#i really want to thank boots so much for this

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Dark Days Coming

King: hey guys sorry i'm late King: i just could not get up this morning King: feels like I've been sleeping for days King: what did i miss? King: how did the election go? Lovecraft: not too bad King: King: oh no King: oh no oh no oh no

Lovecraft: don't worry steve it won't be so bad Lovecraft: I've heard assurances from the new regime that they only want the trade unionists King: King: King:

Lovecraft: i mean really steve Lovecraft: how bad could it be? [meanwhile] Donald Trump: we're gonna have the biggliest boot stamping on a human face forever Trump: we love the boot stamping on the human face forever, don't we folks? Trump: more and more people are saying they love the boot

Lovecraft: you're overreacting steve Lovecraft: what's trump even going to do? King: well i'm glad you asked King: [unrolls comically long scroll] Lovecraft: oh is this going to be a song

King: well for starters King: decimate reproductive rights King: LGBTQ rights King: labor rights King: civil rights King: accelerate climate change Lovecraft: [sweats] this is making me feel bad steve Lovecraft: i can't wait for trump to outlaw you telling me this stuff!

King: use the military to brutalize americans King: abandon Ukraine King: and as for gaza George Romero: in all honesty steve Romero: that probably won't change much King: oh look! an optimist!

Lovecraft: ok but Lovecraft: has he actually SAID he's going to do any of that? King: yes Lovecraft: oh he was probably just lying Lovecraft: he lies a lot Poe: he does lie a lot

Lovecraft: i think you're overreacting, he's probably not gonna do all the stuff he says he's gonna do King: so you don't believe him? Lovecraft: nope! King: king: then what's his appeal? Lovecraft: well he's just so honest

Lovecraft: a real straight shooter Lovecraft: tells it like it is Lovecraft: says what he means King: King:

King: howard please tell me you didn't vote for trump did you? Lovecraft: [sweats] steve! please! Lovecraft: i'm only a loveable archie bunker style racist Lovecraft: i'm still 100% yang gang King: King: King: i picked a bad day to quit cocaine

King: i really need some cocaine King: edgar you know where i can get some cocaine don't you Poe: steve stay strong Poe: you don't need cocaine King: just one bump King: to get me through the next four years King: i mean few days King: no i mean four years

King: how about a beer? i was an alcoholic too you know King: maybe i'll take that up again King: this is good drinking weather Poe: steve no Poe: dean help me hold him back King: don't try to stop me! Poe: no steve! you've got so much to live for! King: yeah? like what? Poe: well Poe: you've got a loving family King: Joe is pretty great Koontz: and owen! King: King: yeah and owen is alright too i guess

King: yeah he's pretty good King: what the heck, i can say it King: i love owen too! Koontz: and there's naomi too King: whoa wait a second, i have THREE kids?? King: this just keeps getting better!

King: thanks guys i do feel a little better Poe: good, hold onto that Poe: cuz it's going to be a long four years Lovecraft: only four years? i thought we weren't gonna have to vote anymore! Poe: Poe: good drinking weather, huh?

Joyce Carol Oates: huh, i really don't see why the electorate would hate trans people unless they were persuaded by hate speech and fearmongering JK Rowling: well well well look at the fancccy pantsss rich author Rowling: with her out of touch fancccy ideasss about a pluralissstic sssociety! Rowling: with her fancccy german automobile! Oates: this car was made in Guatemala

Rowling: you're clearly too rich to underssstand the feelingsss of the common man Rowling: unlike me, a true daughter of the proletariat Rowling: i know all about the material needsss of the underclassss Rowling: anyway i'm going to insulate my Scottish castle with big bags of money

[cheyisagirlkisser]

"She Gets the Job Done!"

Cowgirl Ellie x Fem! Reader

Content: Cowgirl Ellie, Fem! country reader, Ellie is western type of cowgirl, reader is southern, badly written accents(guys I am southern but idk how to write a western accent), smut, clit rubbing(r! recieving), scissoring, making out, biting, some implied homophobia, reader is written as a lesbian, modern AU, reader has female anatomy, very loosely based off of Chappell Roan's unreleased song.

Word Count: 2.4k

Resource Credits: Here and Here!

Description: You're a true southern girl who is fed up with these country boys who just can't please you. What you really need is a woman, but that's kind of hard to seek out in a small southern town. When Ellie Williams moves into your town along with Joel Miller, she ends up working at the farm nearby, and you really want her. It's true: only a woman knows how to treat a woman right.

Wow, you really hated living in the south sometimes. You mostly loved the summer heat complimentary with trips to the creek on the weekends. You always loved going to rodeos where you obsessed over the dandies. You loved southern food, the nature, the farms and the small town life.

What you didn't love was the men.

You were always a romantic at heart, reading steamy western novels with a flashlight under your blankets at the age of 14 or writing love letters you'd never send to cowboys in town. However, as you grew up into a woman, you realized you'd slowly started replacing the men with cowgirls. You spent your nights wondering what it'd be like to be actually satisfied in a relationship. You grew up in a traditional-minded town, so you tried to push down those desires. You had a couple boyfriends, but men just weren't it for you. They were too rough, too awkward with you in bed, too greedy. None of them knew how to please a woman, at least not a woman like you. After a while, you gave up on the dream cowgirl you had in mind. The novels became difficult to pick up once you began to believe you'd never get the chance to experience real passion or real pleasure. That was what you'd felt like, at least until Ellie moved into your town.

Ellie Williams wasn't much for the south. She was a western girl at heart, adorned with thick leather boots and messy auburn hair. You'd seen cowgirls before, so that wasn't what surprised you. You just felt a calling to her, you adored her from her freckles that faded out in the sun to her messy hair that had a tint of red when light hit it in the right way. She was strong, that was for sure. Her biceps looked so firm, like they could handle if you sank your teeth down into them. She wasn't an extremely strong-looking girl, but that only enticed you more. Her eyes told a lot about her, said she wasn't looking for anything funny, but you wondered if she was silly under all the bravado.

She moved from the west side of the states with Joel Miller, who wasn't a wealthy man by any means, but grew up in your home town. At first, you couldn't tell if Ellie and Joel were related or not. Joel was more friendly, talked to older folks in town, but Ellie often kept to herself. She'd spend most of her time helping out with the farm next to your father's. It was when you were walking to the farmer's market that you noticed her for the very first time.

Your father was a nice man, well known in town. You were living with him until you had enough money to afford your own small place. He owned a farm and wasn't the most rich man, but he made ends meet. Today was a nice day, which mean he unfortunately encouraged you to walk to the local farmer's market instead of stealing his truck for the errand. Of course, you kept your complaints to yourself. Your dad was a sweet old man, and you should've been thanking him anyways, cause you met the most gorgeous girl the world had to offer.

Poor Ellie was too busy herding in sheep to notice your stare, to even notice you pass the road. It only made you more intrigued, that she was such a hard worker.

