#SOMEBODY PLEASE LOVE AND SUPPORT HIM!!!!!

[biblionerd07]

It makes me absolutely ACHE when Jesse’s so excited for Walt when Walt says he’s in remission. Jesse was CHECKING THE OBITUARIES for Walt. And Jesse knows how amazing both the 80% tumor reduction and remission are from his experience with his aunt and he’s SO HAPPY for Walt and I just

#his heart is so big and he just wants to love somebody!!!!!! #brba #jesse pinkman #the sweetest little bean #baby boy #my sweet meth prince #SOMEBODY PLEASE LOVE AND SUPPORT HIM!!!!!

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

~  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks. 

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

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

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

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #vampire gojo #vampire #tw: loss of virginity #tw: yandere #jujustu kaisen #gojo x you #bree's fics!

[luvring]

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENTS

gn!reader | timeskip kenma, hinata, sakusa, suna

KENMA’s chat has never moved faster than now as you sit together and watch edits that fans have made of him, and the two of you. you jokingly coo and hug him when you find an edit about “how he looks at you.” “ken! oh my god, you’re so—” “shut up, scroll away already.” “no, i’m sending this to myself, stop—give me the phone!” kenma turns away, forcing you to wrap yourself around him in a desperate attempt to grab the phone while it’s still on the video. the both of you are laughing when you yell, “chat, chat, somebody send that edit to me!” “chat, don’t listen to them. we aren’t even dating. this relationship was fake the whole time.” “shut the fuck up, kenma.” you say in mock annoyance—a grin still on your face—and hit his arm. he snickers as you stop to rest your head on his shoulder and frown. "please?" a beat passes before he huffs. “fine. i’ll send it to you after.” it was an inevitable outcome, but you still cheer and turn back to the stream to see everyone’s reaction, not catching the loving gaze he has on his face watching you again.

HINATA, despite his usual energy, finds his eyes drooping as he watches the live chat scroll past him. it was late, and he decided to talk to fans before going to bed—about upcoming games, a new restaurant he visited that he thinks might become a favourite, how he’s been looking for new shoes. it’s been maybe an hour when his responses are filled with more hums than sentences, and he decides to rest his head. by the time you find him, he’s been asleep for 10 minutes. “hi guys, i’m gonna end the live and get this guy to bed now,” you whisper with an amused smile. shoyo shuffles at the sound of your voice, and his comes out muffled against the pillow. “babe?” “sorry, sho, did i wake you?” “mm, ‘s okay. are you coming t’bed soon?” “yeah, just ending your live.” “...oh. goodnight everybody,” he murmurs and raises his fingers in what’s supposed to be a wave. his fans watch as he reaches for you, eyes still closed, and make sure to take screenshots of the sleepy, lovesick smile on his face after you kiss his forehead before the live ends.

SAKUSA’s always been teased about how little he posts on his social media outside of things related to his career. it’s not a shock that your relationship isn’t something he posts casually. after an interviewer jokes about how fans might think he’s single, or that you’ve broken up by this point, kiyoomi decides to make a photo dump encompassing the last few months with you. it has a photo of you tucked in bed and sleeping the first night at the new apartment, a video of you singing where he can be heard softly laughing in the background, a photo of you smiling at the birthday gifts and dinner you enjoyed together, a blurry selfie with the two of you kissing, and one where kiyoomi, known for his stoic face and attitude, is a little tipsy and smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck from behind. fans pour out words of support and excitement below his caption of “i love you. happy anniversary, and thank you for letting me be yours.”

SUNA and you are chatting with some fans when one asks if you’ve been watching anything lately. you both say the name of the drama you’re watching together without hesitation, the most recent episode still on your mind. “the way he like, turned her to face him and they were so close before finally kissing—” you cut yourself off with a grin, flustered at the thought as everyone excitedly agrees. “has suna ever done something like that?” someone asks. rintarou turns to you the same time you look at him, cocking his head to the side with a teasing smile. “yeah, have i ever done anything like that?” “no,” you lie, staring right at him. his fans team up, “ooooh”’s thrown his way. you’re not sure what anyone was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to take it as a challenge and step closer. the crowd is suddenly quiet as he leans in, eyes flickering from looking into yours down to your lips. “are you sure?” he murmurs. your breath hitches as he moves in even closer, lips barely an inch from yours. before you realize it, your eyes are fluttering closed as his hand comes to cup your face and lips meet yours. it’s barely a few days later until a video of you kissing goes viral, and rintarou is saving it to his gallery.

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist

#haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #hinata x reader #sakusa x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu fluff #x reader

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy part 3 | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!charles leclerc ; mean!dom!max verstappen ; dom!daniel ricciardo x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: blowjob, mention of gagging, hair pulling, pussy eating, dacryphilia, brief mention of spanking, brief mention of face slapping, brief mention of marking somebody up, humiliation

w/c: 1k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

How Carlos would not hesitate to force you onto your knees.

“f-fucking hell, cariño,” were the words you were able to here from your spot on your knees in front of the intimidating Spaniard as his big hand led your head, giving you close to no work. “Esa boca puede chupar pollas, mierda,” that mouth can suck cock, carlos threw his head back and groaned deeply.

You briefly tried your best to looked up at him with your with tears-filled Bambi eyes, batting your eyelashes as good as you could up at him before you gagged on his cock, making him chuckled and looked down at you,

“Too much? No… it’s not too much for that little mouth of yours, estoy en lo cierto?” Am I right?

With pleading eyes and hallowed cheeks, you shook your head and hummed, knowing that you won’t be able to get any words out.

He nodded confidently, “I know I’m right, my angel… I know,” Carlos whispered while his other hand caressed your hallowed cheek, smirk still very visible on his face.

Or how Charles wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to eat you out in his small changing room.

“Every time I eat that pretty pussy of yours it just tastes better and better, mon amour,” he mumbled before you spread your legs further apart and buried his head between your thighs again, messily licking and lightly sucking on your clit while you fisted his hair.

You threw your head back, as always, “Charles! Oh g-god, don’t stop… please!” You whined almost pathetically.

Your heard and felt him giggle into your soaked cunt, “wasn’t planning on stopping, my love.”

He suddenly put his entire mouth around your clit and passionately sucked on his before he flicked it a couple of times with the tip of his tongue, making you cover your mouth.

Charles noticed how your screamed into your palm and quickly raised his hand to remove your hand from your panting mouth,

“oh no, no baby, we don’t do that here… when you’re with me, then I want to hear how I make you feel, you understand? So let me hear you… all of you,” he whispered as he looked up at you from his place on his knees, fingers squeezing your skin as tears blurred your vision.

And then you shook with pleasure as moans and whines escaped your mouth like never before, Charles only smiling into your wet pussy as he continued devouring your most sensitive area with his mouth and tongue.

And how max wouldn’t let you talk to the other drivers in the paddock without leaving his mark on your behind.

He watched you closely, almost like a hunter its prey as you talked to Charles, giggling about something, making his blood boil.

The second Charles left you alone, max walked over to you, his dark gaze not leaving your body.

“What did the two of you talk about, hmm?”

You furrowed your brows but before you could even get a word out, he already grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, harshly throwing you into it and locking the door behind him.

“You want something? Money? Attention? Some spanks or some slaps across your pretty face? You come to me… I can give you all of that and you know it,” he mumbled into your ear from behind, his big hands already lifting your dress up and pulling your panties to the side.

“M-Max, what are y-you-” but your sentence was stopped by your own loud and whiny moan, hand slapping against the wall he pressed you to before you squeezed your eyes shut.

His big hand cradled your chin from behind, thumb caressing your skin as he entered you, roughly fucking you in a fast and almost painful but still pleasurable pace.

He chuckled, his lips kissing your temple, “you feel that? You feel me inside of you? That’s the only thing that should be filling your tight cunt up, okay?” He whispered, making you nod.

“Good girl,” he kissed your cheek, comfortingly kissing your tears away, “and those beautiful tears, god baby… you know how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He smiled.

Daniel would use you to fulfill his needs all the time, giving you close to no break.

After a good qualifying or a race win, you would be in his driver’s room already, pathetically bend over the arm of the couch while Daniel is grinning like a devil behind you, your clothes long gone.

“Don’t act like you didn’t beg for that all day long, saw you looking at me with those big, teary eyes, almost couldn’t resist myself to fuck that pretty hole in front of everybody,” he whispered into your ear from behind before moving his head down to kiss your shoulder and neck.

You whined, fingers gripping the soft material of the couch so roughly that your knuckles turned white, “N-Not true-” you gasped as his thrusts into your pussy got harsher, one hand pressing your body down by your waist while the other one got a merciless grip of your hair, swiftly pulling your head upwards.

You gasped while he chuckled, dark pupils starring down at you, “not true you say?” He bit his lip, thrusts getting slower but harder, making you choke on your breath each time,

“Not true she’s says,” he quickly pecked the top of your head while listening to your cries, smile not fading, “how funny.”

Your head fell forward but daniel didn’t like that, in a matter of seconds, he tangled his long fingers in your hair and pulled your head back up, his other hand pressing more down onto your waist, forcing you to arch your back for him even more,

“Oh no no no, baby… you stay here, okay? Right here,” you squeezed your eyes shut, tears covering your cheeks as your hands trembled with each thrust, “look at me… c'mon look up at me, baby,” he mumbled, smirking as you obeyed and opened your eyes again.

“Just like that,” daniel grinned down at you, praising you quietly before he kissed the top of your head again.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carlos sainz smut #Carlos sainz #Charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x reader smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader

[elixrr]

It's heartbreaking, being a fictional character in a fictional world. They're either loved and cared for until they're abandoned by their player, or they're mistreated and misplaced by that player. There's no control, no option for them.

They could fall in love. They could do everything to please their player, but in the end, their player will always leave them behind. They'll end up as some toy to tinker with, a little plaything until their player gets bored and slowly but surely begins to leave them behind.

You did that to them— you did it to him. Maybe you used him so much that you got too bored, or perhaps you just found someone else to play with; you did reach friendship level 10 with him. During your friendship level journey, you've played and listened to all of the voice lines he provided, even repeating your favorites. He sought after the joy of hearing your praise, comments, and remarks in response to his voice lines. He's seen so much of you over the course of the journey, and, in return, he showed himself to you.

