#fic : the hills have eyes

[tightjeansjavi]

The Hills Have Eyes | Chapter 3

“It’s Dieter’s world and we’re all just living in it”

A/N: So, before we get into the chapter I just wanted to put a disclaimer out there regarding the nature/genre of this fic.

Dieter is a very fluid individual. He is in an open sexual/romantic relationship (Polyamorous relationship) with his PR wife. Dieter and his wife are allowed to sleep with whoever they please (sometimes sharing partners/hookups) as long as it stays out of the medias eye. Dieter chooses to marry his wife because not only is she in his inner circle, she is just like him and therefore he knows he doesn’t have to hide who he truly is. Dieter and his wife are both bisexual and as someone who only recently came out as Bi this year, there will be moments where Dieter feels shameful of his lifestyle. Particularly because his sex life is extremely vibrant and fluid. That being said, things will get messy and in the eyes of Hollywood, things will ultimately be exposed. Dieter’s lifestyle may be triggering for some,and I will make sure that every chapter has the appropriate warnings listed. This series is stepping out of my comfort zone, but I am very excited to dive back into this story in particular.

~word count: 6.0k~

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x f!reader x OFC! (Aubrey Plaza face claim)

Summary: a glimpse into Dieter’s life 16 years later

Warnings: smut, polyamorous relationship/lifestyle, open relationship, multiple sexual partners, PR marriage, F/M, M/M partners, unprotected PIV, (wrap it kids) Anal sex, oral (m & f receiving) mentions of drinking and smoking weed, brief feelings of sexual shame, semi-public sex, dom/sub vibes (M/M) daddy kink, Dieter might be a bit of a sex addict, mentions of cheating, grudges from the past, old feelings rising, reader has no physical descriptions such as skin color, body-type, Dieters maid is described to be plus sized. There is one mention of Dieter holding her hair but no descriptions of her skin color. Readers nickname is Sweet Tart, No Age Gap, +18 minors dni! Please please let me know if I missed anything!

You wiped the sleeve of your hoodie against your cheek. The fabric was stained with your tears and remnants of makeup. You were sure that you had raccoon eyes from your mascara running down your cheeks, but did you care? No. Not when just a little under an hour ago you found your fiancée (now ex fiancee) balls deep inside your (now ex-best friend) How could they do this to you? How could he do this to you? You had just sent out the fucking wedding invitations last month. The venue was booked, and you already had your dream dress bought and stored safely in your closet.

Now none of that mattered as you nursed a cheap bottle of wine along the steps outside of your home. You didn’t hesitate to dial Dieter’s number in your moment of need. You had memorized it by heart, and despite the years that had passed with no communication, you were able to swallow what was left of your pride and call him. The dial tone rang, and rang, and rang, and just when you were about to hang up, Dieter picked up.

“Sweet Tart? To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your number pop up on my screen?” Dieter spoke softly into the receiver.

“Dee..he—he cheated on me.” You spoke just above a whisper.

“Who did? Your fiancée? What’s the fucker’s name again? Eric? Fucking tool. Always was a prick back in highschool. Sweet Tart, I’m so sorry, my dear. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“He cheated on me with Melanie. I caught them in our bed. I got home from my meeting early and we—we were supposed to go out to dinner. I’m outside on the front steps of my home in San Francisco. That’s where I live now.” You sniffled and took another swig from the bottle of wine clutched in your fist.

“Mel? Wow. Always knew that one was a cunty little slut but I never would have thought that she would stoop that low.” He tsked disapprovingly under his breath. “San Fran huh? Well, why don’t ya leave and come back on over the bridge to Los Angeles. Leave that life behind and let those two assholes have each other. You could pawn the ring and burn all of the fucker’s pictures.”

You were full on sobbing now as the realization crashed down over you that your life had now drastically changed and it was no longer picture perfect on the outside. Tears were blurring your vision as you struggled to regain your shattered composure. “Dieter, I can’t just—I can’t just leave. I love my home and my job and there’s—there’s nothing for me in LA.”

“Oh, Sweet Tart. I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry. What do you mean there’s nothing for you in LA? Babe, I’m still here. Well, I live in the Hollywood Hills now but you’re more than welcome to come and visit, ‘kay?”

You pressed the rim of the wine bottle against your temple as you questioned why you called Dieter in the first place. Was it just the wine in your system talking? Did you miss your best friend that terribly, that you had no one else you could possibly call?

“Dieter, I appreciate your offer, but I can’t just leave my fucking life behind like you can.” Your tone was bitter and your words were harsh. You didn’t mean to snap at him, not really. You were just hurt and frustrated and overwhelmed. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw your ex fiancée drilling into your ex best friend in your fucking bed and it was all too fucking much.

“Sweet Tart, why did you just have to go and be so fucking mean, huh? I was just trying to make you feel better. You’re the one that called me. Go sob to someone else if you’re gonna be that way. I thought after 16 years you would have dropped that fucking ridiculous grudge that you’ve been holding against me. Here I thought that maybe my best fucking friend was just calling me because she missed me! Guess not, huh? Guess I was wrong again. I’m sorry that your fiancée cheated on you. He’s a rotten son of a bitch that clearly has no idea what he’s got. I’m even more sorry that your so-called best friend betrayed you like that too. The world fucking sucks sometimes, Sweet Tart. It chews you up and then fucking spits you back out. You’re not the first one to be cheated on like this and you won’t be the last. You wanna wallow away in self pity, and stay in that house and keep working that mediocre job? Be my fucking guest. Don’t call me crying, and then get upset when I tell you how you can fucking fix it.”

Fuck

“Dieter, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, you know that right? I’m just hurt and angry and fucking overwhelmed! I know I shouldn’t have gone and taken that out on you. It’s been 16 years and I have no reason to hold anything against you.”

“No. You meant what you said. C’mon, Sweet Tart. You’re a big girl. Stand behind your fucking words.” The pads of his fingers pressed deeply into his temples as he sighed. He didn’t want to admit that your words really fucking hurt. They sliced right through him and obliterated his already pathetic heart.

“Listen, my offer still stands. I’ll text you my address, and if you want to come and visit, you’re more than welcome to. Just don’t go and leak it anywhere alright? You should maybe go and get a hotel room for the night or something. I wouldn’t want to sleep in my bed after all that but that’s just me. I’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow morning, Goodnight, Sweet Tart.” Dieter didn’t wait for you to answer. He just went ahead and hung up the phone before tossing it on his towel that was resting on the pool chair.

“Dieter—Dieter?” You finished off the bottle as you struggled to pull yourself up to your feet. You could go and get a hotel room with no problem. Instead you found yourself going back inside of your home and plopping face first onto the couch.

Dieter reached for the abandoned joint that was left simmering on the edge of the heart shaped ashtray that had a Chanel logo in the middle of the vessel. He plucked the joint up between two fingers before placing it between his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as he took a long deep drag of the herb, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling it upwards towards the star painted sky. He reached for his phone and unlocked it with a couple taps on the screen. He opened the iMessage app and scrolled till he found your name. A moment of hesitation washed over him as he typed in his address. The hesitation he felt was soon erased as he hit send before tossing his phone to the side once more.

“She probably won’t come to see you. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Dieter spoke to himself through the dry California air. “On the off chance that she does show up..what am I to do then?”

He scratched at his patchy beard with a huff. The joint he was presently smoking was almost completely gone as he tapped a blur of ash into the tray. “Help her get over her stupid fucking excuse of an ex-fiancée.” He muttered as if the answer was painfully obvious.

Your phone thrummed along the coffee table, and even in your grief and drunken stupor, you knew it was your Dieter.

When you awoke the following morning you could barely open your eyes due to the residue of mascara causing your lashes to stick together as if there was glue on them.

You let out a frustrated huff and rubbed your knuckles against your eyes to loosen up the clumps of mascara.

Then, that dull pulsing pain in your skull began to breach the surface. Fucking cheap-ass-wine hangover.

You struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt a particular sharp pain. “I am never drinking again.” Something that every adult has probably said a handful of times in their life.

Once your eyes were well adjusted to the early morning light trickling in through the curtains, you forced yourself to get up, snatching your phone up from the coffee table as you headed straight for the kitchen; coffee was needed if you were to make it through the day.

While your coffee was brewing and you were greeted with the familiar drips falling into the coffee pot, you remembered your conversation with Dieter last night, and the things that you both said. Holding a grudge against your best friend..was not a smart move, but it wasn’t like you meant it. Not really, you were just frustrated and hurt, and people say shit they don’t mean when they’re upset all the time.

Your phone buzzing in your palm tore you away from your thoughts and then you saw Dieter's name flash on your screen, and your heart skipped a beat.

Hey, Sweet Tart, I apologize if I was mean to you last night. I know you’re just pissed off at that stupid fucking ex fiancée of yours. Anyway, let me know if you’re planning on visiting soon. I’d love to see you. Gets pretty lonely up here in the hills. It would be nice to see a familiar face.

Dieter sent you the text message after he had fixed himself a screwdriver cocktail with extra vodka to get his day started off on a happy note. Beverly was out of the country, filming for her next project, so Dieter was left alone to his own devices, naturally.

And what’s an actor, such as himself, to do in such an obnoxiously massive house tucked away from the public eye in the Hollywood Hills? Prance around in nothing but a silk robe, and stupidly expensive Chanel sunglasses. His music of choice for the morning was Queen’s, I Want To Break Free.

He had a perfectly rolled joint tucked behind his ear in a light pink rolling paper. He brought the rim of his glass to his lips and took a sweet indulgent sip, before he spun around on his heel to the rhythm of the music. His softened cock swung freely between his soft thighs.

Dieter was never shy of his sexual appetites, and those he wished to partake in them with. He’d never actually put a label on himself, but if the question ever arose, he’d proclaim himself a proud bisexual.

“It’s gonna be a good day, Bravo.” He hummed to himself and reached up for the joint tucked behind his ear. “It’s gonna be a good day indeed.” He reached for his lighter across the expanse of the counter top. He sparked the joint up, taking a long drag with his eyes softly shut in a relaxed blissful state.

They snapped open at the pleasant chime of heels clacking along polished tile. His maid, who he had been fucking with and without Beverly in the mix, was leaned against the entry way of the kitchen, clad in nothing but a garter belt and Louboutin heels that he purchased for her.

“Good morning , Mr. Bravo.” She purred through her pretty painted lips.

He drank in her attire (or lack thereof), her supple, luscious curves with a lazy grin plastered on his scruffy face. The joint dipped down between his lips while he admired her a bit longer, eyes raking down her body in a lustful gaze.

“Good Morning to me indeed, wowza.” He whistled. “Can I get a spin from ya, baby doll? Are those the pretty heels I got you? You’re absolutely rocking them, my dear.”

She giggled, soft and sweet. The heat rose to her cheeks from the compliment he bestowed upon her. “They are, sir. I think they’re quite pretty too.” She gave him a little spin, twirling around like a ballerina.

He pushed himself off the side of the counter in a very Dieter like fashion. His cock had begun to harden, coming to life at the sight of the beauty that confidently stood before him. “Beautiful.” He whispered, “just absolutely breathtaking.” He swooped in, hand finding purchase around the thick flesh of the curves on her ass. “I have to go for my morning swim, but after…” he trailed off with that knowing glint in his eye.

She dragged a perfectly manicured nail down the clavicle of his chest, swirling it around one of his nipples, the right one that was pierced with a shiny nipple ring through the middle. Her lips pouted like two rose petals, lashes fluttering in a flirtatious manner, “are you sure that your swim can’t wait a little longer, Dieter?” She cooed softly.

With his hand still clasped around his glass of vodka with a sprinkle of orange juice, he pressed his thumb down against her pretty pouty lips. The joint still pursed between his lips, blazing red-hot. “I’m sorry, pet. I promised Jackie I’d start every morning off with a relaxing swim. It keeps me from wanting to put the ‘bad’ stuff into my body.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Your agent is no fun, Dieter. I think she could use a little to loosen up..” she trailed off, letting her nail drag lower, and lower till she swirled it through the coarse, dark hair that sprouted up from beneath his pubic bone. His neglected cock twitched with that aching need, but he was trying to be good.

“She really could loosen up, doll face. I agree. But..I can’t go back on my promises.” He sighed rather dramatically while he kneaded the flesh of her ass between his thick ring clad fingers that glimmered under the patch of sunlight trickling in through the skylight on the high ceilings above their heads.

Just when his pretty faced maid was about to drag her nail across the weeping head of his cock, he declined because he really was trying to be good. “I promise, after my swim, I’m all yours.”

Dieters routine swim didn’t last as long as he planned it too..but to be fair, it was hard to turn down good pussy that was practically being served to him on a fucking silver platter. His naughty maid had laid herself out on one of his pool chairs, thighs spread wide for his view while her painted nails played with herself, dragging through the mess of arousal that leaked out for him. She kept her red bottoms on because she really did feel pretty in them, and she was grateful that Dieter was the type of celebrity to share his wealth with everyone.

Dieter found himself fixated on the spot between her thighs, glistening, pulsing under the rising hot California sun. He licked his lips, pupils darkening while he pulled himself out of the pool.

He feasted upon her sweetness, her taste. He lapped between her folds, dragging his tongue across her needy clit in long, languid strokes that had her throwing her head back in ecstasy. His hands were anchored under the thick flesh of her ass, keeping her spread wide open just how he liked it. The tip of his tongue swirled in a figure 8 motion that had his naughty maid crying out his name in no-time

Dieter. Dieter. Dieter.

His first meal of the day was one that left him feeling full, and satisfied. The scruff of his beard glistened in her release when he came up for a quick breath of air. “Naughty thing you are, doll face. Spread wide open for all of the Hollywood Hills to see?” He gave her left ass cheek a playful swat before his fingers dug in once more. “Naughty.” Another swat, a playful nip to her inner thigh. “Naughty.” Devious eyes peering up between her silken cunt, “Naughty” a whisper of warm breath that kissed her skin the way that rain does.

He was about to dive right back in, when his phone blared loudly on the poolside table. He grumbled from the disturbance before he pressed a chaste kit to her swollen clit. He sat up with a huff, running his fingers through his damp head of curls, and reached over her to grab his phone.

When he saw your name light up on his screen, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, or the way his heart did a fucking somersault in his ribcage. “Sweet Tart is calling, you gonna be a good naughty maid and suck my cock while I take this call?” His brow raised suggestively in her direction, cinnamon brown eyes flickering with unabashed mischief.

His naughty maid was already sitting up on her knees along the pool chair, crawling towards him while he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. He twisted his wrist in a languid, corkscrew motion, while his unoccupied hand swiped across the call button on the screen.

“Sweet Tart, how are you feeling this morning? I gotta say, I’m surprised that you called.” A hum nearly crawled up the back of his throat when his maid wrapped her pretty painted lips around the head of his cock. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently holding her head. His ring clad fingers glistened under the blazing sun when she began to slowly bob her head.

