HOLD ON IS AO3 DOWN?? I Was Reading One Of My Fav Fanfics Perfectly Fine Before The Page Reloaded And

i feel like the most unrealistic thing about diary of a wimpy kid is how nobody had a fat crush on rodrick.

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

seeing his ex at an after party, but hey, who's to say he doesn't believe in second chances?

my masterlist | vogue collab masterlist !

✭ pairings: sukuna ryomen x oc actor! au

✭ warning: angst. sukuna trying to win his ex back. established gojo x oc. actor au.

✭ author’s note: first time writing for kuna!! gotta say, it was fun writing angst :)

✭ word count: 1k words

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

“Oh fuck.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened, muttering in shock. His confident smirk dropped the moment Gojo Satoru walked into the room, seeing the cocky smile on the white-haired man’s face, his sky-blue eyes hidden beneath his rectangular dark blue glasses. However, the sight of Gojo didn’t catch him off guard. The sight of the black-haired woman with striking lilac eyes left him speechless.

Himiko Nakamura. The memory of her just sends a shiver down his spine, and he can feel her fierce gaze through the crowd. No matter where she went, an overpowering presence followed, even in a celebratory award-afterparty such as this. She made her name as an actress at an early age – and it was one of the things that drew him in.

Sukuna couldn’t help but plaster his pompous smirk back on his face, but the little twitch in his was evident when he spotted Gojo’s arm around her shoulder. He hated that Gojo could hold her so freely, so casually. He hated every second of it, he hated the way he smiled at her, he hated the way she gave him the smallest of smiles back. He hated the way she didn’t shove him off when he neared her, and most of all – he hated that it wasn’t him holding her in that way.

His red eyes followed Gojo with a burning stare, watching the way the white-haired man had his arm slung so casually around Himiko. He waited patiently, taking another sip of his wine as he swirled it around in the glass.

A minute or two passes before Himiko finally pulls herself away from Gojo’s arms, and Sukuna smiles to himself with a soft ‘Finally!’ as he exhales. He sees her walk further away from the popular white-haired actor and towards the row of tables filled with drinks and snacks, and his feet take him closer to her.

He takes a step closer to her, one foot in front of the other and he feels his heart pumping harder in his chest. He adjusted his scarlet suit jacket, smoothing his pink hair down with his other hand, and he couldn’t help but admire the way the dark violet dress she wore complimented her figure, the shimmer of the fabric and glitter with every little move she made.

Sukuna cleared his throat, his mind running wild with all the ways he could greet her, but none of them came up as he saw her bright lilac eyes stare into his crimson ones, and his heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the day she left him, yet her cold gaze brought him back to reality.

“Sukuna,” Her voice called out, and the bitter way she said his name had him rolling his shoulders back.

Her tone was an ice dagger to his heart, her disdain for him evident just by how she held herself. She stood proud and tall – like the walls she had built for herself when she was with him.

“Himiko,” His smile grew, and he eyed her up and down. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Her sneer deepens, eyes narrowing as she speaks in that icy tone of hers, “As if you’d miss me.”

Sukuna’s eyes soften the slightest, but it flickers back to his cocky demeanour. He sees it in her eyes from how she tilts her head – she knows. Neither of them said a word about it, the pink-haired man glancing at his wine glass with an amused smile. 

“You’re sharp as ever, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” She mumbles, “Not anymore. I think we both know that.”

He lets out a bittersweet smile, red eyes locking onto her lilac ones, “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“He certainly can, but it doesn’t mean that it’s reality.”

“But he can try until it is.”

She gives him a look, her hold on her glass tightening, “Sukuna, don’t.”

“I’m not saying anything specific,” He rolled his eyes, but his tone was uncharacteristically soft. “But… but what if I were to try again?”

Himiko’s back straightens, “I assumed so since you did hint at it, but you know why I left, Sukuna.”

“I do. But I can change, you know that Himiko.”

“Do I?” Her eyes narrowed. “Sukuna, I left you because you were so, so manipulative, you did anything to make me stay with you. I couldn’t take it, and you knew it, so forgive me if I don’t believe a single word you say.” 

Sukuna opened his mouth to say something else, but a hand on his shoulder halted him, his red eyes met sky-blue ones, and the dreaded Gojo Satoru smiled over at Sukuna with a lighthearted grin.

“Hey Sukuna, long time no see!” His grin was too wide for Sukuna’s liking. “I see you you’ve met my sweetheart.”

This irks Sukuna to no end, a smile of disbelief growing on the tattooed man’s face, “You’re her sweetheart? Himiko, he’s going to ditch you for someone else by the end of the week.”

“Nonsense!” Gojo grins widely, pulling Himiko to his side. “Miko, has he been bothering you with his bad jokes?”