After that day, you'd always look out for her presence. You avoided using your dad's truck when you needed to run errands, saying it would be a quick walk. You just liked being able to pass by her as she worked on the farm, get the extra few seconds to admire her. You really felt like a creep, but this was the first time you really felt such adoration for a person. Such attraction.

The first time you spoke to her, she was driving Joel's truck down the dirt road after she had finished up with your neighbor's farm. You at the time were walking, coming home from the market with a bag of peaches for a peach cobbler. Ellie noticed you, and that was really when the two of you clicked.

She was used to pretty girls, the west and south had no shortage of them. However, you were perfection for the cowgirl. You wore a cutesy pair of overalls and a pink t-shirt underneath, and Ellie had a soft spot for feminine girls. She came to a slow stop on the dusty road, putting the transmission in park.

"Hey, you! Need a ride?" She shouted with a smile plastered on her face. Your heart melted. You'd expected her to be more serious or smug, but she seemed almost nervous. It was only making your heart beat faster.

"I only live next to this farm, it's really no problem." You assured, though you really hoped she'd push the matter. Thankfully, she did.

"Really, Joel would kill me if he found out I let you walk home. It's getting late."

You, an utterly hopeless lesbian, couldn't resist. You said fuck it and let her reach over to open the passenger door for you, and your boots reached up into the truck to plop down into the passenger seat. You placed the brown paper bag of peaches in your lap and gave her a quick thanks as she began driving. Small talk felt more like two old friends hitting it off, and you liked her accent. It made you a tad more comfortable.

The two of you grew really close after that day. She'd be in the local rodeos and you looked forward to the sleepovers that came after. A few months of friendship helped you get to know her in a way that you could confidently call her your best friend. You still liked her though, feelings only growing the more the two of you bonded. You noticed that while she was a bit shy, she came out of her shell when she was around people she knew. She was quite sarcastic to Joel, and you loved the way she made fun of you at times. It made your heart flutter, and you imagined she was saying the opposite of whatever insult she had created for you.

Ellie wasn't much like what you'd imagined, and you partially felt bad for the feelings harbored away for her. She was a cowgirl who loved horses, sure. But she shared some private interests with you that shouldn't have made you want her more, but it did. One night, Ellie and you were sitting outside in her cow field, a blanket laid out beneath the two of you. She turned to you with a genuine smile, the warm look that she only gave very few people, and spoke in a quiet voice.

"You know, I've always wanted to go to space."

You turned to face her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Really? You? In Space?" You couldn't help the surprise in your tone.

She laughed softly at your expression. "Yes, dumbass. I used to listen to the first moon landing recording on repeat. Somethin' about it was really magical, ya know?"

You couldn't help but melt a little at her confession. The thought of Ellie being obsessed with astronauts was really endearing. But you couldn't stop the teasing, either.

"Is that why you have those nerdy space comics on your shelf? You told me those were Joel's!"

Ellie scoffed and swatted your arm playfully, but her hand lingered on your skin. "That's a topic for another time. Be grateful I share my secrets with ya."

You felt the warmth of her fingers, the way they softly traced patterns on your bare arm. Right then and there, you suddenly needed to risk it all.

"Ellie...I..I really need to tell you something." You sounded shaky and uncertain, but you needed to get your feelings out, even if it meant facing a possible rejection. This girl was too perfect to let get away.

"Yeah, what's up?" She sounded curious, unaware. That made you feel uneasy.

"I just..well, when I first saw you, I thought of you as a completely different person. And I really liked you. I liked you in a romantic way. I got to know you, though. The thing is, I think I like you even more. And I'm so sorry if you-" You were suddenly cut off when her plush lips met yours.

You were shocked, but quickly kissed her back, hands grasping at her everywhere, pulling her to lay on her side so you could tangle your legs with hers. It felt so nice to be kissing her. She tasted like fruit and smelled even better, and her tongue felt hypnotizing against yours. It made you crave much more.

Soon, you were rolled onto your back so the cowgirl could lay on top of you. Her hands were trailing from your sides to your stomach, her hand pausing above your shirt, her eyes meeting yours to search for any hesitation. When you nodded, her hands slid up your shirt to massage your tits through the fabric of your cotton bra. You let out a quiet whine, the feeling of her weight pressed on your body, and she leaned in to press her lips against your neck. In response, you tilted your head back, desperately craving more of her. You could feel the shakiness of her breath, and it reminded you that she was just as nervous as you were.

"Do you wanna keep going?" She asked, and you really noticed how different her tone was from when she was usually speaking to people. One of her hands trailed down the button of your jeans, and she didn't continue until you nodded.

Her hand quickly unzipped your jeans, her eyes meeting yours. She thought you were just too beautiful, looking up at her with wide eyes. She adored you. Her fingers slipped into your panties, and she let out a little "fuck" when she felt the damp patch in your panties. You laughed with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Please, Ellie." You sounded so desperate, Ellie quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on your lips. This one was much more confident, more sloppy and hungry than the first. She took your tongue into her mouth, giving it a hard suck which made you buck up into her hand, trying to get her to just fuck you.

"Patience, mkay?" She said softly as she pulled away, a shaky exhale leaving her mouth at the sight of the string of saliva the kiss had pulled from the two of you.

You nodded even though you weren't the most patient person. Ellie kept you at bay by rubbing at your clit with the pad of her finger, swirling moisture around the soft bud. You made one of the most heavenly sounds Ellie had ever heard, your eyes fluttering shut as she touched you. For the first time, someone actually focused on you. She struggled to pull your shirt off with just hand but you helped her out and soon, your bra was quickly unclasped. Ellie continued to rub at your clit as much as she could through your jeans, but she eventually gave up and pulled her hand out of your jeans, eliciting a cute whine from you.

"Off, please?" She requested, her voice so sweet and yet so demanding. Now that she knew you wanted her, she wasn't playing around. You nodded eagerly and lifted your hips as much as possible to pull your jeans and panties over your hips. Soon, you were left naked on the blanket. Ellie sat up to strip off her own clothes and you admired the sight.

Something about watching the girl strip, her pale skin coming into view in contrast to the stars above the two of you, it was perfection. Her body was slim and she was lean but had muscle on her. There they were, those perfect biceps..you couldn't help but sit up with her to plant kisses on them which soon turned into hungry little bites.

She let out a shaky laugh at your biting and joked with you, even in the heat of the moment. "You're gonna take a bite outta my arm, jesus."

You ignored her teasing and instead moved your lips to her pointy tits, smiling slightly as she shuddered. You found her weak spots. You dragged your tongue over both of her tits, feeling her nipples harden against your touch. She was getting impatient now. She pulled you closer so you were sitting with your legs tangled together, moving to slot herself between your legs. You let out countless desperate pleas as her wet cunt came into contact with yours.