“Hey, Dee. I feel like shit.” You laughed softly through the receiver, biting down gently on the tip of your thumbnail. “I’m sorry..for how I treated you last night.”

Dieter allowed himself to take one shuddered breath when he felt the tip of his cock kiss the back of his maids throat. The little gagging noise she made sent his eyes rolling back into his skull. “How come you feel like shit, Sweet Tart? It's okay. I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were just upset, and understandably so.” He glanced down at his maid, and in a praising motion he mouthed, good girl.

“Too much shitty cheap wine. My head is pounding out of my skull right now. Nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix, huh?” You sighed, leaning back against the countertop. “I know, Dee, but you’re my best friend. I shouldn’t hold a grudge against you just because we’ve barely spoken in sixteen years. It’s not fair to you.”

“Well, that’ll do it. But you know the best cure to a hangover is to keep drinking, Sweet Tart. You really don’t have to apologize, okay? All is forgiven. I’m not going to hold a grudge either.” He paused, thinking over his next choice of words carefully. “Have you given any more thought to my offer? It still stands, and I’d love to see my best friend again.”

He took his lower lip harshly between his teeth when he felt his cock twitch in his maids mouth. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hold back a groan from bubbling over. He made the executive decision to pull himself out of her wet mouth with a soft pop. He used his chin to press his phone against his shoulder so that his hands were free to mold his naughty, and very eager maid in the position he wished to fuck her in. His hands wrapped around the outside of her thighs as he gradually pressed her knees towards her chest.

“I won’t apologize for it again, Dee. I promise. I thought about your offer, and I’ll gladly take you up on it. I have some work I need to finish up..but I was thinking of driving over Friday? Does that work with your schedule?”

Dieter dragged the tip of his cock through her slick folds, rolling his hips forward slowly, catching her clit along the head of his cock. “Oh, Friday sounds perfect to me, Sweet Tart. I can always send a car over for ya if you’d like?”

An extremely light hiss slipped past his parted lips when he finally began to sink into her warmth, loving the way that her pussy pulled him in, inch by inch till he was bottomed out, hips pressed tight to her ass.

That’s it, beautiful. He mouthed to her.

“Oh, that’s okay, Dee. I don’t mind driving myself. But that’s kind of you to offer.”

Dieter hummed through the receiver while he dropped his hand to rest along her hip, ogling at the where their bodies were connected. He drooled a glob of saliva right between the space and used the pad of his thumb to rub it against her clit in tight circles.

“Listen, Sweet Tart, I’d love to keep chatting, but I got a call on the other line. I can’t wait to see you Friday. Let me know when you’re on your way, ‘kay?” His voice was raspier now, deeper, and even a little strained. He thrusted his hips forward, falling into a steady rhythm that had both him and his maid feeling satisfied for the moment.

“I understand, Dee. I should probably take a shower and make myself look presentable. Anyway, I can’t wait to see you as well. I hope you have a good rest of your morning.”

He suppressed a growl, doing everything he possibly could do to not give himself away. “You too, Sweet Tart.” He ended the call in a haste, tossing it to the side, not caring if it fell to the ground and shattered. He grabbed her wrists in his freehand, pressing them above her head in one swooping motion.

“Who’s Sweet Tart?” His maid couldn’t help but ask. It was an innocent question of course. There was no harm behind it. She met his thrusts midway with a gentle roll of her hips into his. A free falling moan slipped past her painted lips. Dieter swallowed it, tongue and all while he pried her thighs apart so he could squeeze himself between them.

“My best friend.” He mumbled into her lips. He continued to strum her clit with his thumb, picking up the pace with his calculated strokes. “She’s coming to visit me this weekend. Haven’t seen her in sixteen years.” He grunted low and deep, dropping his forehead to hers.

She whined beneath him, wrapping her ankles around his hips to draw him in even deeper. “Fuck, Dieter. Your cock is so—”

“Big?” He chuckled in a cocky tone, pulling his hips back slightly before slamming them forward. “I know it is, doll face.” “And your pussy? It’s fucking tight. Silky, warm. So glad you kept the heels on, baby. Y’look so goddamn pretty in them.”

And then, of course when they were both on the edge of an impending orgasm, his goddamn phone rang again, but this time it was Jackie, and she’d have his head if he ignored her call.

Frustrated, and unintentionally edging himself, Dieter reached for his phone, answering it with an anger grumbled breath. “For fuck sakes, Jackie. I’M BUSY!” He snapped through the receiver, not caring if he would get chastised for it. He hated being interrupted when he was on the verge of coming.

“Well, good morning to you too, Bravo.” She snickered on the other end.

“This better be fucking important, or I swear to god.” In the same breath he whispered to his maid to get on all fours. He slipped out of her wet, hugging warmth, impatiently.

“Just wanted to check in and make sure you got your laps in today. Oh, and don’t forget, you have dinner with Nicolas Cage tonight at seven. Do not be late.”

Dieter fought the urge to roll his eyes because goddammit, Jackie, this couldn’t wait??

“Yeah, yeah. I got my laps in alright. And I was absolutely enjoying the fabulous sunshine, and being balls deep inside of my gorgeous maid when you oh so rudely interrupted us!” His tone was clipped and cold. He gave his cock a few quick tugs before he lined himself at her entrance, notching his tip between the seam of her pussy and slipped right back in. He gave her ass a firm smack!

“Dear god, Dieter. That is information that I definitely did not need to know.” He could already picture Jackie rubbing her temples, and shaking her head.

“Yeah?” He grunted deeply, and placed his hand against the curve of her spine, pressing her down further into the pool chair. She arched her back towards him, letting out a string of profanities when the tip of his cock reached that spongy spot inside of her deliciously. “Well, maybe don’t call me before nine a.m next time!”

“Dieter..it’s nine-thirty right now.”

He threw his head back frustratingly. “Oh my fucking god! Jackie, can I just call you back?!”

“Sure, Mr. Grumpy pants.”

He muttered a fuck off before he tossed his phone completely out of reach. It miraculously landed on one of the nearby pool chairs. (He couldn’t fathom having to get another phone)

He was kind enough to come on his maids back, painting her in hot ropes of his release. He tasted himself along her skin, dragging his tongue slowly through his come. He wrapped his fist through her hair, gently tugging her head back so that he could give her a proper kiss, and so she could have a taste as well.

He slipped out of her slowly, feeling somewhat satisfied, but his agent calling him really soured his mood. It was written all over his face.

“Dieter?..” She asked him while he was using a pool towel to wipe his come from her back, and between her thighs.

“Yeah, doll face?” He met her gaze, pursing his lips, feeling his shoulders sink forwards because he knew he didn’t do his job to the best of his abilities.

“Do you think you can?…” she trailed off.

“Of course I can. Hold that thought, ‘kay? Let me go grab something inside.”

He pressed a light kiss to her hip bone before he pushed himself up from the chair and sauntered back inside. He stopped in the kitchen for a couple quick puffs, before he continued on his mission. He felt slightly embarrassed, and a little angry that he didn’t do enough to make her come. He always had been a huge people pleaser, especially when it came to pleasing his sexual lovers.

He shook that gnawing feeling of shame off his shoulders for now. He dug out his box of sex toys from their home in his walk-in closet; There wasn’t anything that his Hitachi wand couldn’t do.

And so he fucked her again, this time with no interruptions, and with the wand placed directly against her clit, it sent rapid vibrations through both of their connected bodies. It was a bonus that he got a second orgasm out of it as well.

In no time they were both a sweaty mess of tangled limbs with Dieter’s scruffy cheek pressed comfortably against one of her pillowy tits, lashes shut, breaths coming out in hot, quick pants. He pressed a chaste kiss to her clavicle before he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Let’s get ourselves cleaned up, shall we, doll face? Then I’m gonna cook us some well deserved breakfast.” He hummed.

She nodded blissfully, tangling her fingers through his messy head of curls. “Clean me up with your tongue, please?” She gestured with a cocked brow to the sticky, drooling mess between their still connected bodies.

With a lopsided, sex stained grin, the actor nodded with absolute enthusiasm. In a haste he slipped out with a soft, wet, squelching noise. The wand was tossed to the side, and his tongue delved between the seam of her pussy once more.

He loved to please.

It was approximately two hours before Dieter would be meeting Nicolas Cage for dinner, and the nerves were already beginning to tingle and bubble. The itch was building, crawling up his spine, but he was trying to be good. So, he’d have to relieve his impending anxiety in another way.

Dieter’s Dom frequently visited on the occasions when the actor needed him most. And right now, Dieter needed to clear his head desperately.

Dieter was in the shower, letting the scalding spray of water ease the strain in his back when the bathroom door creaked open. His eyes were closed as he felt the blood begin to rush to his cock in anticipated excitement. As much as the actor loved to fuck, he equally enjoyed being fucked as well.

His hand dropped down between his thighs, thumb stroking across the head of his cock. He was already imagining himself being split in two, right down the middle, while being called a good boy, when he heard the clink of a belt, and fabric dropping to the tile floor with a soft thump.

He rolled his shoulders forward, taking his lower lip between his teeth when he felt the presence of a rock solid body behind him, a strong arm wrapped around his middle yanking him back swiftly. His head lolled to the side, dropping against the man’s shoulder. He pumped his fist around himself a few times, feeling the heavy press of the man’s cock against his ass.

“Hey, pretty boy. Y’called?” The man’s voice was deep, lax, rumbling and low against the shell of Dieter’s ear.

“Mhmmm. Hiii.” Dieter whimpered with his lower lip still trapped between his teeth. His back arched, molding into the man’s hard chest and taut stomach. “We gotta make this quick, ‘kay? Got an important dinner tonight with Nicolas Cage.”

“Mmm.” The man hummed against Dieter’s ear, nipping at the lobe with his teeth. “That’s nice, baby boy. We can make this fast, sure. How about you bend over a lil’ for me and spread your cheeks.” He commanded firmly.

Dieter's cock twitched pathetically in his hand from just the man’s voice alone. “Mhmm, daddy. That’s the one. It’s a big deal for my career. M’so excited..” he trailed off while he released his cock from his grasp. He slowly bent over, reaching behind him and placed his ring clad fingers on both cheeks, spreading them apart. He could feel the man’s hot gaze drifting downwards.

“Always such a good little cockslut for me, baby boy. You’ll have to tell me all about your little dinner with Nicolas Cage next time..” he purred, placing his hand against the actor's lower back, pressing him forward while he grabbed a hold of his own cock in his fist. He gave his wrist a few twists, spitting right on the head of his cock before he notched the head between Dieter’s spread cheeks. “Y’ready for me, baby boy?”

“Mhmm. Please fuck me, daddy.” He dropped one hand from his ass to steady himself against the cool tile. He pressed himself back against the man’s cock, inch by inch till he was fully seated on it.

An exchange of deep grunts followed by the man’s hand making harsh contact with Dieter’s left ass cheek. He lurched forward, both from the fullness he was feeling, and the sting along his skin. “Fuck yourself on it, baby boy. Let’s see you do all the work yourself.” He growled.

Dieter remembers the first time he gave into his sexual desires with another man. The first time he sucked a cock with tears rolling down his cheeks, and drool dripping down his chin while he sat prettily on his knees. He remembers the first time he kissed a man, dragged his fingers through a man’s happy trail, left lovebites, and felt the pleasant scrape of another man’s beard against his thighs. He remembers the first time he felt the stretch of a cock, the slap of a man’s balls against him, and he loved it.

“Y—yes, daddy. Whatever you want.” He stuttered out, knees nearly buckling as he rolled his hips and ass back in a circular motion, fucking himself along the man’s cock like the good boy he was.

“That’s it, good boy. Such a good boy fucking yourself on my cock.” He praised the actor while he kneaded the soft flesh of his ass between his thick fingers. He met his thrusts halfway.

“Daddy, I—I—need more. Please. Please.” Dieter begged.

“What do you need, baby boy? Need me to take over already?” The man chuckled, giving his ass another firm smack.

“Mhmmm. Please, daddy. I need you to split me in half, please. Fuck me stupid, big boy.”

That’s all it took for his Dom to give in, and Dieter was seeing stars dancing behind his closed eyes as his Dom yanked him back up against his chest, arm possessively wrapped around his middle, and his hand splayed against Dieter’s throat. He fucked into him at a punishing pace, wet skin slapping against wet skin.

“Fuck, daddy! Y—yess! S—so good to me! Hnngh. Thank you! Thank you.” He cried out, hand wrapping around the base of his cock once more. “Tell me you love me, daddy. Tell your baby boy that you love him.” He groaned deeply, feeling himself already begin to fall apart.

“Daddy loves you, baby boy. He loves you, and this tight fucking ass.” The man grunted against his ear, hot breath kissing his skin.

It didn’t take long for Dieter to hit his crashing orgasm, fist pumping wildly around his cock as he coated the ridiculously expensive shower wall in thick, hot ropes of his come.

On the drive over to the restaurant that Dieter would be meeting Nicolas Cage at, he felt relaxed, confident, and in character. Dieter would always pretend to be anyone but himself when he’d meet new actors, business partners, and the likes of Hollywood. It was as if he had a switch that he could just turn on at random, and when needed. Landing this role would be a huge deal for the actor, and there was no room for him to screw the pooch on this one.

I’m Dieter Fucking Bravo, and I can do anything.

This was his ritual mantra.

He remembered then that he needed to call Jackie, and let her know that he was on his way, and that he needed her to clear his schedule for the upcoming weekend.

“Are we less grumpy than we were this morning, Dieter?” She asked through the smooth sounding speakers in his car.

Dieter thrummed his fingers against the sleek leather steering wheel of his jet black, Aston Martin DB5.

His car was his baby, and his first official ‘big boy’ purchase after becoming an actor.

“Not an ounce of grumpiness in me, Jackie. I’m on my way to the restaurant as we speak.” He said smoothly.

“Oh, good! I spoke with Nick’s agent, and I don’t want you to start celebrating yet, but there is a high chance that you’re going to be co-starring in his next film.”

Dieter perked up from her words, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to spill over his face. “Really? You’re serious about that?”

“As serious as they come, kid. But hey, don’t blow this one alright? I think you’re the perfect fit for the role, personally.”

“Pssh. Me? Blow this? Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen! Especially in front of Nicolas Cage! I’d rather step on a nail, or remain abstinent for the rest of my life.” He chuckled.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Bravo. I almost believed you there.” She laughed, and he could picture her shaking her head.

“Jackie? Do you think you can do me a favor and clear my schedule for me this weekend? I have important plans that I can’t miss.”

“Oh? And what is the occasion for these important plans of yours?”

