news.

He does not expect to hear your gasps and rushed footsteps. You lose a pretty heel on one of the steps but don’t stop, continue rushing forward towards the carriages and what, what has caused this?

He drops any and all remaining delectables and rushes to you, hands eager, his own breath held. What’s happened? Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Gojo Satoru will harm any human who dare—

“I can’t breathe.” You gasp out, his eyes fall to your choked breathing, your chest rising and falling in a staccato pattern, the corset creating new dips in the sides of your body that look painful. “Sa…to..ru..I..can’t…” It comes out in huffs. He shoves away memories from a year go, pushes away the lake incident and hands move to find the paring knife he stashed into his outfit.

He has pulled you away from the main stairwell, toward a hidden passage, shadows cradling both of you as Satoru deftly cuts at the side of your dress, hand quick to inspect your exposed flesh to ensure he hasn’t cut too deep. Another hand finds your cheek, forcing your eyes to him. “Breathe my darling, eyes on me, breathe.” He mimics a slow breathing pattern as your lips push a tiny exhale out, the staccato eases and deeper, smoother pattern arranges itself. Satoru’s hands do not leave your form, they remain firm, grounding, strong.

“That’s it, that’s it, good. My darling, good.”

You close your eyes, keep breathing, lean into his hand on your cheek. Hating how you know his touch so well, that regardless of the many times he’s held your hand, cupped your cheek or traces his fingers down your arm, held you, it does nothing to make you less nervous with others. It only works if it’s him, his hands, his touch, his eyes.

Your eyes to witness how unfairly the moonlight cascades on him. His eyes are storming, he himself has stopped breathing. Your hand moves before you think, your gift is a tremble of his chest, a soft exhale as your palm graces his cheek. He leans into the touch. It’s tender, intimate.

Nothing friends do.

The thought crosses your mind suddenly, irrevocably haunting how beautiful he looks. How your skin now burns where he’s holding you, how you are probably losing your breath again but the reason is so entirely different. Holy graces of heaven, has Satoru always been this? How have your eyes failed to study him?

“Satoru…” your voice honey filled, eyes almost linger on his lips, and why hasn’t Satoru noticed this about you? The way your voices laces his name with a boon he didn’t know it had.

He feels a breeze, pulls you close, too close.

Pull away from him, push away from him. Please, he needs you to be the one to keep the line. Satoru has only once denied himself sweetness and he can’t again, not with you, here, now, radiating—

“Now, now” A voice, you both jump, Satoru quick to pull you behind, aware how compromising your current state of dress is and he’ll be damned if another lays eyes on your skin.

The moonlight favors Prince Suguru as he saunters towards you, a gentle smile in your eyes but a menacing smirk in Satoru’s. “The Duke Ryomen has such a large residence. Terrible if one were to get lost, no?”

“Ah, Prince Suguru, hello!” It’s awkward but when are you not when other men are concerned, but Suguru is fond of you. The one flower that keeps Satoru buzzing around and around and you and yet the two of you are none the wiser to what has bloomed.

“My heavens blessing, what luck have I been bestowed, dearest Lady—“

“Cut it out Suguru.” Satoru sounds annoyed, but Suguru is a Prince. You cannot, do not speak to a Prince like this.

You move to place yourself between the two. Aware there has been some rivalry that strained their friendship. However, Satoru does not let you leave him entirely, keeps his hand on your side, hiding the cut on your dress, grip firm on the fabric and your skin. “Satoru was helping me find my carriage, it seems in this is a large residence, I have lost my way.”

“Oh dear, I would be happy to escort you,” He moves to the side, hand outstretched but you do not move to take it. You cannot move to take it. Not only is Satoru keeping you from moving but the dress is not going to last if you slip away from Satoru. You place your hand to where Satoru is keeping your dignity.

“Well you see, I’ve…” how do you word this so it does not sound indecent? How do you ensure both you and Satoru are not compromised. The Prince is always been kind to you, especially where Satoru is concerned, you are all close in age, he always has kept some familiarity for you in his heart. He is not a bad man but…you were diamond last season. In theory the Prince and you should have been betrothed but…

The Prince’s eyes go to where your and Satoru’s hands are, he carefully, slowly unbuttons his top coat. The movement makes you gasp, you don’t notice the daggers Satoru’s glare is driving towards Prince Suguru. He moves gracefully, drapes the coat over your shoulders, you make quick to use the belt to tie your dress in place, start to button up the coat and what? Satoru let go?

You turn to face him, Prince Suguru murmurs something but it’s lost on you. Your eyes do not leave Satoru’s, your head does not turn to face the stairs until it’s impossible to view Satoru’s form. This feels wrong, this feels so very wrong.

You are sat in the Prince’s carriage, on your way home. The Prince sits next to you, eyes closed, legs wide but not enough to touch yours. You think of Satoru’s face, his touch, his eyes, a new sensation hits your face. My darling, breathe.

You’ve been his darling since childhood, it’s a nickname, something close to what one calls a pet. He didn’t mean it like lovers do, has never meant it like lovers do. So why, why are you blushing? He…he said it like he usually does, right?

“I think I’ve done something wrong.” But the Prince does not press further.

👑

Your skin was too soft. Too soft.

Your eyes full of trust and hope and when they lingered on Satoru’s lips.

Wait.

No.

That’s his mind making things up. Some unholy demon pulling at his deepest desire, to have you run to him over and over. To have you whisper his name, to capture his attention to let him touch.

It burns Satoru’s hand all night, the moonlight, the necklace shining bright and failing to match the gleam of your eyes. It’s always your eyes. Once your orbs find his the world stops, racing thoughts come to a halt, the peace he feels when your around is…normal. Isn’t it? He bargains. Nothing changed, nothing.

You were not any different, neither was he.

He kicks off his comforter, hastily downs a glass of water and then the whole pitcher.

Replays the event over and over where time stood still, you were close. No, he held you close, too close. He hasn’t done it has he? Has he crossed the line of decency, of friendship? Has he made you want more than he intended? Haven’t you made him want? No, no, no. You are innocent in this. This is his own vice, his own strayed nature, it’s his problem. His fault, fuck, he want more.

You deserve a better match, a proper and prime man.

He thinks of Prince Suguru and this mysterious Viscount but they aren’t good enough either.

The Viscount bought you a death trap of a dress. Fuck, Satoru writes a petition that night, to ban all corset dresses forever and ever. They are the devils spawn, an endangerment to natural breathing patterns, painful, grotesque, monstrous! Any man purchasing one for his betrothed should be fined and jailed!

Betrothed.

The world echos in Satoru’s mind until he crashes into his bed, betrothed. You? As the Viscount’s? There was no formal delectation, you would’ve told him. The Viscount can dream. You do not belong to him.

👑

It’s an all too stuffy affair but you’re happy to be at the castle and not in a corset dress.

The Viscount Nanami had apologized purposely and corrected the error of his easy, has sent a stunning set of new gowns and jewels. It has your family brimming with pride and hope. You will be wed before the end of summer it seems. Lady Haibara has already confirmed the astute figure of Viscount Nanami, her son Yu has given a firm statement of character.

Things are all but done, this summer you will go to London and confirm the engagement.

“I bore you?” his velvet voice breaks your clouded thoughts. Prince Suguru’s mother, the Queen, had insisted you have tea with him. This is your seventh formal meeting, both of you are exhausted by these attempts but what isn’t there, isn’t there.

“You are too considerate, Prince Suguru. My apologies, my mind wandered…”

“Again?”

You exhale, placing the cup of tea down and turn to face him, hungry for knowledge, eager for information. Prince Suguru is a master charmer, he can command the attention of all without slipping a single word from his full lips. And he knows how to receive attention, knows how to read intentions, you want to learn, you need to decipher if you’ve missed something.

“The Viscount is…serious in his pursuit it seems.” The Prince nods.

“It…it would be best to put what-ifs behind me, envision a new life in London, yes?”

“Ouch, we haven’t even had lunch and I’ve been rejected.” He draws a laugh from you, lightens the atmosphere completely. “My mother will not be pleased. She likes you the best you know.”

You deflate, “Me? Why? I fumbled all my words with her.”

“Exactly so, she like’s your nervous. Means you’re considerate and thoughtful.”

Now you hum, “And is that why you don’t like me, I’m too nice.”

The Prince does little to hide his shock, surprised by your boldness. Maybe he isn’t adept at reading others, he takes you in. It’s a bit more than flair for your usual sense of fashion but you are radiant. The particular shade of outfit is not only well balanced but luminous against your skin.

But a bitter chuckle escapes him. Everything you’re wearing is a statement of who is and has truly ever been yours. He wonders when you’ll notice that this blue gown is one of a kind. No other Lady or Lord wears this fabric, no other family is allowed to mix colors near this shade. Hell, Prince Suguru himself has seen the law be written that all modiste’s are not allowed to even attempt a blue color similar to that of the prestigious Gojo family and yet; you are adorned in it every time he sees you. Alongside the bright blue jewels that beautify your neckline, ears and hair.