You couldn't help but buck your hips into her no matter how much she tried to stabilize you, both of your moans filling the field. Her cunt was so wet against yours and you could feel her clit and lips both rub up and down all over your own clit. The stimulation felt so good but it had you desperate in ways your body knew, your whines getting louder when Ellie would lean in for wet, lazy kisses and trail her lips all over your neck, hands snaking around to squeeze your ass.

"Fuck, Els. Please, I'm gonna cum..I want you, please.." You pleaded with her, your orgasm building up inside you. This would be the first time you actually came from another person's actions.

"Cum with me, mkay? Cmon baby, you can cum for me.."

You'd never heard Ellie speak so filthy before. Sure, she had a sailor's mouth. She'd swear and curse even on her death bed. But just hearing her beg you to cum, it really sent sparks down into your pussy.

You frantically ground against her pussy, words coming out probably incoherent to Ellie's ears. "Fuck, I'm cummin', I love you Els.."

Your orgasm hit you like fireworks, all of the butterflies you'd felt for Ellie over the months released into intense bliss. She came with you, your juices mixing together, wetness coating both of your thighs.

The two of you spent the next few minutes catching your breaths, a comfortable silence exchanged. You were collapsed against her, arms around her as she held you close. She was so warm, and it was now a comfort more than a turn-on.

Soon, she spoke up in a soft, quiet murmur just for you.

"I love you too, by the way.."

[written-with-clouds]

I Found Love (Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be) Epilogue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen/ Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Seven years have passed since Aemond took you back to Dragonstone. Six years have passed since Rhaenyra took to the Iron Throne as the rightful queen.

Authors Note: Cross posted on AO3,

CW: Nongraphic childbirth

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Mama! Mama!” The bed shakes, bouncing you awake, though you refuse to open your eyes as sleep clings to you. “Mama! Wake up wake up wake up!” The excited squealing of your five year old daughter continues and you fight the urge to smile.

“Vis, I told you to let her sleep.” Comes the hushed voice of your husband. You hear his boots against the stone floor as he crosses over to the bed and lifts your daughter into his arms. 

“But I want to show her what I drew..” Your daughter responds, the pout on her face evident in her tone. “I know issa byka zaldrīzes (my little dragon), but you can show her when she wakes up. On her own.” Aemond explains softly. His footsteps receding as he exits the room and you drift back off sleep.

You stir awake again a while later as the bed dips behind you. This time, instead of the excited bouncing that woke you earlier, it’s a warm body pressing against your back and an arm sliding around your middle. Gentle lips kiss a pattern over your shoulder and the side of your neck, leading up to your ear. 

“Happy birthday, issa ābrazȳrys (my wife),” Aemond whispers against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. 

“Mmm” You sigh deeply, relaxing back against him. You place your arm on top of his and intertwine your fingers. “What time is it?” 

“Not quite noon, still plenty of time before the dinner tonight.” 

“Not quite noon… How did you manage to keep Visenya occupied?” 

“It wasn’t easy. But luckily her attention span isn't that great,” Aemond jokes causing you to laugh. Your laughter, it seems, is good for summoning children, as not even a minute later your daughter is jumping onto the bed.

“Mama!” She squeals cheerfully.

“Hello, my dear”

“Happy birthday mama! I made you something!” She beams, holding out a scribbled drawing. You can just kind of make out three figures; you, Aemond, and your daughter. In the background is another, larger, figure that’s really no more than a gray blob. 

“Is this Vhagar?” You ask pointing to the blob figure. Visenya nods rapidly, making your head and neck hurt just watching her. “It's beautiful, baby… thank you”

“How can she have so much energy?” Aemond asks. The two of you are watching Visenya play with her dragon in the garden. She chases after the fledgling as it hops around, ducking in and out of different bushes. 

“I don’t know, but from the feel of things, this little one will give her a run for her money.” You chuckle, rubbing your hand over the swollen bump of your stomach. The baby inside kicks, further proving your point.

Aemonds hand joins yours as he leans over to coo at the unborn child, “If you can tire your sister, you’ll be my favorite.” 

“Hush,” you smack at his shoulder lightly and he kisses first your stomach and then your lips.

You, Aemond, and Visenya walk through the doors into the dining hall. Your daughter practically sprints towards Daemon as he crouches to her level. She squeals loudly as he lifts her up and spins her around.

“Oh, my darling.” Your mother says, opening her arms wide and embracing you. She kisses your forehead, “Happy birthday..” Just as soon as she releases you, your brothers Luke and Jace are enveloping you in their own hugs, mirrored happy birthdays spilling from their lips. Rhaena, Baela, And Helaena following suit. 

You respond to everyone with a kind smile and a bashful, “Thank you.” Everyone settles around the table as the servants start to bring out the food. Plate after plate of your favorite dishes are placed around the table and you give your mother a knowing look. 

“Don’t start,” She responds, wiggling a finger at you playfully. You put your hands up in surrender and Aemond chuckles beside you. The table dissolves into several small conversations. Lord Corlys and his wife talked politics with your mother, while Daemon and Aemond had a debate over who would win in a fight between the two of them—your daughter dutifully taking her favorite grandfather’s side, much to your husband’s dismay. Jace, Luke and Rhaena were animatedly discussing something at the end of the table while you, Baela and Helaena theorized what the topic was. 

Laughter and music rang through the hall as the night went on. At some point, your daughter had crawled into Aemonds lap and was currently fighting a losing battle with sleep. 

He places a hand on your thigh to get your attention, “I’m going to put her to bed..” 

“No, let me do it..” You insist. “You had her this morning, I’ll put her to bed.” 

“Darling, she’s practically a dead weight.. you shouldn’t be carrying her.” 

“Then let’s do it together. And before you argue, just know I’m coming whether you want me to or not.” 

Aemond sighs and smiles softly, a sight reserved for you alone. He stands and waits for you. As you stand, you notice a dull pain in your abdomen but think nothing of it, those short pains weren’t abnormal at this stage in your pregnancy. Walking up the stairs, another pain shoots through you. You grip the handrail, leaning against it as you double over. Groaning loudly, you clench your eyes shut. 

You can distantly hear Aemond passing your still sleeping daughter off to a handmaiden before his muffled voice is closer, asking if you’re okay. One of his hands touches the small of your back softly but the touch does little to ease your nerves. 

You feel something run down your leg and hurriedly pull and push at the fabric of your dress. Sticking your hand under your dress, you feel for where it’s the most wet. Swiping your fingers through the liquid before removing your hand from the fabric of your dress, sighing in relief when you see that it’s a clear liquid and not the red color of blood. 

As your pain subsides and the panic in your heart calms you look at Aemond, who is still by your side. “The baby is coming.”

You labored for nearly two days. Your mother helped guide you through the birth, just as she had when Visenya was born. She grasped your clammy hand in hers while the wetnurses rushed about the room. She walked you back and forth in the chamber to help move things along, told you stories to distract you from the pain. 