Dieter scratched at the patches between his beard as he rolled his shoulders forward before he leaned back against the crisp leather seat. A smile tugged across his lips, and his heart began to race at the thought of you, his Sweet Tart coming to see him.

“Sweet Tart is coming into town Friday. We're finally gonna reunite after all of these years apart.”

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[starlooove]

I rlly liked red hood the hill bc besides the gift it completely ignored everything else with the batfam which to meeee I’m taking it as the hill has been overlooked by the bats forever (see Orpheus rising) so yeah nobody there gives a fuck about those people and jason knows better than to bring that shit over there

[heather-garland]

i think they should get married

[radi0dontt]

doodles!

[brinkle-brackle]

✨️trouble with a capital t✨️

hi hello fellow trekkies please hear me out

[marypsue]

Ahh I’m so excited to see what’s cooking up with former heroes especially bc I know some of the things that bothered you with season 3 were some of the plot points I have the most so I’m excited to see how you change them. Also I’m excited to see the rise of Joyce Byers, love triangle fiancée who is on fire ! (And hopefully not with a hopper that was s3 Hopper) Robin and Steve still scooping maybe?? Nancy and Mike being peak siblings and also Lucas hopefully getting some time shine.

Also I was wondering you hand any sneak peeks available for the Bodyswap AU or the Vampires+Steve pt3 fic!!

Hello hello nonny!

First and most importantly, I am fistbumping you through the computer screen over season 3. I'm really hopeful that this AU version is going to be satisfying, and avoid the major issues I had with season 3 without being unrecognisable from the canon. While I was considering what changes to make and how, I tried to tie it back more meaningfully to the themes of seasons 1 and 2, and I'm pleased with how that's coming through in the outline so far. Hopefully it'll work in the finished product! (Also, I can promise considerably more Peak Sibling Nonsense, and considerably less of season 3 Hopper. Although I am not making any promises at this time on the matter of dumb teenage romance bullshit.)

Also, because you asked so nicely, from the third and (hopefully) final chapter of don't let the sun go down on me:

“Did you hear? They found the Byers kid.”

Steve doesn’t have any kind of a response to that, beyond a blank stare. It’s too fucking early in the morning for how fucking early in the morning it is. He was up way too late last night, again, thanks to Nancy and Jonathan. The last thing he’s prepared to process is Tommy Hagan’s weird enthusiasm about knowing some piece of gossip Steve doesn’t.

Ordinarily, Steve wouldn’t rise to the bait. He’d play it cool, like he doesn’t actually care. Tommy will fill him in eventually, whether he cares or not.

But ordinarily, Tommy isn’t casually dropping a bombshell that could decide the future of Steve’s sanity. If they’ve found Will Byers – then there’s no reason left for Nancy and Jonathan to stick around. “What? Where?”

Tommy’s shit-eating grin gets even wider, and he slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders, steering them both deeper into the crowded, noisy halls. “Floating facedown in the quarry. Sounds like maybe whatever took a swipe at you decided to go after easier prey.”

Tommy keeps talking, but Steve barely hears him. There’s a weird roaring buzz rising in his ears, drowning out all but the pitch and cadence of Tommy’s voice. Suddenly, the crowded hallway is suffocating.

Steve barely manages to mumble out some halfassed excuse before shrugging off Tommy’s arm and breaking for the bathroom. He tries not to look like he’s running. He doesn’t know if he’s succeeding.

He’s no sooner made it into a stall than he’s hitting his knees on the grotty tile floor, clutching the porcelain bowl as his hasty breakfast makes a surprise reappearance. That bagel hadn’t tasted like anything special on the way down. It’s not improved the second time around.

When his stomach seems to be finished turning itself inside out, Steve sits back on his heels, coughing out the last lingering flecks of vomit as he wonders what the hell just happened. It’s not like he ever actually met Will Byers. Or like he’s known Jonathan for more than two days. And Steve had spent part of one of those days thinking Jonathan was a murderer.

Except. He’d been so angry when he’d thought Jonathan was a murderer. Like Jonathan had personally betrayed him. Steve’s not sure what that means. If it means anything. He’s not sure he wants to think too much about it.

Whether or not Steve actually cares about Jonathan Byers and how hurt he’s going to be by this, though – still. Still. That’s a kid. Will is just – was just a little kid. And – Steve’s memory, unhelpfully, decides to play him the highlight reel of that monster’s teeth, his dad telling him there were bites missing, Tommy saying easier prey, the excruciating pain in Steve’s stomach where the monster had slashed him open –

He wonders, with fresh horror, whether that thing got Will while Jonathan and Nancy were busy taking care of him. Even though that timeline doesn’t make any sense, he still has to dry-heave over the toilet again.

“Stevie?”

It’s the last voice Steve wants to hear right now. He groans as he twists to look over his shoulder at Tommy, and it’s only half exasperation.

Tommy ignores him. “Hey, man, you okay?”

“You look like shit,” Carol says, with a pop of her ever-present gum, following Tommy into the boys’ bathroom like she belongs there. “Rough night last night, Steve-o?”

She’s giving Steve an out. A way to save face. He flashes her a grateful smile, and hopes he doesn’t have bits of upchucked bagel stuck in his teeth. “Guess I must still be hung over.”

“Aww,” Carol tuts, with a sarcastic pout, as Tommy leans over to offer Steve a hand up off the disgusting floor. “And you didn’t invite us?”

“Hey, I know what’ll make you feel better,” Tommy announces, like he’s about to put a man on the moon. “We skip first period and hit the diner. Get you something hot and greasy to fill that bottomless pit.” He thwaps the back of one hand against Steve’s stomach with a grin.

Steve’s stomach gives another lurch. He swallows bile.

“Thanks, man,” he says, when he trusts himself enough to open his mouth. “But the diner’s been closed since Monday, remember? The owner killed himself?”

Tommy’s face falls. Steve swallows around a stab of guilt. Tommy’s his friend. He’s trying to help.

He just – he has no fucking clue what Steve’s gotten himself into this time. Neither he or Carol do.

And it’s gotta stay that way.

“Good idea, though,” Steve offers, an olive branch. “Skipping. Think I’m gonna ditch for the day.”

Tommy doesn’t totally lose the kicked-puppy look, but he does try for a smile. “You want us to tell Sanderberg you’re out sick? Sorry, sir, he was throwing up all morning,” he says, to the absent first-period teacher, voice pitched up and eyes wide in a mockery of innocence.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Steve says, knowing Tommy will at least get a kick out of winding up the notoriously suspicious Mr. Sanderberg. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tommy says, slapping Steve on the back just a little too hard.

“Are you actually sick?” Carol asks, or maybe ‘demands’ is a better word. “You’re acting weird lately.”

Steve forces a smile, hoping it doesn’t look too much like a grimace, as he shuffles over to the sinks to rinse out his mouth. “Nah. Told you. I’m just hung over. Gonna head home and sleep it off.”

Carol, in the mirror behind his head, does not look convinced. But she doesn’t say anything more, either.

Steve does feel a little bad about leaving her and Tommy behind, as he heads out to the parking lot and his car. But they’d never understand. They’d never believe him. Hell, in the cold, bright light of day, Steve barely believes himself.

And, he thinks, as he peels out of the high school lot, there’s no way he could bring Tommy and Carol with him where he knows he has to go now.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

~  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks. 

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

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

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

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[ervans]

Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

 From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

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It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?���

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

════════════════════════════════════════════

It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

[danidoesathing]

this is the most ive written in literal months. good lord what has the funky cowboy band done to me

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Caught In His Web

Yandere Male Drider x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, painless/gentle noncon, venom, drugging, biting, light bondage, webbing, drider, spider-hybrid, oral sex, oviposition, dead animals wrapped in webbing, stalking, underwear sniffing, general yandere behavior. Word Count: 2.7k (A drider is technically an elf-spider formed as a punishment by Lolth, but this is just a human-spider hybrid with magic. Not technically a drider. But "spidertaur" just sounds off. Hope you enjoy, this was technically the first fic I started though I only resumed and finished it today)

You were an herbalist, you took plants and herbs from the wild fields, forests, and hills surrounding your small humble cottage. You expertly prepared the ingredients that you gathered and imbued them with the tiny bit of healing magic that you possessed. Magic in humans was very rare and your abilities and magical education were somewhat limited, but your potions, salves, ointments and remedies sold well enough in the town about six miles away on the other side of the forest.

Twice a month you made the journey there and back to sell your healing supplies. You made enough to survive on, and also enough to get you through the colder months when the healing plants you used did not grow. It was a modest life, but you were happy enough. Well, except for one thing... you were being followed...

At first, starting almost a year ago, you couldn’t get past the feeling that you were being watched from the shadows of the forest, occasionally you could swear you could catch glimpses of a large shape moving out of the corner of your eye or could hear something moving through the branches. You convinced yourself it was all in your imagination, or at least just some innocent woodland creature moving in the woods. For a month or so your denial was easy enough. You live by the forest, of course the animals must simply be getting more used to your non-threatening presence and getting a bit closer than they had previously. Everything was perfectly fine.

But then, about three months ago, things started to escalate. At first it was odd, but still explainable by the functions of nature. There were bundled up small dead animals bound in webbing left around in the places you most frequently gathered herbs and flowers. Okay, that is creepy, it must be some large spiders that are attracted to the birds and mice that are attracted to the insects drawn by the plants, perfectly normal and natural. You wish it would be perfectly normal and natural a bit farther away from you, but there was clearly nothing to worry about... except the fact that there are apparently a lot of spiders big enough to kill birds and mice in close proximity to you...

You could have dealt with the creepy large webs and the implied but unseen giant spiders, but then just a few days ago the bundles started being left on your porch for you to dispose of each morning. The webbed up animals were completely un-dessicated, killed and then just… left… A spider would not drop food for later in such an odd place. And what’s more the webbing now contained flowers woven into it, the flowers you most commonly used in your trade. No longer could you maintain any notions that the glimpses you saw from the forest, the noises you heard, and the web bundles were just coincidence.

The nearest humans lived too far away to keep up such a well maintained and menacing prank/threat, so you conclude that there must be some foul creature or malicious spirit that is stalking you. The past few days you were terrified and on the verge of freaking out, but you managed to maintain your calm composure. Besides, it has not escalated since then and today was the day that you went to the closest village to peddle your medical supplies, perhaps you could purchase some wards to protect yourself from spirits and talk to the local trappers, hunters, and elders to see if they know of anything dangerous lurking in the area.

You opened the door with a broom to sweep your doorstep, where you knew the web ball would be left. You shuddered as you swept it into the bushes and out of sight. So gross. You then went about your daily chores, and put the final touches on a last minute tincture. You put all your various vials, bottles, and other containers full of your merchandise into a large backpack that you put on before setting off on your way out the door and into the long path through the woods that would lead you to the village.

You started off at a brisk pace, there was no time to enjoy what would otherwise be a pleasant and leisurely stroll on a cool breezy day. You gripped the handle of the dagger in your belt tightly, in constant fear of what could potentially lurk just out of sight. You were paranoid and hyper fixated on watching the trees and path ahead for any possible signs of danger. So fixated that you completely neglected to watch where you were going. You did not notice a large bump in the path and tripped, you tried to get up but your ankle was sprained and you ended up flopping back over on your side.

This was bad, you were probably at least two miles into the forest unable to walk. Utterly helpless, with no more than a small dagger that in your inexperienced hands was mostly just for a false sense of security. But you couldn’t just lay here, you turned back towards the direction of your home and started ever so slowly dragging yourself.

You tried to do this as quietly as possible to not draw any attention to yourself, but you heard skittering and rustling in the bushes ahead of you.

Futilely, you hoped that it was just an animal or even the wind, but it wasn’t The being that had been lurking in the shadows and stoking your fears finally came forth.

A large drider came out of the trees. Like a centaur he was a creature that was human enough from the waist up but instead of a horse below that he was a giant white spider with black markings. From far enough away, and if the spider half were not in view, he could have easily been mistaken for a striking woman. His figure was slender and his hair was long and shimmered beautifully like silver in the rays of light that penetrated through the forest canopy.

But that is where the illusion ended for he had two fangs and four red eyes. He spoke in a cautious voice, as if trying to placate an animal that he feared may lash out.

“I’m Umzerth. I won’t hurt you, I promise.

You looked at him, trembling in dread and unable to take your eyes away as you scrambled backwards.

“Please no.” You repeated desperately in a frantic whisper.

The drider looked both concerned at your predicament and hurt by your reaction at seeing him.

“Please… darling… you’re hurt… just let me help you…”

“No, j-just stay back…”

“But your leg needs tending to my sweetling, I’ve never hurt you. I have proven I can take care of you by giving you all those plants you like. And food with them!”

“I am not interested in you taking care of me! Please just leave me alone… I have healing supplies with me…” Your voice faltered and it was clear that you were terrified of him.

Umzerth looked dejected, but he wasn’t going to give up. This was the first time he had properly met you and you were in pain. Surely you would accept him as your mate. He was so powerful and could take care of you. That’s what little humans wanted in a mate surely. He just had to calm you down and prove it.

The spider took a few tentative steps closer. You pulled your dagger from your belt and pointed it towards him. Your hand shook, more evidence of the fear coursing through you. He knew you’d never hold such a weapon to him if you were in your right mind. Maybe some of his venom would soothe you.

“Please put that away and let me help you sweetheart, my home is very close by. Your healing salves won’t work as fast as my methods will.”

You backed away a bit more, still holding up the dagger.

“I’ll take my chances.”

He moved with lightning speed and plucked the dagger from your hand, tossing it far away and out of sight. He spoke more forcefully.

“It would still take days to heal that foot. I can see the bruising from here. There are wild animals everywhere and I am not going to my beloved die out here because they were too damn stubborn.”

You cry out briefly as he bit down on your neck before an unnatural calm took your mind and your body went limp before fading into a relaxed sleep. His venom wasn’t at all deadly, not to humans, spiders, or driders. For a human it would merely give them a nice sleep. Which is exactly what you needed while he attended to your injury.

As you began stirring from your sleep you heard your name whispered. You woke to find your leg completely free of any pain, wrapped in silvery webbing. You could feel the thrum of magic within it. Much stronger than anything you could manage. Well… at least that proved he really wasn’t going to kill you.

“Are you feeling better, my little wild flower? I watched to make sure you slept well… I did take a break to catch you some food.”

The room you were in was unfamiliar, it looked to be a dwelling carved into stone. Likely at the base of the hills nearby. You were in a soft hammock made of silk. There was a wooden table next to you. Hand-carved. Umzerth apparently had grown accustomed to making his own furniture. Atop it lay a dead rat covered in webbing.

You recoiled at the sight.

“What’s wrong sweetling, it’s all predigested! You just have to bite and suck it out… don’t you like it?”