And somehow, your family’s intricate golden lacework stands proudly across all of Satoru’s silver accessories. His walking canes are second to none, the watches he loves to whip out and whirl around cherished and polished every night, and the watches! Prince Suguru himself has only been gifted two watches total from your family and it seems Duke Satoru has eight gifted in his name. Your family doesn’t even work in silver, has refused multiple requests, but for the Duke Gojo Satoru it seems there is a softness.

It baffles him.

How his mother, the Queen, cannot see who you truly have made yours, and the unspoken claim you so openly accept.

But he hears your mumblings of some stupid Viscount in London and Prince Suguru wonders if there’s a spread of ignorance in the ton. For all the time you and the Duke spend together, how are your hearts the farthest?

👑

Three days.

Duke Gojo Satoru lasts three whole days before he’s broken into your home, well after calling hours are over to speak. When he enters your room he finds you and your mother sitting for tea; LilyAnn holding two dresses in her hands. He pulls over a stool from your night table and joins the judgement. You want to speak to him but your mother pushes ahead, you must pack for London. If you do not have enough worthy clothing then she must meet with the dressmakers in haste.

“We are getting a head of ourselves dear Mother, the purple and blue are both fine.” Satoru hums, he likes the blue better.

“The purple, LilyAnn, and no-no, none of those will do. They are too light under the London clouds.” LilyAnn drops your favorite blue gowns to ground.

“So much for organizing.” Satoru whispers and shoot him a hush. You have only four notable gowns per your mother, who is not pleased.

And then…it’s awkward. You, Satoru, your mother and LilyAnn sit eyeing each other.

“Duke Gojo, we’ve distracted you enough, Is…is there a pressing matter?”

“Not at all, I think we should select shoes too, there isn’t much time left. Summer is a mere six weeks away” He’s being cheeky and you almost shove him off the stool but your Mother is here. That kind of affection is for when you and Satoru are alone.

Affection? Is that okay to have, for Satoru?

“Now now, I’ve already ordered her new shoes. They will arrive the day before we leave.”

“Splendid, you are every thoughtful My Lady. If I may, I’d like to address your daughter in private? I won’t be long.”

Your mother agrees, dragging LilyAnn with her. “You know their ears are pressed against the door, Duke Gojo.” Satoru rolls his eyes, you always maintain formalities when others are around. He hates when you call him Duke.

“My Lady, they need not be. I am here on the purest of intentions.”

“Like always.” He grins wide.

“Like always indeed! Are you going to Lady Rengoku’s ball?”

“Of course! Lady Rengoku always has the best—“

“Excellent.” And with that Satoru stands and leaves.

Your Mother and LilyAnn stand shocked outside your door, all three of you confused.

The Duke never inquires about balls, much less your attendance at such events. Your Mother has a look and you simply shrug. Satoru would never purposely harm your reputation or ruin your chances with the Viscount.

👑

Stupid stupid stupid.

Satoru wasn’t supposed to ask that, what he was supposed to ask was if you wanted to marry the Viscount in London. That is what he wants to know. No, needs to know.

You see, an overly smart, annoying Prince has visited the Gojo residence and laid a claim you are to be wed before your return from London. That somehow, somewhere, the Viscount has announced his intention to court you during your trip and swiftly turn a meeting into engagement and wedding. The buffoon hasn’t shown his face here at all and seeks to wed you!

How dare he lay a claim to you! Satoru does not know how courtship in London works but he is not impressed.

Have you even been asked? Have your wishes been respected in this? What tasteless gossip that a Prince came to deliver to him.

If the Duke’s eyes linger at your window, if he wishes to turn back around and ASK what he came to ask, it’s lost in the night.

What right is he seeking here?

👑

Lady Rengoku’s ball is masterly conducted, the food, the music, the timing of social activities. Perfect perfect perfect, save for your dance card being full of names. Suddenly you are being dubbed the unofficial diamond and everyone wants time with you. It’s exhausting, you’ve fumbled so many conversations and no one seems to leave you alone.

It’s only Lady Ryomen who pulls you into the lavatory for some reprieve. You learn more about her, she asks you to look after her visiting sister, a free spirit who wants to climb a mountain. It’s a feat you’ve not heard many Lady claim, you promise seek her out and cheer her on.

When you do escape the lavatory, the Queen is resolved in pressing you next to Prince Suguru.

He makes for good company, pleasant and non-pressing. But a man nonetheless, has you nervous, you don’t like his ever so light touches and can’t stand how roaring his laughter is. It fills the whole room, eyes turn and gaze. More gossip, it’s not what bothers you. Perhaps if Viscount Nanami were to hear of suitors he’d show up and make an actual appeal to you rather than keep all formalities between himself and your father.

You are frowning openly now, Prince Suguru takes you to a walk in the garden but when you lift your head he’s gone. You are left to roam Lady Rengoku’s estate freely. Perhaps this is kindness from the Prince, both of you are not going to wed after all.

You stop by a patch of blue flowers, hands delicately touching the sleeping petals. You wander enough to learn that there is a pool on the plot. The Rengoku’s clearly have more money than you’ve heard. The water shimmers under the stars, a hue of cerulean and you hate it, you hate it the second it reminds you of Satoru-no. Don’t be kind to him, call him Duke. Duke Gojo. That’s what he is.

You cannot think of him as familiar. No matter what ache it causes your heart, no matter the confusion that drowns your mind, no matter the waves of emotion that ripple through your body. Your focus is to wed and the best chance at that is the Viscount.

This mysterious, proper, dashing stranger. Who took one look at you many moons ago, spoke no word but has laid the road for you to be his. The panic you’ve stuffed down has simmered and roared, echoing through your limbs.

You cannot marry a stranger, you do not want to marry a stranger.

And perhaps it’s this madness or this anger that drags you closer and closer to the pool, closer and closer to the water. There’s no one around, it is not safe and you are so mad, you want a way out—

“What are you doing?” The Duke. Satoru.

Strong arms wrap around, pull you free from the waters enchantment but it does nothing to calm the rage unleashed in your heart. Panic boils over and you fight him, he’s not supposed to be here. He asked you about this stupid ball and wasn’t here. Hasn’t been here after the lake incident that ruined the season you were crowned diamond, disappeared when you needed him most and what right does he have to hold you like this?

“Unhand me at once, remove your hold.” You pull at his arms. “Breathe, my darling, breathe.”

You shove at him. The intensity freezes him. You successfully pull away. “Don’t.” Your voice shaky, “You are not to call me that.”

“I can fix it, whatever it is, I can fix it.” Confidence fails to fill his voice, he doesn’t like seeing you like this. Doesn’t want you vexed, doesn’t wish you stressed. Please, let him take you into his arms, let him hold you, like he always has when tears well up in your eyes. If not for your sake then his, let him hold you please.

“Satoru- Duke! Duke Gojo. I…we should not be seen alone. I cannot be compromised. Please return inside.”

Duke Gojo? DUKE? You haven’t addressed him as such in many years, this formality is ugly. His chest begins to tighten. What has he done? He takes a step back.

“Darling, my dearest friend, what…has caused this?” he is frantic, body buzzing with no where to direct his energy, no where to hide his fear. He’s going to lose you, he cannot lose you.

“Dearest friend.” you mock, “I am set by everyone’s intention to marry a stranger. I cannot stop it, this train is moving faster and faster towards me and I can do nothing.”

“Not nothing, let me—“ Let him what? There’s a million thoughts in his mind and the most prominent one is that he needs to comfort you, needs to get your breathing under control, let him hold you please please please.

“Please, just go Duke Gojo.” Your hands are balled into fists, eyes firmly piercing the ground. You are still too close to the pool. The visions of the lake are pouring into him, he will go, he’ll leave, only when you are calm and safe. Away from the dangerous abyss of blue.

Tears fall when he calls your name, ever so slowly he moves close, you want to fight him, you truly do— its in both your best interest to keep away from one another. Or maybe just yours, you’ve fallen for him and it’s not his fault. He’s done nothing to harness your resentment and anger. You cannot marry a stranger when there’s another man in your heart.

You are in his arms, hiding in his chest, stealing seconds, moments, escaping the world. “I don’t want to marry him.” His grip tightens. Satoru is aware you’re both out in the open, not in the sanctuary of your room. He’s not free to dote his affections here, fuck he’s messed up. If he’s caught now, but he can’t pull away, not when pain echos through your voice. Not when your chest crumbles in his hold.

You make to leave his arms, you need to pull away need to move before he conjures a plan and you get sucked into it. This isn’t grade school, where pranks involve breaking all the teachers chalk or stealing more than your share of chocolates from the canteen. There is more at stake than upset stomachs. “I can’t marry him.”

But a kiss to the top of your head melts away protest. “You won’t.”