“...Yeah, definitely,” Himiko mutters, leaning into Satoru’s touch. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough partying for tonight.”

Sukuna could see it in her eyes, the way she avoided his gaze now. Her posture remained upright, but everything in her body language was enough to tell him she was giving him the cold shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach tied into knots.

“It was nice to see you around, Sukuna,” Gojo grins, but it holds a dangerous glint. “But hey, it was fantastic seeing you again.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes red eyes with a grumble, but he fell silent as Himiko eyed him as she passed, Gojo’s arm a bitter reminder that she’s not his – and he doesn’t have a chance at redemption; not like deserved one anyway. 

As she passes, the speakers blare a song, almost as if fate was mocking him, heck he barely stood a chance the moment Gojo Satoru walked in with his arm around Himiko’s shoulders. Kali Uchis’ voice rings through the venue, the upbeat tempo a sickening reminder of his failures.

‘Why can’t you see you’re dead to me? Just leave it be, you’re dead to me.’

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“white boy of the month” this, “white boy of the month” that—well this month we simply have The Boy, and it’s jimmy liu from american born chinese

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

"i miss her, even if she's everywhere. mother, come home."

masterlist | previous , next !

–pairings: itadori yuuji x oc

– warning: mentions of death, mentions of abuse, hurt-comfort (?), canon divergent, pre-shibuya arc

– author’s note: i really disappeared for a long time, im so so sorry. and i promise this is becoming more yuuji-centric eventually–

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

“Okaa-san.”

Her eyes crinkled at the title. She stood there patiently, and I steeled myself to move closer towards her. The cold air didn’t bother me, the warmth from my mother was all that kept me grounded.

Her arms wrapped around me, but I couldn’t feel anything other than the slightest air brush against my skin. I felt her love and that was enough. When she pulled away, I saw recognition fall upon her kind eyes.

“I see you’ve settled in nicely in Jujutsu Tech,” She hummed, eyeing the dirty dishes in my sink.

“Ah, Nobara came over with some of her… friends.”

“I noticed,” She turns to me, a look of pity in her eyes. “Tsubame, is Nobara still your only friend?”

“No… Fumi and I are still in touch,” I mumbled.

“My girl, you need to open up, I know my passing had affected you but–”

“Okaa-san, I know what I’m doing,” I couldn’t help but cut my mother off.

I didn’t like how she knew exactly why I had such high walls around my heart. I didn’t like how she knew what I was feeling, but she knew that I was stubborn, and she knew me like the back of her cold, dead hands.

“I don’t need new friends, I don’t need to let my guard down because I can be stronger, I can protect those I’m close to!”

My mother watched me in silence, everything that needed to be said in her black eyes, a flicker of lilac glowing, as though she had hope for me, and I wished that it would die out just so that I didn’t the reality of disappointing her falling over me like cold water.

“Okaa-san, I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to become stronger and defend those I love.”

My fist clenched in my hands, and it was as if I looked at her, the tears would all come pouring out – as if just the sight of my dead mother would break down everything I built up.

Everything felt amplified when she placed her hand on my chin, lifting it so I could look into her dark eyes. In that moment, everything felt real. Like she was real. Her touch felt so warm, and in the back of my mind I knew my body was tricking me into thinking she was truly here, but I couldn’t help but sink into the feeling again. 

“I know that life isn’t easy for you now, my dear,” She whispered, cupping my cheek, and I leaned into her touch, letting myself believe her lie. “But sometimes, you have to lower the walls you’ve built to let yourself heal. If you just sit around with a broken heart, no one can be there for you, no one can truly help you fix it.”

She wipes her hand over my tears, and it feels as though all will be right in the world.

“My dear Tsubame,” She mutters. “You’re too hard on yourself. It is time to put Tadashi to rest.”

Her hand sweeps my hair out of my eyes, “Your hair is getting long too, my dear.”

“Right,” I laugh a little a sniffle escaping me. “Yeah… I’m planning to cut my fringe soon. Or cut it all short…”

My mother sighs and I know what she’s about to say. There’s no point in avoiding the topic, after all, my father would always be a part of my life, whether I liked it or not.

“Tsubame, your father…”

“I know, I should forgive him,” I mutter, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness lacing my voice.

“No, that’s not what I wanted to say,” She strokes my cheek gently, her gentle eyes holding so much love. “What your father did to you was wrong. He should never have raised his hand to you…”

She brushes my fringe to the side, revealing the little bandage across my left eyebrow.

“He’s lost his way. And I understand why you left, my dear. But please, know that even though you’ve left that life, the path ahead of you is much more difficult. Being a jujutsu sorcerer has its risks, and some you will regret for the rest of your life. Are you sure you are willing to take those risks?”