You didn’t say anything, but hopped up and bolted towards the exit. The ground was rough and cold on your bare feet, but you gave it no notice. You had to get away from this freak.

Umzerth caught you before you even reached the door.

“Let me go! I want to go home! Please!” You began sobbing and begging. Even if you were in no immediate danger he still frightened you. Thrust into a strange place with a terrifying creature and expected to eat… that… It was all too much.

“You ARE home my sweet flower!”

He caressed you oh so tenderly and claimed your lips with his own before setting you down on a cushioned chair that was far too small for him. Evidently he had prepared for your arrival for quite some time. Utterly disgusted with having been kissed by the monster, you wiped your lips.

“Are you upset with the food? Do humans not like that? I can learn to prepare human foods for you…”

He paced back and forth for a while with a nervous expression on his face, he wanted to make you happy and it was clear that you weren’t. How could he please you? He’d learn how to do that cooking thing he had watched humans do, but how could he make you like him more immediately?

Other than food that was to your liking hadn’t he provided everything a mate should? Shelter. Medical treatment.

Oh of course!

Sex!

You were being a whiny little human because you probably were desperate to copulate! He knew you were single since he had never seen another person at your dwelling, you probably hadn’t had a good dick like his in you in a long time, if ever.

You’d probably be all shy and bratty about it though. Natural first time jitters. He knew what would calm you down.

He scooped you up from the chair and, despite your struggles, gave your neck a little nip. Just a fraction of a full dose. You went limp again, but didn’t fall asleep this time. Your limbs felt too heavy and you felt really relaxed. You couldn’t muster the energy or will to fight anymore.

Umzerth gently placed you on a high stone shelf so that he was eye level with your crotch.

“I know just what you need to make you happy sweetling~”

You only groaned absently in response.

The drider gently peeled off your pants and underwear, taking it to his face and inhaling your scent deeply before placing it aside. The smell had him aroused in an instant. His erect cock poked out of a slit at his waist just below where his two halves met. Big and somewhat slimy.

He rubbed your soft thighs.

“Such a soft fragile thing.” He whispered.

He kissed up your thighs, occasionally giving them a careful nip, not enough to draw blood. He attended to you with a sloppy tongue and beneath the effects of his venom all you could feel was pleasure. You grinded into his face as you weakly stroked his hair, grabbing it harder when he brought you to climax.

He licked you clean as you shuddered.

“Ah, you fed me so well for worshiping at the altar between your thighs~”

You were even more relaxed now than when he had just bitten you, and just as powerless to resist. The spider picked you up carefully and shared another dominating kiss with you. This time sliding his tongue and brushing it against yours, smearing your taste buds with your very own flavor mixed with his saliva. A string of which connected your lips for a moment as he pulled away.

Then he held you as he positioned your body in front of his cock.

“Oh sweetling, you’ll look even prettier with a bellyful of my eggs~”

His words elicited just the smallest spark of worry in your envenomated mind, though it was quickly squashed when you felt his cock smear warm pre at your entrance. While holding you with one strong hand he slipped a finger in and out of you, slowly adding more one at a time.

Drooling and unable to articulate any thoughts, you moved back against his fingers.

At that he decided you were ready. He slipped his wet cock into you easily and with no pain at all, he had been very careful to make sure he pleasured his delicate flower.

He held you by your hips, gently rocking you back and forth along his shaft. You occasionally moaned softly. It felt so nice. So perfect. Like you were made just for this. Why had you been resisting again?

Umzerth started to go just a little harder, sure that his love could take it. With each thrust you let out a little gasp of pleasure. His cock fit itself into you beautifully, hitting every inch and making you feel full and sated in a way you never had before.

The fill of your shivering body as you had another climax pulled Umzerth over the edge with you. Powerful shudders racking the both of you in unison as his cock deposited small eggs deep inside you. Soft yet firm, they attached themselves to your insides. They would fertilize as they absorbed a bit of your DNA, then they’d fall out after a few days and then hatch a few weeks later.

Having deposited so many inside of his darling, your belly looked larger. He lay you in his web with him in the corner, rubbing your belly in awe. You smiled up at him and idly played with his soft hair.

“I’ll be back soon my love, I am going to get you something to eat.”

He wrapped you up in his webbing to keep you cozy before giving you a bit more venom to send you off into a short sleep. Then he covered the entrance to his den with his strongest webbing to make sure that you were completely safe while he was away. By the time you awoke he would have a good meal fit for any human. Then you would have nothing at all to be grumpy about.

This time he’d swipe a meal from the village, of course he’d leave them a gold coin in compensation since humans seemed to like those, and after that you could teach him!

[slutforln4]

high enough

🖇️ in which you get high and fuck your brothers teammate

🖇️ lando norris x piastri!reader

🖇️ warnings: sex under the influence, no condom (wrap it before you tap it folks!), 2.3k words :)

🖇️ a pretty self indulgent fic, but i hope you guys like it!

🖇️ songs that fit: so high - doja cat / slow down - chase atlantic / friends - chase atlantic / sex money feelings die - lykke li / the morning - the weeknd / cherry hill - russ

You watched as the smoke rose to the ceiling after the soft puff past your lips. The swirling of smoke hypnotised you, before it twirled and disappeared into nothing.

The joint burned between your fingers when you passed it to Lando. “You have a few puffs left.”

Lando was completely out of it, practically melting into the couch when he mindlessly lifted his arm and softly plucked the joint from your fingers. You turned your head and watched as he brought it to his lips, taking a long drag before pulling the burning bud away from his face.

He could feel your gaze on him, burning about five times as hot as the smoke in his lungs. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t like you staring when all he’s been thinking of was making your eyes roll back into your head. The image of you sprawled across the couch, his lips soaked in you and moans leaving your mouth was enough to make him go crazy.

“You’re taking too long,” you rush him. He turns his head to you, half-lidded eyes hiding so much more than what he lets you see. You could look at those green hues forever, but the soft pull of his lips pulls you back into reality. Or as much of it as you can comprehend in this state.

Lando motions to the joint in his fingers. “You want another hit?”

“Yeah,” you nod, about to take the bud from his hand before he pulls it to his mouth and takes a long drag. “What the–”

Your question gets interrupted when Lando’s hand firmly grips the back of your head and pulls your face in. When he blows the smoke out, you’re quick to understand what he’s doing and suck the smoke in.

Lando smiled to himself as he pulled away, watching how starstruck you were by what he just did.

Even though all he meant to do was to shotgun smoke into your mouth, you can’t help but pull him in to close the gap between your lips. The urge to kiss him was too much to handle for you, even when sober, but the confidence to finally kiss him came when being inebriated.

Lando can’t deny that he’s been thinking the same— he’s been pondering the thought of kissing your lips way before you decided to smoke. He’s been waiting for you to make the first move, knowing you definitely would at some point, and he wasn’t wrong.

Smoke left the crevices forming between your lips as you moulded against one another, hungry hums and whimpers already leaving your throats. Lando’s hands softly pulled your hips closer to him until you ended up in his lap.

The mere feeling of you sat on him, already pulsing against him, had his mind reeling. You felt him hardening underneath you, perfectly slotting his boner against your clothed entrance.

You smirked into the kiss, a single thought popping into your head— teasing him.

The two of you had made a deal. You’d spend some time together, just as friends, before trying to be in a relationship. That seemed to work, for about three weeks, until this night when you invited Lando to hang out. It was supposed to be nothing but you watching a movie together, until you remembered the leftover weed in your grinder.

You remember the light in his eyes when he heard you mention weed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any,” he said. But you promised to take care of him.

And take care of him you will.

Lando’s mind is a mush, any movement he makes feels like he’s slowed down or like it’s missing frames, so he doesn’t understand that you’re softly rocking your hips against him until he feels the need to fuck you again.

“Love,” his raspy voice whispers against your numb lips, fingers digging into your skin to stop your movements. “What’re you doing?”

“Hm?” You pull away, softly biting your lips as your hands brace you against his chest, hips stilling above his dick. “What do you mean?”

You watch as his lips pull into a smirk again. “Don’t play stupid,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you want me to fuck you, just say that.”

The tone of his voice mixed with the haze settling in your mind just after that last puff of smoke you had is making you think less and do more. Instead of answering him, you crash your lips onto his again and subconsciously go back to rocking your hips again.

He smirks against your mouth, guiding your hips to grind harder against him. You whimper and he catches the noise with his mouth, tongue swirling against yours when you wrap your fingers softly around the base of his neck.

Lando’s hands softly tug on the waistband of your sweatpants. “Take them off.”

You hum, lips still connected to him as you lift yourself up and tug your pants down. They pool at your knees, you still straddling Lando. “Can’t do it.”

“You want me to do it for you?” He asks, more of a mock than a laugh leaving his mouth. When you nod, eyes still half-lidded and examining him, he lays you down with your head on the armrest of the couch. You watch carefully as he softly tugs your sweatpants lower, before completely tugging them off your body.

Lando sits back, hands on your knees as he memorises the view of you— underwear soaked with your need for him, sticking to the curves of your pussy so perfectly that it leaves little to the imagination.

“Can I?” Lando asks, fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You nod, like you’ve been doing for pretty much this whole exchange, and he can’t help but beg you to speak. “You gotta use your words, baby.”

“Please,” you beg, voice hushed as if you’re scared anyone in your empty house would hear you. “Touch me, I need you.”

Lando laughed, almost pitifully at your state as he pulled the panties down your legs, agonisingly slow. You were too high to function enough, so your plea for him to move faster came out as an annoyed grumble.

“Impatient much?” Lando laughed, hands softly dragging their way up your legs from your ankles. When he notices the lack of response from you, he stills. “You okay? How do you feel?”

“I’m good,” you mumble, peeling your eyes open to look up at his worried eyes. “But you could make me feel much better.”

You smile at the return of his smirk. You’ve grown quite fond of it, getting used to the look of his dimples returning. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby. Are you sure you want this, though? You know what Osc would do if he found out.”

“But he won’t,” you bite back a smirk of your own, propping yourself up on your elbows. “He doesn’t have to know about everything I do.”

“Atta girl.” He smiles before positioning himself between your legs. “Lean back and relax for me, pretty.”

You do as told, laying back on the couch and looking up at the ceiling. It took you a moment to realise that he was just looking at you, admiring the view in front of him.

It’s exactly what he imagined. He couldn’t help but watch as your chest rose and fell with fast-paced breaths, anticipation creeping up your spine with each moment. It took everything he had in him not to fuck you right then and there.

Instead, he dragged his tongue through your folds, the taste of you being almost as satisfying than what he thinks fucking you will feel like. Lando wants to take it easy and make the most of your high, so that’s exactly what he’ll do.

It doesn’t take long before he hears the pretty moans fall from your lips at the mere contact of his tongue on your clit. He circles it, gently sucking on it and you feel like you’re floating in space, so relaxed and pleased that it’s almost too much to take.

“Taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, the sound vibrating through your body. You felt some pressure on your clit, his tongue circling it again.

Jagged breaths leave your lips, the feeling of his lips softly suckling on you mixed with the buzz from the joint tipped you over the edge way sooner than you’d expect. You felt the euphoria was over you as he still flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud.

“Lan,” you murmur, fingers somehow in his hair and tugging hard on it. You felt the pattern of his curls embrace your fingers as you arched your back, almost pulling away from him.

Lando wouldn’t have that. His hands firmly gripped your hips and pinned them down. Instead of letting you squirm away, he forced his tongue onto your clit harder, using the base of it to get as much surface area as he can get.

You felt dizzy. It’s the first time you’ve done anything sexual while high and it was better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You almost feel numb, as if you were melting into the couch.

Lando felt your hips tense in his hands, knowing you’re close to tipping over the edge, so he does what he promised you he’d do. He makes you feel the fucking best.

His tongue licks you like he’s a starved man, thirsty for anything he can get his pretty little lips on. And it just so happened to be you.

Lando basks in the pretty whimpers leaving your mouth and the flavour of you on his tongue, not noticing how he let one of his hands travel down to his dick. He palms himself through the fabric of his grey sweatpants, a wet spot already evident.

You feel him moan into your pussy, sending that last nervous impulse that makes you finish all over his mouth. He laps you up, satisfied groans and moans escaping between shallow breaths.

Lando keeps his lips on your skin, kissing your thighs before softly biting them. He mumbles something to you but you can’t hear, too busy looking at the pathetic mess of a man at the end of the couch— sloppily marking your thighs while he continues to palm himself.

“Let me help you,” you whisper and he whips his head up. You watch as he sits up, tugging his sweats down and leaving his boxers on.

Lando watches as you straddle his thighs and softly tug down the Jack&Jones waistband of his boxers. He hisses when his dick flings up and slaps against his clothed abdomen.

It’s your turn to hear the string of curse words and moans leave his mouth as you drag his tip across your folds before sinking onto him, his dick filling you up in just the right way.

“Fuck, baby,” he hums contently, one of his hands palming the back of your neck before he pulls you in for a kiss. “You take me so well, so fucking well.”

You whimper into his mouth, slowly moving your hips after getting used to the size of him. His breath hitches, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you sink back onto him again.

The pace of you riding him quickens in no time, the noise of skin-on-skin contact filling up the empty space of your room.

Lando’s fingers tangle in your hair as he turns your head to the side, lips making a trail of kisses down from your jaw and ending at your collarbone, with the occasional hickey or nibble between kisses.

“Lando,” you moan his name the second you make contact with your clit, lazily rubbing it to match the pace of your hips clashing against his.

His lips make contact with yours again, kissing you with an aggression you’ve never felt before. It was borderline addicting, kissing you. Like a drug Lando knows he would never stop taking.

“You sound so pretty moaning my name,” he mumbles between kisses, not long before his tongue tastes your mouth again.

“I’m close,” you whine, arm tired from rubbing your clit. Lando notices the twitch of your hand and takes over, his thumb matching the pace you had set before.

His hips buckle and a knot forms in your lower belly at the feeling of him pulsing even deeper inside you, your walls embracing his length perfectly. “Me too. Think you can gimme another one?”

“Mhm,” you nod, eagerly. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg for me to make you cum, princess.” His mocking tone soothes your ears. It’s quite an opposite feeling from the harsh grip he has on your hip with his left hand, the other still toying your throbbing clit.

It’s a few seconds before you feel a warmth filling you up, a string of moans and curses leaving Lando’s lips. It doesn’t take long for you to do the same, head tilted back and chest heaving with hasty breaths and an unsteady heartbeat.

Lando’s hands still guide your hips for a bit longer, before coming to a halt. The green in his eyes traces all over your face, looking for a sign of anything negative. Instead he finds that you’re grinning.

“You good?” He asks, fingers softly tucking the strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Never been better,” you reciprocate the same thing, playing with the curls at the front of his head. “But you fucked me so good I’m not high anymore.”

“Want me to roll another one?”