Aemond paced outside the doors to your shared chamber, anxiously wringing his hands. Daemon had taken on the job of watching Visenya so that he could focus on you and your newborn. For nearly two days Aemond didn’t sleep, barely ate, and pestered the Maesters for information anytime one left the room. And then, finally, Aemond heard the shrill cry of a baby. Rhaenyra was the first to exit the room, embracing Aemond. 

She pulled back and smiled at him, “Your wife misses you. And your child wants to meet you.”

Aemond enters the room quietly. His eye immediately landing on your tired, disheveled, form. And even with your hair laying wild around you and your skin shining with sweat, he still believes you to be the most beautiful woman in the world. 

A small bundle of cloth lays against your bare chest. You coo at it, gently rubbing a hand along the back of it. Aemond sits next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder and kissing your temple. 

You smile at him, tired and content. “Aemond… meet your son, Aerys.” 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@hydrationqueensworld

@strangersunghoon

[nipuni]

Hello!! Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought I saw on one of your posts a while back that you’ve bought shoes from American Duchess? I’m considering buying a pair of their boots, but the price makes me hesitant. I was wondering if you could let me know your thoughts on their shoes and what the quality is like, if you’d recommend them, etc.? I’d just like a bit more information before I spend the money, but I didn’t have anyone else to ask, since I don’t know anyone personally who has bought from them.

Also, I love your art so much, you’re so talented! Thanks for taking the time to read this!!

Hello! Oh of course! I've collected six pairs from American Duchess over the years and I really love them all 🥰 The fitting happens to be perfect for me so I try to grab a pair whenever they are on sale, usually on Bastille day the discounts are great. They are very comfortable and just the right heel height and shape for walking for hours with no effort. They also don't hurt the back of my ankle like most shoes do, the Londoners are honestly the most comfortable pair of shoes I own. The quality is great ( the pairs I have for reference are the Cambridge Edwardian bicycle boots, two pairs of Londoner Oxfords, Mae Edwardian, Gibson Edwardian and the Manhattan cloth top button boots). As for durability I've had some of these pairs for around 3-4 years and repaired them only once, I wear them daily and on all kinds of terrain. Just keep in mind they have leather soles which has it's pros and cons, though you can always get rubber soles on them at the cobbler if you prefer those. Everyone is shaped differently so I can only give you my personal experience in terms of comfort of course but I'd recommend them for sure! If you love historical reproduction shoes you may also want to check out Memery shoes, Darcy clothing, Joebear boots and Charlie Stone I recommend these as well! I hope this helps! And thank you so much 🥺❤️ I'm so happy to hear that!!

[juleswritesstuff]

Hello fellow italian!

I don’t really know if you take in requests but i’ll try anyway.

I was thinking jegulus x reader where reader is in a current relationship with james but also has a past with regulus, reader’s being intimate with james when he starts bringing up his worries about thenext quidditch match against slytherin, especially mentioning that regulus is too much of a good seeker to beat. Reader teases james bc he sounds like he has a crush on him but at the same time thinks of a way to arrange a ménage à trois. 😋

Hello to you, and thank you so much for your request 💌

This is my first request ever, and I am not kidding when I tell you I am so nervous I'm literally shaking in my boots. I tried my best and I really hope you like it 💗

jegulus x reader

warnings: suggestive

James’ neck had always been his weakest spot. 

The way he shivered everytime your lips started teasing the sensitive skin of his throat was almost enchanting to see, the low breathy groans that escaped his mouth were pure music to your ears.

He became putty in your hands as soon as your tongue made contact with his flesh.

And yet in that moment, with your hips straddling his, bodies flushed against each other and mouth latched to that spot on his neck you knew made him melt, he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“James” you called softly, head still buried in the gentle curve of his shoulder.

“Mmh” his hands were on your hips, just resting there. No teasing, no fingers traveling everywhere until you were nothing but a bubbling mess on top of him. Every trace of the hungry, playful James he always was when he had you in that close of a proximity was dulled, clouded. 

His body was there, but you weren’t sure you could say the same thing about his mind. Not after that barely audible mumble fell from his lips, anyway.

Something was wrong.

You lifted your head, eyes slightly narrowed and worried, ready to investigate whatever had made your boyfriend so quiet and distant when he was the most vocal guy you had ever met. 

Especially in bed.

“James” you tried again, hand cradling his cheek and gaze searching for his seemingly absent one.

That gentle touch seemed to bring him back to reality.

“Huh ?” he blinked a couple of times with that lost puppy look in those hazel eyes finally focusing on yours.

“You’re rigid” your thumb started to caress his cheek gently, a grin curved your lips “And not in the good kind of way”

Realization seemed to hit him all at once as his eyes trailed over your body still straddling him, clothes all rumpled and eyes glazed.

He groaned.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, love. I-” his hands left your waist, reaching up to rub his face in what felt like pure frustration “-you’re here on top of me, looking like that and all I can think about is this bloody Quidditch match. I must be going insane”

He sounded so appalled by his self proclaimed lack of sanity that a grin blossomed on your lips. 

He was so cute you wanted to eat him up.

“The one against Slytherin ?” you already knew the answer, but that feeling in your chest told you you should’ve asked anyway.

“Yeah” he exhaled a defeated breath.

The smile on your face turned sweet, reassuring. 

“You’ll do amazing, James” you said on his lips right before placing a light kiss on them “Like you always do”

The hand on your back started to rub slightly, a silent ‘thank you’ for your encouraging words. His face, however, was still morphed in an unconvinced frown.

“It’s just-” his eyes met yours and you could feel every ounce of uncertainty in them “Their team has been great this year, you know ? They have very strong players and a strategy that basically demolished Ravenclaw last time. Their beaters are ruthless, their chasers are as fast as lightning and have one hell of an aim, the keeper is absurdly good at bending at every angle to not let the quaffle even graze the hoop. And Black-” he paused, uncertainty shifting to pure, raw wonder “Merlin, Regulus is brilliant this year. He is quick, and precise, and so damn fast, like- did you see him last time ? He caught the snitch in less than thirty minutes. Thirty. Minutes. That’s gotta be some kind of record, right ? He is so talented it is actually marvelous to witness. It’ll be hard beating him and his outstanding skills, especially with how swift he is on his broom. Have you noticed it becomes like an extension of him when he is on the field ? He has an excellent control of his body and his mind is extremely focused on the game, but his eyes constantly follow the snitch, like the perfect seeker that he is”

“Sounds like you have paid very close attention to him” there was a smirk on your lips, one he couldn’t see with the way your head had returned back to tease his neck.

You could feel his heartbeat stutter right against your knowing grin, blood pumping faster and erratic at your words.

And you couldn’t even blame him in the slightest.