👑

By some unbelievable mistake there is no compromise, Satoru holds your hand the entire way to your carriage, ensures you get home safe and eyes watch your home the entirety of the night. Your thoughts consume him. The pained voice on repeat, over and over. He needs to fix this, he needs to fix this, he needs to figure out how to fucking fix this. It’s the same itch that drove him to Italy. The same want, the same need.

The lake incident nearly drove him mad. Had it not been for Prince Suguru and his knights Satoru would’ve surely killed every single “well-mannered” Lady who had pushed you into the dark deep well of water. He barely found you, that disgusting lake, devoid of light and movement. Fuck if his eyes hand’t trailed after you, if he was a second slower, if he hadn’t gotten to you.

It enrages him to know what your face close to death looks like, it enrages him to know you likely have night terrors, that there will always be a chill in your bones. All because he was careless, all because he had teased something stupid to the ton and suddenly you faced the blunt of his words.

He had crossed so many lines that night. His hands roam his face and pull at his hair, he’s so fucked. The madness is rushing to his head.

That night, he had charmed LilyAnn to let him into your quarters, had to make sure you were okay with his own eyes despite the assurance of prestigious doctors. Promised he’d take a look, promised he’d sit and watch. Make sure your comforters don’t drop to the ground, promised he wouldn’t do more than keep gaurd. But you had woken in a fright, dazed, gasping. He had you in his arms, you gripped so fiercely, the violent fear cascading through your body. How you clung to him, how you pushed into his space, how he kept you close. He promised you were okay, promised he’d keep you safe. Over and over, a mantra until the threat passed, when sleep claimed your eyes, he should’ve left then. Should have ignored when you asked him to stay, asked him to be yours for the night. He was only supposed to watch.

He wasn’t supposed to climb into your bed and hold you. Wasn’t supposed to relish in how felt right you felt, your skin, your weight, your breath against his chest. There would be no other after this. Once your gentle snores started he should’ve left, not have the audacity to kiss your forehead, shouldn’t have pulled you even closer and utter ‘mine’ over and over again until sleep found him.

It wasn’t a confession, you wouldn’t remember.

Then sun rose, and he spent the next year in Italy trying to forget.

He wasn’t going to come back, couldn’t bring himself to act normal. He fucked it up anyway didn’t he?

Satoru’s eyes catch as the light flicker and your bedroom illuminate. The windows are frantically opened and he sees you shudder and fight for air. It’s the same terror isn’t it? It’s the same dream that won’t be soothed regardless of how much you caress your arms or pray.

How is a Viscount going to understand that? How is a Prince going to mediate your fears? To bring you ease and smile?

That’s Satoru’s responsibility, isn’t it?

👑

You wake to a late breakfast. The night proved to be unkind and the drowning of the lake broke you from the deepest slumber. You could’ve sword you saw the light on at the Gojo residence too, but you might’ve made that up. Your head is a mess, between the newly discovered feelings for Satoru and supposed proposal from the Viscount…you need food. Things are always better after food.

The usual sounds of the morning are not present. Typically your mother is doting on your younger brother and your Father is hastily attempting to leave the manor for work. You worry your head silly with the actions of last night, Satoru’s embrace, his words, his kindness. He truly is a wonderful friend and you’ve…you’ve indulged too much in fantasy. Misread his kindness, his care.

As you head down the grand staircase, it’s adorned with cream and blue flowers. And your housemaids are carrying even larger arrangements, they seem to never end. Your mother and father hold a card in their hands, stand in the foyer like visitors.

You take the card from them, “The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Duke Gojo Satoru and…” you.

“My darling~!” his voice echos in the foyer, your parents sigh deeply. Your mother asks LilyAnn to set another plate for the Duke and wanders off to the dinning room. Your father makes to follow her before pausing and whispers, “You are happy with this?”

Your smile is all he needs before he trails after your mother, insistent that the wedding date needs to be moved so he is back from his Greece trip.

The Duke Gojo Satoru strolls into your home, a tiny blue box in hand as he pulls you into his arms. “Du-“

“Satoru.” He insists, lips finding your temple.

“Satoru, are you…sure?” You want to marry him, but he cannot be doing this out of kindness, he cannot be doing this because of his limitless affection.

But Satoru has spent a year pretending he isn’t yours, a year trying to reason that you aren’t his. That someone else, someone better would make you happy, make you smile, make you comfortable. But there is no one who can adore you like him.

“I want to marry you, if you want to marry me.” Unfair, truly unfair how his eyes hold the entire world. His body tenses, he holds himself firm, tall, bracing. You can’t say no, don’t say no, please please please don’t say no.

“You’ll be mine?”

He’s always been yours, “Only if you’re mine.”

“Then,” you turn away from him, “I must make haste, inform Viscount Nanami that we will not be spending the summer in London.”

And Satoru, ever in need of your warmth follows you, “The Viscount has already been informed, as well as the Queen, by extension Prince Suguru, Lady Haibara, Lady Rengoku, Lady Ryomen, the ton…I’ve sent invites everywhere except the Muzan, we hate them.” He waves so carelessly, takes your shocked look to memory before opening the blue box glittering with the rarest jewel, a ring perfectly sized to you.

“Mine?” He asks, slipping the ring onto your finger, holding your face in his hands. “Yours.”

#gojo satoru fic #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #regency!au #april writes #gojo satoru mine #they're idiots in love idk #sfw jjk

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struck-by-the-rain · 3 days

Text

was inspired by a few other ppl on here to drop some of the kind of cringy tropey lore I made up about these 2,,, mostly how they met n stuff and how I personally see emm.... im v normal about them I prommy

maintagging this perhaps but it's under the read more so if u dgaf u can just look at the silly picture

ok sooo

they meet completely by accident because This Space Kicker In Particular (who I'm calling SK) gets a try again in space soccer and crash lands outside the karate family residence. he's fine though, probably because he's subject to cartoon physics or something (might rewrite this bit of the lore bc it's kinda goofy but it's the first thing I thought of).

v predictably they start out playing soccer together, like they take a ball to the park or whatever n just having a kick around. but they move on to hanging out in a non-soccer context pretty quickly. i imagine sk's really curious to see what earth is like (it's probably his first time there), like he's filled w whimsy and joy just to go to the cafe n stuff :) joe is meeting him behind seniors back!

sk isn't joes only friend - hes friends w yuka n the wandering samurai n a few others, but i don't know if he's actually close with them? partially because he's busy training, partially because he's quite a reserved person, n to me at least I think he struggles a lot with self-doubt/feeling inadequate for anyone around him (partially as a result of the way he was raised). not to get Angsty on main but I think he ascribes wayyy too much of his self worth on his training... I think he has a tendency to try and isolate himself from others, both physically and emotionally

sk is the opposite (tropey ik lmao) - he's v outgoing, silly n carefree almost to the point where he gets on people's nerves sometimes (he's cowboy sk's "annoying little brother" to me). I don't think he fully gets/realises exactly why joe is v reserved but I think he manages to grow close w him in spite of that... idk how to word it. but I think he's such a ray of sunshine he's able to break through whatever exterior joe has put up for himself (ik how cheesy that sounds but yeah)

ive made a post about this before but joe is v v v affection starved (because Basement) and does a terrible job at hiding it to the point where he just melts over the smallest things. sk meanwhile is suuuuuper physically affectionate so yeah

I haven't worked out exactly when this happens but I think they just kinda fall for each other over time, it takes a while for both of them to realise its mutual tho....

joe alsooo gets flustered veryyyy easily (source: karate man 2 ds superb screen). sk probs picks up on this right away lmao

im thinking sk is out here dropping the most obvious hints... but joe refuses to believe that sk would see him in that way. idk he probs does the wildest mental gymnastics assuming that sk is just being nice or it's like,,, a social norm up on his planet lmfao.

but yeah he eventually works it out too in the end... probably partially because he begins to learn to be a bit more confident in himself over time. i think they get to a point where they both v much know it's mutual but r too awkward to do anything about it/don't wanna mess up their close friendship/are too worried about the logistics/implications of living on other planets n senior. so they don't like acc Say anything or whatever for a while. but it's obvious n only gets worse over time lmfao. see the pic above the cut

blehhh silly thought but I hc sk to be besties with 6switcher who I think gets fed up of his shittt... like hes just like "Oh My God Please Just Tell Him. Like Please".

in my mind palace they end up going to the battle of the bands (joes a huge fan of the rockers but he's never been able to see them live before). and ummm after the concert they end up sitting outside live house ogu watching the stars together,,,, and u kno,,,, they kith.... woaw,,,,, but yeah I think because botb is the 1 time in game they "meet" (if u can even call it that) I thought it would be cute if it's where they end up getting together as a couple :)

hmmm like inconsequential shit unrelated to the main story but they find remix 9 cat as a stray kitten at some point during all of this n joe takes it in... i think I could do a follow up post about what happens next in the lore after botb because this is already mega long but they eventually end up living together on sk's planet and the cat comes w them :)

oh adding this on acc after I posted it, but I think when joe meets sk it's like,,, the first time in his life where he hasn't felt lonely...