“No,” you lean in and close the gap between your lips. “Kissing you gets me high enough.”

[fangirl-dot-com]

🐾 Il Pawdestinato

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!Reader (fc. Alexandra) Genre: Comfort/Fluff Summary: A disappointing fourth place as Suzuka has your boyfriend feeling down. Maybe all he needs is a teeny-tiny surprise.

So this is that imagine that I've been talking about making. Sorry, it's taken so long. I hope you all enjoy and I promise I am working on the next chapter of Reputations. I just think that since it's a smaller fic, I could do an imagine and a chapter for the week. Let me know what y'all want me to do!

You internally sighed as you watched the red car with the number 16 cross the line in fourth place. Anger started to bubble below the surface and you had to turn around for a moment, hoping that the cameras in the garage wouldn’t catch the sneer on your face. 

How hard was it to get Charles on the podium that his heart needed? 

The tenth anniversary and it seemed to not matter to anyone except your family and Charles’s. But of course, it’s Ferrari. Can’t give their driver a decent car or a decent strategy. When Charles is ahead it’s race on if you’re faster. But if Charles is faster but behind it’s stay in position. 

When were Ferrari finally going to actually put actions into their words? Or give their chosen driver the better strategies? 

Your blood had almost boiled over at the very distasteful words of Damon Hill when he called Charles depressed and emotion during the weekend. Sorry, it’s not like his godfather or your brother had a fatal crash ten years ago. Totally not that. 

Charles had to hold you back from seeking out the former champion when you watched the interview. 

But now, you just had to be there for Charles. 

Your hands held the helmet that the Monegasque would have brought to the podium with him if he had been up there. The helmet that should have been brought to the podium years ago if everything had been according to plan. 

But ten years ago, fate had a different story: one that didn’t include your brother in the narrative. 

Your high-heeled feet quickly took you to Parc Ferme to meet him there. You didn’t want to be too late. Multiple people in red parted for you as you made your way to the cars. The shiny helmet seemed to blind anyone who looked at it. 

Charles took his time getting out of the car in the P4 placement. His heart was heavy as his head turned to look at the wrong Ferrari parked a few meters away. God how he wanted that to have been him. His eyes watered as he started to take his gloves off. He could see the tilt of Carlos’s lip as he gave his post-race interview. He despised the driver for it. 

However, as he turned, a glint of silver caught his eyes. The Monegasque almost choked on his spit when he saw that you were holding it up. He all but ran over, trying to get there quickly before Max was called up.  

Charles held out his hands when he got close, however he froze when you placed Jules’s helmet in his hands. His own helmet was still on, probably him trying to hide his own tears. Except, you had let yours run free. 

You gave him a little nudge. 

“Go,” was all you told him. 

The Ferrari driver, now with helmet in hand, jogged over to the cool down room. The security around didn’t bother him, almost knowing what he was trying to do. He poked his head around the corner and caught a bit of the conversation. 

“And you were struggling with tyres,” he heard Max say as he watched the Dutchman almost give Carlos a cold shoulder. Max’s eyes widened when he caught a familiar red helmet peeking around the corner. He cocked an eyebrow but walked over when beckoned. 

“Charlie?” he questioned when he saw the Monegasque crying in his helmet. Max wanted to question him further, but something was thrust in his hands. He looked down in shock. 

Charles shuffled on his feet a bit. 

“Can-can,” he stuttered under the Dutchman’s gaze. He inhaled deeply. “Can you take this with you? On the podium?” 

He shut his eyes tight, not even wanting to see if Max rejected his plea. A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he opened his eyes just a bit. He was confused when he saw that Max was close to tears as well. 

Max gulped the big lump in his throat, taken back by what Charles was asking. If Max could, he’d switch with Charles in heartbeat. 

He tried to give the brunet a smile, but it came out kind of crooked. Max clutched the helmet close to his stomach, careful not to accidentally drop it. He looked down at the silver detailing. The only thing lacking on it was the Ferrari emblem. His eyes widened a bit when he realized that this wasn’t just an extra helmet from Charles. 

“I-I’m sorry I c-can’t bring it up myself,” Charles tried to justify, but he couldn’t get the words out. 

In the back of the cooldown room, Checo’s eyes were trained on the pair. His eyes slid to the side only to find Carlos not even looking. The Mexican wished he could hear when they were saying, but the familiar helmet told him everything he needed to know. He watched Charles back away and disappear around the corner. Once the red-clad driver was gone, Checo saw Max stiffen as though he realized what this actually meant. 

The second Red Bull driver got off the seat and walked over toward the Dutchman. He peered down at the silver helmet. He could almost hear Max thinking in the silence. Now he was the one to place a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder, as the Dutchman had done for Charles. 

“He trusts you Max.” 

Max only breathed in and nodded. They were quickly called to line up go to the podium. When the blond got to the top step, he made sure to hold the helmet where everyone could see. It was kind of like a testament to truly show that he was the wrong driver to be holding it on the top step. 

His blue eyes tried to find green in the crowd below, but he failed. Max even failed trying to find you. He deflated a bit but still held his head up high. Max’s lips quirked when he heard P screaming from below in the arms of Kelly. 

While Max held the helmet, really all he could think of is if he would have friends who’d hold his helmet in reverence if he were to tragically die. He’d like to think that Charles would race with a dedication helmet all race year long. He wouldn’t want it on Carlos’s helmet or Checo’s (but he knew that the two would do it anyway). 

Even though he was missing green, his eyes did catch a wide smile. He was glad that Danny was there, knowing the Australian had been close to Jules during his time in F1. 

Max had been so caught up in the anthems that he didn’t even realize that they had ended. Not wanting the helmet to get ruined with champagne, he quickly ran around to hide it behind the wall. He made sure it was stable before running back out to join in the celebrations. He knew that he’d have to give it back after, but for now, he could only receive sprays of bubbly. 

Charles’s head had been buried in the crook of your next since he got back to his drivers room. You could only rub small circles on his back, trying the comfort the sad man. 

“Why am I just never good enough?” Charles whispered into the silence. Your breath hitched when you heard the utter despair in his voice. “Can’t even get a podium for Julio.” 

“Charles, it’s not you. Please, never think it’s you.” 

The Monegasque only sighed and turned more into you. Your hands blindly reached for your phone. Once your fingers hit the cool case, you immediately grabbed it and started to plan something. You knew that the two of you were headed to Milan this week for sim testing and for the grand opening of LEC. But, you knew that you could make it even more special. 

You grinned as you made the plans and sent over a hefty amount of money, but it’d be worth it.

Hopefully.

A knock on the door had Charles sitting up straight. He quickly rubbed his eyes before heading over to the door. When he opened it, he came face to face with a soaked Max, who had slightly sad eyes. In his hands was the helmet. 

Max’s gray eyes swept over Charles before looking around the room. He gave you a smile when your eyes met. A quick nod of you head told Max everything he had to know. He turned his eyes back to Charles and handed the headpiece over. 

There was some awkward silence before Max coughed. 

“I’m guessing you’re headed back to Maranello?” 

When Charles shook his head no, the Dutchman was a little confused.

“We’re headed to Milan first,” was all Charles offered. 

You snorted at the short words from your boyfriend. Charles grew red but then offered a little more intel. “I have that ice cream thing.” 

Max’s eyes widened when he realized that it wasn’t just a rumor or a joke. Charles made a face. 

“I’m very serious about my ice cream Max.” 

Oh, Max guesses he said that out loud.  

The Red Bull driver snorted. “I wouldn’t doubt that Charles. Everything you do, you do it best.” 

Now, Charles grew red (but not of embarrassment). 

“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing the helmet a bit tighter. You were still scrolling through your phone as they talked a bit more. You were just making sure that the place you were staying at had the correct accommodations for your surprise. 

It was only when Charles got back into his spot on your chest did you realize that Max was gone. You turned your phone off and put your hands into his hair and started to scratch lightly. A content sigh escaped Charles as he finally melted into you. You leaned down to kiss his forehead. 

“We have to get going or the flight is going to leave without us,” you murmured into his hairline. You had talked to Fred (more like demanded) about letting Charles skip debrief for the time being. The money in your bank account could pay for whatever expenses the Monegasque would be fined if he skipped everything. 

In the plane, Charles had curled up to you once again. When you made sure that he was sound asleep, you got your computer back out. You finished typing out your email to Doni, making sure that everything was in order for when the plane would land. You just hoped that you could keep the surprise a secret for a little longer. 

Knowing that Charles would be dead tired when you got to the place where you’d be staying for almost two weeks, you put him straight to bed when you arrived. He went down with little to no arguments and was sound asleep as you unpacked everything. 

Pulling back the covers, you were able to slip in next to him. As you were about to fall asleep, Charles wrapped his arm around your middle and brought you closer. His lips met the crest of your shoulder before tucking his head back into your neck. You put your hand over his arm and held it tightly. 

In the morning, you were woken up by the sound of a blender from the kitchen. You sleepily put your feet on the cool tile and made your way to the open room. 

Charles had his bare back to you as he was slaving over frozen fruit and oat milk. He startled a bit as your cheek came to rest on his shoulder. Your lips pressed against your favorite freckle that stood out amongst the rest of the galaxy on his back. 

“Good morning amore.” 

You always loved his terms of endearment in the morning when his voice was still deep with sleep. 

“Morning Cha.” 

Charles smiled as he heard sleep still evident in your own voice. While he pressed the automatic blend button, he turned around to face you. Your eyes were still closed as you looked at him with a dopey smile. Charles couldn’t help but mirror it, even if you couldn’t see it.

 He leaned down and placed feather-light kissed on your eyelids before moving down to your nose. The Monegasque always loved doing that as your nose would immediately scrunch after. 

A whine left your lips, signally to him that he hadn’t kissed you where you wanted it yet. He rolled his eyes and stooped a bit lower, his lips finally finding solace in yours. 

After three years, you still couldn’t get over the feeling of his lips on yours. Your hands slip up his arms until they locked behind his neck, pulling him closer to you. His own hands found themselves planted against the span of your hips. 

It was just the two of you in your own little world for a bit, leaving you breathless when you finally parted, smoothie long forgotten. 

Charles rested his forehead against yours. 

You hummed, getting his attention. 

“I have a surprise for you later today,” you told him. Feeling him tense against your chest, you knew he was immediately interested. 

“Like, later today or in a few hours.” 

“More like in a few hours. We have to get ready and then get going.” 

You and Charles quickly drank your smoothies before you headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. Teasingly, you swung the keys around his face as you walked out to the car, claiming that you had to drive because he didn’t even know where you were going. 

“You get to be passenger princess now my love,” you called as you climbed into the driver’s seat. Charles could only roll his eyes. 

He would never admit it, but he secretly liked being the passenger every once in a while. It gave him the freedom to choose the music and not worry about getting one place to another. 

Once the car got closer to the location, Charles had a sense of what was going on. He turned his head toward you once you pulled into the house. His eyes were sparkling (but you knew they’d get brighter once he understood why exactly the two of you were here). 

Charles unbuckled with you following suit. 

“Are we here to see Mimi?” he questioned as he held your hand, swinging it as you walked. 

You were digging through your purse with your other. “Something like that.” 

The doorbell was rang and Charles smiled at the sight of his friend. 

“Hi mate,” he greeted, pulling Doni into a hug. You gave the man a greeting when you had the chance. 

“Follow me,” Doni said, pulling you and Charles into the house. You could tell that the Monegasque was excited as he squeezed passed Doni and immediately went to pick Mimi up. You giggled, seeing your boyfriend turn into a literally baby for the small dog. 

Seeing that he was preoccupied, you leaned over to Doni. 

“Is he here?” 

Doni smiled down at you. “We can go get him.” 

You turned to Charles. “Love, Doni is going to show me a new painting that he’s been working on. I’ll be right back.” 

The only response you got was Charles kissing Mimi on the head and waving you off. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be mad because moments later, your hands were full of puppy. You clutched the blond dachshund into your chest. 

“He’s perfect,” you whispered, kissing the puppy’s head lightly, earning a little yap in return. You and Doni returned to the bigger room, still finding Charles enamored with Mimi. You snorted at the sight. 

“Charlie,” you said, gaining the Monegasque’s attention for a moment. The minutes Charles’s eyes were on you, he froze at the sight of the itty-bitty puppy in your arms. He set Mimi down immediately, but the bigger dachshund wasn’t offended. 

Charles gingerly stepped over and his hands hovered over the little puppy in your arms. His eyes met yours, silently asking to hold the tiny thing. You rolled your eyes and you gently set the unnamed puppy in his hands. 

The baby dachshund looked tiny in your arms, but now looked even tinier in Charles’s bigger hands. The Ferrari driver held the puppy up to his face and was met with a wet tongue against his nose. The giggles that resounded out of the grown man made you melt inside. 

After the right amount of attention was given to the pup, Charles looked at Doni. 

“What’s his name?” he asked his friend. 

Doni smirked down at you. 

“That’s for you to decide love.” 

It was comical with how big Charles’s eyes got when he finally realized that the puppy in his hands was his (well, you two would share him). Tears even welled up in his green eyes, making them look incredibly glassy. 

You cooed at the two while stepping closer to put your hand back on the puppy. The little thing yawned and snuggled deeper into Charles’s hand. His head whipped up so he could look at you. 

“I’m never putting him down you know that right? I’ll make him a little pocket in my race suit and he’s going to go everywhere with me.” 

You snorted. “I don’t think puppies are built to withstand the G’s baby, but I’ll keep him company in the garage. He’ll have Roscoe to play with next year too.” 

Charles stopped listening after you had said “baby,” his brain melting. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about a future with you and an actual baby. That made blood go to different places and he needed to stop thinking about that. 

Doni had walked away for a moment and came back with a piece of paper. 

“You think of a name superstar?” the man asked, pen poised to write. 

Charles held the British-crème dog up to his face and looked into the boba-like brown eyes. He hummed as he put him back down at stomach level, still not wanting to put him down. 

“Leo.” 

Now that you snorted. “You’re going to name our son after your rival?” 

Charles paled once he realized and stuttered as he tried to make up an excuse. “Non, it’s like the LEC logo. The ‘C’ looks like an ‘O’ if you squint.” 

You laughed but nodded at the excuse. “Sure amore, sure. But I think Leo Leclerc suits him. Little baby.” 

Doni also laughed as he wrote down Leo’s name. “More like Leo LeHandbag because I don’t think superstar is going to put him down anytime soon.” 

You turned back to Charles, but the man was already crouched down next to Mimi, showing off Leo to the older dog. You facepalmed. 

“I am dating a literally child. First an ice cream line and now this.” 

Doni smiled. “He looks happy.” 

You sighed in content. That’s all you had wanted to do since Suzuka: make Charles happy. You couldn’t bring back your brother, but you could offer small hopes to the man you loved so dearly. Your eyes widened when you looked at your watch. 