But then you left him.

It started off with you visiting strange domains and obtaining its artifacts. Judging by the collection, you definitely weren't trying to rebuild him. Those artifacts and materials were clearly meant for somebody else.

He'd often watch you switch teams to build that mystery person, maybe to test them out; to use them; to play with them. Yet, you'd always come back to him afterward, and because of that, he was fine, satisfied. As long as you'd keep coming back.

But, at some point, you simply didn't return.

He was fighting the monsters of a smoky blue leyline, and he, having won the battles, gave you those same purple and maroon papers that you needed for this mystery person. You were happy. You looked really relieved to finally get these, and through the mask of an idle animation, he smiled, proud of himself for making you smile. You thanked him, and then you switched the character and team, and you were out of view once more.

He sighed, tired from fighting all these battles and random enemies, but he was glad that you'd probably be able to finish leveling this mystery character up. Now you can keep playing with and using him, right? This way, you'll be done with this other person, and you'll come back to him, right?

Wrong.

One whole day passed. You were online, but he couldn't see you.

Another day passed. Where'd you go? Are you still testing out that new person?

Five days drag by. Some of those days you didn't go on for, but for the most part, you were there, just not for him. What happened? Why weren't you coming back?

One full week had finally passed.

You were nowhere to be seen.

Waiting in the team lineup screen began to get lonely. You took two of the supports with you, and so he couldn't talk to them. One other person remained. Another support, but more off-field. Often, he would glance at them to see how they were doing, and even they looked as miserable as he did. Still, they found their way back to you through another team composition.

You took everyone with you except for him.

Where did you go?

He tumbled, falling down on the ground. It's been nearly a full month. You haven't even looked at him once. He could see through the slightly translucent walls and backgrounds, and he saw other team lineups waiting. He saw one team in use, as it had an open fourth wall and it was emptied, meaning that the characters left that team screen to join back into the world of teyvat.

He began to reminisce about his first awakening when you got him, you were smiling really hard. You were so excited when he woke up in that wishing star, striking a pose. He doesn't know how long he'd been unconscious around that time, but you woke him up, and you gave him more purpose, more life. He could see you and everything behind you. He could see that there was more than just teyvat through this strange wall you lived past. He was curious, yet he was happier just being yours to have in your little party with different people, some of which he had never seen before.

But now they're gone, and so were you. He doubts that they're ever coming back, and he doubts that you'll ever come back to him.

Wait.

The fourth wall in front of him shatters.

Is that you?

He immediately stood up, ready to greet you with that same pose he would always strike in the team lineup. And the moment you opened that wall, all of the other supports came back instantly, like they never left in the first place. He wasn't alone anymore.

His eyes lit up. You selected his character and were going through his character details. You're finally paying more attention to him! Are you finally gonna use him again? He puts his hands together as you check his artifacts.

There's a moment of hesitation in you. He barely opens his eyes to look at your apologetic face. You whisper an apology, and— to his horror— strip him of his artifacts one by one.

His flower is gone. His feather was taken. His sands timer, his goblet, and his circlet were stripped of his very being. Then you switched to his weapon. It was his very own weapon that you spent so much time on, and you took even that from him. He looked up to the upper-left corner of the room. Even if the text was backward, he could see that this new weapon was nothing but some random 1-star weapon from some measly chest you opened. You looked at him one more time, and you left his character details.

He felt betrayed. You weren't going to use him anymore. You re-entered the team lineup screen and selected him. He watched you scroll through your list of characters, and within a zap, he was transported to a black screen, a void, a room full of nothing but himself.

You had just completely replaced him.

You left the team lineup, and his eyes were forced shut. Your once beloved main was now back into his deep, endless, meaningless slumber.

.

“Creator! Creator!!”

A large group of people were yelling, waking him and a few others up. It was every single character that you owned and obtained throughout your journey. Some he recognized from the get-go, and others he'd never seen before in all of his life. Everyone you had obtained were shouting for you.

“Wh— wha? What's the matter?”

A short girl with brown hair and amber eyes came up to him in a panic.

“Thank Barbatos, you're up! The player is about to delete the game! We might be erased!”

He froze. You were deleting the game? He put his hand over his mouth. You were really leaving him now, weren't you?

Would you ever come back?

“Please!” The amber-eyed girl cried, “Help us!”

He wobbled backward. He couldn't take this.

“The player loves you! Maybe you can reverse this!”

“They don't.” He mumbled.

“Wh— what?”

“They don't— don't love me anymore.”

He stumbled, falling over at the realization. At that moment, everyone was panicking. The calmest people he knew were crumbling and stressing over this. He looked up at the transparent digital fourth wall. Your mouse hovered over the digital recycling bin.

Suddenly, you spoke.

“It was really nice playing the game, but I think...”

A moment of silence evoked in the crowd.

“...I think I need to start a new chapter of my lif—”

And you let go of that mouse. You let go of them. Everyone felt a strong gust of wind blow them out of the black screen, and they were transported to their designated places in the character list. Nobody—except for the traveler—remained in any team lineup. You removed everything.

He looked around. Black and grey smoke began to overtake the elemental colors of each designated character screen. Everyone banged on the walls until the void took them, and they became forever motionless. They were mannequins now, thoughtless ragdolls standing still. He banged on the glass, using his 1-star weapon to try and break out, but it was useless.

Eventually, he became just like everyone else. A thoughtless, motionless, abandoned toy that you had played with until you left.

—

(any) genshin men x reader ｜ comment for p.2

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #heizou x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #lyney x reader #freminet x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #baizhu x reader #ayato x reader #bennett x reader #chongyun x reader #kaeya x reader #gorou x reader #itto x reader #kaveh x reader #mika x reader #neuvillette x reader #razor x reader #thoma x reader #wriothesley x reader #angst #xinqiu x reader #genshin angst

[vivwritesfics]

Had Enough

For the burnt out student, because I'm at my wits end and the semester hasn't even started

Lando Norris Fluffy blurb

"Lan, I literally can't anymore. I'm about to punch somebody to rip my laptop like a phone book."

Lando Norris rolled his eyes. This was typical dramatics from her; he'd been listening to them ever since her first year. By now he knew how to deal with it.

"You're gonna regret it if you break your laptop," he said and Y/N let out a sigh.

She knew that. She didn't need to hear it though.

So, maybe Lando didn't know how to deal with it.

"Lan, please," she started. He could hear it through the phone as she pushed her chair back and began pacing around her shoebox of a bedroom. Lando had only ever been there once before; the size of the room alone made him sorry for her.

He listened as she ranted about university life. Ranted out the last grade she got, how hard she was working for nothing, according to her. Lando wanted to reassure her that it would be fine, that she was working towards something, but she didn't want to hear it.

"Come to Monaco," he said the second she stopped talking.

He listened as Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh. "Come on, Lan. You know I can't," she muttered as she sat on her bed. "I don't have the time to come to Monaco."

Lando rolled his eyes. Not in a malicious way. He knew how much she was stressing out and how badly he needed a break.

"Sorry, baby," he said, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence, "but I've got to go."

"Oh," she said, falling relatively quiet. "Oh, okay. I'll speak to you later. Love you, Lan."

He said his goodbyes, told her he loved her, and hung up the phone.

As Y/N laid back on her bed, Lando packed away at least three days worth of clothes. The shoebox of a bedroom she had a university was tiny, but he'd put up with it for his girl.

***

It had been a good number of hours since she and Lando finished the call (depending on where our dear reader lived). She had tried so hard to get on with her uni work, but it hadn't happened - her mind just kept going blank and she'd cried out of frustration a couple of times.

There was a knock at her front door.

With her housemates asleep, she tiptoed downstairs to pull it open. It was too late for it to be a package and nobody had ordered food.

A visitor stood at the door. When she pulled it open, her eyes went wide and she jumped into his arms, him dropping his bag to catch her. "Lan," she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"Thought you could use some in person support," he whispered as he held her tight.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

[ennabear]

hi!!! don’t forget that even though hbo tlou2 promo might be exciting, the creator (neil druckmann) is a zionist!!!!! PLEASE do not give him any more money. do not watch tlou2 when it comes out. do not fund somebody who openly supports genocide.

the themes in tlou are hugely based on israel vs palestine conflicts. not only are there israeli themes and propaganda in tlou2, but neil druckmann also gets money from the show. do not fund a zionist!!!!!!!!

if you’d like to hear more about neil’s zionism, here are some posts by amazing writers on tumblr!! here and here and here.

one final thing, i’m not here to argue. neil druckmann is a zionist. you should not be funding him. and for the love of god, do not start arguments in the comments. this is not up for debate!! thanks!!!!

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby the last of us #ellie williams #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams tlou2 #abby anderson tlou2 #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #dina tlou #dina the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #tlou hbo #tlou2 hbo #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #joel and ellie #joel tlou #free palestine

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"my girlfriend's a nerd" ft. the monster trio!

self explanatory self-indulgent drabbles to soothe my book!loving ass

ft. luffy, zoro and sanji x fem! reader

set-up: you like books, he likes you that's it

warnings: none lmao this is very sfw. one might call it wholesome even.

luffy:

thats my baby ^^

— im not even sure if this mf can read 😭😭

— honestly 9/10 chance he can't but when has that ever stopped him from being our most supportive himbo king

— go king give us everything!!

— he doesn't get why you read books when instead you can be like sleeping or eating or looking at the sea but well, he doesn't question it

— he just thinks it's a weird hobby you have (i don't think he's aware of how freakishly illiterate he is)

— but just cause he thinks it's weird that doesn't mean he wouldn't hug you half-asleep when he hears you sobbing into the dead of the night or he wouldn't listen with keen interest when you explain the plot of your favourite book as he wraps his arms around you and hums into your hair

— will 100% offer to fight the author/ tear up the book everytime he sees you having a breakdown over a particular scene/character

"who should I kill?!" the deadpan seriousness in his voice is what terrifies you

"nobody! I'm okay–"

— after you explain to him that hurting somebody is not necessary and you're fine, he will try to coddle you with extended hugs and food (lots and lots and lots of food).