Regulus was, for lack of better words, utterly magnetic. He had an aura that was hard to ignore, luring you in with those raven curls and silver eyes, words sarcastic and aloof, but a mouth so sweet, so addicting that you couldn’t help crave more. 

And you knew it too well.

You knew the feeling of those lips on yours, kissing and worshiping every inch of your body, you knew the touch of his hands, burning and teasing and reverent. And you knew the sensation of his eyes on you, heating your skin, making you shiver with their intensity.

The same passion with which they still looked at you, even after months of ending your little encounters. 

The same fervor with which they looked at James, too.

And James ? Oh, he definitely looked back.

And you did, too.

”He’s on the opposing team, baby. I have to pay attention” his voice trembled as the words rolled out of his mouth, and you honestly didn’t know if it was because you were now biting the sweet spot right below his ear, or because he was clearly lying “For weak spots and, ah-“

Oh, his low moans were delicious music to your ears. 

You couldn’t help your brain wandering to dangerous places. 

Places where the music became a full symphony, accompanied not only by your breathy, needy whimpers harmonizing with his deeper, gruffer ones, but also by a chorus of filthy words and desperate sounds coming from a mouth you were more than familiar with.

“Mmh” your tongue darted out to soothe the bitten skin “Or maybe someone has a little crush”

“What ?” came out of his mouth in breathless disbelief.

You grinned, lips continuing their torturing journey. 

Your hands went to his shirt, all rumpled and misplaced, unbuttoning it slowly, leisurely.

Because there was one thing that James couldn’t help doing while he was lost in pleasure. 

Speaking his mind without veils.

Usually that led to some of the lewdest things your ears had ever been graced with.

But right in that moment, as your fingers danced on the skin of his sculpted bare chest, traveling down and down slowly, you hoped it would lead to some other kind of truth.

One where he got rid of all his inhibitions and finally allowed himself to admit his desires.

You weren’t blind, nor stupid, and the way James looked at both you and Regulus with that same fire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Isn’t he beautiful ?” you asked, mouth slotting with his in a filthy dance of lips and tongues.

“Y/n” he grunted, sounding more pleading and desperate rather than annoyed.

The way his body reacted told you everything you needed to know.

“Come on” you bit his lower lip, feeling the plump flesh between your teeth “It's just an innocent question”

“Is it ?” his hands on your waist tightened, making you hiss at the way his fingers were burning on your skin.

"Absolutely” you whispered right on his mouth, hips gaining a life of their own and starting to move right over his crotch.

The grunt he let out went straight to your core.

“Liar” he said with a grin on his lips, not buying your fake coyness even for a minute.

He saw right through you. 

But you saw right through him, too. 

James wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Answer me, Jamie” you whispered in his ear, your hips rolling on his in a sultry, sensual rhythm. 

Wanting him to fall apart under your touch. Wanting him to let go. 

Your hands buried in his hair, tugging lightly and eliciting a deep moan from his kissed bruised mouth.

“Isn't Regulus gorgeous ?” 

Your hips moved faster, erratic and filthy and determined to make him see stars.

His head tilted back in pleasure, hands gripping your waist for dear life.

And, finally, all his walls crumbled.

“Fuck, fuck- yes. Yes, he is. He is- holy shit. And you are, too. You are. You both are. And I really need you right now or I'll literally combust on the spot”

He barely made it to the last word before your lips were on his once again. 

There wasn't much talking after that, both your mouths way too busy in other more pleasurable activities.

But that didn't mean the gears of your brain had stopped turning.

Oh, no. They were working even faster, picturing some of the filthiest things you had ever thought about.

Scenarios that involved an empty quidditch changing room, a running shower and two very sweaty, very handsome boys with adrenaline still filling their veins and fire burning in their eyes.

Yeah, you could have definitely worked with that.

Ps: I absolutely take requests <3, so feel free to send me your ideas and I'll try to fulfill them the best I can. It might take a while to write them though because uni is currently killing me 😀.

Might do a part two with a little bit of...spice 😏

[deerspherestudios]

Thank you for the info on the bouncing animations, seeing my characters do a lil jump is so fun!

And I do mean the sounds themselves, I’ve figured out the coding bit. The sound design in MO is so good! I gotta know your secrets!

Haha I'm happy to have helped! For the sound design it's pretty straightforward, I just assembled the sounds in Premier Pro (it's not an audio software but it was conveniently on my desktop) and layered them out. So one audio file has multiple sounds in sequence.

For a longer explanation:

If you look at the audio files, some of them are baked in like "tail-whip.ogg" having the mug being pushed, falling off the edge, a whoosh of air and the tail catching it in one single audio file. Another example is "kitchen-cabinets.ogg" where you can hear Mychael's boots walk away first and then muffled cabinets opening and closing.

The sequence of different sound cues really make it unique to that scenario instead of just one noise indicating movement like a simple 'thwap' to show the mug being caught or just kitchen cabinets themselves. It's a little extra admittedly (I don't know if a lot of VNs even do this) but I really enjoy doing it especially hearing the final result!

As I implement them in, I always go back and forth looking at what I wrote and what I expect to hear, since I want it to feel natural regardless of reading speed if that makes sense. Timing them is the most important!

There is a 'queue audio' function in Ren'Py where one audio file plays after the first is finished, but I find it much more finicky than just editing the sounds myself where I can control the timing, volume and add in effects if I wanted in one single playback.

I hope that helps!

[sgiandubh]

Caitriona Balfe stated that she would NEVER date an actor. I wonder how she feels about Sam's shirtless and 95% nude appearance with actresses. I could not

Dear Never Anon,

Never say never, Anon. Hasn't your Momma told you so?

You might also consider the fact we are all different, thank God. If you could not, does not mean she couldn't. You are not her. She is not you. Dig me?

She was also that starry-eyed young model who uttered these words, Anon:

'Look, when you're earning that much money and you have the possibility to do a lot of things, like you wanna go travel, you wanna go, you know, for a really nice holiday in Saint Barth's or something, and if you are with somebody who's not earning that much money... Of course you're gonna pay for them to bring them, but then if you're constantly paying for somebody, I guess it can leave you feeling like you've been leeched on, I guess? Like sometimes, you know... but it's... but it's not...or is it? I don't know (uneasy giggle)... ahem... I mean, we're all pretty young, so anyone you're gonna be with, unless you're dating like... some 40, 50-year old banker or something, they're not gonna be earning the same as you are, because they're just starting their career, so ...'

It is all on tape, here (00:45- 01:30)

'Leeched on'. Tss, what an unusually strong choice of words from a twenty-something young Irish model, don't you think, Anon? Despite the fact that her kindness finally made her fumble around with the answer and clumsily try to mitigate it.

So which one is it? 'I will never date an actor', because I don't want to talk about my private life ('some things are just for me') to some second-tier media outlet? Or I would feel 'leeched on' if my partner earned less than me?

