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#sometimes when people ask questions they are NOT being kind

raina-at · 2 days

Text

Box

Sometimes Sherlock's mind runs at high speed, sometimes he's brilliant and every input sparks a million deductions and interesting thoughts and new ideas. Sometimes he marvels at the complexity of his brain, the intricate rooms and spires of his mind palace.

Sometimes, and there's no other, less harsh word for it, sometimes Sherlock hates being in his own head.

Sometimes, when everything is loud and wild and too much, he feels like he would do anything, anything, to have a moment of peace. A moment of quiet, the insatiable engine of his brain stopping just for a second for a second so he can rest.

Sometimes, days are slow and grey and boring, and his mind is a slog of conflicting thoughts and memories, and the very idea of any kind of movement is already too much. Sometimes even the light hurts. Sometimes even John's voice is too loud. Sometimes even his dressing gown chafes his skin raw and even the air feels like pins and needles on his feet.

Sometimes Sherlock goes quiet, on days like this. Sometimes he gets high.

But he really hates the days when he gets nasty. He can't even really stop himself, he just spews out all the hateful thoughts about himself and other people into the face of the first person to touch him the wrong way.

Sometimes, that person is John.

Like about half an hour ago. Sherlock had been lying on the sofa since yesterday evening, unable, unwilling to even think of moving, and John had insisted he at least drink a bit of water.

Reasonable. Kind, even.

Sherlock opened his mouth and he eviscerated John. With deductions about his family, his bad habits, every tiny inadequacy in the bedroom he ever experienced (though their sex life, let's be honest, is fantastic, but at that moment he didn't care, it would hurt John and he would leave Sherlock alone in his misery).

John, predictably, left.

Sherlock seriously asks himself whether one of these days, John won't come back. And he's frankly baffled when John comes back, not twenty minutes after Sherlock said some things to him that Sherlock himself will probably not be able to un-hear.

But John doesn't even seem overly angry. Resolute, yes. Wearing his 'Fuck with me at your peril' face, yes. But not angry.

"Okay," he says. "This ends now. Sit up."

Curious in spite of himself, and fully aware of how thin the ice he's walking on currently is, Sherlock does as he's told.

John puts a nondescript cardboard box on the table. "We're playing."

Sherlock doesn't roll his eyes, but it's an effort. This is an old game, one John invented for him back when he first moved in to entertain Sherlock between cases. John calls it 'What's in the box'.

Sherlock calls it a waste of his precious time and brain capacity. It's never taken him more than ten minutes to guess what's in the box. The only reason it’s even a bit of a challenge is that John is delightfully unpredictable. But still, Sherlock always guesses correctly.

But one look at John's flinty eyes, the telltale tension in his jaw muscles and the way he stands nearly at parade rest tells Sherlock that arguing right now would perhaps not be altogether in his best interest.

Sherlock holds John's determined gaze for a moment, then, after John raises a challenging eyebrow, directs his attention at the box.

It's a square box of brown cardboard, about 20 centimetres in diameter, large enough to hold a novelty mug, for example. Sherlock picks it up and starts examining it. It's very light, he notices that immediately. It's also cool to the touch, and slightly damp. It's snowing outside, so the deduction that John just went out and purchased this box is immediately obvious. But did he purchase the contents as well?

It has no discernible smell aside from the slight whiff of John's hand cream and London snow. The edges are smooth, whatever John put in there fit easily. The box makes no noise when he shakes it, so either the contents are well-secured or fit the box so perfectly that there is no room for movement.

“Five questions,” John says quietly.

Sherlock acknowledges the rules of the game with a tilt of his head and asks his first question. “Did you purchase the contents?”

John nods. “Four.”

“Did you do it within the last hour?”

John shakes his head.

Sherlock looks up from the box and meets John’s eyes. John is watching him with a mixture of anticipation and wariness, and Sherlock is suddenly overwhelmed with guilt, with disgust at the horrid, uncontrollable part of him that’s capable of spewing such ugliness to a person he loves so much. “Why are you still here?” he whispers, holding John’s eyes.

“Where would I go?” John asks quietly, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Anywhere has to be better than here on days like today,” Sherlock answers, his voice raw with emotion and the full force of his self-loathing.

“Open the box,” John says gently, nodding at the small cardboard square between them.

“But the game-”

“Sod the game,” John says with his usual impatience. “Open. The bloody. Box.”

Sherlock decides arguing is pointless and opens the lid.

Inside is a lot of packing paper.

And inside the packing paper sits a small, square, velvet-covered ring box.

Sherlock looks up, surprised, aghast, shocked. “Why?” he asks, unable to say any more.

John shrugs, a quiet smile on his face. “Because. Because most days you’re wonderful. Because most days we have fun and adventure and closeness and great sex, because most days you’re brilliant and clever and funny and charming. Because on the days you’re not, you’re still you and I still love you. And I don’t see that changing any time soon. And I want you to be able to think about that when you look at that ring, and remember that even on the days when you hate your brain, I love it, and always will.”

Sherlock is speechless, helpless, planless in the face of this onslaught of affection. He looks down at the box and opens it with gentle, shaking fingers.

The rings are lovely, of course. Plain white gold, simple, perfect.

“I don’t know what to say,” he says, addressing his words to the box because if he looks at John now he might very well die of overload.

“It’s customary to say either yes or no,” John says, and underneath the teasing he can sense John’s actual uncertainty.

Sherlock takes John’s hand, encircling John’s ring finger with his fingertips, imagining the ring there. Finally, he looks up, and he smiles. “Yes.”

-------

Tags under the cut as usual, please tell me whether you want to be tagged or untagged. Sorry if I forgot to tag you, it's been a looog day. Also sorry if there's any mistakes in there. Long day.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @jrow @jolieblack @helloliriels @discordantwords @lisbeth-kk @victorianpining @catlock-holmes

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #ficlet #may prompts 2024 #box

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 2 days

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Hello Hello! Can I get Dirt Cake with a lemonade please?

( Congratulation Sheep! and I hope this Event runs smoothly for you💖-Jan)

Hello Jan! ☆

Ahhh thank you so much for your order! ♡ And thank you so much for your kind words! I got excited when I saw your order was for Idia (as he's my favorite lol) so thank you! I hope you enjoy! ♡

This is part of an event I'm doing where people can request stories by placing orders! For more information, please refer to this post! ♡

⋆ 𝓘𝓭𝓲𝓪 𝓢𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓭: 𝓙𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓼𝔂 ⋆

One dirt cake and a lemonade, coming right up! ♡

⋆ Being with Idia, you both had media you were into. Shows that you loved and held close to your heart, movies you would rewatch every once in a while, games you adored and played daily. Even if you weren't into the same genre or liked the same franchises, you cared about each other's interests, taking turns talking about whatever game or character you were hyperfixating on while the other listened.

⋆ If you played gacha type games, he would understand, comforting you when you didn't get the character or card you wanted. You would do the same for him as well, knowing how determined he is to get his favorite characters (no matter the cost). He would surprise you with in game currency or merch of your favorite characters, things you mentioned offhand or items he noticed you wanted through observation. He was observant when it came to you, to your likes and interests.