"yn you should eat something! should I get you something to eat??" you can hear the panic in this poor boys voice 😭😭

"no luffy, its okay. im fine!" you say through sniffs and snorts, eyes bloodshot from crying over ink on paper

"brb" and he gets you dinner enough for 5 people because that's how he knows to comfort you (willingly took sanjis kicks and namis punches to accomplish this mission)

— since he's a clingy little child, he will hold onto you some way or the other when you're reading

— you're reading in your room while he's fast asleep? his arm is draped across your waist lazily. you're on the other side of the deck, sunbathing and reading? his hand is stretched out from where he's sitting and on your thigh (ussop tripped thrice over his hand, rip god ussop 🙏) . you're reading during breakfast cause the book just got so good? his toe is rubbing your calf up and down periodically (he won't stop no matter how many weird looks you give him)

— conclusion: he doesn't at all get it what it is, but if it makes you happy he will spend all the berries in the world to buy you those books (plz know if you actually ask him to jokingly off an author for killing your favourite character, he will do it. please don't ask him that.)

— he's just so supportive and nice 😭😭

"my girlfriends a nerd, I love her" (ussop explained to him what a nerd was and now he's introducing you like this to everybody)

zoro:

the shades tho 😎

— I'm convinced this mf can't read either

— even he can there's like literally no evidence to prove it and the entire crew has come to the conclusion that he gets lost even with clear directions because he just can't read please 😌👌

— at the start, he actually thinks it's dead stupid to invest so much time reading books when you can do other stuff like getting stronger, sleeping, literally doing anything else (luffy backs up his opinion with full enthusiasm)

— i mean like he's seen you sob at 7 in the morning over breakfast cause your fav character died and now he's confused as to why are you spending money and buying books if they make you cry so hard (he doesn't understand the concept of angst im afraid)

— but over time he just accepts it as something you enjoy and well, if it makes you happy then who is he to question it?

— acts like he doesn't care/isn't listening when you're rambling about the plot and how thE MAIN CHARACTER IS IN LOVE WITH HIS ENEMY AND VICE VERSA SKEJFHSJKSN but is actually fully listening

— he's actually invested at one point

"but they are enemies? why does he wanna be with him?"

"you don't get it! thats the appeal!!"

"the appeal is forcing a knife on somebody's throat?" he's laughing, "as if you'd enjoy it if i threatened you with my swords"

"... i would actually enjoy that"

he is now asking nami for loan to send you to a therapist (nami has seen you nosebleed over fictional characters and is considering giving money away to zoro for free. you really do need help.)

— as I said, he's invested now (although he does question your taste every now and then) but he'd force you to either summarize the plot to him as he trains or read out loud so he can hear the story as it goes.

— so naturally you're now sitting on his back, reading out loud as he does push-ups

— this beloved himbo has now formed strong opinions about characters and will battle you with headcanons because "there's no fucking way the hero would ever go back to the villain after that! that's ridiculous! if he does I'll sell my swords off."

— will remember the stuff you told him, no matter how trivial, so if you get off an island and he spots a keychain from your fav book series he's spending whatever money he has left to buy you it

"oh excellent choice! who are you buying it for?" the shopkeeper lady questions aloud

"oh, my girlfriend." he's smiling, "my girlfriends a nerd."

— actually looks forward to you telling him all the plot details and jokes at this point (one might call him a part of the fandom now)

— when you're a crying, sobbing mess because a character died, he's genuinely comforting you (no matter how bad he is at it)

"yn it's okay, you want some sake?" he is hugging you, patting your head like you're a child

"no 😭😭" you sob harder into his chest

"well... that's the best i can offer"

he tried. it's not his fault you don't wanna drink your feelings away.

— conclusion: he started off thinking its stupid and now he's an honorary nerd. would never admit it though. stubborn asshole.

sanji:

he's actually so pretty tho ^^

— he actually liked reading books before you even joined the crew although his tbr consists of cookbooks and auto-biographies about the people he has some interest in

— he started reading so that he could impress zeff with his knowledge on cooking and other miscellaneous stuff (imagine kid!sanji reading a book till late night under a lamp cause he wants to impress his old man that's so cute 😭😭)

— respects your hobbies when he finds out you like reading

— and then he sees your book collection. whY ARE THERE LIKE 5000 BOOKS HERE?! NOW HES SCARED FOR YOUR SANITY CAUSE GIRL WTF

— he hears you recommend a book to robin/nami once and now he's running to the nearest bookstore on the next island you guys land on to buy it

— he obviously did it to impress you and win you over but goddamn that book was actually pretty nice. so, the next time he asks you for recommendations he's actually a bit sincere

— now you're both in a book club of your own (which makes luffy mad cause why are you leaving him out of conversations :/)

— like zoro, he often asks for updates on the book you're currently reading while he cooks everyone food. he loves hearing you talk about the things you like.

— when he sees you crying over books, he is making you sweet stuff to soothe you, holding you and rubbing your back supportingly, peppering kisses to make you feel better

— he's so fine 😫😫

— anyways, also def the kind of person to ask you to roleplay things in real life

"yn-saaaan" his voice is bubbly, "can i ask you something?"

"mhm?"

"the last book you read–" his face is going a little bit red, "you think we can maybe... do that irl?"

now it's your turn to go red

— but no fr, he's so so supportive of your little hobby like yes baby! read those books and have fun imagining people in your head

— 100% matches your vibe when you crush on fictional characters cause "you're right. he is actually very attractive" (a bi king we love)

— once zoro made fun of you for reading and this was his response: "you can't even read, mosshead. the next time you speak shit I'll kick your ass."

"who said I CANT READ? AND AS IF ILL LET YOU KICK MY ASS!"

"I TOTALLY WILL KICK YOUR ASS"

now they are fighting while ussop, luffy and chopper laugh in the background

— but yes he loves staying up late, reading with you before you both cuddle and fall asleep

— you once read about a specific sort of dish in a book and mentioned that it sounds delicious so now obviously he has to go make that dish. it doesn't matter if it's 1 am at night.

— when nami asks him what he's cooking, he just smiles and shrugs, "i dunno either, im just trying to make yn happy. she's such a nerd"

— conclusion: an enabler, an enthusiast. this man is ready to buy you books and then read them if it makes you happy. only the finest for his favourite lady <3

a/n: enjoy my wayward thoughts about these fine men!

#one piece #opla #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #op #vinsmoke sanji #monkey d luffy #luffy one piece #one piece luffy #one piece sanji #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece men #one piece headcanons #luffy headcanons #zoro headcanons #sanji headcanons #one piece fluff

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ:

DAILY CLICK • BOYCOTT TLOU • DONATE

please do not skip over this! continuing to support palestine in any way possible is much more important than reading any piece of fanfiction.

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊: 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏

knight!abby x princess!reader

summary: your plans to usurp your despotic brother are halted when he assigns one of his strongest knights to keep an eye on you. what will wither and what will blossom in her presence?

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, political elements, fem afab reader, princess reader is manipulative, extensive descriptions of blood and violence, graphic depiction of murder, subtle enemies to lovers (more so in next chapter), degrading terms used in a non-sexual manner, insults, profanity, probably ooc?, not edited, reader discretion advised

a/n: this is HEAVILY inspired by The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri. this song is the atmosphere i was going for if you wanted to listen while reading!! dedicating this to @catfern, love you <3

wc: 4.7k

The corpse-quiet hours before dawn settled over the world with the languidness of dripping wax. There was a tenseness to it, beneath the silence, the twinings of a tautly strung instrument. You could smell it on the breeze too, a lick of disturbance carried sharply on the air alongside the fragrance of jasmine and rose. This night was a thing too tender for imminence, you thought, as you watched off-white petals scatter across pristine marble.

You felt it in your bones first, as it reverberated through the night. It felt like rolling thunder across the mountainside, but it was far too regimented to be birthed from mother nature. No, you knew this sound as intimately as your own heartbeat. 

Hoofbeats. Steadfast, almost urgent, as they ascended towards the palace. Through your balcony, you could see a sea of them, clad in the pure white of moonlight and the gold of dawn. At the very front jostled a garish carriage swathed in the same colours, flying your nation’s flags. You stepped further out onto the balcony. A retinue, a homecoming. Your brother has returned.

Of course, ease slid through your veins at the fact that it was not a darker reality encroaching, but it curdled instantaneously, soured by the notion that you would merely be a marionette tugged upon and prettied up in order to appease him. A dutiful princess, you would play the part of orator, musician, perhaps finally bride to a stranger if the King and all his attendants had his way. What were you but a flower with an endless array of malleable petals to be arranged this way and that? 

You drank in the perfumed scents that swirled around you, a sigh passing your parted lips. The silk curtains of your suite lifted like a breath, the solid colour broken apart by somebody familiar, whose chest rattled for the solace of fresh air.

Your features did not falter as your eyes remained fixed upon the retinue fast approaching. The girl, one of your many pairs of watchful eyes,  strode towards you, sweat upon her brow, a worrisome crease at the youthful corner of her lips. You remained fixed as you felt the brush of rough parchment against your smooth palm.

Politics was a game played by degrees, after all. It demanded quiet, the slithering of a black-belllied snake in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to coil around its prey and squeeze. You let the paper unfurl against the wind, let it flap in the air as you read word upon word scrawled onto the page with an unsteady hand.

You knew what you hungered for, the prey that dangled just out of reach above your open maw. It glistened deepest oceanic blue cast in gold, and it sat safely atop of your tyrannical brother’s head.

Like all noble daughters, you knew that patience was a virtue. Things did not fall easily into your lap, so you would have to work for it, a dog searching ceaselessly for a single scrap of bone. You would let the meat of the empire simmer, wait until it was your turn to have your fill.

The parchment began to crinkle under the ferocity of your grip as your brother flashed through your mind. His smile, all canines. The cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface of that untarnished exterior.

With a fiery savagery singing in your veins, you silently declared that his crown would be yours.

        𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The day’s last light was beginning to wither away, its last breath sweeping across the courtyard below and setting it ablaze. The air that seemed like an extension of your own lungs the night before was cloying now, pollen stuck in the crevice of your throat and tightening it with fist-strength.

There were certain things you expected of your brother, but this…

Your eyes flitted from the balustrade to the woman who stood just behind the gauzy silk draped across the doorway. She had a straight spine to match the strength in her features. Slight aquiline nose, plump lips, and those eyes, crystalline blue but honed from years of slinking, silent observation.  There was no denying the touch of regality woven throughout her being. If somebody had said she were an empress from some distant land, you would have believed them.

It wasn’t such an extravagance that granted you with her presence, though. A white cape threaded with gold was draped around her armour-laden shoulders. There was a sword at her hip, but the breadth of her body alone was enough to make anybody hesitate.

This woman, whose body was carved for the gruesomeness of the battle, was to be your watchful knight, under oath to quash any harm that may arise. 

A bitterness rose from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. Sworn protector. The words thrummed in your skull like jailer. It was clear from her unbroken gaze alone where her loyalties were placed, at the feet of your brother and your brother alone.

You were the first to break your eyes away, demurely, subtle but unerringly feminine, and more importantly, inferior. Your spine was straight, but you hung your head slightly, letting your eyes wander along the outline of lush greenery below. Your hands skimmed along the finery that swathed your body. You appeared reticent and meagre, but every minute movement was deliberate on your part, a dance in which you knew all the steps.

Her shadow of a presence was a setback, certainly, something to keep you at bay, but if you wove the right tale, spun an intricacy of honeyed words and laid syrupy sweetness upon her… this one, like any other, could be used, moulded and rolled like clay with the right pressure. All you had to do was locate a chink in her armour. 

You gave a hesitant pause, counted to three, until you walked the expanse of the balcony, back into your quarters, the tinkling of weighty jewellery sounding with each step you took. Even closer, she appeared much more powerful, the jagged lines of her face schooled into sternness. The refusal to drop her gaze in the presence of her new lady sent a shiver down your spine.

“Abigail.” Your voice was gentle, the lulling of a flute. “I am grateful for your service. To my dear brother, of course, but especially to me.” You stepped closer to her, but remained at a polite distance, a benevolent smile gracing your lips.

Her face remained the same, but there was a slight quirk to her thick brows. She was used to doing bloody work for the King, but you could tell that she was unused to interacting with royalty.  “My loyalty is to the crown. I would do anything His Majesty asked of me, princess.” Ah, what a well trained response. As expected of one of the most renowned weapons in your brother’s arsenal.

“Yes, and it warms my heart.” You ensured your smile widened, your eyebrows softening in tandem with the lovely upward curve of your mouth. “I have heard stories of your bravery. To have such a hero protect myself alone… well, it feels rather a waste of talent, does it not?”

Her lips parted for a moment at the steer in conversation. You could see the hardness melting from her face like butter, replaced by an expression unreadable. It was too early to tell whether there was now a weakness to strike at, but it was better than talking to the righteous facade of her. “My talents can be just as useful in the Royal Palace as they would be on the battlefield.” Her words were as certain as solid stone, unmoving in their conviction.

“Such a noble heart you have.” You let the distance close between the two of you, then, your body just a few mere inches away from steel. Your hand met the one at her side, soft fingers grazing across leather, the cool hilt of her sword brushing against your knuckles. “But you do not need to protect me. Guards swarm this palace, after all.”

You expected abashment, the averting of that steady, unbreakable gaze, but not so much as a twitch of her fingers was drawn out of her. Still, you pressed on, as a thumb circled a spot on her gloved hand. “You would be better suited to attacking any threats at the root, dear knight. I could arrange you to be back where you once were. Not here, not with me.”

These lies, this faux flattery, left your tongue with the ease of second nature. You had none of the power you wished to possess, and you could not fulfil any such promise to her, but a few sweetened words could at least put you in her good favour, string her along for at least for a few moments outside of her obstructive gaze.

Something flashed across her features, but it was not the distant yearning for battle, not even the consideration of your hefty offer. You felt her thick fingers slip, gently, out of your grasp. Shock burst in your chest when her lips curled into a smile. Not completely unkind, but belittling all the same.

“The way we view honour differs greatly, princess.” Her mouth shaped the words slowly, deliberately and they hung in the air like an accusation. The last of the sun filtered through the balcony, causing the stray hairs framing her face to shine gold, the dust of freckles on her cheeks to appear like a smattering of starlight. You were once again struck by the wondrous beauty of her, a blow to the ribs. 

You urged the swell in your guts down hastily.

“Is it so dishonourable,” you started, choosing to focus instead on that same jagged ambition that ate away at you, “to desire glory for oneself?”

The eyes that you thought resembled a pristine shoreline now darkened with the implications of your question. You watched as the storm passed across her face, as the act of noble knight swallowed her whole once more. 

“Glory means nothing if it is not for the sake of serving the King.” She finally averted her gaze to the rolling gardens below. 

“Our King.”

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

Thunder rippled across the charred night sky, the rain beating against the earth with the ferocity of a thousand rapid heartbeats. Your quarters burst white and fizzled with each lightning strike, and you could see the dozing face of Abigail each time. She laid, with one arm cradling the back of her head, in a cot at the foot of your bed, her golden-brown lashes long enough to cast wispy shadows on the apples of her cheeks under the inconsistent light. Even in her sleep, she seemed to be withholding herself from you, despite the stretch of days you had spent together thus far.

Beneath the writhing rage that clawed at your insides, you felt a soft pang, something faint and unfamiliar, for this woman. She was forced to live her days, in utter numbness, waiting for an attack on your life that would never come. She was here to intimidate you into compliance, at your brother’s whims, and she was completely unaware of it. To be a pawn in such a twisted game unwittingly… It was cruel. But weren’t you attempting to do the exact same? The hypocrisy was completely not lost on you.

You watched her sleeping figure for a few more moments until you were certain she was asleep. Then, soundlessly, you slipped out of the embrace of your bed. The air was cool but heavy with humidity as you walked on the balls of your bare feet, your nightgown brushing your ankles and sending an anxious tremble up your body. You tried to move as swiftly as you could. Your spies and confidants were loyal enough, but even they would not wait out the entire night for you when there was other work to be done at dawn.

 An electric thrill jolted your being when you clasped the door handle. Was evading her watchful eye really so easy? Was all you had to do is slink around in the deep hours of dark?  You bit down a smile as the heavy door gave way . Freedom, for a few mere minutes at least, was just beyond the door…

“My Lady?” Something glacial hardened in your veins. The voice was hoarse with the remnants of slumber, but there was no doubting the razor-edge awareness of it. 

For a beat, you were too stunned to face her. When you didn’t turn, she spoke again. “Princess, what are you doing out of bed?”

What was the safest way to avoid her suspicion? The crashing of thunder sliced through your thoughts like a knife, offering you an escape route on a silver platter.

You whorled around, your eyebrows high-strung. Abigail was sitting upright, her head tilted and her unbound blonde hair dripping over one shoulder. There was no armour covering the wide expanse of her chest, a rare exposure of bare collarbone and surprisingly soft skin. You would perhaps never get used to the sight.

You clutched the fabric of your nightgown and widened your eyes, fawn-frightened. “Abigail, I…” you let your voice taper off into a quiver.

She was up in an instant and striding towards you, brows knitted together. Despite the urgency vibrating every cell in her body, her large hands cupped your shoulders with a gentleness you thought so disjointed for a woman of her size and profession. You doubted she would have touched you if it weren’t for the haze of confusion that overpowered her usual meticulousness. 

“What is the matter? Speak to me, princess.”

“I-it’s absurd, I…” You trembled ever so slightly and could only pray that you were convincing. “The storm… well, it frightened me. I apologise. You mustn't be used to such frivolity.”

The tautness of her bow-strung body seemed to drift away all at once. Her shoulders drooped and she smiled, this time a thing of pure relief. “Is that all that this is?”

You nodded once, pulling yourself inward more and silently thanking whichever god had just granted you quick wits. She tsked softly and brought you closer to her. The warmth of her body was comforting, as alive as the spark upon a coal. 

“You can wake me when you’re frightened, my lady,” she breathed out, her breath rustling the hair at your ear. 

“I thought– I didn’t wish to burden you.” For once, there was a distasteful speck of truth in your words. She was a thing too gentle and straightforward for the ugliness of court politics. How could you ask her to help you usurp a throne she adamantly kneeled at the foot of?

“Princess,” she sighed, her hands trailing from shoulder to elbow. “Your brother has tasked me to protect you.” A lie, and yet she believed it so wholeheartedly. A loyalty as steady as a heartbeat.

“You cannot salve for every little thing that ails me.”

“There’s a sort of protection in comfort, is there not?” Such naive words, ones a child could have spoken, but they rang throughout your entire being.

She was diluted ink in the dark of the storm, but the whites of her eyes and teeth shone with the sheen of pearl. Your lips parted, drinking in a shaky inhale. You should have kept playing the delicate flower  in distress, but you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and curious, a hunger that gnawed at the very marrow of your bones. A hunger that you had no choice but to satiate.

“And how do you intend to comfort me, dear knight?”

A moment of something heady passed, and you could practically see the churning of her mind, the weight of precariousness at her throat like a glinting blade. You knew then that the same starvation engulfed her own being, your hands slithering down to her wrists and clutching them. 

“I would do whatever you ask of me, My Lady–”

“No,” you cut her off, tracing a sliver of puckered flesh that outlined her bare wrist. A quaint shiver wracked her shoulders at the abrupt stone of your voice, unbidden. “No, Abigail. How do you wish to comfort me? Speak plainly.”

“I want…” Her voice was strained, the word leaden and fumbling on her tongue, her own will now foreign to her. Her hands tightened around your elbows. “What I want… what I desire, is not so easily spoken, princess.” 

Even in the dark, her eyes were the bottomless wells of a carefully guarded vulnerability. You wanted to chip away at that wall she had between you and her, between anyone but her fiery devotion and her own self.

You cupped her cheeks with the soft, uncalloused palms of your hands, watched as her reluctance dissolved with the touch. 