#punch kick toe #this is v tropey and cringe lmao but i had to share #i havent written any of this down before #posts this and runs away #rhythm heaven #i wanted to give like... context for my drawings of em idk #idk this is just how i see them in my mind palace ymmv

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typical-tardis-voyager · 6 months

Text

i NEED to watch the 8th Doctor's movie because HELLO?? HIS TARDIS DESIGN LOOKS SO COZY?!?

AND PAUL MCGANN LOOKS STRAIGHT OUT OF AN AUSTEN NOVEL??

I DONT KNOW THE AESTHETIC THEY WERE TRYING TO CULTIVATE BUT THEY CULTIVATED IT AND I LOVE IT?!?

#PLEASE DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN WATCH IT #(not from the UK so my options are LIMITED)#you know...my dad might atucally have it on our “hashtag-totally-legal” doctor who folder... gonna have to ask tonight #doctor who #classic who #eighth doctor #paul mcgann #dr who

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somedaytakethetime · 1 year

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On this day (4th of March) in 2016: someone was really happy during training 🥺🥰

#i watched last night's match... he only shows up close three times..#the time of the goal and two other times where he's running... so.. 😔#i miss him 🥺#does anyone know time travel? can i be taught too? please? 👉🏻👈🏻#Kasper Schmeichel #king thicccness

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fairuzfan · 7 months

Note

Is there anything I can do to help Palestinians besides call my representatives and beg them to stop killing people?

This is a great question. There are a few things you can do—just off the top of my head:

BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) https://bdsmovement.net/

Direct Action https://www.palestineaction.org/

Urge your University/School/Organization to put out a statement denouncing Israel

Organize a Protest/Participate in a local one

You might already be doing this but while calling your reps, tell them that as a voter, you're unwilling to support them in the upcoming election unless they urge the White House to take a stand against Israel and stop funding them

Share art/writing/films around Palestinian culture

If you're part of a union, ask them what they're doing to urge their industry leaders to take a stand against Israel + pressure the White House OR urge them to start a strike/walkout/etc if they're not doing anything already

Talk with your friends IRL about Palestine, whether in an activist capacity or watching a movie or literally anything

Reach out to a mosque to see if you can help them with anything

See if your city/state council has put out a statement in support of Gazans. If not, try to push them to do so.

Donate to Palestine Legal or Direct Action if you have some money to spare

KEEP TALKING ON SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know some of these don't feel like they have as big of an impact on helping Palestinians, but we do need to make an effort not to forget their humanity in the face of continued erasure and the media's sensationalist rhetoric.

Talking on social media and posting—while not seeming like a lot—does SO much. I know in USAmerica, it's like yelling into a void, but political analysts are saying that most of the "Global South" has completely lost any amount of goodwill it may have had the past few years. Hopefully, countries will start to put sanctions and embargoes en masse on the US and Israel soon.

Our goals here are BOTH short-term and long-term. We hope for the life and liberation of the Palestinian people, so anything that you can think of might help at some point in the future is encouraged to at least try.

If anyone else has any more ideas, feel free to reblog and add on. Thank you for asking, and here is to a liberated Palestine where Palestinians can live and thrive without fear.

#palestine #gaza

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fastandcarlos · 11 days

Text

Family Affair ~ Max Verstappen

Summary: it’s a family affair at the singapore grand prix as the entire verstappen family come to cheer max on

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

ynusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 103,382 others

ynusername: I’ll give you three guesses as to where we’re off to 🏎️

tagged: maxverstappen1

28,492 comments

maxverstappen1: well aren’t I just the luckiest dad/husband in the world 🩷

username1: we love when the verstappens all show up

username2: I can’t deal with how cute you all are

charles_leclerc: yesssssss!! leo can’t wait for all the pup cuddles this weekend

ynusername: nvm the kids, all the cuddles will come from me

danielricciardo: it’s been too long, can’t wait for the fam to reunite

maxverstappen1: @/danielricciardo you do know you’re not actually family…don’t you?

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 can you stop ruining my dreams please and thank you

redbullracing: we’re preparing ourselves for all the chaos 🤯

username3: watch max be exhausted before even getting in the car dealing with the kids and y/n

username4: cannot wait for the verstappen spam all weekend 😍

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 2,291,202 others

maxverstappen1: project verstappen junior is well underway, checkout y/s/n learning the ropes during practice this morning 🏁

72,291 comments

schecoperez: when I’m next in need of a new engineer I’ll be sure to give y/s/n a call!

ynusername: @/schechoperez he would absolutely love to work for uncle checo ❤️

username4: just when we all thought these kids could not get any cuter, max posts this

username5: it’s the baby uniform for me 😅

oscarpiastri: y/s/n already looks like he does a better job than anyone at mclaren

mclaren: @/oscarpiastri we’ll pretend we didn’t hear that

ynusername: I’m never gonna be able to escape f1 am I??

username6: max must be the proudest parent seeing his son so in love with what he does

pierregasly: little guy is looking good in blue max!!

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redbullracing just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, ynusername and 492,971 others

redbullracing: when all the verstappens are wearing blue, it only means one thing 🏆🏁

tagged: maxverstappen1 and ynusername

28,491 comments

maxverstappen1: another big push this weekend team, with my favourite mascots I’m sure p1 has my name all over it

username7: petition for team verstappen to come and cheerlead for me instead

username8: asking for a friend…can your ovaries burst just from a photo?

ynusername: team max! (and @/schechoperez 🎉)

username9: if anyone was wondering where all the good genes went…look no further

username10: pls tell me that is max’s helmet that y/d/n is wearing, it’s drowning her 😭

ynusername: @/username10 don’t worry, it is, she insists on trying it on when max finishes it, the stench is gross

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername excuse me, I always smell a million dollars

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by redbullracing, alex_albon and 3,032,583 others

maxverstappen1: on pole for tomorrow, job done for another day, now to rest up and relax for tomorrow. not sure how possible that will be with the kids, the pink bow was a new low 🥺🩷

68,302 comments

estebanocon: mate the bow should stay…really brings out the colour in your eyes

georgerussell63: sorry max, I’m never going to be able to take you seriously again

ynusername: damn love, y/d/n really has got you wrapped around her little finger 😂

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername what can I say? she really is a daddy’s girl 😊

username11: look at his smile, that’s a true proud dad smile going on there

username12: I swear max you have never looked better 😍

carlossainz55: almost at smooth operator level there max!!

maxverstappen1: @/carlossainz55 from you sir I will take that as a complete

pierregasly: that reminds me, I really must update your photo contact on my phone

fernandoalo_oficial: you lose all street cred the moment you become a dad I’m afraid max

username13: not all the drivers finally taking revenge and getting back at max 😂😂

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ynusername just posted

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 729,492 others

ynusername: the three stages of race week with children. 1) run around with loads of energy. 2) begin to tire but remind yourself how cute your children are when they give you cute notes. 3) completely collapse after the race when you realise your children have tired you out before the lights even went out. sorry bub, but remember we love you dearly 🩷🩷🩷🩷

tagged: maxverstappen1

42,593 comments

maxverstappen1: I’ll be good as new for tomorrow, spending time with you guys will always be my priority. I love you all so much more 🥺❤️

landonorris: I remember the days when max used to write me cute notes like that 😭

danielricciardo: @/landonorris and the days when he used to play tag with me around the paddock too

landonorris: @/danielricciardo he’s abandoned us now for the kids…my heart is broken

yukitsunoda0511: that looks like a man trying to get five minutes peace from his kids on the right 😂

maxverstappen1: @/yukitsunoda0511 guilty as charged

username13: just when I think we possibly couldn’t get anymore cute dad max photos for the weekend, we end up getting more

username14: you just know that max absolutely dotes on his two angels

oscarpiastri: petition for the two of you to adopt me, I want to be part of all this fun too 🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by ynusername, schecoperez and 3,382,503 others

maxverstappen1: singapore p1 🏁🎉 couldn’t have done it without my incredible team cheering me on, having them beside me constantly reminds me of the sacrifices they all make. y/n, y/s/n, y/d/n, you guys are the best. thanks for all the support team, now to soak up all the daddy cuddles before the next one 🔥

tagged: ynusername

194,328 comments

ynusername: words cannot begin to express how proud we are of you!! nights like this simply don’t get better my love 🤩

redbullracing: congratulations on a great week of racing max, enjoy the time with your family now

username15: poor y/d/n looks so exhausted, it must be hard work cheering for daddy

landonorris: are those daddy cuddles just from y/s/n and y/d/n????

maxverstappen1: @/landonorris what exactly are you implying?

landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 🫢🫢🫢🫢

charles_leclerc: congrats on a great week max, an honour to share the podium with you again

lance_stroll: lovely to finally meet all the family my man, enjoy the rest and recovery with your little ones

username16: are we all just going to pretend like we don’t know what lando is hinting at back there?