⋆ A new game coming out in the franchise you like? He already has it pre-ordered. A figure of your favorite character releasing due to a limited time promotion? He bought it as soon as the website made it available for purchase. Your favorite snacks are on sale, or you had a bad day? Expect a delivery driver at your door with your comfort food and snacks, already paid for.

⋆ Of course, there were games you played together that you considered "your games". Games were you could co op, working together to complete a goal. Games were you didn't have to play in person, having gaming dates were you played and talked to each other through a call. There were also shows you considered to be "your shows", always watching the latest episodes together.

⋆ Matching icons online, matching phone charms of characters you like. It was just some of the ways he showed he cared for you, even bragging about you to his online gaming buddies. Though, he couldn't help how he would get jealous sometimes, noticing you laughing or gushing about characters with people other than him. They could be online friends you have, talking with them over a call. He would sink lower into his gaming chair, doing his best not to focus on the conversation you were having behind him.

⋆ He was happy you had found others interested in the game you like, but he noticed how you started gushing to them rather than him recently, feeling out of the loop when you mentioned loving a character he had never heard of. How it seemed you were paying more attention to them than to him, smiling whenever they replied back and eager to respond. It would be this jealousy that would cause him to do heavy research on the franchise in question, wanting to be able to talk with you about it. For you to know that you can talk to him about these things, like how you've always listened to him.

⋆ Plus, he's your boyfriend. He can easily help you through any game, no problem. He is an expert, after all. No need to go to someone else when you can just co op with him. The only exception is Ortho, he can co op with you guys too. But the person at the game store being a bit too friendly as he asked for your friend code, or the person online who keeps complimenting you over game chat when they join your world? Nope, no way, not a chance.

⋆ Whenever he would get jealous you would always reassure him, making sure he knew how much you loved talking with him, whether it be in person, through a call, or text messages. That there's no one you'd rather game with, or watch your favorite shows and movies with. No one you'd rather be with. You were his player two, after all ♡

I hope you enjoyed your meal, and thank you for visiting the Cathie Cafe! ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.jan #♡.twst #♡.idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader

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snakes-writing-corner · 2 days

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Mr. Puzzles Fluff Alphabet

Requested by… Me!

Coming out of hibernation ‘cause there is not enough Mr. Puzzles x Reader content out there so I am contributing to the pile because the hyperfixation I have on this man has me in a fucking death-grip.

It is 2 in the morning when I’m posting this so yippie brain-rot!!!

Anyways alphabet under the cut :D

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very. I mean you are kind of the only person who’s ever bothered to get close to him!

He was extremely clingy when the two of you were just friends, but now that you’re his partner? That’s increased tenfold.

He’s very unpredictable so he’s pretty much a wildcard when it comes to ways he’ll show affection.

Sometimes he’ll gently pull you along by grabbing your wrist, sometimes he’ll nuzzle into your hair or neck, maybe he’ll cup your face like you’re a glass sculpture that might shatter, and sometimes he’ll just pick you up and twirl you around. Honestly? This lovable director will show you any kind of physical affection under the sun.

I do think he particularly would like to hold your hand though. He likes the warmth of your hand in his, and how it’s so small compared to his. It’s like your hand was just made for him to hold!

Overall, any physical affection is fine by him as long as he gets to touch or hold you!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

I fear having this man as a best friend because that means chaos.

Yes being in a romantic relationship with him would be chaos, but a friendship I feel would be more chaotic somehow???

Will break your door down to get an opinion on a new show he’s been working on, and will absolutely pester you until you comply.

Would probably get you to star in said show and then poke fun at you the entire time. Lovingly of course mind you!

Lots of talk sessions where the two of you just talk shit about other people because this man lives for drama, like wants the tea on everyone.

Would break into your house at 2 in the morning to steal food like a fucking rat (I say this in a loving way).

Anyways being besties with him means say goodbye to your doors because he’s kicking them all down to get your attention.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is definitely a must!!! Like he would love to cuddle!!!

This man has no preference to cuddling he just wants to hold you close to him! Definitely big spoon no questions asked, but he also loves having you lay on his chest.

I think his favorite way to cuddle though would be on his side with you snuggled into his chest. You would probably look very small compared to him like his body would basically envelop yours, but hey he’d be very warm at least! Mr. Puzzles would probably just lazily comb through your hair with the goofiest smile on his face, whispering little words of affirmation under his breath as he did so.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?)

Oh definitely! But, after he becomes all rich and famous! He wants the best life for you after all!

Definitely a housewife though when he’s not busy working on his shows, like this man is a workaholic. I genuinely think he enjoys cleaning and repetitive tasks in general, helps him think.

When working on his shows or stressed? Yeah no the living space can easily become a train-wreck as he gets increasingly more frustrated over whatever he’s working on.

You could probably leave the studio on any given day, and either come back to it spotless or a wreck. There’s like a 50/50 shot whenever you leave.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Nuh-uh, not happening, you are literally stuck with him now, and he is NEVER LETTING YOU GO. :)

Yeah that’s definitely not concerning! Good luck my guy because Mr. Puzzles has some attachment issues, and will not leave you no matter what you do!

But hey! You probably won’t get to leave him either! At least he won’t let you without a fight! (Get this man some therapy or something)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Very big on commitment honestly part of him wants all of your attention to himself, but he loves you enough to not go that far.

I think he’d be kinda iffy on marriage. On one hand he could throw this big event for the two of you, letting everyone know you’re his.

On the other, he’s fine not getting married at all! As far as he’s concerned as long as you’re completely committed to him romantically there’s not really a reason to get married?

Honestly whether he gets married to you or not would depend on your preference.

Would probably still get you an engagement ring of some kind no matter what your answer is, just so others’ know you’re committed to someone.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Oh my god this man? Gentle as a feather physically. Emotionally? He tries to be as gentle as he can, but that temper gets the better of him sometimes.

He holds you like you are glass about to shatter, like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

Cups your face in his gloved hand and just admires you like the most beautiful art piece ever created. Might even lightly bump his screen against your head wondering how he got so lucky.

Most of the time he’s a bit aloof regarding your emotions he likes to tease you after all!

But in serious moments his tone will get noticeably softer as he listens, and tries to help you with whatever you are dealing with in anyway he can.

Now granted, Puzzles gets frustrated easily, and might lash out at you occasionally or straight up manipulate you, but he tries to make up for it.

Just be patient with him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?)

Yes.

Hugs are a constant thing with this man he loves to hug and hold you. Though he will probably pick you up to hold you.

Most of the time he’ll come up from behind, pick you up, spin you around a bit, saying something like “There’s my little angel!”, and then hug you!

Definitely puts his screen to your head and makes a loud “mwah!” sound.

He’s a dork when it comes to hugging he wants to make you smile, that and he just likes having you close to him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

After you get together?

All. The. Time.

Not in a bad way of course he wants you to know he absolutely adores you! Words of affirmation are part of his love language after all!