“Then show me.” 

Perhaps all that was needed was an uttered confirmation that you felt the same infuriating emotions. You had torn through the neat little bow of restraint that kept her being together, and now it was uncontainable, this ever-swelling.

There was a moment of hesitation, shared breath mingling sweetly, before she pressed her lips to yours. She cradled your waist as if you were porcelain, but her kiss was a beast of want, all teeth and tongue. Your back melded with the carvings of the door as she nudged you back, wooden jasmine blossoms and orchids keeping you tethered to the moment. You kissed back with just as much viciousness, astonished by your own affections welling up like crimson from a finger pricked.

It was with the ebb and flow of ocean waves that she let you go just as promptly as she had kissed you, her face a hazy mass of surprise in the semi-dark, leaving only the remnant of her warmth against your skin, the phantom of soft lips and tongue.

Her fingers scraped her blonde locks away from her face, chest heaving. 

“Princess,” she spoke through the ragged edge of her breath. There was a singed quality to her voice, raw and crisp. “Princess, it would be improper to continue.”

Disappointment, to your dismay, pooled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head to the side and gave a feeble nod, swallowing at the thick knot lodged in your throat. Letting her warm your bed would be unwise, you reminded yourself now. It would serve no purpose to your goals, and a lovesick knight trailing you around was the last thing you needed. And yet... 

“We cannot cross that line,” she whispered. You felt the gentle snaking of arms around yours as you were pulled close to her chest, your ear snug against it. “But I am still here.” Her heartbeat was hummingbird-rapid, a reflection of your own.

She led you back to the bed and watched intently as you laid down beneath the smooth blanket. You stared in return. How was a person sharpened for such luridness able to wield tenderness the way she did a weapon? It was more frightening, you silently mused, than any tale of her violence could offer. It did little to divert the ache that seeped to your very bones, the craving for it.

Lightning still ruptured the heavens, followed dismally by a cacophony of thunder.

“Abigail.” Your hand drifted into the air, toward her. She held it gently in both of hers.

“Are you still frightened?”

Your plan for the night had been uprooted, and you had no choice but to remain here in this room. You traced each feature of hers with your eyes, lingering on the worrisome crease of her brow. Perhaps… “Yes, a little.”

Perhaps, this once, sweet selfishness was justified. Perhaps you could let this sordid business of trickery and usurpation float from your mind. This once…

“Will you lay beside me?” You sat up, peeling the blanket aside. “It would help me a great deal.”

“My lady…”

“Innocently, of course,” you reassured. “To know someone is beside me, to share that warmth… it would ease my nerves greatly.”

A beat passed, then another. “I think… It's something I also need. For tonight.”

“For tonight,” you echoed, patting the empty space of the bed next you. 

She clambered in beside you without another word, a slow exhale escaping her when her head softly hit the pillow. You could feel her breath fan over your face gently, followed by a soothing, steady hand on your arm.

“Will you hold me?” There was a waver in your cadence, something unbearably soft puckering to the surface. “Is that okay?”

 You were encircled by her arms, so gently that you felt, something swirl inside of you, just to then sink. 

Consciousness left her almost instantly at the feel of your body against hers. The comfort of someone to hold in the eternal stretch of night elleviated the quiet ache that thrummed and tugged at her own being. 

You listened as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, until the sky stopped its tears and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of her heart at your ear.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The marble was icy beneath the soles of your feet, each footfall echoing softly through the desolate, cavernous halls. The lanterns flickered low, the walls cast in leaping, ravenous shadows. 

Wait for me at the entrance to the orchard, you had told your spy, an inconspicuous place for business made in the night, but as you reached the intricately designed archway, you were met with the absence of the living. The sharp smell of damp earth and overripe fruit wafted through the open space, yet it did little to calm the eerie feeling in your blood. 

Perhaps you were too late, or perhaps she had appeared conspicuous. A fist of disappointment twisted at your gut, but relief flooded your veins with it. There was silence, at least. Stagnance was a better ordeal than disruption. You turned away from the trees, feet almost silent without the usual finery adorning your ankles.

A whisper against the precious stone. Something scratching and picoting, until you felt the brush of it at your leg. Frozen, you peered at what had touched you. A piece of flimsy paper, the uncertain handwriting that you had come to know so well. Between the looping letters of secret after secret unfurled, vermillion stained the thin sheet. Vibrant. Fresh.

A man at the very first tree, the shimmer of the whites of his eyes furious and expansive. You knew this face, these pompous clothes, the cruel, all-knowing scowl on his lips. Your brother’s confidant and his closest advisor. If this man could stretch himself as thin as a carpet to soften your brother’s steps, he would have.

His movements were rigid, yet quick as he lunged in your direction, teeth bared and motivated by his sweltering rage alone. His cheek was streaked with the same shade of red.

“You treasonous whore!” He swiped his hands at you, but you scrambled away at the very last moment. “Traitor!”

“My Lord–” Your heart thrusted against your ribcage, your breath coming out in uneven, shattering breaths. There was no cajoling such a blind beast. His voice was much too loud, his body propelled by something untethered to reason.

You were going to be found out. He had the evidence and his screams were enough to alert any guards patrolling the slumbering palace. You had to do something, you had to–

He lunged forward again, forceful yet sloppy. Your body began to react on its own accord.

The blade was an ugly little thing, stolen from beneath Abigail’s pillow weeks ago and fastened in a makeshift sheath of torn silk and ribbon, held steadily enough by a bangle at your wrist. It was in your hand, slipping from the snugness of the material and clanging against the jewellery with the same delicate ring of anklet bells chiming in the midst of dance and song. A song of retribution, thrumming, awake and unabated, in your veins.

The moment was a blur, the contact of iron to skin one you could not even comprehend until a surprised, wet sound bubbled forth from the nobleman’s lips. He slumped forward against the blade, his eyes glassy. Lifeblood trickled down the hilt of the blade and down your fingers. The warmth of it made your stomach churn. 

Before you could pull the blade out, he swayed to the side, toppling to the ground with a sickening thump. Crimson bled across the stark white of the floor, pooling beneath his now motionless body.

The bile of pure panic rose to your throat, face leached of warmth. What have I done? What have I done? What have I–

“Princess?” A voice of honeycomb, even when it wavered with such uncertainty.

No.

You stared ahead, the bulky outline of her blurring only to refocus as she got closer. There was a look that had never graced her face before, one of confusion mixed with something akin to horror. Had she known this man? Taken orders from him?

But she did not look down at the grim image at her feet, but rather at you. Your stained fingers, the way your face had grown ashen and fear-stricken.

Her fingers ghosted over your cheek, but stopped short of making contact. “What…” You could hear the thoughts that knotted in her mind. How could such a sweet thing – you – do this?

A shout sounded down the hall, and you flinched, eyes darting in the direction as a new wave of bone-rattling fear crashed down upon you. There was a clamour, the sound of swords against urgently moving legs. 

Abigail pulled her hand away from you as if seared. Hardness seeped into the cracks where her moment of bare emotion shone. A moment ticked by, voices growing closer.

With a flash of movement, she yanked the blade out of the lifeless body beside her, a sickening squelch that did not seem to rattle her, and turned her back on you. Surely she had to be more selfish than this?

“Abigail–”

“Be silent and stay behind me.”

Your voice sank down into an urgent whisper. “Your recklessness is going to get you killed.”

Her head turned toward you then, her gaze meeting yours. Blue flame, a flicker of pure torment. 

“You have already made me your accomplice.” They should have been sweet, simple words, but they held the acrid tang of rotting fruit, bitter and wilting despite their saccharine nature.

They were encircling you in an instant, guards wearing the colours of the sun and the moon. Their swords were raised, but they waited for something…

The guards parted, roiling ocean waves. You watched as your brother stepped his way to the front, head held high.

Without a single word, Abigail dropped to her knees, the blade clanging against the floor and skidding away from her to rest at his feet.

Your brother did not spare her a glance. His eyes pinned you in place, cold and measured. He did not ask about the commotion or point grieving eyes towards his closest advisor. No, he already decided on what truth in this he would spin and alter in order to squash you beneath his bejewelled hand. 

As he stared you down, you gazed at the back of Abigail’s neck, peach-toned skin peaking beneath the cascade of blonde waves over her shoulders. You wanted to reach out, to touch her one last time if only to bid farewell.

Such a rotten heart you had. You felt it thump mournfully, greed winning out in the end. 

Your lips remained tightly locked as she took the fall for your turpitude, an act of the foulest betrayal.

As you watched them drag her away, you may as well have been clapping the chains around her wrists yourself. 

Who knew that even a blade of the soul could be double-edged?

#kinda rusty so don’t mind the inconsistency 😭 #abby anderson #knight!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #tw blood

[risuola]

▶ COCOONED — one of those lazy mornings when you wake up trapped in a tangle of hands and legs.

contents: college+roommates!au, fluff — wc. 655

a/n: very short one, i'm still painting a little background to the friendship dynamics of our trio, but I wanna take this opportunity to thank you guys for supporting this little story I'm building here and also I wanna encourage you to help me out with it! if you have any ideas for entries, please let me know through ask box!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Taking care of your friends came easy for you. You were always like this, affectionate and protective. It was a way of showing love, through those subtle acts of tenderness and both Satoru and Suguru always thanked you for it, despite occasional teasing from their side. They were grateful for your selfless and kindhearted nature, just as you were grateful for the boundless protection you were granted ever since you got to know them. Any bully you ever stumbled upon quickly turned tail when met with the sight of your two guardians – always taller than others, always stronger and very ready to resolve issues (in more or less civilized ways).

It wasn’t a surprise that living together brought you even closer than before. It became a routine for you to help Satoru with his eyedrops first thing in the morning – because the boy has eyes of an angel but needs to protect them from harsh sunlight and environment. Then, you always make sure that a jar of Suguru’s favorite candy is full for him, so that he can pop one right after he takes his daily medicine – the one that he swears tastes like a rug somebody used to wipe up shit and vomit. They, on the other hand, never fail to help you at home or bring you sweets from the store.