username17: max screams daddy material…literally 😅

georgerussell63: we couldn’t not let you win this one…we just didn’t wanna upset the kids 😂

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ynusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and 629,402 others

ynusername: husband, father, grand prix winner, is there anything that this man can’t do? we are so proud of you max, every time I think you can’t achieve more, you go and prove me wrong. thank you for the best weekend with our little team ❤️🔥

tagged: maxverstappen1

42,402 comments

carlossainz55: he’s yet to beat me at fifa…that’s something he can’t do 😂

logansargeant: I swear you guys are the ultimate goals, if anyone asks, this is how I want my future to look!!

maxverstappen1: thank you for cheering me on, I hope you guys know that I do all of this for you 🥺

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 ofc we do, and once again you’ve reminded our children that hard work really does pay off

danielricciardo: I remember the days when he used to hug me like that 😭

ynusername: @/danielricciardo MOVE ON AND LET IT GO 😂😂😂

username18: he’s lucky to have someone as amazing as you in his corner y/n

username19: pls tell me this is the last post this weekend, my heart can’t take anymore adorableness 💔

landonorris: go team verstappen!! (I’m secretly rooting for you guys!)

redbullracing: remember y/n you’re always welcome in the paddock, we’ve loved having you, y/d/n and our future world champion y/s/n with us this weekend 😊

——

I hope you enjoyed this little smau, any feedback or requests would be gratefully received 🥺🥺🥺

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 social media #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 smau #formula 1 smau

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hollandsangel · 3 months

Text

move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo drabble #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you

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actual-changeling · 7 months

Text

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta

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hailsatanacab · 7 months

Text

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

#dpxdc #batpham #i forget - can we tag the parent fandoms? w/e #immediately alfred's like: while i do appreciate your initiative may i suggest it wait until after dinner?#and danny - who has barely eaten proper homecooked food ever - takes one bite and then absolutely wolfs down the whole lot #after he's finished he's like 'bear with - I've got to add that to the 'Reasons I Would Like to Live Here' section'#danny's powerpoint has tailored sections for each batfam member with lists of reasons why they'd get along #my au thoughts on this is that the fentons disowned danny when he told them he was phantom #and that this is after the ultimate enemy - wherein which he allied himself with the JL to fight against dan #(which didnt really work at all - BUT he knows some of their identities now INCLUDING batman's)#so one of the main reasons why he'd be a great fit is that he knows their vigilante status anyway so they don’t need to worry about secrets #dick just turns to tim like 'he’s your friend. he learnt this from you.'#tim: 'i didn't tell him our identities!! i would never!!'#dick: 'no i know that. it's the stalker tendancies. it's baby tim all over again'#tim: scandalised gasp #they all eat dinner in silence just super subdued and in shock and sending glances to bruce and danny #duke like: 'so i know I'm the last one in the family but like... this isn't how it normally happens right? did any of you make powerpoints?#tim gets all shifty because he absolutely did make a powerpoint he just never actually showed it to anyone #everyone stares at tim because they all know. it was in one of bab's blackmail files she has on him #damian's slide has danny offering to throw down at any time. 'tim says you like to prove yourself with your skills?#how about a real challenge? if i beat you then you have to vote yes to adopting me!'#damian is in two minds about accepting because... 1) look at him damian could take danny in his sleep! but #2) on the off chance that he does win... damian does not want any more brothers #(he takes the bet and its a suprisingly fun fight - and while he'll never say this... he would vote yes even without the wager)#on one of danny's slides there's a picture of ellie: you'll also get my clone sister! two children for the price of one!!#uhhh.... thats it now - I've been having fun with this haha #spent all day with the 'ive lured you here under false pretences' 'danny i live here' line in my head haha #anyway enjoy!!!!!! this was fun #i wanna make these slides so bad

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rafecameroninterlude · 1 month

Note

cockwarming stebro!rafe but he can’t take it anymore and ends up pounding you from behind💗

warnings: stepcest, cockwarming, unprotected sex

rafe’s days of feeling guilty for wanting to fuck his bratty little step sister was long gone the second you stepped into his room wearing the skimpiest night gown he’d ever seen. “why are you still awake?” rafe got up, poking his head out the door to see if anyone might’ve seen you before locking it behind him. “can’t sleep..” you trailed off, doe eyes glancing up at him through your lashes. he studied you for a moment. “and what am i supposed to do about that?” he crossed his arms over his chest, the sight of his muscles making you swallow nervously. “can i sleep with you?” you leaned back, fully aware that your step brother could see your nipples through the sheerness of your top.

rafe glanced down, all his blood rushing to his cock. as if he needed another reason to let you be in the same bed as him, he watched as you crawled under the sheets, giving him a full view of your bare ass. he knew you knew what you were doing, but where’s the fun in not playing along? see just how far you’re willing to take it. “that’s some night gown you got on there.” he walked around to his side of the bed, turning the lamp off before getting under the covers. you smiled to yourself, your fingers fiddling with the small bow that was stitched at the hem. “yeah? you like it?” you turned your back to him, biting your lip as you felt the warmth of his body against your skin.

“yeah, it’s real pretty..” he pulled you against him, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt his erection resting on the curve of your ass. “you feel what you do to me?” he ran a hand down your side, lifting your thigh as he took himself out of his boxers. “rafe,” you whispered breathlessly. “don’t act coy. what else could you want when you walk in here with no panties on, huh?” he teased, “i’m gonna give you what you’re asking for.” you whimpered when you felt the head of his cock run across your clit. “please, ‘want you inside me so bad.” rafe shushed you as he entered you slowly, a groan falling from his lips as your hand found solace on his.

“don’t think i forgot about you mouthing off to me earlier today in front of my friends.” he used his other hand to wrap around your throat. “i don’t like bratty little bitches, you know that? i should punish you for that shit.” his words had you squeezing around him, desperate for any kind of friction you could get. “so do it.” he laughed bitterly, nodding his head before whispering in your ear. “that mouth is gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” rafe turned you over, the lack of movement making you groan in frustration . “i see the way you look at me, rafe. you’re punishing yourself too by not moving.” he hated that you were right. it was taking everything in him not to fuck you with your ass in the air.

you kept moving your hips, suddenly stopping when you felt his hand snake under your tummy, his fingers rubbing your clit. he stayed still as you clenched around him, the wet sound of your slick filling the empty air in his room. “please move.” you cried into his pillow. rafe looked down, regretting it almost immediately when he saw how desperate you looked back at him. “are you gonna learn something from this?” his restraint was dwindling down with every nod of your head. “yes! i promise i’ll be good from now on, ‘just want to be fucked rafe.” he cursed, holding onto you from the curve of your waist as he started thrusting into you.

the pressure in your stomach was building fast and it was becoming harder to stay quiet with each stroke of his cock against your velvety walls. with your hips meeting his, and the pretty little sounds coming from your mouth, rafe’s head rolled back as he struggled to keep his eyes open. rafe’s digits moved faster over your clit, his hand pushing your head into the sheets as you came with a cry of his name. he watched you tremble and shake, his thrusts turning sloppy as he pulled out, painting your cunt with his seed. “shit,” he groaned, still gripping his base as he continued to tease your entrance. “why didn’t you finish inside me?” you pouted. “we’ll save that for next time.”

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emmyrosee · 3 months

Note

hiya emmyy

i’m in love with your soft bf!sukuna pieces they’re just, melting me into a puddle of simp- so.. i saw your post abt angst so what would you think abt sukuna and y/n arguing, and making up after that? i dunno why but i’m just picturing him texting you to eat your meals and drink water and take your meds, even tho he acts like he doesn’t care at all 🫣 (did i js want that in bf? yes )

thank you so much for providing a lots of pieces for simps like me (who pretty much simp over anyone they can) and i might show up in your notifications bombarding your posts with likes but i hope you don’t mind ;)

hope you’re having a good day (and get good rest, water, food (and meds if you take them!)) <3

-sky :)

SUKUNA ANGST BUT HIM BEING DOTING MY BELOVED 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

When you banish him to the couch for the night, he merely scoffs and grabs his pillow to make his way for it, but he hears your soft cries and his heart breaks just enough to make whatever you were fighting about seem beyond unimportant.

He takes his phone out to scroll on through it, trying to distract himself from the situation, too stubborn to fully cave into the guilt. But then he sees the time, and he sends you a text.

SENT don’t forget to take your medicine.

I think there’s a bottle of gatorade in the fridge. Drink that and have one of my protein shakes, since we didn’t eat tonight

dummy 🙄 why do you care?

SENT because I still fucking love you?? Duh??

Fights aren’t going to change that fact, idiot

He clicks his phone off and lays an arm over his eyes to block out the automatic lamp and the moonlight that creeps in from the curtains and into the big living room, and he tries not to look as you come stalking back out of the bedroom and approach him.

“You remembered that I have to take my meds,” you swallow thickly.

He scoffs, “and?”