Says stuff like “I love you my precious starlight.” or “Gosh you’re just so cute! I truly do love you when you give me that look my dear!”

He is serious every time he says it though, but will not hesitate to fluster you with that phrase.

Can imagine him saying “I love you.” in a low husky voice to make you weak in the knees.

He likes to see you get all red in the face and become a stuttering mess. He’s a tease like that. :)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Puzzles has attachment issues this man gets extremely jealous very quickly.

If he thinks anyone is getting even a little touchy with you? He’s walking over, putting his arms around you, and talking to the offender with fake enthusiasm and venom in his voice.

The person doesn’t get the hint? Lightly veiled threats start coming out.

Would resort to violence as a last resort.

If it’s a more light version of jealousy he’ll probably dramatically pout in the corner with his arms crossed until you come over and give him attention.

He’s very dramatic with jealously like a dog not getting attention when it wants it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Uhhhh I mean he has a TV for a head he can’t exactly kiss you per se.

But Puzzles tries to make it work! Most commonly he’ll gently tap his screen to your head or hands with a little electric shock to give the illusion of an actual kiss.

Is not much for you kissing his screen though since he’ll have to clean it afterwards…

But you want to get this man to melt into you? He loves being kissed on the neck, or on the bottom of his TV, might as well send sparks through his entire body. Would definitely love neck bites as well.

Honestly would not care where you kiss him he’s just happy getting your affection.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he’d be pretty good around children at least outwardly.

Probably would be trying to entertain them with cartoons or little puppet shows.

Do not think he’d actively put himself in a situation to be around children though. I don’t think he likes them very much.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Puzzles would get up without waking you, get dressed, get some coffee, and then would make the two of you breakfast.

You typically tend to wake up before he’s finished, but if you aren’t then he’ll gladly give you breakfast in bed!

Would make fun of you for being a sleepyhead though.

Mornings with Puzzles would start off quiet, but get progressively louder as you both wake up a bit.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I feel like nights go one of two ways.

Either A. Chaotic as hell or B. Actually nice

A chaotic as hell night includes Mr. Puzzles having some sort of mental break which results in him overworking himself and refusing to go to sleep and/or him frantically at a board with a bunch of papers on it trying to come up with ideas.

While this rarely happens it can if his shows aren’t doing as well as he would like or if you’re gone for long periods of time. The best thing to do here is gently talk to him and get him away from his area of work to help him calm down. A nice cup of hot tea or hot cocoa would help as well!

A nice night is more common though since Puzzles does think sleep is important. Probably ends with the two of you winding down by either cuddling in bed or watching TV (an actual TV though not his head he likes being able to hold you) while you two have blankets and/or hot tea to sip on.

Alternatively you two will cuddle in bed and just talk about whatever comes to mind until you two fall asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s pretty open about his past but not so much about what he doesn’t want you to see.

He shares stories from when he was a kid a lot, mainly about his mom, (I get a huge mama’s boy vibe from him) or his struggles making friends and connections until you showed up.

Also talks about his frustrations about getting into directing shows and how no corporate big shot would give him a chance so that’s how he made his own company! Also loves talking about ideas for new shows or really anything that comes to mind this man has no filter and just says what pops in his head.

He does not talk about things he doesn’t want you to know. Mainly that he smokes but he’s also definitely done some fucked up stuff in the past to get where he is today so he keeps that under wraps.

Wouldn’t want his darling angel to worry about those little hiccups~

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

We are literally talking about the person who sang about how ‘patience is a virtue uttered by fools’ this man has close to none.

He gets very frustrated and angry when things don’t go how he planned them to. He also can get frustrated if you don’t tell him things.

While he never tries to direct his anger at you he tends to lash out when frustrated and says things he doesn’t mean. However, he would probably apologize in the end if he really hurt you with his words.

Would never think of getting physically violent with you though he would much rather cut off his own head again than do that.

It would be very odd hot to see the man who holds you so gently be able to so easily make a sizable dent in a metal object.

Definitely has punched many holes in the walls and covered it up with something.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

My guy.

My buddy.

This man will remember every little thing you have told him about anything you like. He has a little notebook dedicated to writing little details about you so he doesn’t forget.

Knows just about everything you’ve either off-handedly mentioned about yourself or straight up told him.

Has various things written down like your favorite color, food, drink, cartoon, etc. Like literally anything you can think of that you could say about yourself he probably has written down.

Also has a page just describing how much he loves your looks down to the littlest detail but that’s not as important.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you two officially became partners.

He was so anxious to ask on the inside but kept the outwardly performance up as he was desperately trying to figure out how to go about it.

He broke one night and frantically made a board full of ideas for what he could do, but none of them were good enough! You deserved so much more than-than this!

You just so happened to walk into this scenario but Mr. Puzzles didn’t notice you as he was too focused on his board. You heard him muttering to himself about how “this had to be perfect” and “no, no that wouldn’t-”.

You eventually got concerned and walked up to him, accidentally scaring the living daylights out of him by the way, and as he tried to stutter something out you realized just what the board was about.

You then looked at him as he was still trying to come up with an excuse and just looked at him with wide eyes as you just blurted “And here I was scrambling to figure out a way to ask you out myself.”.

Puzzles just stared at you wide eyes and shouted “Wait really!?”

Anyways that night ended with you two just watching a movie on the couch and you’ve been together ever since.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Oh very protective.

Like you get scary tall guard dog partner privileges.

Most of the time if you’re with Puzzles no one would really dare to try anything because of how tall your TV man is, but on the off chance some asshole wants to try his luck?

Well Puzzles most definitely has a kill count.

In actuality he’d probably make threats towards the person, never getting outwardly aggressive as he doesn’t like to be the one fighting, but if the aggressor tries to touch you?

All bets are fucking off.

Despite what his personality may suggest to you if it comes down to it this man can pack a punch if need be. He is deceptively strong for how he looks and could easily beat a man to death if he wanted to.

While the fight would not end with the aggressor’s death as Puzzles does not want to kill someone in front of you, there is a good chance that person might end up mysteriously dead with no evidence tracing the murder back to him later down the line.

This man is slightly unhinged when it comes to keeping you safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

This is Mr. Puzzles we’re talking about he’s going all out!

Would definitely have a fancy dinner or something equally extravagant. I can see him liking to slow dance with you in a ballroom if given the chance.

If you prefer more casual dates then hey he’s up for that too! He’s paying though no ifs, ands, or buts about it! He loves movie dates and stargazing as date ideas.

Anniversaries are an all out occasion he’s standing his ground on that one because it’s special date and he wants the entire day to be special to the both of you.

Tries to get you gifts he knows you’ll like instead of fancy things though.

Okay maybe one or two pretty rings and such but mainly things you’d actually enjoy or give that big smile at receiving. I think gift giving is one of his love languages after all so expect to have lots of little trinkets.

He tries his best to make you smile everyday so he tries a lot for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has some… unfavorable aspects of himself he doesn’t want you knowing the true extent of.