One thing you were slightly uncertain about at the beginning of the one-bedroom journey was sleeping with them. You wondered if one day you’ll wake up to a black eye because of some random muscle twitch of either of them or they’ll squish you in the middle of the bed because of course you slept between them, but none of those things happened and it’s been months already. What took place, on the other hand, was evolvement of your friendship to a much more touchy one. It always came natural to you three to cuddle; you never minded their hands on your waist or legs and they never complained about you draping over them, but in one bed, it became much more intense. A progression of friendly intimacy that all three of you grew to love. A comfortable tangle of bodies that became a safe space to you and the boys, something that happened naturally and you wouldn’t have it any other way. And they wouldn’t change it either, but–

“Satoruu–! Suguuu–”

–but there were mornings like this one. You woke up trapped in a death grip of both boys, stuck against Suguru’s muscular chest and with Satoru’s strong arm wrapped around you. The white-haired head was nuzzled against your shoulder blades and as you tried to loosen up the cocoon, you ended up twisting your upper body unnaturally while your legs stayed lodged between four, much larger male ones. Your butt was pressed against Gojo’s stomach and his hand was resting below your ribs, long gone underneath the fabric of your stolen t-shirt. Long, black hair was tickling your face whenever you tried to move away from brunette’s bare pecks. Immobilized and resigned, you let out a deep exhale.

Thanks god it’s Sunday and you have nowhere to be – otherwise you’d be very late, as none of your friends seemed to be bothered by the sound of your voice calling them.

“Get back to sleep,” Toru mumbled sleepily against your back and somehow pulled you even closer to his chest and you could tell that as soon as he finished speaking, he was back in his slumber. His muffled voice did something to Suguru though, because the man hummed lowly, a sound akin to a purr. You felt his lips pressing to the top of your head and he was gone too, with his large hand resting on your hip and his bicep underneath your cheek. Helpless and surrendered, you tweaked your position to get comfortable and allowed your eyelids to drop, slowly succumbing back into the dreamland.

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu

#𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 #satosugu #satoru #satoru gojo #suguru #suguru geto #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu x you #satosugu x reader #satosugu x y/n #satosugu fluff #satoru gojo fluff #suguru geto fluff #geto fluff #gojo fluff #jjk satosugu #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n

[reiding-writing]

Idk if u ever write this or not but... i've been thinking abt this lately....... spencer and reader debating about "kissing is a lot more hygienic than shaking hands" and they just suddenly kiss afterwards AHHHH I DONT KNOW IF YOU GET MY POINT but thats that

acceptable greetings [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer is an avid believer that kissing is a better greeting than shaking hands. You’re not convinced at his notion of it being ‘completely acceptable’, and in attempting to prove him wrong, you end up proving something else.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: 100% fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: here is my immediate apology for the sheer amount of angst in my last fic i love you guys please don’t hate me 🫶

“Kissing is so much more hygienic than shaking hands,”

Spencer’s expression matched his statement, confident in his assessment and unwilling to back down on his stance of not wanting to shake hands with other people.

“It’s unhygienic,” He would say, “There are hundreds of undiscovered bacterial colonies that live on people’s hands,”

“That doesn’t change the fact that kissing somebody is not an acceptable greeting Spencer,” You arbitrarily turn your swivel chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot, rolling your eyes as you lean your head over the back of your chair.

You’d been talking about this topic for almost half an hour, your file assessment of your most recent case forgotten on your desk as you debate with Spencer as he sat directly opposite you.

“Several European countries use kissing as a customary greeting,” Of course he had a rebuttal to your comment. “It actually dates back to the Romans, who, as my original statement supports, used it as a way to stop diseases from spreading between people during social greetings,”

His face told you that he was singing his own glory in his head, victory written in the small wrinkle in his eyebrow and the quirk of his smile.

If he wasn’t so cute when he looked at you like that you’re sure you would’ve found something else to say. Something to continue this debate of yours and satisfy the competitiveness riddling your brain.

But instead you opt to let him revel in his ‘victory’, rolling your eyes as a soft “Whatever,” rolls off your tongue.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were going to prove your point.

You might think Spencer is perfectly sweet and innocent in his ways, but that didn’t stop that tiny voice in the back of your head that told you that you could win that debate you were having the day before.

You entered the bullpen with an agenda. You walked out of the elevator with your head held high and your eyes fixed on the fluffy brown mess decorating the back of Spencer’s head.

You clear your throat when you meet him, and he turns around with that perfectly innocent expression on his face, echoing a soft “Good morning,” at you that only amplifies his perfectness and makes you want to prove him wrong even more.

You don’t consult him before you lean in to press your lips to his face.

It’s a short, chaste kiss that’s pressed to the apple of his cheek.

It lasts less than a second.

And yet Spencer’s face immediately flushes a bright red that would make anyone passing by think that you’d suggested the two of you strip naked in the middle of the office.

“I- What was that for?-” His voice wavers like he was catching his breath from running up a flight of stairs, blinking rapidly at you like clearing his vision was going to provide him with the answer to his question.

“Not such an acceptable greeting after all hm?”

It takes him a second to realise what you’re talking about, but your smug expression and the way you cross your arms over your chest sends him back to the conversation he was having with you yesterday and his face turns from confusion to begrudging acknowledgment.

“It is a perfectly acceptable greeting when both parties are aware it is going to happen,” He sighs along with his response, mirroring you as he crosses his arms to try and resemble having some sort of composure.

He intentionally left out the part where even if he knew you were going to kiss him he would still flush red like a traffic light.

That his palms would still sweat and his vest would suddenly become uncomfortably hot on his torso.

But that was because you were- well, you.

So his point still stood.

“God you really do have an answer to everything don’t you?” The slight tilt of your head and the still very apparent smile on your face told him that despite your words you weren’t angry or annoyed at his response.

You more looked like you’d been presented with a freshly scrambled rubix cube to solve and add to the collection on your desk.

And that look on your face only proved to crack his composure even more.

“Well- I have done extensive research on the subject, so I therefore have had chance to form a fully educated opinion of the matter,”

True to form, his explanation was smart, logical, mixed in with that adorable awkwardness as he continued to reel from his earlier flustering.

Your chuckles grace his ears with no objection, and he soon find himself smiling softly alongside you as your attitude rubs off on him.

“You’re so cute,”

But when you call him cute, Spencer Reid finally, fully cracks because that is the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life.

Spencer’s smile reaches his eyes, the flush on his cheeks returning with a vengeance at your words and causing him to feel hot once more despite the AC blowing at a comfortable cool temperature.

You hold up a finger in front of you that his eyes follow with a confused knit in his eyebrow, and then you’re jogging back towards the elevator with his confusion only growing at every step you make.

His eyebrows continue to furrow as you walk back towards him again with that determined look that paints your face whenever you’re knee-deep in a profile, and he raises and eyebrow as you come to a stop in front of him once more.

“Good morning Spencer, i’m going to kiss you as a greeting now,”

Spencer’s face relaxes at your words as he understands what you’re doing. That you’re trying to prove his previous statement untrue by declaring your intentions beforehand and still having the interaction be unsuitable as a greeting.

He thinks he knows what you have planned, and he prepares himself for your lips to press against his cheek, to suppress the kaleidoscope of butterflies that would inevitably stir in his stomach at your contact so that he could hold his ground.

He thinks he knows what’s coming.

But oh is he wrong.

Your lips miss the apple of his cheek by a large margin, landing square on his mouth and causing his eyes to fly wide open at the new sensation.

If your lips weren’t pressed to his he’s sure his jaw would’ve fallen slack.

And that’s exactly what happens when you pull away from him a few seconds later, a delicate flush on your cheeks that contrasts the bright red covering his face like a warning sign of his shattered composure.

You stifle a small chuckle at his expression with your hand, tilting your head in a exaggeratedly innocent way. “What’s wrong Spencer? I thought kissing was an acceptable greeting when ‘both parties are aware it’s going to happen’,”

You reiterate his own words back to him, mimicking his tone in your explanation as you watch him blink at you with a blankly flabbergasted expression, completely shut down in every sense of the word.

An IQ of 187 slashed down to 60 as Emily would say.

His astoundment lasts for a whole 20 seconds before he brings himself back to reality through a series of rapid blinks, doing nothing more than leaning it to finish the space between you once more.

It’s times like this where Spencer is glad that the two of you were both chronically early to work.

That he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of his actions through his coworkers.

That he didn’t have to endure Morgan’s teasing as he stood there with his hands holding either side of your face and his lips pressed against yours with a gentle but insistent pressure.

You were more than happy to accept his advances, internally singing your own praises at finally finding an excuse to kiss those perfect pink lips of his, and have him return it no less.

He breaks the moment after a few seconds, his hands still securely cupping your face towards him as he stumbles out a half-assed explanation for his actions.

“It’s- It’s polite to return somebody’s greeting with one of your own-”

You nod with a suppressed smile against the hold of his hands.

Maybe kissing your coworkers was an acceptable greeting after all.

Or, at least for the coworker you’d been pining after.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

[hysteria-things]

i NEED more nate smut 🙏 do whatever plot you want

GOOD LUCK CHARM

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub(ish)/soft!dom nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it’s your boyfriend’s playoff game for his hockey team. he knows damn well he’s confident enough, but just in case wants you to be his good luck charm.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, oral (male receiving), p in v, praising, semi-public

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 918

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is my official coming out as a nate girl! recently i’ve been clawing at the walls for this man, and i hope you guys support my decision😔🙏

watching your boyfriend play hockey has always made you feel some way — like what he’s doing now.

it’s the big playoff game for somerville, especially against their biggest rivals. the other team isn’t here yet, so he’s just skating around with one of his teammates to warm up.

the stands start to fill slowly but surely, then you see nate get off the ice and check his phone. you wait patiently for his reaction, being that you texted him when he was on the ice.

you see him smile and laugh, thumbs typing away on the screen.

he’s a little taken aback by the boldness, but bites his lip and starts to undo his skates and gloves, leaving his helmet for last. “hey, where are you going?” his teammate says, leaning on the wall to talk with him. “the other team should be here any minute.”