He hears you shuffle awkwardly, “we’ve just… been fighting so long, I thought you would’ve forgotten, too- because I did.”

Now, he finally peeks at you from his arm, “I’m never going to forget something that important. You know that.”

He watches as you timidly, raise a hand to lay on his thigh, thumb stroking the muscle lovingly, “I’m sorry I banished you to the couch.” You look down in shame, “I never want us to go to bed separate… I don’t want to be the couple that does this, who needs to do this.”

“I didn’t do this,” he grumbles.

“I know; but I only did it because I was hurt, Sukuna. Please understand where I was coming from.”

This makes his heart jerk and tighten, his arm finally coming down to look at you fully, and with a click of his tongue, he reaches down to lace his hand with yours, and he sighs, “I know I’m not the easiest guy to work shit out with, so I get it.”

You sniffle, “Will you… maybe… come back to bed? With me?”

He ponders his options for a minute. He could go back to bed, condition you into thinking that it was okay and you’ll always pull this crap on him. But you look so sad, so heartbroken and wearing your heart on your sleeve-

And hey. Maybe he likes watching you grovel a little bit.

He clicks his tongue and makes a move to get you off his legs, and you smile excitedly. “Alright,” he gruffs. “Pull this shit again though, and I’m sleeping on the porch swing at ma’s.”

You nod your head, and as he sits up, he plants a kiss to your knuckles, squeezing your hand lovingly.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, Kuna.”

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starkwlkr · 4 months

Text

bitch, i’m a mother! | f1

female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) i like that almost every story i read about a female driver her team ends up being porsche and I’m not mad about it :) so for this fic, the reader is driving for porsche lol also I’m just making up names for the engineers and team principal. also because I’m in love with charlie hunnam, my man is gonna make an appearance

part 1 part 3

Y/N BEING THE MOTHER OF EVERY DRIVER IN THE PADDOCK

“Y/n is so great, you’re going to love her. She’s the best.” Oscar listened to his new teammate as they walked into the Porsche hospitality. The rookie immediately felt out of place with him being the only one in papaya colors while Lando was in casual clothes.

“Hey, Lando!”

“Lando! How’s it going?”

“Norris, hey!”

Lando greeted most of the Porsche team with a smile while Oscar nodded at them. “I hang out here sometime if you couldn’t tell.” Lando joked.

“So if I can’t find you in Mclaren . . ”

“There’s a big chance I might be here.”

Oscar nodded once again. “Noted. Where’s Y/n?”

As if on cue, Y/n walked into the Porsche hospitality with her team principal by her side. Once she spotted Lando, she called out his name. As the Brit approached the driver and team principal, he gave her a big hug. It was the start of the 2023 season and they hadn’t seen each in a while, of course he was going to give her a hug.

“I’ll see you around, Y/n. Nice to see you, Lando, and you must be mclaren’s rookie. Welcome to F1, I’m Adam.” The Porsche team principal greeted Oscar.

“Thank you—” before Oscar could continue, Y/n cut him off.

“I’ve heard so many great things about you! And you’re an Aussie too! What is it with Mclaren and Aussies? Whatever, I’m glad you’re here, Oscar. I hope you enjoy yourself. Have you eaten yet? I was just in my way to get breakfast. Let me tell you a secret, the Porsche hospitality has the best food in the paddock.” Oscar instantly felt at home with the female driver. She had a comforting presence that Oscar immediately took notice of.

“Told you she’s the best. Just wait until it’s your birthday. She bakes you a cake.” Lando told Oscar.

The entire grid was together for their drivers briefing early in the morning. After going over every detail of the upcoming Grand Prix, the race director decided to let the drivers voice their concerns.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

Y/n raised her hand. “I wanna know who banned the pit wall celebration.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yeah, I’d like to know as well.” Lewis added.

“We can discuss pit wall celebrations at a later time. Excuse me, I am needed somewhere else.” The race director excused himself.

“Don’t worry, I don’t care about being banned. I’ll be there like a proud mom taking millions of pictures of you when you win.” Y/n whispered to Lewis as she layed her head on his shoulder.

“And I’ll be doing the same when you win.” Lewis replied.

“What about when I win? I also want millions of pictures taken of me and the exact same chocolate cake you baked for me for my birthday a year ago. Extra sprinkles please.” Lando smiled innocently.

“Fine, win first then I’ll bake. Shouldn’t be that hard unless you got a tractor for a car.” Y/n teased. “I love you, Lando. Of course I’ll take millions of pictures of you when you win.”

It was a perfect day to race in Silverstone. Like always, Lando had his family in attendance. He was in the mclaren garage when he spotted Y/n on one of the tvs being interviewed by Lissie.

“Hey, that’s my grid mum!” He told his engineer as if his engineer didn’t already know. His smile quickly faded when a blonde man appeared behind Y/n in sunglasses. Lando then watched as the man’s name appeared on the tv.

Charlie Hunnam, actor.

Who was he and why was he with his grid mom?

“Hey, that’s the dude from Sons of Anarchy! My wife watches that series.” Lando heared someone say. He continued to watch the screen as Lissie asked Charlie a question about Y/n.

“She’s incredible, absolutely amazing. I’m happy I finally get to see her talent in person.” Charlie replied, smiling at Y/n which made her blush.

“He’s British . . ” he mumbled.

After Lissie thanked Y/n and Charlie for the interview, the camera kept rolling on them as they walked away. That’s when Lando saw Charlie hold Y/n’s hand then pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“She’s dating a British man and she didn’t tell me?!”

Lando immediately walked out the garage and straight to the Porsche garage. He had a strong feeling Y/n would be showing her new lover around so he started there. He soon spotted the couple talking with the Porsche team principal, Adam.

“Oh, hey Lando! I was about to look for you. I want you to meet Charlie.” Y/n excused herself from Adam and introduced Charlie to her grid son.

“It’s very nice to meet you, mate. Y/n had told me a lot about you.” Charlie smiled.

“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing about you. Nada, zero, not a single thing, zilch.” Lando then turned his attention to Y/n. “I think we need to talk.”

“Okay . . ” Y/n said confused as she turned to Charlie to tell him she would be right back. Lando took her hand and dragged her to a corner away from Charlie. “Lando! What’s wrong? Are you nervous about today?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

Oh.

“You always tell me everything and now I kinda feel betrayed. Especially when i also found out he’s British!” Lando said dramatically.

“Lando, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just sorta happened. We met a few months ago and he’s made me the happiest ever since. I wanted to introduce you properly today.” Y/n explained.

“He makes you happy? Like genuinely happy? Because if he doesn’t I will run him over repeatedly.” Lando warned.

Y/n laughed and brought Lando in for a hug. “I know you would, but there’s no need for that. I think he’s the one.”

“Before you leave, there’s actually one more gift for you and you don’t have to guess who it’s from.”

Logan was confused, but happily accepted the gift. It was the annual F1 secret santa and he had just finished unwrapping his present. A gift wrapped perfectly with a blue bow was placed in front of him. The tag read ‘From Y/n’ in neat handwriting.

“Thank you, Y/n! I don’t even want to open it, it’s wrapped so good.” Logan chuckled.

Every year, anyone who got a nicely wrapped gift knew it was from Y/n. And any year that someone new entered the season, Y/n would give them a gift during secret santa. She did it for Lando, George, Alex, Charles, Yuki and Guanyu when they were rookies and now she was doing it for Logan and Oscar. She had even sent Nyck a present as well, she wished he was in the paddock doing secret santa as well though.

“Okay, I’ll open it, I’m too curious.” Logan finally unwrapped the present and saw it was a Miami Heat jersey singed by LeBron James. Logan almost freaked out when he saw the signature.

“Holy shit! Wait sorry, I can’t curse, but holy shit!” He took the jersey out of the box and admired it. “This is incredible.”

“You love it?” He heard the familiar comforting voice of Y/n from behind him. “I hope it’s the right size.” She joined Logan in front of the camera.

“It is, don’t worry,” he chuckled as he gave her a hug. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

“I think you just adopted another son.” The camera man told her.

“I love all my grid sons equally.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 driver!reader #f1 one shot #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #platonic #f1 x female reader

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countcvnt · 3 months

Text

Experiment

Chapter One: Scrambled

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3

Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.

“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.

“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”

‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.

You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.

A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.

“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.

He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.

Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.

You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.

“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”

“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”

Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.

“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”

That stings. “Who?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”

You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.

The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.

You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.

So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.

Anger.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.

A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”

He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.

“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.

You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.

You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.

“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.

“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”

You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.

“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.

“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.

“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”

You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.

“Why?” You point at it.

“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”

Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”

With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.

“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”

Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”

“No.” Price shakes his head.

“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”

“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”

“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.

“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”

“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”

“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”

They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”

“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.

“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”

“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.

Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.

“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.

Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”

As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.

“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.

“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.

Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.

Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.

“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”

Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.

“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”

“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.

So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?

“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”

“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”

You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”

The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-

Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.

The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”

“What?” Soap is the first to question you.

“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.