He does not want you to know he smokes as he thinks it’s an undesirable habit and always deflects any questions about why he might smell like smoke or any cigarettes you might find.

His temper also gets the best of him at times leading to him lashing out and making dumb decisions that he tends to regret if he thinks about it too much. Though he has wrangled it in around you it can be explosive and violent when you aren’t around to witness the full extent of it.

He is also very obsessive with you and he knows it. It’s definitely toxic obsession as well because at his worst moments mentally he has debated keeping you to himself and not letting you leave. He’s also considered sabotaging all of your relationships so you only rely on him and no one else.

A dark part of him wants to keep you all to himself so no one can take you away from him ever.

Thankfully, he respects and loves you too much to act on those thoughts but god rest the poor soul that does anything bad to you because odds are…

Their life is on a very short timer.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Oh my god yes.

Yes he so is.

He wants to look his best around you 24/7 all day every day and somehow does not even have to try for it.

He needs to always look presentable because a good director should always look ready all the time!

Is dramatic as fuck if his shirt gets wrinkled or something like damsel with their hand on their head going “my poor husband” dramatic.

He’s very silly like that and you love him for it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes.

You are the only person who ever really tried to get to know him, who puts up with his silly shenanigans, and who he fell in love with.

Truthfully without you? He’d completely lose it mentally because you are his rock. The one person he knows can pull him back from the darkest corners of his mind.

Not that you’d ever know this but Mr. Puzzles does. He knows that now that he has you he would not be able to live without you and continue to pretend to be even remotely sane.

X = Xtra (Random HC)

Plays his dreams or soft static on his screen when he’s in a deep sleep.

Claps his hands when excited and fidgets with his suspenders a lot.

Also makes tons of motions with his hands while he talks.

Y = You (How would they talk about you?)

This goes one of two ways.

Either he’s all giddy and cheerful like a schoolgirl with a massive crush or sounds very concerning as he talks about you like a follower would a god.

Pick your poison because both are accurate it just depends on how he’s feeling that day.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Will. Not. Let. Go.

Like if you wake up before him you are not getting up because he has the grip of a koala and probably has his arms and legs wrapped all around you.

But sometimes if you wake up before him he ends up in the funniest positions like sprawled out in ways that should break his bones. It can be very funny and disturbing at the same time.

#my writing #mr. puzzles #smg4 #smg4 mr puzzles #mr puzzles #mr puzzles x reader #mr puzzles hcs #mr puzzles smg4 #please help #the brainrot #its killing me #anyways have fun you mr puzzles simps #it’s me #i’m mr puzzles simps :(

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artist-issues · 2 days

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Dude, I'm so sorry about the Steven Universe ask. I mean, I shoulda known, this is the Steven Universe site™ after all, but still, sorry for being one of the reasons people are lambasting you >_>

Oh no worries! No worries! It's not your fault. They don't know the Lord. They're just doing what people who don't know the Lord do. Nothing new. It gets tiring sometimes just repeating myself, but so many of you guys are reaching out and saying encouraging things that I'm really not bothered.

I mean, like I said when I answered the question: that's what I really think and what I really believe about Steven Universe. And people won't like it. When people don't like things nowadays, they go no-holds-barred. 🤷‍♀️ I expected the backlash.

I wouldn't take it back or take it down. I'm glad you asked. I think people don't realize that, even if you don't see the White Diamond As God comparison, you're still getting the residue of what that means in the other values of Steven Universe. You're still getting the message "perfection is somehow a bad thing" or "you can be whatever you want and that's good" or "what you're made for isn't satisfying."

And I think Christians need to stop and think. Those messages aren't good; they don't line up with the truth. And when you start to look at them in any kind of careful observation, they fall apart and start to look silly.

So I wouldn't take it down, and I'm glad you asked!

#Thank you #friendship #asked #answered #my Steven universe post

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triassictriserratops · 3 days

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What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children?

How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter?

How many years apart between them in age?

Your headcanon for their name?

Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent?

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic.

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

@curiousthg (thank you for the ask! I have to say, it's still wild to me that ANYONE gives a shit about my opinion AT ALL.) AS A DISCLAIMER. THESE ARE ONLY MY PERSONAL OPINIONS. I FULLY RESPECT OTHER OPINIONS AND HEADCANONS. THESE ARE JUST MINE, PERSONALLY. Q.) What's your headcanon for Katniss and Peeta's children? A.) Just a few things I kind of like to think about: - There is a third toastbaby born after the epilogue. - Toastbaby girl grows up to become a veterinarian. She's quiet and serene but wildly clever. Dangerously smart. And Haymitch Abernathy is probably her favorite human being in existence. - Toastbaby boy is a wild menace to society and makes Peeta specifically tear his hair out. Constantly pulling him off of cabinet doors, scaling building walls, pulling him out of hiding places where he camps waiting to scare someone (usually Peeta) They judged parents who used child leashes until they had their boy. Likes to follow the Cresta-Odair spawn everywhere whenever he's visiting them.

Q.) How old was Katniss when give birth to their daughter? A.) Just based on the math from the book she would have been 32/33 when her daughter was born.

Q.) How many years apart between them in age? A.) In my mind it's about 3-4 years. Katniss says that her Good Things List is tedious after more than 20 years and mentions that they teach the Hunger Games in school and that Toastbaby girl knows her parents played a part in them, so i'd say she's about 7 in the Epilogue. And she specifically calls out Toastbaby Boy's "chubby toddler legs" struggling to keep up with his sister, and that he'll be learning about the Games too in a few years, so i'm thinking he's anywhere from 3-4 at the time of the Epilogue.

Q.) Your headcanon for their name?

A.) I'm so sorry to say this, i don't actually have any! I personally don't like to give them names. I FULLY AND TOTALLY respect the names other people come up with and I've seen some that are quite popular. But I've actually always REALLY connected with the fact that Katniss specifically chooses NOT to give us their names. She was forced to give so much of herself to Panem, to other people, even (on a meta level) to us as readers. Within the 1st Person POV we are privy to her every personal thought and experience. The capitol denied her autonomy and privacy. The rebels did the same. And, in the end, so did we as the reader. It's a FASCINATING lens to look at the books through! (Especially if you follow the fun idea that this series are her memoirs.) But here, at the end, Katniss is choosing to close the curtain. We're not allowed to have her children's identities. Because those are precious to her. Because they belong to them and them alone. I just find that kind of beautiful and so I've made a conscious effort to never pick names for them. Q.) Who gets the singing and art skill from their parent? A.) Toastbaby boy is the singer (and hunter). The third toastbaby is the artist. Toastbaby girl loves baking with her poppa.

Bonus question : please give recs of your fav Everlark post-Mockingjay fanfic. I'm going to be lazy and direct to this post I just wrote where I include a list of Post Mockingjay Fic Recs!!!

(BUT one VERY specific callout recommendation, just in case people don't click into the link, for Us Among the Living by the WONDERFUL @vasilissadragomir. It's beautiful and I have so much love for that story. The characters are lovingly preserved and the tone so realistic I sometimes feel like i'm reading something Suzanne Collins might have written. HIGHLY recommend!)

#katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #growing back together #so after #thg #the hunger games #thg series #thg headcanons #hunger games headcanon #toast babies #post mockingjay

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ghouly-boiiiii · 19 hours

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THE GHOUL: WHY HE'S HOT - (A SCIENCE!)

࣪⊹°˖✧ Welcome to a Powerpoint Presentation by Some Ghoul-Loving Freak ✧˖° ⊹

Why is The Ghoul hot? I think many of us who find ourselves swooning over this necrotic, murdering cowboy have been asking ourselves that very question lately. Is there something wrong with me? Do I need therapy? Will my friends ever look at me the same way again? Well my fellow ghoul lovers, you are not alone. And I am here to explain to you the exact reasons why this gun-slingin’, ass bitin’ baked potato with teeth has captured the hearts of so many... with science! (sort of) 🤠

------(Spoiler warning... lots and lots of spoilers below the cut!)------

1. Walton Goggins… just Walton Goggins

I think we can all agree that the man behind the makeup and prosthetics is a large reason as to what makes The Ghoul so attractive. Walton himself is a very nice looking fellow, and he absolutely oozes charisma, both on the set and off. And for some reason decided to amp that up to 100 while playing The Ghoul. He managed to make Ghouly Boi likable and endearing, even when he's doing murdery things. So yeah, the dude's mad talented.

"Strong enough to keep out the rads... and the reds." - Cooper Howard shooting a Vault-Tec commercial in episode 6.

2. The makeup artists knew what they were doing

Attempting to make The Ghoul “kind of hot” was absolutely intentional. There was serious discussion behind the scenes about how they could make The Ghoul attractive to viewers, despite him being… well… a ghoul. (So yeah, it is 100% the creators fault. They did this to us on purpose!) When creating The Ghoul’s design, they deliberately ghoulified features that weren’t that important for attraction and left the rest alone, or made them more accentuated.

For example, when it comes to the attractiveness of a male, specifically in the face, most people focus in on the eyes, lips, jaw and cheekbones, which they emphasized and brought out with the makeup. Things like the nose, hair and even skin can be safely tinkered with, and even with those they went pretty easy on. Many ghouls have cloudy or discolored eyes, but not Ghouly. (in fact, bro’s still got his eyelashes, lol) They also kept his ears, despite most ghouls’ tending to fall off just like the nose. His teeth are still intact, despite being rather discolored. And they even made his skin relatively smooth compared to most ghouls. (I’m willing to bet he gets made fun of in a lot of ghoul circles for being such a baby smooth smoothskin)

If the creators had made him any uglier - messed up his eyes, took away the ears, rotted out some teeth, or made his skin a lot more torn up - we might not be here right now. But the character designers and makeup artists were very intentional in his appearance, making him look rotten enough to be recognized as a ghoul, but not so nasty he’d be hard to look at. By keeping and even accentuating Walton’s eyes and bone structure, while giving the ghoulishness to other features, they managed to balance out the ‘yuk’ with the ‘hmmm… wait what?’ just right.

"Sometimes a fella's gotta eat a fella." - The Ghoul to Lucy while munchin' on Roger in episode 4.

3. His charisma, charm and sense of humor

Look, Ghouly is charming as FUCK, okay? There’s no getting around it, so let’s just get that out of the way right now. He exudes confidence and beats you in the face with his overwhelming swag. He also has these… looks. Which I can only describe as “sexy” looks. I’m not really sure how to explain, but if you’re reading this, you probably know what I mean.

As mentioned before, a lot of this is just Goggins being Goggins, but the writing is brilliant as well. He definitely embodies that sort of hot badboy/outlaw/pirate sort of archetype that is often found in romantic settings/stories, so yeah. And also, who doesn't love a man with a great sense of humor? He's got all the best lines in the show and is just a joy to watch, even if it's just for the funny. Really, whoever wrote for Ghouly was a comedic genius, a gentleman, and a scholar. They should be commended.

"I'd offer you one a' these cherreh tomaydas, but you got a hole on yo neck." - The Ghoul to some guy he just shot in episode 2.

4. He loves dogs

Okay, so yes, we all know he stabs Dogmeat in order to keep her from ripping his face off, which ALMOST ruined his character for me, but then he brought her back with a Stimpak and all was forgiven. I’m willing to bet he probably also tried to stab her in a place that he knew wouldn’t be fatal, and also his choice to stab instead when he could have easily just shot her, letting her get right up on top of him before doing anything to defend himself, shows his hesitation in harming a dog.

It’s clear that Coop has a lot of affection for dogs, especially when we see the flashbacks of him with his OG dog and how pissed he gets about not being able to bring him into the vaults. The way he handles Dogmeat with such loving care, and smiles with genuine joy as she leaps up off the table was one of the first moments to show that, underneath that hardened exterior, he’s still got a soft, squishy, gooey center (other than the rotting flesh, I mean).

"Who decided that there were no dogs in the vault?" - Cooper to his wife upon finding out their dog Roosevelt wouldn't be able to go to the vault with them in episode 6.

5. He a genuinely good person, deep down...

Not only does he save the dog (twice), but Ghouly also did other things that were surprisingly unselfish and not awful. Does that make up for the bad shit he did? Well, no. But again, it shows that he’s at least not ALL bad, and that the man he use to be is still in there somewhere.

For example, he could have easily ratted out Lucy for busting up the Super Duper Mart, but he took the heat for it instead. And despite the fact that he shoots (and eats) Roger, he does seem to have genuine empathy for the turning ghoul. So his choice to kill him wasn’t completely selfish, but also an act of mercy. Roger was essentially dying anyway, and Cooper saved him from an arguably worse fate than death. He even took a moment to remind Roger of a happy memory before doing the deed, a scenario reminiscent of the book Of Mice And Men, when George shoots Lenny at the end after reminding him of their dream in order to save him from a worse fate as well.

And let's not forget that before the bombs dropped, Cooper struggled to even fake kill a man on screen while shooting a film, not wanting his character to go down such a dark path. This shows that he was once a man who lived by a code of morals and principals, so much so that just the idea of stepping outside of that made him deeply uncomfortable, even if it was just pretend. This is why Cooper gives Lucy the line, "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. Just... give it a little time." Because he sees himself in her, or rather the person he used to be.

One of the things I love about how Cooper’s story is told is that we get to see his present and past self right away, juxtaposed against each other. His backstory isn’t revealed as a surprise later on. Instead we really get to see up front the complexities of his character that make him so compelling. He’s not just some heartless killer. He’s like this because he’s been through so much pain, and pushed to the point where he was forced to become something he's not in order to survive and carry on. Because of this, it makes The Ghoul a lot more likable and relatable than he would have been otherwise. It also kinda lets you put yourself in his shoes and ask yourself what you would do if you found yourself in his position. Actually brilliant writing, in my opinion.

"Do I have to kill him?" - Cooper to the director of the film he's shooting in Episode 3.