“Love, we have to go. Your launch is in an hour and a half.” 

Charles pouted. “We’re bringing him right?” 

You smiled softly. “Yes, let’s bring our son.” 

The two of you said your goodbyes to Doni before heading out. Charles still wanted to be the passenger so that he could hold onto Leo for longer, knowing that he’d have to give him back to you once the launch started. 

“I still can’t believe you named him Leo after Max.” 

“He is not named after Max.” 

“Sure babe. It’s definitely not like Roscoe being named after Nico Rosberg.” 

“Wait. Lewis names Roscoe after Rosberg?” 

“Yes Charlie. But it’s ok. I can be second best to your work-wife.” 

“Max is not my work-wife.” 

“Whatever you say. Il Predestinato now has Il Pawdestinato.” 

“HE WON IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA!” 

“I swear Charles, I will take him back.” 

“LEO LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 DOGGIE GRAND PRIX!” 

“I’m dating a child.” 

y/n_bianchi has posted

y/n_bianchi little Leo Leclerc ☀️

liked by charles_leclerc, lestappenlove, y/nxcharlie, and 4,204,096 others

leclerc_fam oh my gosh he's so cutieeeeeee

i_want_y/n do y'all need another one? cause I can bark 🗣

charliesangels STOP DID Y/N GET HIM A PUPPY AFTER SUZUKA????

lestappenlove not them naming Leo after a certain lion rival

brocedes2.0 reminds me of lewis naming Roscoe after Nico Rosberg

lecluv ice cream, a puppy, and a gorgeous girlfriend - Charles is living the life 😭

roscoelovescoco yous is goings to haves to brings him to the paddocks so I's cans meets new friend! ♥️

y/n_bianchi of course roscoe! I can babysit so the dads can do their thing 🏎💨

lewishamilton can't wait to meet the son!

charles_leclerc he'll be at Shanghai ☺️

roscoe&leo they're going to be the IT dogs of the paddock

leolovescharlie imagine having formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc and Ceo of a multimillion dollar company Y/n Bianchi as your parents

maxverstappen1 I like the name! 🦁

y/n_bianchi i told him that you'd say something

charles_leclerc HE IS NOT NAMED AFTER YOU

y/nxcharlie it's cat dad Max Verstappen vs dog dad Charles Leclerc

iamred_iamyellow choose your fighter

y/n_leclerc I'm just waiting for when y/n is going to show up with a ring

ferrari_fan when I saw I got that dawg in me, best know I'm talking about Leo

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[de4dlyniightshade]

I just imagine that like Spencer HATES being vocal but the boys so sensitive he can't help but moan like a whore

THISSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!! I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. DIE ON IT.

HEADCANON SEGMENT!!! :3

i just know he's fighting for his life every time you give him a handjob, his eyes squeezed shut while he grips anything he can, trying so hard not to let any sounds slip out but he just can't help but let out cute little whimpers and gasps.

prince(he's too cute to be a king)of overstimulation!!! he'd take it like such a champ, letting you milk him dry until he can't even think for himself, he'd just moan and whimper and beg.

would literally almost bust when you whispered something like "let me hear you, baby" and just can't help but moan like a SLUT

every time you two go at it at least one neighbour complains bcs he's just so loud, practically screaming your name over and over.

honestly for the longest time he managed to convince you he was just quiet naturally but his facade fell the first time you overstimulated him, which was completely by accident, spencer, unbeknownst to you, had already rubbed one out before coming over but you pounced on him as soon as he was through the door so he was still sensitive and reactive, you thumb rubbing his tip making him let out an almost pornographic moan.

one of your favourite things to do is touch him in public, like in a bathroom or changing room so nobody would see you but he'd have to force himself to be quiet so you wouldn't get caught, your rule being that he wasn't allowed to cover his mouth, he had to just keep quiet.

you'd never been with someone so vocal before and you honestly don't think you could go back, you were addicted to the way he babbled almost incoherently, the pleasure going to his head and making him speak his mind, which is when he said some of the sweetest things to you, like how beautiful you are and how much he loves you and the way you make him feel.

one time derek came to spencer's apartment to drop something off while you two were preoccupied, the sound of spencer's loud moaning and whining being very audible even from outside his door, which started the constant teasing and fake moaning around the bureau.

i honestly might have to write a fic abt this>:3

[winterarmyy]

And You're Mine

How grumpy chubby alpha!bucky finally found his omega

Summary: In which Bucky, the big, scary, 'undesired alpha' was tricked into a blind date where he met his precious little omega.

Note: Read the prequel here 《 Must Be Fate 》

Words: 4.7k++

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, a/b/o dynamics, self-deprication, body shaming, tiny bit of angst, fluffiness, bucky has a size kink (if you squint), horny-ass bucky has lots of dirty thoughts, vivian being a digusting bitch, protective y/n, even more protective bucky and overall wholesome.

P/S: Ahhhhhhhhh!!! My first omega-verse fic; i have no clue what I'm doing. This is mostly self-indulgent but if you come across this and somehow interested to read it then I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Bucky momentarily shuts his eyes, slightly titled his chin upwards, as if that'll help the boiling blood within his nerves to cool down.

Steve had expected that his best friend would be a little bit annoyed with his decision to trick him into agreeing to this suprise date but he didn't expect him to get this pissed, "Come on now, Buck. I promise you're gonna love this one."

"You said the same shit everytime!" Bucky almost roared in the middle of the crowded carnival, but he held back with a muted growl.

Ever since he lost his left arm on a rescue mission during his time in the Special Forces Unit, the society had deemed him to be "lesser than" despite the alpha title he was born into.

You would've thought that serving your country for about 6 years of your early 20's would be enough of a reason to make up for the so called "lacking", but no.

Apparently, his heroic contributions, his Sargent rank, and his literal blood, sweat and tears meant nothing when he returned home as an amputee.

Even if he came back with the medal of honor, pinned on the fabric of his uniform, right on his prideful chest; they didn't care. A defected alpha is as good as dead, especially in this modern, competitive society where its a lot more difficult to find a mate.

At first Bucky was optimistic, he didn't let them get to him.

He believed that his mate is out there somewhere, waiting for him, as he is for her.

After Stark Technologies offered him to join their research for under the Prosthetics and Orthotics Division, Bucky was lucky to fully revived his left arm in a form a vibranium prosthetic.

Even then, as time passed, the venomous whispers eventually managed to seep through; like any other poison, it is lethal to his mind.

And Bucky stopped trying to be an alpha. His pride was maimed and he let himself wallow in self hatred; letting his insecurity consume him. Eventually quite literally ate his pain away.

They said that he was rubbing salt to his own wound as now he was not just an amputated alpha, he is also a fat one at that.

With his alpha reputation being at its worst, his chances of finding a mate also went down hill.

"This one's gonna be different. Trust me." Steve claimed.

Bucky doesn't know why Steve seemed really convinced. But he wasn't having any of that, he rolled his eyes into a glare, "And how's that?"

Steve's blue eyes sparked as optimism lit on his face, "Well, first of all, she's one of Peggy's closest friends and.."

"Oh great, now you involve your omega into this." Bucky let out an unfiltered scoff before sarcastically exclaimed, "Just fantastic."

Steve growled at the mention of his mate, "Watch it, Bucky." He warned.

Bucky's drilling glare remained the same as Steve's alpha challenged his.

It's not that Bucky is against the idea of Peggy or any other omega helping him in any way. But, Steve had been annoyingly persistent with these set ups and he was sick of it. Perhaps he was a bit petty bringing Peggy into the conversation but he really was just tired of this.

Steve's scowl gradually soften before he continued his reasons, "...And, your date is actually the one requesting for a set up with you."

And that definitely caught Bucky's attention. Steve could see it, especially when Bucky's ears perked up a little and his ever-lasting frown loosen at the tiniest amount.

Steve smirked triumphantly, "Specifically you."

For moment, there was a hesitation on Bucky's side; and there were only the chaotic atmosphere around them. From the screaming of the riders on the roller coater to the giggles of children at the nearby courasell.

Steve really thought he managed to lure Bucky but he was caught by surprise when Bucky replied, "You'd think I'd fall for that crappy excuse of a lie? No. I'm leaving." Bucky turned on his heels.

"I'm not lying." Steve stopped him as he held on his arm, "Hey, you're gonna break her heart."

"Break her heart? How about mine? Just how many more heart breaks do I have to endure? How much more disappointment do I have to go through?"

Bucky gathered his palms into fists as he recalled all the mean, insulting words his past lovers had thrown at him and all those time he wasted on waiting for his dates to show up.

Just before Bucky planning to lash out, a voice interupted his thoughts "Hey, sorry for being late." Peggy came just in time.

Though it was just her; no sign of his so called date around.

An unexpected sting spreads within Bucky's chest. Of course she would stood him up too. Why was he surprised?

Steve pulled his omega into a tight hug, "Hey, baby. Where's y/n?" He asked.

"She's went to the bathroom." Peggy replied before taking a peep towards Bucky, "She got really nervous when she saw you. She might take some time to calm down. She thought its better if you know." Peggy explained.

On one side, Bucky can feel that sliver of hope creeping in. He look down to where he was supposed to see his feet, but unable to see them as now they're blocked by the round of his soft tummy. That's when the dark thoughts clouded his mind.

Was she just feeling nervous or was she regretting her decision?

After a short back and forth explanation, Peggy swept Steve away and had left Bucky on his own. She claimed that the line to the haunted house will double if they wait any longer. But, Bucky knew that they just wanted to leave him and his date alone.

Like every other date before, Bucky was emotions was all over the place; nervous, scared, intrigued, excited but what's different tonight was he also felt angry and annoyed. Which was not a good thing to feel on a date.

So he went to a Whac-A-Mole machine near the spot where he was supposed to wait for his date. He had to hit something. He just had to. He need to let his anger out one way or another.

His gloved hand gripped tightly on the wooden handle as he waited for the next round. Smack after smack, next was harsher than before, he did felt better. But even if the fire was out, the ashes were still burning.

As he was fixated on whacking the shit out of the moles, a particular scent invaded his nostrils. A sweet-smelling scent; something between a mix of cotton candy and butterscotch-caramel nuances.

It should be normal to smell this at a place such as a carnival; but the food stalls were all the way on the other end of the venue and this scent was too strong, too potent, to be that far away from him.

Bucky just had to stop as he relished the pleasant smell; it was truly a sweet and warm gourmand scent that ushered him in and out between nostalgic memories and pure raging lust.

That was when he heard a voice coming from his back, "You must've been really bored waiting that you started without me." She sounded amused when she let out a quiet laugh.

Even before Bucky had the chance to turn around he knew he was fucked; she just had to have the most captivating scent he had ever smell, and the most beautiful-sounded laughter he had ever heard.

What a foul torment to do to an alpha.

When Bucky turned around, he would've missed her if he wasn't paying enough attention on the lower area of his view.

And there she stood, in all her glory of ethereal beauty; small and sweet-looking in an off-shoulder sundress that does nothing but tempt Bucky to leave his mark all over her exposed skin. A simple necklace adorned with a gleaming stone that shines much like her eyes. A shy smile that may have just triggered some dark thoughts in Bucky's mind on corrupting the poor little thing.

"James, right? I'm y/n." she introduced herself but when Bucky's gaze fell on her rosy lips, all he could think was how bad he wanted to bite and suck on them just see if it'll get redder than they already were.

He was too focused entertaining on his inner beast's thoughts that he just stood there in silence, frowning intensely at the sweet little omega in front of him.

Y/N took his unresponsiveness as a sign of anger, so quickly apologised for her tardiness, "Sorry for making you wait so long. When we..i mean I. When I saw you, the nerves started kicking in." At least she tried to, despite stuttering in the between her words.

Fuck, she's such a pretty doll but above all, Bucky just wanted to protect her from the world, provide for her with anything she deserves, treat her like an absolute queen, worship every inch of her being like his own personal goddess and jesus fuck these urges came in stronger than he ever experienced.

With the lights coming from behind, Bucky's face was in the shadows and Y/N misterinterpret his spell-bound, diluted eyes to something else.

Y/N's brows creased in hesitation as she wonders if Bucky was still mad, "Uhh... oh shit" then her eyes widen in a false realization, "Is the something on my face?" She frantically searched for her phone in her bag.

And fuck does that big doe eyes of hers just casually seduce Bucky to think of how she would look when she's taking his cock in her mouth. She'd be so fucking pretty.

She knew she should've used her phone's camera to re-apply her lipstick instead of the cracked mirror at the carnival's bathroom, "The mirror here is f--"

Yes, Bucky would want to breed her so good that she would always be full with his pups.

She's undeniably... "Perfect." Bucky finally spoke after what seemingly feels like forever.

His voice was laced with a hint of territorial grunt that Y/N was not able to catch what he said, "Hmm?" She titled her head to the side, eyes pleading for him to repeat.

It took Bucky all of his mental strength to hold back his alpha urges when he repeats, "You're perfect, doll. Just absolutely perfect." A cheshire smile decorated his handsome face.

Did he meant to say she look perfect? Well, yes but no. He clearly meant she was perfect, her whole being. But Y/N took it as the prior, "Thank you." She smiled sweetly as her cheeks warmed.

Bucky definitely noticed the slight indent of her left dimple. And he wondered how would it felt against his fingers. "Adorable." He thought as his smile grew wider.

Y/N had been waiting for this moment, to finally had a chance to have this man even for a day, especially considering she had the biggest crush on this stranger that helped her a year ago.

One time she might just had met her potential mate was that one time she had to be dosed with shit tons of scent blockers. And that might just be reason why Bucky may not remember her but that's fine. She had one more chance with him tonight.

After that encounter, his scent, his voice, his presence lingered in her mind longer than she anticipated. At least until the moment Peggy showed a photo her alpha that had Bucky in it.

She grew hopeful and had been pestering her to set up somehow set up date with him.

When the time finally comes, she couldn't help but to fell into panic, "Did I introduce myself? I'm y/n" she completely forgot that she already did that.

Bucky let out the most adorable laugh before he reminded her, "You very well did, sugar." His hand move so naturally to tuck the strand of her hair behind her ear as she fell into utter embrassement.

"I'm Bucky." He finally introduced himself.

"Bucky?" Y/N outwardly questioned. She thought his name was James, as Peggy said it was.

He hummed softly as he nodded, "The name's James Bucky Barnes." He explained. "Just call me Bucky, yeah sugar?" He duck his head to peek on her redden face, "...cause I can't guarantee my behaviour around you if you keep calling me James." He quirked his eyebrow as his teasing grin spreads.

Oh, he was definitely and unashamedly insinuated something quite unholy there.

Bucky straighten on his back as he offered his arms, "Shall we, then? I would love to know more about you, sweet 'mega."