“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”

Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.

“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.

You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.

“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”

You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.

“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”

Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”

You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.

Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.

You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”

“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”

“She what…?” Soap tenses.

Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”

“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”

“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”

“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”

It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”

“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”

Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.

“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

#ghost x reader #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #cod x reader #cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #captain john price #x reader

1K notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 4 days

Text

HIS OWN MEDICINE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Your best friend, Pansy Parkinson, suggests fixing your boyfriend’s flirting problem by giving him a taste of his own medicine.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in v) Unprotected, spanking, top!theo, bottom!reader, fem!reader, mean dom, innocent reader?, degradation, name-calling, weird authoritative thing going on with Theo (idk), one (1) use of ‘daddy,’ mild breeding kink, flirting while in relationship, jealousy, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

nobody - Toby Mai

- - -

“I don’t want to hear another fucking excuse, Theo!” you screamed, rage flushing your cheeks. It took everything in you not to strangle him right now.

After the third time catching him flirting with another girl, you were ready to walk again. You weren’t even sure how many times you’d broken up with him, and how many times he’d broken up with you.

But you were about to add another time.

“Please, baby, you know it’s not what you think,” he begged, trying to grab your hands. “She’s just a friend—we were just chatting.”

“Usually, you can chat with people without your hands wrapped around them! You seemed pretty fucking cozy with her!”

“Baby, come on…,” he cooed, trying to press some kisses to your fingers. Angry, you yanked your hand out of his grasp and tore out of the room. You heard the door slam behind you and ignored the gasps of shock as you shoved through a group of students moving in a unit down the hallway.

You could hardly stand that stupid man right now. If you saw his face again within the next 48 hours, you would punch him.

As you flew down the steps of the Slytherin dormitories and toward the mostly empty common room, you nearly knocked a petite woman over.

The two of you crashed into each other and grunted on impact.

“Watch where you’re going—Merlin! What are you doing down here, honey? Are you crying?”

It was Pansy, one of your best friends in the entire world. Though the tears had been pooling in your eyes since you stormed out of Theo’s dorm, her question had pushed you over the edge. An angry sob left your lips.

“Oh no! What happened?” she cried, wrapping you up in her small frame. Shamelessly, you wept into the folds of her robes. She smelled comforting, like home and daisies. You could hardly hold back the tears that poured down your cheeks.

“It’s Theo!” you gasped. “I broke up with him again!”

“Oh…again?” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “What did he do this time?”

“He was rubbing up on that stupid Gryffindor girl from last time—laughing and going on! I hate him! I never want to see him again!”

“Why do you let this keep happening?” she asked nonchalantly, patting your head soothingly.

“Me?” you scoffed. “He’s flirting with other girls!”

“Okay, but…you also keep getting back together with him,” she shrugged.

You pulled away from her and glared a bit. You knew your decision-making on the love aspect of things had never been terrific, but you couldn’t help it. Theo was so good to you (besides the flirting thing).

You had tried to rationalize it repeatedly, telling yourself he was just a friendly guy, but he never acted that way to other guys—only girls. And you’d realized your rationalization was stupid. And that he was just flirting.

“Listen,” she started again. “I get it more than anyone else. Theo’s very hard to resist—I’m just saying he’s attractive!” She quickly rushed to defend her words because, after all, though you and Theo were “broken up” right now, you’d likely be back together before the end of the week. That’s how pathetic you were.

“If you don’t want to break up with him, how about you talk about it with him,” she suggested. “You need to sit him down, get stern with him, and tell him that he’s not going to talk to these girls the way he is anymore.”

“I’ve tried that already, Pans! I practically scream in his face every time he does this shit!”

There was a moment of silence while the both of you seemed to mull the issue over.

“Well, then, how about we try something else?” Pansy said, her eyes glinting mysteriously. Your shuddering breaths paused for a moment as you looked up at her. Whatever she was planning couldn’t be good just by the look on her face.

“Er, what do you mean?” you asked, a bit of anxiety creeping up the back of your neck.

“If you can’t get him to stop in your own way…maybe it’s time to give him a taste of his own medicine.” She smirked wildly, her eyebrows rising above her bangs.

“You don’t mean—? Oh, no! No, Pansy! I’m not doing that. I can’t do that when I’ve shouted at him for doing it for so long!”

“Exactly,” she said. “You’ve asked him to stop repeatedly, but he’s not interested in discussion. He needs a threat.”

Despite the growing burning in the pit of your stomach urging you to accept her suggestion, you still felt horrible even considering it. Theo had never cheated on you; you just felt as though he was too friendly with other girls. But maybe Pansy was right. Maybe he wouldn’t understand how frustrating it was until he experienced it himself. It wasn’t like you were going to actually cheat on him. Maybe you could just talk to one of his friends and pretend to flirt. Just a little bit.

With the end of your free period growing closer, you decided you would make Theo jealous at dinner. You just had to decide who you would select to help with your antics.

***

Your eyes surveyed the Great Hall, flashing back and forth across the immense tables. Familiar faces glanced back at you in passing, their eyes aimlessly wandering as well. You couldn’t help but smirk just a bit, knowing your plans. Poor Theo had no idea what he was in for.

After weighing your options for a few minutes, you finally decided that if you really wanted to get to Theo, you needed to hit close to home—too close to home.

Your eyes locked on a familiar face you had often stared at, even before you got together with Theo. Mattheo Riddle.

A dark, brooding masterpiece of a boy. Truly, someone you’d be fawning over if you weren’t currently with Theo. But, saying that sounded like a broken record, considering how many girls and boys begged Mattheo for a second glance. You watched him closely, observing for a few moments.

His dark was clenched just a bit as he ran long fingers through his raven curls. It was entirely too much for you to watch…just looking at him had a bit of heat pooling in your stomach.

You couldn’t lie. In the few moments you’d forgotten about Theo and planned to make him jealous, the rose-colored glasses had come off, and the dark green ones had slipped over your eyes. Your chest was pounding, and it wasn’t for Theo at this very moment.

A prick of courage coursed through your veins and with a deep breath, you were moving quickly toward your target.

Enzo, Theo, and Mattheo sat at the edge of the Slytherin table closest to the Great Hall’s entrance. They gathered around each other, snacking and laughing. Mattheo sat on the table with his feet settled on the bench, Enzo sat just next to his legs on the bench, and Theo sat opposite Enzo. Maybe it was cheesy, but even Mattheo’s small rebellion of sitting on the table rather than the bench was calling your name. To not sound like every Gryffindor currently drooling over Mattheo, he really did have the perfect bad-boy vibe. He was like a sexy Muggle film.

Mattheo’s legs were spread with his elbows settled on his thighs—a dominating posture. His robe was settled over the edge of the table, and his tie was loosened, exposing a sliver of bronze chest and a singular chain dangling beneath the collar of his shirt. Merlin, this was sinful.

Theo caught your eyes and smiled brightly. He waved you over. That particular movement snagged the attention of Mattheo and Enzo—both of whom found your eyes and smiled in return. Maybe you were over-confident, but you could have sworn Mattheo had looked you slowly up and down as you approached.

Granted, you had changed up your outfit before coming to dinner. It was simple, but you were sure it’d get the job done with how it framed your figure and dipped down your chest. Your hair was styled, and Pansy had granted you her talent for makeup. You felt gorgeous, so you assumed you looked it.

Your wand was slid into the small decorative belt that came with the dress, and your hands were tightened behind your back in a sort of mock innocence. You smiled brightly, eyes only on Mattheo.

Completely ignoring Theo, you walked straight up to the two boys sitting before him. The both of them were looking you up and down now.

“Hey, Matty,” you giggled, stopping just before him. Smirking, he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you between his legs, your hips bumping against his core.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “You’re awfully bubbly this afternoon.” His voice vibrated against your ear, sending a violent chill down your back. You tried not to let your facade fall, but damn, he was good. You couldn’t tell if he was just playing along, seriously into it, or reading your mind. Who knew? Legilimency ran in his family.

“Baby?” Theo asked gently. You could just barely hear his voice past Mattheo’s warm body. “Matty?”

His poor, confused voice made your heart sink a little bit. You immediately felt bad. But this was for his own good. He was feeling what you felt every time he pulled this shit with other girls.

“I can’t help it,” you smiled. “I was excited to see you.”

“What the fuck? What did he do to get all the attention?” Enzo joked, smiling crookedly.

“Aw, but I was excited to see you too, sweetheart,” you cooed, leaning over Mattheo’s thigh to gently touch a finger to his chin.

“I think someone’s had a bit to drink,” Theo said sternly. You finally made eye contact with him. He was fuming. You swallowed nervously but ignored his threatening gaze. You were doing this for a reason.

“I’m completely sober, Theo,” you said blankly.

“You wanna go somewhere, mama,” Mattheo whispered against your cheek, his lips brushing your jawline. His arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, his grip domineering and his scent overwhelming. Why did you want to say yes? Were you a bad person? You weren’t sure. This was a bad idea.