When she supposedly met McGill, she was 34/35 years old, Anon. He was 36/37, at the time, with a hefty record of failed businesses to boot. Not exactly starting his career and I bet she still thought the same. Assuming she is not Mother Teresa and McGill is not exactly J.P. Morgan, you do the math.

[bigtreefest]

Happy Hoelloween! 🎃❤️ Please accept this lil hoe treat just for you:

It looks like he’s had a hard day and needs one of your sweet treats to turn his frown upside down. Hope you’re up for it, because he sure is 🍆😘

A Well-deserved Treat

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Reader (modern AU)

Summary: After a long day, you know exactly what Curtis needs

Word count: 729

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, grunty Curtis, grumpy Curtis, nonverbal Curtis, soapy handjob, shower, Curtis’s beautiful naked body

A/N: Hehehe, happy Hoelloween, Siri!! A sweet treat, indeed!! Thank you so much for sending this in. Sorry it’s a little bit after Halloween, but I think this kind of slowed-down comfort is what we need right now. My poor Curty having a hard day? The least I can do is take care of him when he always does the same for me!!!

Thank you all for reading! Comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo appreciated.

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Main Masterlist

Curled up on the couch queueing up all the scary movies you had planned to watch for the night, you heard his truck pull into the driveway. Curtis was finally home, and it was much later than you both had anticipated.

On most days, he was gone before the sunrise, that part wasn’t new. But early hours usually meant an early return unless something went wrong at the shop. And judging by the way the sun was well below set in the sky and you were already on your second bowl of candy for the trick-or-treaters, something went really wrong.

The door closed a little harder than usual, although Curtis was careful not to slam it. Based off of that, he didn’t seem angry about the day, but most definitely annoyed at the very least.

You turned to greet him, but he was already gone, the faint sound of him toeing off his boots filling the hallway along with his jingling belt buckle. He was probably going to take a shower to wash the day away, which was a good idea. That always calmed him a little, but he probably needed even more than that.

Curtis was probably going to take a bit of a longer shower, too, but you didn’t want to waste time. You moved quickly to throw the blanket off of you, grabbing the bowl of candy and setting it on the doormat for kids to help themselves. Your man needed you.

You ran quickly with your socked feet faintly sliding on the wooden floors, grateful you had already closed the windows earlier as you shucked off pieces of clothing one by one, leaving a trail.

Once you got to the bathroom door, Curtis was already under the water, simply standing there and letting it rush over him, a faint frown on his face. His hulking shoulders rose and fell steadily with his even breathing which was interrupted as you stepped into his space.

Curtis’s eyes blinked open, his long eyelashes catching droplets of water. Your heart sunk a little, seeing the clear exhaustion in his features as you reached up, your hands gently cupping his jaw, beard lightly scratching your palms.

“Hi, honey,” you whispered just above the sound of rushing water. He simply sighed and gave a grunt in response. Curtis had used his voice too much today, barking orders and corrections around the shop, dealing with more than his fair share of customers. Words were not something he wanted to produce right now, and he was so happy you could see that with the sympathetic smile that you flashed him.

Without a second thought, you knew exactly what you needed to do, reaching to the side and grabbing a dollop of body wash. You lathered it between your hands before pressing them against his firm pecs, rubbing in small circles. You moved outward across the broad expanse of his chest, watching his eyes flutter shut and his head tilt backwards in ecstasy.

You worked your way downward, over the hair of his chest and the ridges of his abs until you came upon the thatch of hair just above where he was starting to grow hard. The relaxation and care you were showing him was enough to do that, and after the kind of day he had, be needed a release.

You reached your soapy hand for his shaft, slowly pumping his length. You were startled as Curtis’s hand shot out and slapped the shower wall, his chin falling to his sternum as his breaths began to pick up. You could hear them huffing out of his nose. He watched the way you expertly twisted your wrist, slightly tentative since he still hadn’t spoken yet.

Curtis’s head slowly rose, his pupils blown with pleasure looking at you through his eyelashes. From the sight of his lust and need to feel good taking over, you got distracted, lost in his gaze. You didn’t even realize your hold weakening, your rhythm faltering until his large hand clasped over yours, helping you squeeze him and move faster.

Finally, Curtis’s lips broke their seal with a small gasp. His chest rumbled in a way that sent a shiver through you despite the warm water. His voice came out in a low growl, one you couldn’t ever bring yourself to deny.

“That’s it. Give me what I need.”

Bonus A/N: Gimme that beast of a man. Lemme shower him in affection and wash off that grime in an actual shower🫣

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 47/Epilogue: Mikey Done Good

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev

It has been a month since Mikey's second rescue from the TCRI.

The lair is bright again. There is laughter again. Everyone smiles and jokes and has fun again.

It's a home again.

Casey Jones Jr. smiles as he works to tidy up the lair, moving the empty and flattened cardboard boxes over to a side tunnel so they can be placed in a dumpster later. Usually, none of them mind the clutter or the mess from moving, but they're having guests over tonight and Casey wants to make a good impression.

Speaking of, CJ gets a notif from the security system that April has arrived. She waltzes in moment later, smiling brightly.

"Whattup, family!" she yells loudly, announcing her arrival to all who didn't get the notification. "It's your favourite person! Apriiiiiiiiiiiiil O'Neil!!"

CJ rolls his eyes as Donatello and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 come out to greet her.

"Hey, April!" Donnie responds, quickly fistbumping her in greeting. "How was class?"

"Pretty good. My report got an A, so I'd think I'm a shoo-in for the competitive writing finals this year. I heard the winners get to intern for Channel 6!"

Donnie rolls his eyes and smiles.

"You always did like the news."

"Congrats, bromigo!" S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.2.0 cheers, activating a few streamers and confetti, much to Casey's annoyance at having to clean the hall again.

"Where's everybody else?" April asks, glancing up and down the halls.

"Raph is still getting the dining room set up," Donnie says. "And Mikey's making dinner."

"Mikey is?" April asks, eyes wide, yet nowhere near as wide as her smile. "He's cooking again?"

"We've been practicing a few recipes," Casey announces proudly. "He felt confident enough to try making some of the food tonight."

"Lemme guess... pizza?" April chuckles as she follows the others into the living room to help Raphael set up. "I can't wait for another Mikey original! So, is everybody coming tonight?"

"My mom said she'll be here in a bit," Casey answers as he starts wiping down the table for the fourth time. "Agent Bishop and Honeycutt will be arriving within the next fifteen minutes, I think."

"Pops and Draxum are still waiting for Leo to wrap up his appointment. They're cuttin' it close, but Leo promised to be on time," Raph says as he carries a stack of plates into the room. "Which means he'll be fashionably late again."

Donnie sneers.

"You'd think a guy who can make portals to any place on earth would understand how to be punctual."

"I still can't believe it's been a month," April awes. "Everything flew by so fast!"