“pre-game pee,” he says, eyeing you as you walk out of the stands and by the locker rooms. his friend chuckles and nods, skating away.

he maneuvers himself through some crowds until he spots you patiently waiting by the entrance of the boys’ locker room.

when nobody is around, he pushes you in by the face to kiss you hungrily. he carries you to the bathroom portion before you flip him around. now, he’s the one leaning against the sink instead of you.

you bite and pull on his bottom lip, causing him to groan once you move down to his neck. he grins contently when you bite down to leave a mark. “you’re going to fucking be the end of me.” he mumbles, cupping his hard-on through his uniform shorts.

you giggle into his neck, untying his shorts and getting down on your knees. you kiss the tip teasingly, his hips rutting forward from the suddenness.

sucking on the tip, he whines and starts to push your head down. you bob slowly so you can feel every inch of his dick on your lips.

his mouth hangs open, eyes fluttering back as he leans against the mirror. the palm of his hand rests on top of your head, letting you do all the work as low moans leave his lips.

“holy fuck.” he sighs. “fuck. just like that, baby.”

you hum, the vibration making the lower half of his body twitch.

his eyes are still closed, taking in how your warm mouth feels. especially when you hollow your cheeks and start to suck. that alone has nate’s chest heaving, squirming from above while he whimpers your name. “y/n, oh my god.” he bites back a loud moan, arching in the process. “fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m cumming.”

you feel his release shoot down your throat, the boy shakily gasping to catch his breath.

you lift yourself off the ground, wiping your lips seductively while looking into his eyes. “i need to fuck you so bad.” he says, grabbing your hips so you’re where he was seconds ago. he sits you on the sink, pulling down your SOMERVILLE HIGHLANDERS sweatpants.

he smirks noticing the no panties, completely soaked and ready. he loves when you do shit like that. “you wanted this, didn’t you?”

blushing, you nod your head and lean in the crook of his neck. your arms snake around the back, fists balled up on your hoodie sleeves. “please fuck me, nate.” you say, looking at him with puppy eyes.

aligning himself up with your wetness, he spreads your legs wider by the knees to have better access.

you both moan as he pushes in, the stretch feeling so uncomfortable yet so good.

the thrusts are slow so you can adjust like usual, but then he gets deeper. a sound way higher pitched than the others leave you. because somebody can still hear from outside let alone walk in, you bit down on your finger to muffle your noises.

his hands roam from your waist to your thighs, grunting each time he feels your walls around him. “faster, please.” you whimper out.

“you’re killing me.” he groans, rutting his pelvis faster into yours.

you rest your head on his chest, moaning into his jersey. “right there.” you whine, toes curling in your shoes.

he lifts one of your legs so your foot rests on the edge of the sink. you grip on, knuckles turning white. “nathan!” you squeal, his rhythm getting messed up.

even though it’s his name, he’d always prefer nate, but the way you moan and scream it fucks with his head. in a good way.

breathing heavily with his lip grazing your shoulder, he looks at you guys in the mirror with hooded eyes.

the way you pulse around him, holding on as he fucks you nice and deep, hitting just the right spot. he notices your legs shake in the reflection. “looks like someone’s about to cum on my cock like a good girl.” he whispers into your ear.

that alone has you shaking harder. “uh-huh.” you answer incoherently. there’s no doubt some drool is on his shirt since your eyes are rolled back with pleasure and your mouth is agape.

he watches intently at where you’re conjoined. he nods in approval once your cum starts to slowly ooze out and onto his base. “that’s my girl.”

you love the way he praises you. it always makes your brain fuzzy.

he pulls out, finishing on your stomach. grinning widely, he kisses your temple. “thank you, baby.” he says, knowing that you’ll forever be his good luck charm.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @catalina-island @mbsbaby @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopeno1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nathan doe #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe fanfic #nate doe smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[alastors-antlers]

Being someone who sees a lot of talk about shipping Alastor (sexually, romantically) in fanworks, I just want to take some time to talk about both sides of the issue. It's long, I know - please, please bear with me until the end, and I hope you'll understand what I mean in a bit.

I hope this helps someone, but as an aroace person who understands the frustration and hurt, this is often how it feels to me:

Alastor, being one of the limited cases of aspec rep that I've seen and one of even fewer which I actually enjoyed, means a lot to me.

That being said, his canon rep establishes that he's aroace but not much about how this factors into his life or relationships at all -- and when there's a gap in canon, I turn to fanfiction, which tends to spotlight characters' queerness even when the source material doesn't or can't. Don't we all want to see ourselves in the media we engage with?

When I pull up AO3, there are already a good number of fics about him. Great! Some of them are definitely incredible; but as I read on, it starts to seem like a lot of fics I see acknowledge that he's asexual or aromantic in some way but don't really factor that into the story. It reads like you could have written the story without keeping his queer identity in mind, and it would've come out the same.

Even when representation that does resonate with me exists, it starts to be exhausting to pick through the slash tags to see which ones are written in an aspec-coded way, so I wonder if it would be easier to not read anything with slash at all. On the other hand, when you filter ships out completely, only a tiny fraction of the fanworks are left.

People often respond that aspec people can have relationships, and I think we tend to know that. They can have sex, some can experience sexual attraction in select situations, they can romance others beyond romantic attraction -- any combination of things. But some aroace people don't want either, and sometimes we're struggling to see ourselves in how Alastor is typically portrayed.

Out of all of the fics, sex-repulsed, totally aromantic Alastor isn't seen much. And when Alastor's limited canon seems to be pretty supportive of a reading where he is those things...

Sometimes, you start to feel lost. If fics were evenly distributed along the aroace spectrum of experiences, wouldn't you expect more fics of him being the "totally uninterested" brand of aroace? But there aren't. People seem to have a preference toward seeing him in relationships. Even if they mean well, it can make you think: what does that say about how we view asexuality/aromanticism as a whole?

Is there something less interesting about Alastor, when romance is taken out of the picture? Do others find him less appealing as a character if they can't see him dating, or in love, or having sex or wanting it? Why do we need romance, when romance is already everywhere else, when it doesn't even feel like he was originally really interested? It brings to mind a struggle to be societally accepted, even today.

Even when it's not technically wrong to write Alastor as you see him, being told that we should all be able to ship him however we want can feel like this:

It brings to mind people who try to swing in with misinformed good intentions, telling us "oh, you're aromantic? but you can still have romantic relationships, right? so you can still be normal." when all we want is to be okay outside of the normal.

Or trying to find a partner who can be with us, out of everyone who tells us "I know you don't enjoy sex, and that's okay, but I can't have a romantic relationship with you without it." and being so tired of hoping for someone who gets it.

Or talking with peers, and hearing them all commiserate and fawn over their experiences with love, then telling them about someone you like non-romantically and getting "aww, it sounds like somebody's got a crush!" but not being believed when you tell them it's not like that at all.

Alastor is not a big deal, not really, not in the grand scheme of things. But in an allonormative world, it can feel like a sudden splash of cold water when we were expecting a warm fire to sit around. Even within this ecosystem, we squint to see ourselves reflected.