6. That tragic backstory

This is where the character of Cooper Howard really got me in the feels. Not only does Ghouly love dogs, but he loves his family too. And it’s revealed at the end of the season that even after 200+ years, they are still on his mind. He’s spent over two centuries looking for them, and putting himself through absolute hell, because he loves them that much. And not just his daughter, but his wife as well. Even though they had gotten divorced, presumably because of what he learned at the end of the season. Maybe he’s even hoping his old dog is still alive somehow, although that’s admittedly very unlikely...

So... you know what that means... Although he’s done horrible things, Cooper is a man driven by LOVE. He's stayed alive because of LOVE. He does these bad things because of LOVE. He’s become a monster IN THE NAME OF LOVE!!! It’s all about the power of LOVE, you guys. Call it cliché, but if that isn’t romantic as hell, I donno what the fuck is, ladies.

"Now, I've waited over 200 years to ask somebody one question... Where's my fuckin' family?" - Cooper to Hank in Episode 8

In Conclusion

So yes. He's ugly. He's mean. He's murdery. Kinda toxic AF. But that doesn't mean he can't also be a sexy motherfucker as well. 👍

He's a fictional character. It's a fantasy, and fantasies are allowed to be kinda fucked up. 😃 Hey, don't ask me why humans human the way we do. I didn't make us, so I don't know. It's all in good fun though, so let's just enjoy ourselves and try not to think too hard about it, eh? 😆 (So says the person who literally just wrote a fucking essay on the subject)

Alright, well... I guess that's about it. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk. I hope this helped anyone who was feeling their sanity slip a little bit (like me 😃). Refreshments and resources are at the back. Exits to your left. Have a lovely evening and please excuse me while I drop my mic and go find myself a fuckin' gin martini. Team Ghoul Forever, baby! 🤠

#i did the meme fr y'all #i have no fucking life lol #ghoul lovers unite #this has been an essay about stupid shit #but thanks for reading #hope it helps xD #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout prime #fallout amazon #fallout series #fallout tv series #just had to get this out of my system bc i overanalyze everything lol #also bc people who think he's just a one dimensional baddie they don't get it #ok now i can go to bed k thx byeeee

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max1461 · 2 days

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I'm in a bad and emotionally disoriented mood lately and it's been driving me to read about various horrible events &c on Wikipedia. Reading about a bunch of serial killers, US chattel slavery, and the Holocaust. It's definitely upsetting me more and making me feel worse but I keep doing it. Well at least I know more about some historical events.

I think I just. I want to "get it". I remember when I was a kid and I first learned about like, serial killers, I asked my mom "why do they do that?" and her answer was basically "they just do, something about them just makes them want to". And I was really unsatisfied with that explanation because I was like, there must be some reason that they do that. Like not a justified reason of course but just a reason. But if you read about like, Ted Bundy or whatever it's really just like, no, by some inexplicable fact of his nature he just wanted to kill people really badly. I guess at some level I can accept that explanation; I mean I do math for fun and that is as inexplicable to some people as killing people for fun is. But like. It really makes me feel weird and uncomfortable.

Chattel slavery I guess I get because it's a lot more instrumental. Like, you just don't want to have to pay your employees, I mean that's straightforward. What I don't get is everything that got built up around it, especially in the Confederacy, like... I know that people build up narratives to justify what they want to do anyway, but I really struggle to see sometimes how people actually buy these narratives. Or like. What goes on in the mind of, say, a young Confederate soldier who believes abolitionists are evil? Does he not see that he's the one on the back foot here? Does he not see that "slavery is ok" is by far the more out there ethical position, and if he really believes it he should expect people to be aghast? It's some kind of failure to take the outside view, or something.

And then the Holocaust, which I don't get in the same way I don't get serial killers. But "how the fuck did human beings do the Holocaust" is a well-trodden subject so there's less specific for me to say about it.

I don't know, it's just like. The standard answers that are given to these questions don't satisfy me. I don't feel like I understand what it is like to be Ted Bundy, Jefferson Davis, or Heinrich Himmler. I am not sure how I can claim to know anything about the human condition if I cannot understand what it is like to be Ted Bundy, Jefferson Davis, or Heinrich Himmler.

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quitealotofsodapop · 2 days

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Post-JTTW Stone Egged Au asks: Bad Ichor

Amassing some Post-Jttw egg asks with similar vibes of "reject gods. stay monke".

Hehehe many questions - main ref post here. Btw in future try sending one sentence questions/comment as replies to the specfic posts. sometimes I find asks referencing a post and I can't remember which one they're talking about.

Wukong in the au makes a concious effort to inform his cubs and his people of what his mother sacrificed to bring him into the world. Her statue and the paintings on the walls of Waterfall Curtain a tapestry of a ruler more fair and far grander that any celestial in the monkeys minds.

And when their little chaotic Eclipse twins found the Consort's resting place, more of Wukong's parent's sacrifice was uncovered. Along with the King's delayed twin brother Luzhen. The little prince grows up being taught how him and the "larger him" share parents, but they aren't here in person anymore but they love him very much. Luzhen has met his and Wukong's parents during the holidays that allow it and gladly runs up to Yē Lín and Shíhuā calling them "Baba" and "Mama" let he's known them all his life. He misses them a lot. But older Brother/Mama and Bama/Baba are really good to him so he isn't sad for long.

Wukong never lets Heaven realise that Luzhen isn't his biological child, as he fears the Emperor or Queen Mother attempting to sieze custody of Luzhen out of spite. The few higher up that know agree that baby monkeys need to be with monkeys.

Pigsy is still uber confused when Luzhen refers to Wukong as "mama" and "gege" in the same sentence tho.

Mac and Wukong are still super petty tho. They call upon their ancestors during the cubs' naming ceremonies to give their little one's blessings. And along with Shíhuā, Yē Lín and Guanyin making an appearance, the royal couple are invoked to send divine blessings of protection down onto earth. They know who's calling them. They aren't happy about it but they won't hurt the little ones.

MK is still a huge JTTW fan, even more so since to him it's like learning about all this cool stuff his family did back in the Before times! And he was there for a lot it! (even if he wasn't born yet). Him and his childhood besties deduced early on that they have *some* kind of family in the Celestial realm, just not sure who.

As for the Dragons:

Going by Ao Guang still being upset by the theft (barely, in Jttw his wife let Wukong have it), of the Staff, I imagine that dragon can be super petty. Ao Guang doesn't like Sun Wukong at all for the theft and the havoc in heaven, even if he was cordial to him during the Journey.

When the youngest son of the Ao Run/Ji is fatally wounded by the Samadhi Fire, basically every royal dragon had an attack of pstd to when they lost Ao Bing. They started to hate Sun Wukong for his recklessness.

Then DBK, Wukong's older sworn brother and godfather to his young twins, suddenly goes on a rampage forcing Heaven's hands.

The royal dragons basically took DBK's imprisionment as an excuse to bail out. Dragons don't like the gods, and they don't like Sun Wukong.