You giggled to avoid answering his question. Enzo’s eyebrow quirked at you before giving a glance to Theo.

“Well, I didn’t want to have to be the one to say this. But, personally, I feel that we are all close enough now to discuss these things.” Enzo nodded his head. “Have we truly ever considered the possibility of a foursome?”

Theo choked on his drink, Mattheo pretended to gag, and you gasped sharply.

“I’m just saying…it’s a valid question.”

“Enzo, shut up. Now.” Theo gripped his cup tightly, his knuckles bleeding white across his skin.

“Mattheo, take your fucking hands off of my girlfriend,” he said, turning to the man above you. “We need to fucking talk.”

His eyes never left yours as he pulled himself away from the table and walked toward the door. He didn’t even need to look back to know that you were trailing behind him with a half-defeated look on your face.

You were a bit frightened of the consequences of your actions, but you were certain that once you explained yourself, he’d be more understanding. You hoped.

Once the two of you were just past the doors of the Great Hall, Theo grasped your hand roughly, and, after being forced through a sickeningly tight tube with a loud suctioning sound, you were standing in Theo’s dormitory. You were a bit dizzy from Disapparating after not doing it for so long, but no amount of churning in your stomach could distract from the raging boy storming straight for you.

“What the fuck was that?” Theo shouted, forcing himself up against you. The pressure of his chest pushed you back up against the footboard’s bedpost. As the wood dug into your back, a gasp left your lips.

The way he looked down at you, fuming and jaw clenching, had you flushed ever so slightly. You didn’t know what it was, but his anger wasn’t pleasuring you as you thought.

An hour ago, you’d have assumed that you would feel amazing because of revenge. Not … something else.

“I was just…,” you trailed off, his eyes drilling holes through yours. Your hands wrapped around the bedpost behind you as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

His jaw ticked.

“You what?”

“I’m sorry,” you flinched at the volume of his words. “You’re always so friendly and touchy with all of your girl friends—I just wanted to make you feel the same way.”

“Feel what way?” he demanded.

“Jealous,” you whispered, embarrassed. Your eyes tore away from him and cast to the floor. Despite the confidence you’d had a few hours ago, you felt like the smallest woman in the world now.

“Jealous? You’re so pathetic,” he whispered, his voice suddenly soft and chiding. The word made a heat pool between your legs. Your lips parted in a silent gasp. You refused to look at him.

“Instead of just working through our argument earlier like adults, you thought it’d be a good idea to throw yourself on my friends to get a reaction out of me?”

“Well, when you say it like that—”

“Was it Pansy?”

“What?”

He sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration. “Did Pansy Parkinson put this stupid idea into your head?”

You looked down. You were too embarrassed to answer, but he knew. He scoffed and placed a surprisingly gentle finger beneath your chin. He tilted you up to look at him. His eyes were softer now.

“I know that Pansy is a bad influence on you, but you still have to be taught a lesson,” he murmured, his eyes ranging from soft and caring to lustful and mean.

“But, I–”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, voice stern as steel. “Don’t talk anymore, okay?”

Your lips snapped shut and, falling into an embarrassingly well-rehearsed routine, you nodded and forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. However, he had no issue doing so. His crystalline eyes never left your face except for one agonizing second when he dragged them down the length of your body.

You then forgot all of your previous endeavors and realized that Theo was going to have his way with you. He wasn’t more understanding, nor had you gotten your revenge. But none of that mattered right now. The heat pooling between your thighs had blurred all possible thoughts that might pass across your mind. The only thing you could see, smell, taste, hear, feel was Theo, Theo, Theo. You sucked in a shaky breath.

His fingers slid around your upper arms, pulling you closer to him. The way he touched you was gentle and slow—a precursor for the aggression that was to come.

“Turn around and bend over,” he whispered. His voice was nothing less than demanding. You couldn’t help but comply as if everything depended on your ability to follow his directions. Which, at this moment, it felt that way.

You turned and laid your torso across the length of his bed, tucking your arms beneath your chest. Your cheek lay against the satin comforter as your breath exited your body in short, shuddering pants.

“You deserve this,” he murmured. “You know you do.” His hands—so gentle—pushed themselves beneath the hem of your skirt. Your eyes clenched shut as your corse pulsated in time with your rapid heartbeat.

The tips of his fingers caressed the curvature of your bare hips. With your intent to seduce, you’d figured you better dress the part as well as act it. For exactly that reason, you’d worn no bottoms beneath the tight dress. You could hear Theo inhale deeply as a single thumb slid over wettened, hot folds. You gasped sharply at the sensation.

“You wanted this,” he growled. Honestly, you hadn’t considered this as one of the outcomes of your little venture, but you wouldn’t deny what you currently wanted. With a whimper, you nodded your head and pushed your hips back against him.

A small grunt left his lips as your ass came into contact with his core, already engorged and pulsing, just as you were. You concealed a smirk. Perhaps it was the false persona you had put on this evening, but your confidence shone through the room like a lightbulb.

“Very well,” he sighed. “You’ll get exactly what you wanted, you pathetic slut. The only way you can get what you want is to show your ass in front of all my friends, huh? You couldn’t just fucking ask?” With each rhetorical question, he tore another piece of clothing from himself. His anger radiated off of him.

“My advice, love?” He rolled the fabric of your dress over your ass, allowing the cool air to bite at your core. “Next time…just fucking ask me to ruin this perfect cunt.” He pushed into you with a relieved groan.

The lack of any preparation had you biting into his comforter. Perhaps no foreplay was your punishment, but he felt too good for you to complain about it.

His hands gripped your hips like a vice as he pulled you back onto him at a sickening pace. He hit every spot inside of you with a bruising force, so hard that your face slid back and forth across his slick comforter. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep a hold on the surface. Theo’s rage-filled thrusts knocked you loose from any grip you gained on his sheets like it was nothing.

“If you ever pull something like that again, I swear to Merlin, I’ll beat the fuck out of any man who touches you,” he breathed through ragged thrusts. “I don’t care if it’s Mattheo or Enzo or some random guy—I’ll fucking kill him.”

His words pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Shamelessly, you moaned his name as if it were the last thing you’d ever say. He looked like a god behind you with his hair stuck to his forehead and his lips parted, his sweat circled the air, his name tasted perfect in your mouth, his moans were glorious, and he felt perfect inside you. Again, Theo was all you could see, smell, taste, hear, and feel.

“Yeah, baby? Does that feel good?” he whispered to you, taunting you endlessly. “Who fucks you like this, huh?”

“You,” you whined, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I couldn’t hear you, baby. It sounded like you said Enzo. Was that right?” he cruelly teased you. His hand came down hard across the brunt of your ass cheek. “That’s what you fucking get. Now, who fucks you like this?”

“You!” you tried again, desperate to feel your release.

“Mattheo? Oh, you’re really trying me today!” he shouted, bringing his hand down against you again. You yelped beneath the bite of his hand. You could practically already see the handprint forming across your skin.

Theo suddenly grabbed your hair roughly and pulled you against his body. Your back was pressed to his front, and his cock was hitting a devastating angle inside of you.

“Who fucks you like this, bitch?”

“You, Theo! Fuck, nobody makes me feel like this! Theo, Theo, Theo…,” your voice trailed off pathetically as he pounded into you with a force like no other. You wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

One of his hands was wrapped around your stomach while the other remained tightly curled in your hair as he fucked up into you relentlessly. The coil in your stomach that only seemed to build when Theo handled you the way he did began to wind up in your stomach. Each thrust from the man behind you had it curling tighter and tighter, threatening to combust at any moment.

“Fuck, Theo, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, baby? You’re gonna cum for me? Cum for me, baby…cum on my cock, sweetheart. Let me fill you up, darling. Please, baby, let me cum inside you. Make me a daddy, baby.”

And with those words, you were cumming against him harder than you ever had before. Honey spilled from you and coated his lower stomach and your thighs. The tension from your entire body locking up had Theo’s legs beginning to shake. Whispers of strained “fuck, fuck, fuck”s resonated throughout the room as Theo fucked himself through his orgasm. Just before you could protest at the overstimulation, he came into you, filling you up just as he had promised.

The feeling of every inch of his arousal overflowing from your core nearly made you needy all over again. You might've asked him for a round two if not for the overwhelming exhaustion that had just flooded your body.

Between the rapid pace he’d set and the abuse you’d taken from behind, the two of you were laid out. Both of you collapsed against his bed, chests rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat dripping, eyes fluttering closed. You were sure you’d pass away if you attempted to move, so you laid completely still.

“How was that?” Theo asked, chuckling breathlessly. You refrained from rolling your eyes at his awkwardly-timed question.

“It was really good, you dummy,” you laughed, wiping a bit of sweat from your hairline.

“Good,” he whispered, rolling over to face you. “Because if you ever pull anything like that again, I’ll kill the man who touched you then I’ll fuck you in front of him.”

Merlin.

- - -

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