No matter how infatuated Bucky was with this lovely little omega clinging to his arm; a part of him was also on a defensive mode.

His insecurities gets the best of him when he believe that all of this was just an act, a cruel prank that fate has set up for him or maybe he was just having a ridiculous dream, knowing how pitiful his reality was.

Despite his gentle smile and longing gaze that's lingering on Y/N who was having the best time of her life as her bright eyes sparked at the vibrant and colorful firework show, deep down, he couldn't help to think that sooner or later, all of this will end like it always does.

Another heart break he needed to endure.

But, she was truly an angel. She was everything he could ever hoped for, everything that he could ever long for.

He can't belive that she would spend even a second of her time with a defected, fat, angry looking alpha such as himself.

Maybe this won't be just another heart break.

Maybe this would be the cause for him to actually break beyond repairable.

And she would be the catalyst.

"Thank you for today, Bucky. I truly enjoy my time with you." She confessed with a sincere appreciation and admiration towards him. She shyly broke their eye contact as her finger fiddled with soft fur of the teddy bear that Bucky won for her.

It reminds her of him so much that she insisted that he need to win it for her.

So he did.

His alpha couldn't help to puff with pride. "Omega's happy because of us." But his lips remain shut with a loving smile curved on it.

The dimple on her cheek appeared again and this time he didn't stop his hand from reaching out. Though they were gloved, he still let himself feeling the pleasure of grazing his fingers along her cheek, through her dimple and stopped underneath her chin.

Bucky pulled her closer as he dipped down to her level. Warmth sparked in Y/N's chest, as if the fireworks show magically transferred within her instead, "Buck--"

"Bucky?" A women's voice interupted their moment. "Bucky is that you?" She called again and her familiarity had caught both Y/N and Bucky's attention.

"Oh my god! It is you!" her ecstatic tone might have fool Y/N for a second there.

Maybe she's a close friend of Bucky, but when she saw the colors from his face drained quite drastically, she might need to hold on to that thought.

"Vivian." Bucky's tone changed into something Y/N couldn't put her finger on. Sorrow? Anger? Regret? She wasn't sure but it was not a positive response.

The claimed omega sauntered closer and peered towards Y/N with a glint of judgment in her eyes, "And I see you managed to trick another one, huh?"

That triggered a scarring spot within Bucky.

He could still remember the way she accused him of luring and tricking omega to be with him. Apparently, she couldn't stand being him during intimate time especially during his ruts.

And one particular moment when his rut was at its peak and she couldn't stop herself to turn into an unforgiving monster.

"I can't believe I fell for your charms. Then now I need to deal with this." Vivian looked away, unable to look at her boyfriend, hot and bothered, bare and in pain.

Bucky pants and groan as Vivian continued to insult him from the corner of him room, "Look at you, Bucky! You look fucking pathetic!" She yelled as she angrily pointed her hands towards him.

He turn to his side facing her, and curled his body to manage the raging pain of wanting to stick his cock into something. Vivian was to busy ranting that she couldn't see the fire in Bucky's grilling frown.

"You can't expect me to touch you now especially with your big fucking belly spilling out like that. God, you're sweating like damn dog and you fucking reek!" Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust before she continued, "And don't get me started with that wretched arm of yours."

That's it. Bucky was not having any of it anymore. He was seconds away from slamming Vivian's face to the wall as his primal alpha needs to aggress were also heighten in his rut.

"Then, get the fuck out of my house, you useless annoying bitch." Bucky growled through his pain.

Vivian was not able to catch a breath as her mouth hang open in shock. Bucky never been that harsh with her but honestly it was about time he did.

"Don't even think of coming back." He warned as she closed the doors behind her.

Unknowingly leaving Bucky's heart bruised and battered.

That was almost a year ago. Bucky gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought maybe she would change once she find her the love life but apparently she is as vicious as ever.

The tall blonde continue to linger as she asked, "Did you know? About that arm of his?"

Y/N didn't know what she was talking about but she didn't want to entertain this woman, especially when Bucky was clearly uncomfortable with her presence.

Though her silence only lead Vivian to speculate, "Aww, you poor thing, you don't know, do you?" Her mockery was getting worst, "It's fake, honey. He lost his arm many years ago." She flicked Bucky's left arm with long bird-like nails; or claws, that seemed more accurate.

Bucky caught the way Y/N's eyes briefly glanced at his covered arms then his gloved hand. What was she thinking then? Does she think that he was defected? That he is a damaged goods?

He couldn't help to let his mind wonder to the worst case scenarios and to make the unpleasant situation even worse Vivian slightly tugged Bucky's jacket to the side.

Revealing his round and plushy belly, "And fuck did you get bigger?" She sneered as the ruthless insult continue to spill.

"Shut up." Y/N's broken silence caught them off guard.

Vivian scoffed, "What?"

Y/N piercing gaze landed on Vivian's hand still tugging Bucky's jacket. She harshly grabbed her on the wrist, didn't care whether if her nails would dug into the woman's skin.

"I said..." The air felt heavier, only for Y/N to shove more force to it when her voice dropped a few octaves down, "Shut the fuck up before I tear your throat apart."

How dare she insult her alpha, especially when Y/N was right there with him.

"Are sure you want to do that?" Vivian's alpha suddenly stepped in. Even though he clearly was not interested in the matter a few seconds ago.

Y/N took a step forward, "Try me." She dared him.

"I might as well fuck your balls up while I'm at that, huh? Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about subduing your insolent omega."

Oh, she meant what she said; its especially clear when the growling started to peak a presence through her voice.

The taller was bright red, with embrassment and anger, "You're talking to an alpha. Know your place 'mega!" He forced his alpha command on her.

She fought back as much as she could but of course she was forced to submit. When the alpha tried to reach for her, that's when Bucky blocked his way.

Bucky's demeanour completely changed into something different. His meek presence vanished and now turned into a pure and primal rage. Good thing was he contained it quite well so he won't cause a scene but his gaze degrades the one before him.

Though the alpha was slightly taller but Bucky was certainly bigger and being a veteran, of course he'd be stronger. One wrong move, he might get a chance to meet the grim reaper sooner than he'd expect.

It felt as if Bucky was towering over the alpha, as he challenged him to come a step further, "Touch her and you're dead." Bucky let out a deep, murderous growl as he threatened.

The alpha was about to protest but was forced into a frozen state as he look into Bucky's sapphire eyes; there was something ominous about it, something dark and dangerous.

Being overwhelmed by Bucky's strong scent of rage, Vivian quickly pulled her alpha away, "Let's just go... They're not worth it." She coaxed, and the alpha agreed.

Before they leave, she managed to slip a last comment, as she wishes luck to Bucky, "Goodluck keeping this one." She thought she was being sleek when she whispered so quietly but Y/N heard that just fine.

When Y/N snapped out of the alpha command, she grunted, "I'm gonna kill her." What a menancing look in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

Bucky only softened to her threatening aggressions, "No, you're not " he rubbed his hand to the sides of her arms, trying to calm her down.

Which failed miserably when she replied, "Watch me." She spun around, eyes searching in the crowd, trying to spot a glimpse of the rude couple.

"Hey hey, omega." Bucky quickly catch her before she could walk further, pulling her back to his chest, both of his arms securing her waist, "Calm down. Shhh shhh." Bucky let out a calming rumble from within his chest, coaxing her softly,  "Killing is not necessary, sugar."

Despite her tensed body were starting to relax, her mind certainly wasn't, "And why the hell not?" Her small hands gripped onto the fabric of Bucky's jacket on his arms.

"No one deserved to be treated like that." She whispered softly as Bucky continued to kiss the top of her head, mumbling quiet 'I know, doll. I know' 

"You don't deserve to be treated like that, Bucky." Her voice shivered despite her efforts to conceal them.

Bucky loosen his grip and turned her to face him. His loving gaze took in every single one of Y/N's sweet features; from her teary eyes to her redden nose and pouty lips.

He wanted to kiss each of them, in hopes of making her feel better. But he doesn't want to take any chances as he had already made a bold move to hug her from behind and kiss her head prior.

Bucky looked down at his dark midnight glove, and Y/N took his lead. Before she could say anything, Bucky started pulling each one off. Revealing his calloused right hand and a shiny black and gold prosthetic on the other.

He can't see her reaction to his vibranium arm, but he imagined the worst. He took in a shaky breath before he spoke, "Alpha is supposed to be perfect. They supposed to be capable. So that they can provide and protect their omega."

He paused as Y/N wrapped took both of his hand in hers but then continued regardless, "And I am far from being perfect or ideal. I lost a limb and gained pounds in return. I can't hide that fact."

"But I swear to god y/n, I never intent on tricking you or using you, in any way." In the end, Vivian's gaslighting effect of Bucky was still stronger as ever.

Why couldn't he see that there was nothing less about him.

"It's pretty." Y/N titled his left hand back and forth, watching the glow on the gold lines reflect the lights of the carnival; each move create random sparkling dots on its smooth surface, it looks like stars.

Bucky didn't understand at first until she looked up at him, with eyes gleaming with mixture of intrigued and infatuation, "It's so pretty, and Bucky..." She reached her hand to his face, gently rubbing her thumb on his stubble jaw, "You're beautiful. All of you." She confessed.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his cheek, and grabbed his left hand with both of hers, allowing it draw near to her lips before she placed a loving kiss on it, "This arm," Then her hands caressed the softness of his tummy, "this body," before they stopped at his chest where his beating heart resides, "this heart. Every single part of you is beyond beauty itself."

Bucky frowned as he find it hard to believe and Y/N knew that, "I mean it, Bucky."

A short chuckle left her lips as a thought run through her mind, "God, you'd be running scared, if you know half of the things I would love to do to you."

Bucky bit back a smile as he let his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Y/N continued as she held onto his hands, "But, above all Bucky, you are the sweetest man I've met." There was nothing more sincere than her words, "Yeah I know we just met and what not, but if I can see that just in one night, imagine if I get to know more of you tomorrow or the next day and next week?"

Her grip on him grew stronger as she reminded him, "Don't let an impudent omega or anyone even, convice you otherwise."

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

And Bucky could not control the overwhelming joy within his thundering chest as it bursts with endless fluttering butterflies. He had never felt such comfort, such reassurance in his life, especially after returning home from the army.

Flickers igniting as he leaned in closer and closer until their lips touched, tentively for the first time. The smell of her cotton candy and caramel, so sweet and so soft, it was almost dizzying, but he was more than thrilled to let it consume him. 

Y/N briefly parted her lips to let him in and leaned into the kiss, wanting more of the delicious sensation of his lips, his tongue on hers. Bucky wanted nothing more than devour her, memorizing of every single moan that fell into his mouth.

It felt so right; it was exactly was his soul had been yearning for and more.

Breaking the kiss was the reminder to both of them they need air to breath, and Bucky rested his forehead on hers as he took in everything that just happened.

While Y/N found herself completely drunk to the feeling of love within her body and soul, she whispered dearly as she scatters most tender kisses all over Bucky's face, "You're so pretty. So perfect. So... mine."

And that caught Bucky in another spiral of confusion; she could see it in face especially with his sapphire eyes being as wide as they were.

She giggled amusingly before she proposed, "Will you be mine, James Bucky Barnes?"

God, he was supposed to be the alpha here. But what can he say, his omega is quite a special one.

He breathed a relief sigh, "Yes." Leaned in for a quick taste of her lips before asking his a question of his own, "And you're mine?"

Her nose crunched as she booped its tip on his, "Always." She replied. Bucky could feel her smile against his lips and so does she.

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, a few feet away from them was Peggy who was busy clicking her camera away, trying to get the best shot she could out of the couple while Steve was trying hard to hold back his proud sniffles as he stood guard near his omega.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Sooooooo what you think? Feel free to give feedback I love reading your thoughts!

[shemaycry]

❛I’ll give you lessons, it’s so much to know. ❜ ⸺ Gojo Satoru

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. satoru just wants to show you how different real sex and literature sex is.

【⠀♱⠀】 WARNINGS. self-indulgent. | reader is black coded & chubby | satoru teases a lot | pet names | i tried to keep this as realistic as possible so idk if this is boring i’m sorry | oral sex | fingering | reader is a virgin & is a little insecure about that | reader is also a smut writer | no penetrative sex | praise | minor overstimulation & dacryphilia | satoru is lowkey jealous of the book lol | etc.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. i know there’s like plenty of virgin x experienced satoru fics but i just wanted to write this one based off my own experience. so yeah, hope you enjoy there may be a part 2. 3K+ WORDS & PLEASE EXCUSE GRAMMAR MISTAKES

Novels were so easy to get lost in. The moment your eyes landed upon a link of words you were lost to the world; glued to the seat underneath you for hours until your eyes demanded rest.

This was your current situation; glued to your bed, back pressed against the hill of plush pillows whilst your eyes skimmed the sentences within the book. You held the paperback delicately, lips parting every so often to giddily act out a piece of dialogue.

You loved books. Loved reading them, writing them, and much more.

What you didn’t love, was being interrupted while reading one.

The knock against your door was enough to cause your head to snap to it, bottom lip curled tight under your teeth as annoyance threatened to bubble over. With a heavy sigh you slumped into your pillows, “Yes, Satoru?” Your voice ranged monotone, something you used frequently whenever your beloved roommate and friend; Gojo Satoru, decided he needed attention during your reading time.

The door opened with haste, the tall white-haired male entering with a small frown. “You never sound excited to see me.” Satoru breathed, hand rising and lowering against his chest as if truly wounded by your behavior. An act that dissipated the moment you rolled your eyes— the man chuckling and entering the room fully to sit upon the corner of your bed. “I’m bored.. The rain killed all my plans.”

His complaints were barely registered the moment your eyes landed back to your book— a single mhm escaping you instead. A silence covered the room, feeling your bed sink as his long form stretched out upon the edge. Still, your eyes remained on the manilla pages; far too consumed in the utter debauchery playing before your eyes.

Unfortunately for you, Satoru didn’t let this slide for long; given his hand rose to poke the bottom of your foot.

You blinked harshly, lowering the book to cast a glare his way; Satoru’s eyes elsewhere as if innocent. The moment you returned to your book however— he poked you again, going in for a third one just for good measure.

Your legs slid up quickly, book falling to your lap as you glared at the man. “Satoru, how old are you?!”

“I’m bored..” He repeated, cheek sinking into your soft blankets as his pretty eyes stared up at you. Any other time you would have gave into the infamous pout, but not this time. You were enjoying your book far too much.

“Not my problem, find something safe to do.” You huffed, grabbing your book from your lap to slap Satoru’s reaching hand with.

With a quick recoil of his hand, the man sat up, huffing softly. “Like what?”

You groaned, leaning back against your pillows. “I don’t know, Gojo. Cook a dish, sleep, maybe read a damn book— just stop worrying me to death!”