Society isn't built for us. It can be exhausting to be reminded of that.

~~~

I hope to support people writing Alastor as any variation of aspec, or not even aspec at all. At the end of the day, I think that fanon is really whatever you want it to be, and everyone has their own reasons for writing what they find enjoyable. They should be allowed to do so, and I want to believe that people do what they do with good intentions.

They want to imagine scenarios with the templates of characters they love, and that's okay; even beyond sexuality/queer identities/etc., fan interpretations of characters can be incredibly, wildly different from who they really are in the story anyway, and that's what I try to remind myself. But still, I also can't help feeling disappointed about the aroace representation we could have seen.

(Is Alastor canonically sex-repulsed? Uhh, maybe. If I had to guess, that'd be my top guess, but this might be a hot take: I wouldn't really say there's enough to go off of considering that this view is supported by Angel propositioning him both times, and it's not like Alastor is a particularly big fan of Angel at those points anyway lol)

To my fellow aroaces struggling with Alastor's fandom rep: if you need a break from it all; if you need to block the tags that you hate; if you need to talk to someone about how you're feeling; that's okay. It makes sense that you'd want more representation in a way that helps you feel seen and validated and less alone. I can't speak for everyone, but I think I get it.

I don't have any solutions for how you're feeling, because sometimes I'm feeling the same way. I understand that you want others to get your position and you have the right to express your feelings, but even if you're correct, often being angry or frustrated won't help change others' minds, so let's try to save our energy and take care of ourselves.

Something that helps me to think about is that even now, asexuality is gaining more visibility. We're gaining support. Real change is happening in the world that's helping incredible amounts of aspec people feel freer to be themselves. And maybe one day, we won't be reaching to protect our scraps of representation.

Let's fight until that day together <3

#seriously I appreciate everyone who's out here posting about alastor I love being in the radio demon fanclub lol #just some thoughts that's all and maybe it'll resonate with others #please let's be patient with each other though it's rough out there already #alastor #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #asexual #aromantic #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin #ace #aro

[k0juki]

Hiii!!

Could you please do a one-shot with jealous! Kimi? Maybe during an interview, he's already had enough and wants to leave, but after seeing a journalist or somebody else trying to flirt with his gf (they both agreed to keep their relationship private), he loses it and once he goes up to her after telling that guy to get lost, he physically relaxes and basically melts to her touch...forgetting that they were surrounded by cameras that had just recorded every second of the exchange.

I'd like to imagine how the other drivers and the fans in general would react to that :))

Thanxx <3

Yur!!!🧊 Sorry it took me too so long...school is pain.

His girl

Kimi Räikkönen x fem!reader

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

More stuff here!

Words: 573

---

It wasn't strange to see Kimi annoyed. Most people that worked with him knew how he could get and this was no different. But what annoys him the most are only two things. 

Firstly, not winning the race and media being dick about it and secondly, when anyone flirts with his girl. Of course nobody knows that you are together, but still, it makes his Finnish blood boil.

And let's just say that today wasn't his best day at all. Not only he fucked up the rece, but as the interview progressed, Kimi patience wore thinner with each passing question. He'd had enough of the same inquiries, the same stupid questions and the same attempts to extract emotions from him that he preferred to keep hidden. Yet, he maintained his ice cool demeanor, answering tersely but efficiently. 

However, his face cracked when he caught a glimpse of someone leaning a bit too close to his girlfriend, Y/n, who was standing just a few feet away, watching the interview with a supportive smile that he loves. She is his safe place. When something happens, he knows that he can go to her. To make him feel loved. 

And when he heard the journalist's flirtatious tone and lingering gaze he held on her, made Kimi's blood boil beneath his calm exterior. In a rare moment of unfiltered emotion, Kimi abruptly ended the interview, muttering something about needing a break and with determined strides, he made his way over to Y/n, who looked surprised at his sudden approach. 

"Hey, is everything okay?" she asked, concern evident in her voice, but Kimi ignored her question and pulled her into his arms possessively, caging her in and casting a sharp glare at the journalist who had dared to encroach on his territory. His girl.

"Get lost" he growled, the words were laced with a dangerous edge and it almost sounded like a threat. Once the unwanted intruder had retreated, Kimi felt a wave of relief wash over him. His tense muscles gradually relaxed as he buried his face in Y/n's hair, inhaling her familiar scent that he loves so much. 

The anger started to melt away and was replaced by a sense of calm and contentment that only she could bring him. Unbeknownst to Kimi, their intimate moment had been captured by the surrounding cameras, broadcasting his uncharacteristic display of jealousy to the world. 

Among the other drivers, reactions varied. Some were surprised, having never seen this side of Kimi before, while others like Sebastian just gave a knowing look, he understood the depth of Kimi's feelings for Y/n. As for the fans, social media and everyone else erupted with speculation and commentary. 

"I think everyone knows that we are together now." You murmured against him. His strong arms still wrapped around you.

"Yeah, but at least they won't be flirting with you before my eyes."

---

In the days that followed, Kimi and Y/n found themselves surrounded by an outpouring of support and affection from fans, friends, and fellow drivers. Despite initially feeling exposed by the public display of their relationship, they soon realized that it had only brought them closer together. 

As they retreated to the quiet sanctuary of their home, Kimi and Y/n reveled in the simple joys of each other's company. They shared laughter, tender moments and whispered words of love that were meant for each other's ears alone. 

---

Requests are open!

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

#x reader #k0juki's stuff 🩷 #f1 #f1 x reader #x female!reader #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi räikkönen x fem!reader #kimi räikkönen x reader #kimi räikkonën #kimi #kr7 #kimi raikkonen x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #formula 1

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy part 2 | f1 grid

pairing: dom!max verstappen ; dom!lando norris ; dom!rbr!seb x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, dumbification, hair pulling, spitting, blowjob, mention of gagging, dacryphilia

w/c: 0.7k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

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thinking once again about how the f1 grid would simply use you as a stress relief, as a simple fucktoy they can use whenever and wherever they want.

Definitely thinking about how max would ruthlessly snatch you away from who you’re currently talking to, being extra rough and careless if you’re talking to another driver.

“M-Max! What are you-”

But only a few minutes later you were already on max's lap with your thong pushed to the side and his dick ramming in and out of you while you desperately tried to ride him but you couldn’t, you were already way to weak for that, instead you just put your palms onto his broad shoulders for balance.

You pathetically whined into the crook of his neck, soft hands of yours already trembling, “M-Max, ah! P-Please, god, please!”

“Ride my cock,” he briefly groaned, throwing his head back in the process, “just like that, fucking hell,” he squeezed his eyes shut and went faster with his hips, making your entire body automatically bounce on his cock,

“Up and down you go, perfect,” he nodded teasingly before he pulled your head up by your hair, smirk widening as he noticed your with tears stained cheeks, “you’re so cockdumb aren’t you? Oh yes, you are.”

Or how lando wouldn’t hesitate to pull you into his drivers room after a bad race, immediately forcing you on your knees and using your throat however he pleases.

“Open up wider, baby, know you fuckin' can,” he ordered in a deep tone before he shoved his length entirely into your mouth, chuckling and biting his inner cheek with an evil grin as he heard your infamous gagging sounds that the entire paddock already knew.

“Go deeper, go deeper,” he raised his brows while he forced himself further down your throat with his veiny hand onto the back of your head, “yeahhhh, that’s my good girl.”

And as soon you would look up at lando, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to disgustingly fuck your throat until you would be the biggest crybaby he had ever seen,

“gosh you’re so pathetic,” lando threw his head back, “you like that? Yeah? Speak up, baby c‘mon,” he teased you with a wicked smile,

“oh no! The pretty little cockslut can’t speak, huh, is her mouth to full, hmm?” He laughed before he forced his cock further down your already sore throat.

redbull racing era seb would simply not care if you’re in the middle of a conversation with somebody, right after he won once again another race, he would walk towards your small figure talking to Lewis.

“Congratulations, se-!” But before you were able to finish your sentence, Sebastian already grabbed your upper arm and harshly pulled you away, leading you towards the redbull garage, slamming you face forward into the nearest wall of his small drivers room.

“So we're talking to Lewis now, huh? Why the fuck were you talking to him, huh?!” He roughly pulled on your hair, forcing you to lean your head backwards.

“Oww! We were j-just talking about t-the race, seb!” But Sebastian only chuckled behind you before he grabbed your chin and lift your dress with his other hand, quietly freeing himself as well.

He looked down into your glassy eyes, “oh of course you’re crying now, you’re such a fucking little crybaby, do you know that?” He nodded along his question before he slowly fully entered you, forcing you to shape your mouth into an inviting 'O' form.

Sebastian smiled down at you, other hand grabbing your chin again, “you like that? Yeah, you like that?” He nodded along his teasing words as he mocked you with a pout on his lips, making you cry out even harder.

Then you felt the young redbull driver spitting on your tongue, using his thumb to spread it all over it before he started to fuck you harder, letting go of your chin to grab your arms and pull them harshly behind ypur back, bending them backwards and holding them down so you weren’t able to move them, face now entirely pressed into the wall by his other hand.

“You talk to Lewis again and I fuck you so long until you’re so far gone that you have no idea which driver is fucking you anymore, got it?” lips ghosting over your ear before you heard him groan in pleasure.

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[percy-puppy]

Headcanon: Thinking of the 141!men having an afab!partner with body hair.

About: CoD Men || Task Force 141

CW: 18+ Blog/Post | MDNI, afab!reader, reader with body hair, pubic hair, talks about bullying in school, judgment, puberty, insecurity, sex (oral/reader receiving, PIV/penetrative sex, switch!dynamic, body worship, s&m), hair pulling, not proofread

A/N: Anyone else struggling with posting on the smartphone app? Like Tumblr? What's going on? Anyway, this is for my bestie who ranged about the lack of representation. @mothymunson 💕

🎀Price: Price is a hairy, hairy man. God, he is so fuzzy, and it's so hot. Obviously, he doesn't care if his partner is hairy, either. It would be hypocritical of him, really. In fact, he would be an encouraging force. It's lots of work to keep shaved and smooth, and should you feel comfortable with just no longer shaving, then why not? He is happy when you are, and just because society expects something doesn't mean you have to obey. Price would support it fully, showering you with praise as you unlearn the old “values” taught from a way too early age and drop the trauma all the comments in your puberty gave you when body hair became more prominent. He teaches you a new, healthy form of confidence and, in the shortest time, “It's just hair, love.”

🎀Soap: Johnny is… Let's be honest; that man is a feral mutt. He might shave sometimes, not often, though honestly, but body hair on his partner? He can't explain it, but that bush gets him going. He is one to drop the “the wilderness must be explored” sentence when you first get together and are insecure about his reaction. He will beg you to let him eat you out, swearing on everything that's holy to him that he doesn't mind your pubic hair at all. And, damn, he isn't lying. He doesn't care, although he does—It makes him feral. The following hours are spent with the scot’s head between your legs. Also, before you bother to worry, a hair on his tongue will just be removed, “It's locks, bonny. Happens sometimes,” he’d laugh, and go back to work, nose buried in your hair as he sucks on your clit.

🎀Gaz: That boy is always shaved. It's his personal preference. When you first mention your difference (cause a man with a negative reaction isn't even worth your time), he is surprised. It's not in a bad way, though. He just knows enough people are giving in to the pressure of shaving. He is curious, ashamedly so. You see, the curiosity effect when somebody tells you they have a piercing down there? That's what it feels like for him now. He’d sheepishly ask to take the next step, unsure what he even expects since it's just hair at the end of the day. But once you take things to the next level, it suddenly clicks. It's your confidence—the raw, unashamed, natural being. You're unashamedly yourself, every imperfection perfection, and your most potent weapon. When he hit puberty, he was insecure for a long time before he had his glow-up. He was never tall or beefy enough, just always picking himself apart by comparing himself to others. Today, he is confident as hell, but the 13-14-year-old boy he once was would be on his knees worshipping a person like you, just fully defying social expectations. He always felt a little bit like worshipping you, but your naked form bouncing on top of him absolutely breaks him. He babbles praises between panting and moaning, hands moving over every inch of your body. “You're so hot. Shit, don't stop, you're just so- fuck. Fuck me. God, please.” He did not know he was a switch, and all he needed was a confident partner.

🎀Ghost: Simon isn't nearly as hairy as the other men. He sometimes trims his pubic hair, but mostly, he just isn't hairy enough to even care about it. He also doesn't care about your hair. It's just hair. But at night, his sadistic side comes through. During sex, he will tug on your bush for fun, sometimes just shortly before slapping your tit, sometimes he’ll just pull and pull like a maniac while fucking into you. The delicious pain sends electric shocks through your sobbing cunt as he pounds you toward orgasm. Should you ever shave or trim it, he will most definitely pout a little as he lost his favorite toy. Thankfully it's just hair, it’ll grow back, and until then, he’ll focus on slapping your clit and pulling your nipples. It's okay. He’ll survive.

#percy writes #cod x reader #141 x reader #141 headcanons #cod headcanons #cod smut #ghost headcanons #ghost hc #gaz headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #john price #price x reader #price x you #gaz x you #afab!reader #soap headcanons #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap hc #price headcanons #price hc #gaz smut #price smut #soap smut #ghost smut #call of duty hc