Mei's parents hadn't wanted to cut ties with the monkeys, but Mei was a super sickly dragon pup and Ao Yi simply couldn't emotionally deal with cutting off her family with that happening... her and Long Chen continue to send Wukong's family birthday presents, card, and the occasional letter - all covert like a spy mission. Other dragons who disagreed with the royals continue this practice as well.

And ofc S4:

Nezha: "Jade Emperor, there's a message for you from Sun Qi Xiaotian." Jade Emperor & Queen Mother: (*super intrigued! Did he find out about their connection?*) JE: "Send him in." Nezha, peaks head out of window: "Yeah he's in." MK: (*busts through wall like a Looney tunes character, shaking with anxiety*) MK, like he's on fast-forward: "Mister Jade Emperor sir I'm so sorry but Azure Lion's got this memory scroll and he trapped my family in it. He tricked me and my friends into freeing his old buddies from the Brotherhood but he wont let my mom loose and NOW he has my baby sister and little bro (it's complicated) and they're on their way here right now to kill you and my powers are glitching out and I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!" JE: "Uhhh..." Queen Mother, rolls her eyes and turns to her entourage: "Prepare the safehouse. Contact all the bodhisattvas and the Kings of Hell, and tell our armies to be ready for a big game hunt. And get this child some peaches." MK: (*heavily breathing/mid-panic attack. gives thumbs up*) Mei, peaking her head in: "Wow. Girl bossing!" Nezha: "And Sun Wukong my lady?" Queen Mother: (*looks over MK like he's the most precious thing in the universe. like she doesn't want to let him leave*) Queen Mother: "For the sake of my daughter... find Sun Wukong's mate the Six Eared Macaque. He knows those Brotherhood brutes well. It's the least he can do for giving my grandson such distress with that disappearing act." Rumble & Savage, appear from the Queen Mother's shadow: "Do we gets peaches too?" "I like melon better." Queen Mother: "Who are these?" MK, calming down: "My older little siblings. They're twins. Azure didn't take them. Probably because he couldn't catch them." Rumble & Savage, proudly flexing: "We're too fast!" "And we got our bama's powers!" Queen Mother: (*notices little red tiger-stripe-like markings on the twins' bodies*) "OH!!!! He had twins! My love! More wàizēngsūnérnǚ! Twins too!!" JE: (*frozen stiff on his throne, completely shocked*) "Can the brown one repeat what he said about celestial beasts coming to kill me?" MK, blanking at QM's use of chinese: "Did the Queen just say-" Orchard Maidens, quickly shuffling the Noodle Gang out of the Throne Room: "SO! How about those peaches?" "You'll learn soon enough." "Sorry, but we're going into lockdown." "He's taller than didi!" "Must be mother's genes that did that."

Basically MK is calling in the big guns early cus he's panicking, abd accidentally uncovers the fact that he's somehow the great-grandchild (by reincarnation nonsense) of the two rulers of Heaven!?

All he wanted when all this Scroll nonsense happened was a day off!

#post jttw stone egged au #jttw stone egged au #stone matriarch au #sun wukong #lmk sun luzhen #lmk xiwangmu #lmk queen mother of the west #lmk eclipse twins #lmk rumble and savage #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #lmk mei's parents #lmk nezha #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #long post

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xekstrin · 3 months

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words

When someone asks a followup question to your world building, sometimes they are legitimately confused (“sky whales? As in whales that fly?”) and sometimes they are eagerly on board and want to know more (“so cool! Are they still filter feeders? What do they eat?”) and sometimes they are smugly docking points from your story because cinemasins-style critiques have unquestionably polluted a lot of good faith readings of texts (“so what do they eat? Are they still filter feeders? *ding*)

If you are bad at reading tone, or don’t know the asker very well, it can be very difficult to tell those three apart. This can make a person very guarded, especially if it comes across as unsolicited critique.

I’m not saying “so if someone is rude about your questions, GET OVER IT,” but it might be prudent to check in first beforehand, and clarify what you’re asking and why, or if the creator is open to being prodded. And if they aren’t, maybe respect that. Or people might think you’re being a dick. One out of three odds is pretty significant.

#making words #idle raccoon thoughts #saw a post about this a while back and it kept gnawing at me #sometimes when people ask questions they are NOT being kind #and its unreasonable to expect everyone to automatically assume the best intentions from #strangers especially

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charlesemersonwinchesteriii · 1 year

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for the 'why wouldn't date them'

charles, hawkeye, trapper

and i think you might be into twin peaks? if so, dale cooper and donna hayward

whichever ones you want to do :)

Ahhhhhh omg thank you for all of these I want to do them ALL but let's go backwards.

Donna Hayward

Ok so the thing is I AM into Twin Peaks but it's been a while since I've seen it and I tried to watch The Return but I was too stupit to understand much less enjoy it :( sowwy. So I would be dating my own flawed incomplete interpretation of a person, really. Typical Twin Peaks.

Anyways I love Donna! I think we have similar personalities and stuff. In all brutal honesty I think if I were in her situation with a friend like Laura I’d have done similar things. Also yeah maybe her actions did lead a man to suicide but that was NOT her fault. I think the only three things that would prevent an attempt at a relationship here are

1) The obvious. Her taste in men = atrocious. In all the rest of these hypotheticals where the character is already canonically in a relationship or has feelings for another character I’m just like yeah the more the merrier but if Donna insists on inviting her insufferable ass boyfriend into the mix I could NOT fucking do it I’m sorry.

2) This girl is not ready for a relationship yet after All That god damn. But then again neither am I so maybe that balances out. We would need to spend some time as support group buddies just hugging and crying a lot before even considering a date.

3) It is unlikely we would ever interact as I am never setting foot in that town ever in my life are you kidding me. Donna is super pretty in both her incarnations but I’m sorry I don’t think any pussy pops severely enough for me to risk going to fucking doorknob hell or some shit.

Dale Cooper

Ignore everything I said in that last paragraph. I change my mind. I forgot my beautiful autism creature husband is here. I would risk it all for a date with Dale Cooper and so would all who know and perceive the truth. AND he’s got two hot girlfriends with him at least one of whom is ALSO an autism creature??? Sign me the FUCK up for this polycule IMMEDIATELY. “Oh but OP what about the horrors” I don’t even fucking care it’s fine. Dale can have little an evil doppelganger. As a treat.

Still there are some problems:

1) Dale is an FBI agent and Harry is a cop. Booooooo!!!! But maybe if Annie and Caroline and I unionize we can force them to quit their jobs.

2) Unclear if I would be forced to join the Black Lodge Horror Vision Rotation along with Annie and Caroline. Boring and time consuming task and unlike Laura you don’t even get to do a Big Scream.

3) I personally actually don’t like pie or coffee at all :( I’m sorry babygirl I understand if this is a deal breaker.

Trapper McIntyre

You know that “golden retriever boyfriend” joke? Trapper is like THE golden retriever boyfriend to me. Which I mean as an absolute compliment! Golden retrievers are friendly, helpful, adorable, lovable dogs. I am always up to pet a golden retriever.