Silence carried around the room for a moment, a bout of anxiety settling deep in your stomach at the man’s unreadable expression. Have I upset him? Was the single thought running in your mind. There were times he was unbearably annoying but again— Satoru was your friend and someone you held very dear.

“Sato—“

“I’ll read a book.” The man rose from your bed slowly with a soft sigh. This alone caused the small bout to quickly grow; your eyebrows furrowing and racking your mind for the perfect apology.

Until.. your beloved roommate and great friend snatched your book right from your hands— dashing out of your room before you could even blink.

Your eyes slowly widened as you registered the situation, fighting with your blankets to throw off as expletives escaped your lips rapidly. You were finally free from the web of comfort— rushing out of your bedroom towards where you loudly heard Satoru reading your book.

“His voice was husky, low; a tone that caused warmth to spread from my stomach all the way to my toes..”

“Satoru— give me back my book!” You rushed towards his spot standing beside the coffee table, watching him raise the book higher and crane his neck to continue to read; all while with a shit eating grin.

“He was close now, eyelids low with plump lips slick with my..” Satoru’s words slowed, eyebrows coming close together for a split moment. “— arousal.” His eyes were wide at this point, falling to your face which held a mix between embarrassment and anger.

The two of you watched each other for a moment, lips forming into a grin and the other a frown; the silence breaking the moment you groaned and landed onto the couch. Satoru quickly followed, snickering to himself as he quickly went back a page;

“Looks like I need to reread for the full effect..“

“Satoru, bite your tongue and die—“

Your harsh words were over shown by his downright maniacal giggling as he read over the pages, leaning back against the cushions. You spared a glance to spot the bright smile drawn across his features, glossy lips parting to softly read out the scene.

Another groan escaped you as you leaned back, balling up the shirt you wore in your hands. You shouldn’t be this embarrassed, really— or should you? Sex was sex, obviously; but it was a little different to be sexually active and simply being reading about. Plus, it was no secret you were a virgin— so you were sure you looked like a perverted hornball.

You wanted to die right then and there.

Soon enough, however; your stolen book made contact with your lap, which caused your eyes to open and land onto the culprit.

Whose grin was still intact.

“So that’s why you wanted me to leave so badly.”

“Satoru, please..”

The man snorted softly, dimples deep and turning to face you. “I’m not making fun of you [Name], it’s normal— it’s like a guy watching porn..” His eyes trailed off for a moment, dancing about the room before clicking back to you. “— Though I have to ask, is this the same stuff you spend time writing about?”

The heat growing within you was becoming too much, washing over your face and causing the embarrassment to dive deeper and deeper. “N—not all of it!” You huffed, eyebrows pinched close as you watched the man raise his hands defensively.

“Like I said I’m not judging either way. It’s just, interesting is all..” He shrugged to himself, leaning back against the cushions as his arms stretched out upon the couch. Satoru’s eyes flicked to your own, grin deepening the moment he noticed your bewildered expression. The man, as teasing as ever— leaned over just a bit closer. “Because you’re a virgin, that’s why.”

“Oh.” You spoke softly, eyes falling from his face to your lap, lips pushed close for a moment— the heat in your face seething at this point. “Well yeah, it’s uh.. ya know, my imagination so it kind makes up for.. lack of experience?”

Satoru stifled a short laugh, slinking away and facing forward. “Your smut is completely different from the real thing, though.” He claimed, tone teetering between cocky and just a tad playful.

You rolled your eyes as a soft obviously escaped your lips hearing the man chuckle. Satoru wasn’t wrong, you were sure real life sex and literature were completely different. From reactions down to positions, it was bound to be very distinct.

Still, the question of how different lingered within you.

Slowly your eyes rose from your lap to settle upon your roommate and great friend, only to suck in a breath the moment you noticed his gaze already upon you. Nervously you wetted your bottom lip, bringing your arms even closer to your chest.

“H..how different?”

Without missing a beat the man was turning to face you, one arm falling to his lap.

“I could show you.”

Satoru’s words took a moment to register, you being unable to hear anything but your rapid heartbeat. It felt as if you were lit on fire, staring up at the man who glanced down at you with clear intent swirling in his eyes. His hand remained on his lap, waiting patiently for a response from your quivering lips.

He was your friend and roommate too; he was supposed to nothing more and nothing less. Every alarm was going off in your head, stating getting entangled in such a way would be a bad idea all around.

But, you ignored them. Wholeheartedly. The stiff nod you gave a clear response.

Except Satoru wasn’t having that, scooting closer as he shook his head at you. “I’m not words on paper,” He spoke cooly, staring down at you carefully. “—I need you to say it.”

You struggled to hold his intense gaze, eyes dancing just about anywhere to avoid it. Your hands fell to the pajama bottoms you wore, carefully clearing your throat. “I… Want you to show me.” You spoke softly, finally glancing back up at the man.

You breathed softly as he drew closer, feeling his hand fall to your thigh to part and intrude the space between them. Satoru lowered towards you, your eyes fluttering shut the moment you two kissed.

It was a embarrassing how inexperienced you were; barely being able to keep up with his lips despite the already slow pace. Your hands rose to grasp his arms, eyebrows pinching close as his tongue treaded across your mouth. A soft moan escaped you, causing his tongue to slither in and tangle with your own.

It was a foreign feeling, one that caused your mouth to ache and for a flutter to occur between your thighs. You gasped softly as his hand slid off the couch to your back, carefully pressing against it and lowering you onto the couch.

Satoru’s long form hovered over you, hand smoothing across your thigh for a moment before rising to the waistband of your pants. It simply rested there as he continued to mark your mouth as his own; lathering his tongue in the wet cavern and sucking on your own appendage to hear you whine. By the time he released from the kiss, drool was trickling down the side of your mouth, lips a mess and red from his own.

You panted softly, watching as he rested on his haunches. Satoru’s other hand met your waistband, toying with the fabric for a moment before removing his hands all together.

The action caused you to raise your eyebrow, biting the inside of your cheek. “Satoru, are y—“

“‘M waiting until you take your pants off.” He said as if the answer was obvious. The man made a show of leaning back to sit on his ass, arms crossed infront of him.

Whether to show he meant business or to restraint himself was something you would never know nor care for seeing as you were currently groaning at his words. You knew your pants would be off in the end anyway, but something about him doing it would.. well, ease your nerves somehow? Who knows, you can’t find an excuse in the moment.

Especially not when the man is simply grinning at you, refusing to make a move until you listened to his request.

Knots formed in your stomach as you rose your bottom half off the couch a bit, thumbs hooking on your pants and panties and slowly tugging them down your legs.

About halfway Satoru was helping, clearly impatient despite the look he was giving you just a moment ago. He tossed the garments off to the side, turning back to spot your thighs closed tight together.

The man blinked in response, even laughing a little to himself as his hands rose to rest upon your knees. “You always look so expressionless while reading your little books..” Satoru spoke coyly, thumbs lowering to press into your heated skin. “Yet here you are; legs closed and barely looking at me.”

“I’m nervous, Satoru. You can’t blame me.” You spoke softly, blinking up at the male who only smiled back. You hissed as his hands fell to the side of your thighs, his fingers trailing the skin to allow you to get used to the feeling.

“There’s no need to be. It’s just me, sweetheart.. no one else,” His voice was calm, easing your mind just a little. His hands lowered to the underside of your legs the moment he noticed you sinking into the couch more, thumbs peeking through the tiny slit between your legs. “— just you and Satoru.” That was enough to allow him to ease your legs apart, revealing your slick slit and more as he widened them further.

You grew uncomfortable under his gaze, adjusting yourself as your hands balled up the shirt you wore. Your stomach leaped however the moment you watched him began to lower and situate himself between your legs, face hovering just a breath away from your wet heat.

You hissed as his breath fanned against you, shivering the moment you felt his thumbs lower to gently pull your folds. “Satoru..” You whimpered softly, gasping as you felt his lips graze your pussy.

“Just relax for me..” Satoru hummed softly against you, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up your slit. His hands tightened against your legs the moment you twitched, keeping your hips down against the couch as his tongue continued to work up and down your cunt.

You’ve never felt something like this before, it was well… weird. It’s not as if you were unfamiliar with pleasure in general. You’ve touched yourself enough to know what does and doesn’t feel good, or what type of response you would receive from yourself.

But Satoru was.. territory you have never encountered before. It was different, far too different to get used to in the moment. You were unable to contain the soft breaths and moans that escaped you, eyes screwed shut and not daring to look at the man currently ravishing you with just his tongue.

It was as if he had already studied your body; tongue dancing across your slit for a moment before lapping at your clit, squeezing your legs the moment they began to rise from the attention. Hearing your rushed cries was pure bliss, soft breathy moans escaping his mouth as he refused to allow you to move away from the pleasure.

Your back was arched now, arousal dripping down to your taint and surely the couch as Satoru sucked and licked your little bud raw. Your toes were curling, legs shaking, and your breath became labored; eyes peeking open to spot his gaze settled onto your face— clearly happy the moment you looked at him.

Satoru’s hand rose from your thigh and allowed his thumb to replace his mouth; rubbing your clit into circles, watching you carefully. “So wet, baby.. you hear it don’t you?” The man went silent whilst his thumb sped up, allowing you to hear the soft squelches of your pussy over the heavy breaths that were escaping you.

You gripped your shirt harshly, whimpering as your legs threatened to close from the pleasure. “S—satoru.. fuck, fuck..” You hissed the moment he leaned down again, feeling his tongue replace his thumb and set a harsh pace against your clit again.

What’s more, you felt his hand low, finger circling your sopping entrance for a moment before slowly pushing the long digit in. You whimpered at the sudden intrusion, but recovered quickly given the continued sucks and licks on your bud.

“Sato—satoru, fuck..!” You cried out, hands lowering to his fluffy white hair, taking the tresses between your fingers for something to hold. Your legs shook, bouncing about and threatening to close as his tongue sped up, while his finger slowly pushed in and out of your opening.

Your stomach was tense, grip tight, and mouth loose with moans as your orgasm hit you far too quickly; a beautiful string of sounds escaping you, as your legs shook around him. Satoru groaned into your sopping sex, gripping your leg as his actions never let up; carrying you through your orgasm effortlessly.

Little tears pricked at your eyes as pants escaped you and with shaky legs you were gripping his hair, pulling him away from your pussy quickly.

“Need to.. breath, Satoru.” You huffed softly, mouth hanging open and whining as you felt his finger slowly slide out of you. Through hazy vision you took in his beautiful features; spotting the red flushing his pale skin and the absolute mess of saliva and your essence coating the lower half of his face.

Satoru smiled up at you with low eyelids, circling the inside of your thigh with his thumb. “Breathe.” He hummed to you, rising up from between your legs to hover above you. The moment your eyes rose to meet his own, his head was lowering to plant a wet kiss to your cheek. “You don’t know how pretty you look like this, [Name].”

The warmth from both his actions and words were burning you up, your eyes shutting and not daring to look at him as a soft whine escaped you. You heard the man chuckle at you, feeling his hand gently squeeze your thigh.

“So shy..” Satoru teased, hand lowering to glide his fingers up and down your messy slit, paying extra attention to your bud with each pass. His eyes lowered as he spotted your legs widening, smile deepening in response. “You want more, huh? You want my mouth on this pretty pussy again, don’t you?”

The vulgar language had you whining, hips rising as soft pleas escaped you. This was enough for the man; slinking back to his previous position all while pushing at your thigh again.

His tongue moved up and down, side to side; reaching places that erupted feeling after feeling within you. Your mouth became raw from how loud you were becoming, arousal pooling under you as your grip never loosened on his hair.

Satoru’s breathing was heavy against you, tongue lowering to your hole and slowly pushing in; fucking you with the slimy appendage while working circles into your bud with his fingers. Despite these expert actions his eyes never left your face, feeling his cock strain within the confinements of his clothes.

Everything about you was addictive at this point. The moans you tried to cover, the way you absolutely refused to look at him, hell; even the twitches of your legs when the pleasure became too much. Satoru could only focus on you and nothing else. Especially not some dumb book that couldn’t make you feel half as good as he was right now.

Satoru’s tongue rose to allow his long digits to push into your awaiting entrance. The man hissed as your velvety walls clamped around them, using his thumb to circle your clit while he rose. “Can barely move my fingers, princess— you have to relax for me.”

You slowly nodded, a subtle pout forming as your hips rose. “‘M trying Satoru..” You huffed softly, eyes threatening to close as you felt his fingers pull back before pushing back in slowly. The pressure and pain dissipated the more you settled into the couch, pleasure even forming the moment his fingers curled. A moan escaped you shortly after, watching his grin widen.

“Good girl, that’s it..” He spoke sweetly. Yet his eyebrows furrowed the moment you closed your eyes, hand rising from your thigh take your cheeks in his hand— turning you forward again. “Mm.. don’t do that, lemme see you. Don’t look away.”

With how easily he was ruining you with his fingers, the task was difficult— but you obeyed; hands falling to his shoulders to hold tightly.

Your hips shook, rising to meet the thrusts of his fingers as a continuous honeyed melody fell from your swollen lips. Praises escaped the man above you as he felt your walls pulse rapidly, his thrusts increasing the moment your moans began to pitch.

“Fuck..! Satoru, I’m close!”

Your whimpers went unheeded, his pace quickening as he leaned down to press his lips against your neck. Your hips rose in the air for the last time as a prolonged moan escaped you, making a mess all over his hand.

This time Satoru pulled his hand away, allowing you to regain your breath while kissing your skin. Your grip loosened upon his body, eyelids falling shut as your pants slowed carefully.

A silence carried in the room until Satoru leaned down, resting his forehead against your own as he spoke;

“Do you know the difference now, [Name]?”

Regaining your breath, your hand rose to smooth across his neat undercut.

“Yeah, yeah I do..”

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour 

notes:  speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild 

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well. 

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours. 

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it. 

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss. 

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster. 

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty. 

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse. 

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp. 

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got. 

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery. 

It was cute. 

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley. 

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over. 

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan. 

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name. 

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow. 

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.” 

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.” 

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.” 

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion. 

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.” 

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.” 

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly. 

“And that?” 

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did. 

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face! 

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered. 

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp. 

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill. 

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day. 

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go. 

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked. 

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.” 

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response. 

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet. 

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable. 

But you really needed to pee. 

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door. 

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke. 

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!” 

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up. 

“Be quick.” 

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed. 

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan. 

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence. 

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.” 

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour. 

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.” 

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.” 

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t. 

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater. 

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be. 

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off. 

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?” 

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion. 

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe. 

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything. 

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.” 

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse. 

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?” 

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.” 

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on. 

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation. 

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow. 

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.