"And it doesn't help that the one day at the TCRI felt like a whole week," Raph groans. "Hey, who's in charge of silverware?"

"I got it," Casey offers, running into the kitchen and returning a moment later with the cutlery. "So, Mikey made pizza, Raph made breadsticks, and I made salad."

"I brought mini shish kabobs and dip," April offers, holding up a tupperware with grilled veggies on skewers.

"Sounds great! Mom mentioned bringing brownies..." Casey recalls, "Bishop and the Professor offered to pick up drinks, and Master Splinter and the Baron said they'd grab some Yokai hors d'oeuvre from the Hidden City vendors. So I think we'll be good!"

The group continue to set up the dinner table just as three more guests enter from the subway tunnel.

"I HAVE ARRIVED!!!" Cassandra yells loudly, waving her hockey stick around like a crazed chimpanzee as she runs.

Cass rushes forwards and wraps her arms around CJ as tightly as she can. He reciprocates with a laugh.

"ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ," Fugitoid remarks as he and Bishop walk in next, "ʙᴜᴛ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴄᴀʟᴍᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀ."

"Hey, Professor!" Casey greets with a smile. "You're looking good. New upgrades?"

"ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄɪɴɢ. ᴅᴏɴᴀᴛᴇʟʟᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ʜᴇʟᴘꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ…"

"Anything for a fan of my work," Dee jokes. "And you've brought drinks. Any flavourless juice?"

"Sorry, just sodas," Bishop says, holding up a few grocery bags filled with large liters of name brand seltzers.

"We can't expect you to be perfect all the time," Donnie grumbles.

"Where's Mikey?" Bishop asks.

"If he heard Cass's war cry, then he should be here any second --"

Almost on cue, Mikey comes bounding out of the kitchen at full speed, pouncing at Cass and zipping around her waist and shoulders in excitement like a hyped-up cat. He eventually perches just above her shoulders, chirping excitedly and giving her a noogie. She laughs as she reaches up and pulls him down, matching his energy and nooging him right back.

Mikey laughs before releasing his hold on her and running over to Bishop and Fugitoid, reacting much more calmly and rising to stand on two legs for them.

"Hi, guys!" he says, a smile growing across his doughy and flour-caked face.

"ꜱᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴍɪᴋᴇʏ!" Fugitoid greets. "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ."

"Thanks! I'm all patched up now, see?" Mikey says as he enthusiastically shows off the large scars on his abdomen and neck. "My only complaint is the physical therapy's boring; but it is helping me to get back into my old hobbies!"

"I see you've taken up cooking?" Bishop asks, pulling a small chunk of sticky dough off Mikey's face.

"Oh, yeah. Whoops! I got a little carried away... but the pizza should be done in a while! Just enough time to talk about stuff and wait for the rest to get here! We can catch up!"

"Yeah, how's it going with the whole TCRI business?" Casey asks as he takes the brownies and sodas into the kitchen, the rest following after him and Mikey.

"Going really well," Bishop nods with a smile. "Which is surprising, considering everything. You'd think an evil corporation would try to hide their misdeeds, but what with all the leadership gone, everyone's turning on each other and revealing the truth!"

"Seriously?" Raph asks, eyes wide. "That's awesome!"

"Why haven't we heard anything about it on the news?" April asks.

"I doubt the local police will let any kind of news about a failed government study get in the public eye," Bishop sighs. "But they're handling it pretty well. Most scientists want to plea bargain, and from what I've heard the TCRI will be completely and permanently shut down within the next few days. Not just the sites stationed in NYC, but all over the globe! Then there's proceedings, court hearings, lawsuits from disgruntled employees for harassment, assault, and unfair work environments, just to name a few."

"Sounds like you have your hands full!" April laughs, moving aside as Mikey skirts behind her to retrieve a bottle of tomato sauce for the pizza.

"ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ!" Fugitoid chimes in. "ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴄʀɪ ɪɴ ꜱʜᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇꜱ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ��ꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ!"

"And that's where you two come in, hm?" Donnie asks with a smirk.

"I think it's time we rebuilt the Earth Protection Force from the ground up," Bishop nods. "Make it the way it was supposed to be. Something we can actually rely on."

Mikey smiles brightly at the agent as he shreds the cheese over the pizza dough and tomato paste. Though in his distraction, he accidentally spreads the cheese onto the countertop rather than the pizza itself. He hastily scoops up the cheese and sprinkles it back wherever it looks needed.

"Well, you're perfect for the job!" Casey beams.

"And I know a few girl scouts who would be VERY EXCITED to help!" Cass exclaims, forgetting her inside voice for a moment.

"I'll take that under consideration," Bishop responds with a roll of his eyes. "I could use some extra help. There are a lot of bad guys out there..."

"Speaking of," Raph slides in, clearing his throat. "Any updates on a certain 'you know who' and her location?"

"Abigail Finn is still incognito," Bishop sighs. "Though, Donatello's facial tracking system and security measures have helped us to keep a few tabs on her. But she's staying discreet, keeping a low profile and avoiding anything illegal. Which is good."

"Just give me a reason to annihilate her," Donnie whispers to himself. "Or to at least let me go semi-lethal..."

"Have you made any attempts to arrest her?" Casey asks.

"We... considered it," Bishop sighs. "But we felt that it would be better to let it slide. If we did make any attempts, you can bet she'd try to twist the truth and reveal everything she knows about you guys."

"So essentially, you're at a stalemate," Casey grumbles.

"Pretty much. We know dirt on her, she knows dirt on us. So long as we stay out of each others' ways, we're fine."

"ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ?" Fugitoid asks.

"Mostly helpin' with recovery," Raph answers. "In different ways."

"ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ ɢᴏɪɴɢ, ᴍɪᴄʜᴇʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ?"

Mikey sighs as he shoves the pizza into the oven. Not a begrudging sigh, but more of a 'where do I start' kind of sigh.

"Well... it's been a lot. First was the whole bedridden thing. Then the physical therapy started. Case was a HUGE help with that, he's an expert on it! And after that... it was a mix of stuff. My memory's gotten better, thanks to Draxum's mystic goop. He said by the rate I'm healing at, all my memories should be back by the end of the month!"

"ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ!" Fugitoid remarks, though the 'mystic goop' comment flies right over his head.

"Yeah... but it's not always easy," Mikey admits. "I have some bad days, a few relapses. Sometimes I still forget names and call one of my brothers by their life-colour instead. Sometimes I talk in the third person instead of the first. Some days I can't talk at all! Walking is... still wacky and tough to get used to. I'm comfortable doing both two legs and four, but I'm faster on four. My vision still acts up, but I've learned to control it a bit better. Dee and I have been training it to shift on command instead of in reaction to light! All in all, adjusting is weird."

"I bet," Bishop nods.