But the thing is, I would never get one myself. They’re just a bit too big, bit too much energy, bit too messy, and anyways I prefer cats. No hate, no judgment, just a series of tiny preferences. Not into jocks, not into casual no-strings-attached type relationships, not super into kids, you know how it is. Boring and petty answer but I just feel like this adorable happy-go-lucky goldie deserves the PERFECT forever home and obviously he’s one of the most popular of all the dogs at the Mashblr shelter so I know he’ll get adopted super fast. So I can turn my attention to the miserable ass overbred old cat in the corner <3

Hawkeye Pierce

Oh, Hawkeye. I just don’t think so. Idk what’s wrong with me but I have to work to see Hawkeye as like. A dateable entity in my mind. He’s our little scrunkly! It’d be weird to date a scrunkly. BUT maybe I’ve just been overexposed to him purely by dint of being in the fandom he’s the main character of, because objectively I DO find Mr. Alda’s portrayal of him in certain scenes to be Attractive (TM), and seeing clips of his charisma and charm and humor and all that good handsome stuff is literally what got me to check out the show in the first place! Man. What happened. Hmm.

I think one issue is that scenes where he’s explicitly trying to be Romantic and/or Seductive have just never done it for me. Like comparing Hawkeye’s lovey scenes with Kyung Soon to Charles’ with Martine, there’s no contest in how they make me feel. To me, Hawkeye is honestly at his most appealing when he’s radiating Friend Energy, which is why his casual relationships actually work really well IMO; you feel like he’s truly a great pal to the nurses he hooks up with. This is also, I think, one of Piercintyre’s great strengths as a ship, because Hawkeye and Trapper both have amazing Friend Energy and then their natural compatibility makes that bleed seamlessly into sweet romantic vibes. And to be clear I would LOVE to be in a Friends To Lovers relationship too but unfortunately I am cringely obsessed with loveydovey romance in a way I’m not sure Hawkeye is even capable of. Plus there’s also just the fact that I’m a shy waiting til marriage person and I suck at banter and yeah it’s just not working. In conclusion neither Hawkeye nor Trapper should date me they should date each other!! But we knew that :P

THAT CUNT

There are 10000000 reasons not to date Charles. But I will be doing it anyways ^_^ Peace and love on planet earth <3

Anyways I’m not bringing up his Problematicness as a reason here because I didn’t bring it up for anyone else and nobody noticed, so why should it be any different with him. Like no obviously I would not date this dumbfuck racist but I also would not date a guy who thinks it’s a funny prank to make a woman think she’s being sexually assaulted. I also for that matter would not date a guy who works with the dumbfuck racist and is like aw, ya know what, he’s not that bad really :) the second they have a chance to have a bonding moment. I guess I have decided to be a buzzkill about that forever now btw sorry :( oh well

But ok no real talk I would Not date Charles unless one very specific condition is met, which is that I have whatever magic stardust they sprinkled on his single-episode love interests before they put them in the story that made him be utterly besotted with them, because more than any other character on the show, it seems, the difference between Regular Charles and Charles In Love is so hysterically huge??? Like fuck. My dudes. We’ve done it. We found the one villain who actually does do a complete 180 and starts trying to act right as soon as a girl takes pity on him enough to look at him twice. (Disclaimer: I haven’t seen Ain’t Love Grand yet I’m sorryyyyyyyy) He’s so ~romantic~ and it’s like catnip to me unfortunately. :\ The total opposite of what I said about Hawkeye up there. Offers a girl his stupid little teacup and recites poetry at her. Unbelievable. Did anyone ever think about the fact that maybe I would like to be offered a teacup and recited poetry at. No. You all only think about yourselves.

Like even though objectively the way he nukes his relationship with Martine was hurtful to both of them, he’s so Tender the whole time it’s insane. She turned him into her pauvre petit miaou miaou overnight. I want that power so fucking bad I NEED that power so fucking bad. Say it with me everyone. I Could Fix Him. (”But OP Martine and Donna DIDN’T fix him he still left them both and never mentioned them again?” Yes but don’t worry they were just loosening the lid on his jar a little bit. I’ll get him open you’ll see. He’s gonna be soooo well trained when I’m done I’ll make him apologize to Maxwell and everything. He won’t even need the shock collar after a few weeks.)

But yeah if I have to like, try to appeal to him on my own it’s not fucking happening. I have no desire to hear the equivalent of a DOS deepfake hologram that has become evil due to being trained on text scraped from youtube comments tell me I’m ugly and stupid, which is exactly what would happen. Up til now I’ve sidestepped the issue that I do not think any of these people would give me the time of day (except Maxwell who would take pity on me probably because he is sososo Good) but I cannot ignore how much Charles just would Not like me. I don’t know how the selfshipper community does it they’re braver than any fucking US marine over there fr. Charles would look at me like I was a gross little bug on the ground and I can’t escape it. Oh well. Who needs him. Where’s your sister you dipshit I’m about to GET IT

#THANK YOU for this kind ask beloved mutual!! Sorry it got long and weird it's been a rough week and I'm afraid that may have bled through #to all these answers which I'm so irritated at myself for but I can't fix it OTL #Starky loves answering questions #majorbaby #I LOVE when people notice what fandoms I'm in it makes me so happy thank youuuu #anyways DOS leading romantic hero of all time but nobody ever let him fucking BE one. humanity deserves to be driven to extinction for this #wtf is ''You give the longest compliments I've ever heard'' ''Then let me be more succinct [adorable kiss]'' BITCH I'M GOING TO KILL YOU #WHAT IF I WANTED A LITTLE KISS HMM!!!!!!! WHAT THEN!!!!!!!#Anyways I used to get so sad knowing my favorite characters wouldn't like me. Cried alone in my room over it as a kid.#Now it's just like whatever. Join the club.#Anyways I LOVE how DOS' insanely amazing ability to sell those one-episode romances better than any other main cast member #inadvertently makes Charles seem uniquely susceptible to falling in love at first sight and being an embarrassing little hopeless romantic #which is an absolutely hysterical trait to give your rude brooding misanthropic antagonist #''I hate everyone in the world and they are all beneath me #except for this random girl I met yesterday who is Everything to me I love her SO much <3<3<3''#SEE. LITERALLY A GUY FROM AN X READER ''I CAN FIX HIM'' FIC.#Actually in my experience most X Reader types are fairly uninterested in fixing the him in question despite all the bad press they get #like at most they only care that the Him is nice to THEM and sometimes not even that #like I'm sure this is a phenomenon IRL but it's really not there much in the kinds of fanfiction #that everyone blames for causing said IRL phenomenon #I know this because I AM an I Can Fix Him person! And I'd be the one to find Fixing Him content if it existed!#for me it's only fun if there's fixing involved tbh. I don't want a Mafia Boss Wattpad BF that's not fun.#that's literally just a guy being mean to you. do we not get enough of that IRL. I want a little project!!!#these tags are one giant red flag for me as a person but you should have known I was unsalvageable the second I begged off a date with Trap #NOT the behavior of a mentally well person #mash

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gojorgeous · 4 months

Text

"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.