"Wildest thing -- pun intended -- is the whole 'animalistic traits' junk that happens. Like, I still don't get some social cues?" Mikey admits. "Like most people shake hands, but I'll smell or sniff a person first. Most people hug, I climb on them and wrap my whole body around them like a snake. I'll growl if I'm angry. Sometimes I bite when I get startled. Stuff like that."

"Don't forget that one week where you kept making nests all over the lair and storing food in your room," Donnie chimes in.

"I'm just glad you haven't tried to mark your territory or anything," Raph jokes.

Mikey gives him a joking side-glare before continuing.

"Well anyways, it's been weird and confusing but I'm doing a lot better now. I'm really happy again! Which, I'll be honest... surprises me sometimes. The nightmares aren't as constant. They happen, and sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. But my family's there to help whenever. I didn't think I'd be this happy this much for a long time... But here we are!"

April starts tearing up out of joy and goes to hug Mikey, who laughs and hugs her back.

"ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ʏᴇᴛ?" Fugitoid wonders.

"One or two," Mikey shrugs. "Though Raph would rather I wait a little longer. I'm kinda glad I kept the mutations, they really help with tracking and stuff -- and the looks on the villains' faces when I start climbing the walls is priceless!" Mikey cackles.

"ᴀɴᴅ… ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛʀᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ?"

"Not as bad," Mikey explains. "Practically gone. Sure, Instinct pops up every once in a while. He really likes to talk during fights and junk. But Raph's been helping me out with him."

Raphael smiles proudly at the mention.

"Therapy's been good too," Mikey continues. "It helps to just... talk it out with someone."

"You've been doing therapy?" Bishop asks in pleasant surprise. "With who? A human therapist?"

"Actually, there's a Yokai clinic in the Hidden City," Mikey smiles. "Draxum recommended it to Leo, and Leo recommend it to all of us."

"Ohhhh, so is that the appointment Casey mentioned?" April asks.

"Yeah," Mikey says with a grin. "I'm really happy that Leo took the initiative to go, that was huge for him. And he's doing a lot better, too!"

Mikey continues to explain their experiences with their therapists as he works with the pizza, pulling it from the oven and sprinkling garlic and herbs into the crust before setting it back in for a few more minutes...

"Leo's therapist has been giving him tips on how to improve his mental health, gain more self-worth, and deal with his own intrusive thoughts. He said I'd like talking to them, so I went in for a sort of trial run. It was... a little awkward at first. The initial couple of sessions were just us getting to know each other and my therapist asking about my family and some hobbies, which I kinda didn't expect at first? I guess I figured that we'd jump right into the issue... But the more we talked, the closer we got and the easier it was for me to open up about my traumas and problems. So, uh, there's that!"

Mikey chuckles as he checks on the pizza again. Five more minutes, maybe... He sighs as he leaps onto the kitchen counter and perches there.

"So, I guess this is our new normal," April notes. "Everything seems to be all wrapped up for the most part."

"Except for one thing," Cassandra grumbles. "The blue turtle and his fathers aren't here yet! I want to eat the pizza already!!"

"It's not even out of the oven," Raph scolds.

"I'LL EAT IT WITH MY BARE HANDS!" Cass shouts, pumping her fists. "I'LL EAT IT STRAIGHT OUT OF THE FIRE! IT'S NO MATCH FOR ME!!"

"Uh-huh, suuuuuuure," April jokes.

"When is Leo getting back, though?" Mikey asks.

"By my calculations, he'll be here in the next three minutes," Donnie declares. "My tracker says he and Papa and Draxum just left the Yokai clinic and should be getting their contributions for dinner right about now."

"Great! They'll arrive just in time for the pizza..."

The group continue talking about whatever they can until Leonardo's portal illuminates the outer room. Warm welcomes, questions on how the session went, how Leo's doing, what Draxum has been up to, and so on until everyone decides that they are starving and sit themselves down for dinner.

The group catch Leo up to the discussion through the salad and appetizers. He huffs at the mention of Dr. Finn. Draxum catches the others up on the recent finishes to his home and how Huginn and Muninn have come back to work for him again.

Fugitoid pretends to eat the food, which causes Casey Jones to snort his soda through his nose and the entire table laughs, even John Bishop.

Mikey uses his mutated tongue to snag an hors d'oeuvre off of Leo's plate when he isn't looking. Splinter sees and snickers loudly, which alerts Leo to Mikey's second and third attempts.

The pizza comes out a few minutes later, hot and ready. The crust is a bit warped and has strange knots, the cheese is mismatched and looks odd, and the toppings are strangely arranged. It's the wackiest-looking flatbread the world has ever seen.

Yet when each guest takes a bite, they are wonderfully surprised. It is quite possibly the most delicious pizza in the world, despite its flaws and outward appearance.

"Mikey, you made this?" Leo asks with shock as he chows down on the slice.

Mikey nods as he eats his own cheesy triangle.

"Wow, dude! This tastes awesome!"

Mikey's smile stretches across his face as Leo pats him on the back.

"You did good, Mikey! You did really good."

The End.

Prev || AO3

[hallowclave]

She para on my humans till I [GRUESOME SOUNDS OF BUG FUELED VIOLENCE]

Redraw of a skitter design I did a little over a year ago, comparison under the read more

And the sketch. As a little treat. Just for you.

[putridpride]

happy (not that stoked) Labor Day to all the mfs that work today. especially if y'all aren't getting time & a half or double time. Thank you for working because it's what u have to do to survive. Labor Day is only a blue collar worker/office job kinda holiday, so bless you all that are working like it's any other day, I promise we see ya and appreciate y'all <3

[kingdomoftyto]

Anon from a few weeks ago will be happy to hear we're finally playing Process of Elimination, btw

I didn't even get all the way through the demo before I was compelled to buy the full game, it had me hooked so fast

[harmonybarmy]

I've been so productive today that it's almost scary.

[kindahoping4forever]

hey! sorry to be annoying but the first few writings under ‘Blurbs’ in your master list don’t have links :( is there any way you can put links? ty! i love your writing

Not annoying at all! Tumblr only allows you to have 100 links per post and since I included blurbs I helped @cal-puddies with before I started writing on my own, I ran out of links recently and had to start deleting less "important" links to make room for more recent work. (In this case, "less important" meant a few non-essential Cal blurbs by Cass and an Ash blurb I wrote by myself but lowkey hate and have considered deleting altogether lmao)

- Shower head (Cal, by Cass)*

- I fell in love with you, not them (Cal, by Cass)*

- I wasn't lying when I said I loved you (Cal, by Cass)

- Hands To Myself (Ash, by Crystal)*

* = smut

[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 ♡

[hollenka99]

YouTube yesterday: Hey btw The Longest Johns just released a song about Horatio Nelson's death.

Me: Cool, excuse me as I stare off into space and think about L'Manburgian soldiers' reaction to hearing about Kiril's dying to withering whenever I play the song.