My eyes meet hers and I feel myself nod in determination, “I am. I’m ready to do anything to overcome those risks. I’d do anything to make sure that what happened to you will never happen again.”

My mother’s eyes held a drop of sadness, the lilac specks in her eyes glowing. She gently kisses my forehead, and I let her hold me, missing her embrace that would protect me from my darkest moments.

“Then be strong, my girl,” She smiles, pulling away. “Maybe try to open up, okay? Just give it a shot. For me?”

I wince slightly before letting out a small sigh.

“...I can try…”

“Good,” She smiles, pulling me into a final hug. “Why not start with that Itadori boy? He seems very sweet–”

“Thanks, Okaa-san!” I can feel my cheeks heat up violently. “B-But I don’t need advice for who to make friends with–”

I heard my mother chuckle, pulling away from me as she began to laugh harder at my now-red cheeks.

“My dear, I see it all. I was there when you met. You like him, don’t you?”

I frown, and I struggle to get the blush down from my cheeks, “I know nothing of liking anyone. Or romance in general.”

“If you insist, my dear. But I mentioned nothing of romance. I simply meant that you liked him as a friend.”

I freeze, feeling my mother’s teasing smile, but the moment I look up, she was no longer standing before me. The lights no longer dimmed, but now the warm yellow of the lightbulbs. The air was no longer cold or still, but my cheeks still felt warm.

“...I don’t like him. At all,” I huff, narrowing my eyes where she used to stand.

It was all silent as the wind whistled, entering through the now-opened window – the sliding door that I hadn’t opened. The wind suddenly sounded like her laugh as she made me aware of my reactions, a maternal reaction of amusement in the wind.

gif by @heycaz

taglist: @mooncleaver @underwateredwrld @mcmisbehaving @neteyamrealgf @khany2026 @tinkerbelle05 @iheartamajiki @sad-darksoul @yunymphs < comment/dm me if you’d like to be on the taglist! >

What are you hiding?

Characters: Jaime Reyes x GN!reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: (Requested) “x reader that figure out jaime’s blue beetle.” thanks for the reqs, I hope you like it! @tacorei

Warnings: arguments, spoilers for the Blue Beetle movie, thoughts of cheating, reckless behavior

-

Jaime have been off for some weeks now, you’ve noticed. He was always showing up late for date nights and hangouts, he’s always talking to himself, and just looks out of it.

You understood, he's been going through a lot recently. With his house burning to the ground and his father still in the hospital, you allowed him understanding and grace. He has a lot on his plate so he’s allowed to be weird and difficult, and you promised yourself you wouldn’t give him a tough time about it.

He was there by you when your grandpa passed and you were a mess. You still are, at times.

That being said though, you’ve been standing out of a restaurant that he suggested y’all go to for an hour. You kept texting him, asking when he’s going to come, and he keeps saying he’s “almost there” and “around the block”.

Which is a bold face lie, and you hated be lied to. He knew that and he still did it anyway. And it wasn’t even a good one at that.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Jaime ran up to you, holding a bouquet of crumbled-up flowers. “This for you!” His smile dimmed when he saw the state they were in though.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied dryly and walked off. You were annoyed with him. This was the 3rd time he showed up late, looking disgruntled this week. How could he not even have the decency to look somewhat put together if he’s gonna be this late. It was ridiculous.

While you walked away, you laughed bitterly to yourself, “Really thought you found the one, huh?”

“Wait, wait up!” Jaime yelled and ran after you. He looked like he cared that he was late.

You stopped walking to lean on a building, your legs were aching from all of the standing you’ve did. Jaime finally caught up to you. Your back was to him and thankfully he didn’t try to come closer to you. At least he knew boundaries.

“Listen, I’m so, so sorry. Something came up at work and I had to stay late. Really, I’m sorry. I will make it up to you. We could go back to your place, order food, binge the fast and furious movies?” He rattled off an apology.

You couldn’t see him but you can hear how desperate he was in his voice. He wanted to make it right but you don’t know if he could.

“Jaime, this dinner was supposed to be the apology and make up dinner. You know, for bailing on me last time?” You replied to him and tried to keep the tears at bay. You wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t cry.

This is when he came closer to you, your back was still to him but You can smell his cologne. And you saw his shadow on the pavement.

“I know, I know,” he whispered softly. “I fucked up but-”

And you turned sharply around to finally face him, “Yes, yes. I know Jaime Reyes is busy at his job. Busy, busy, busy. God, what are you? Batman’s new sidekick or something?”

The outburst made Jaime take a few steps back and held up his hands in a surrender stance,“…What? Um, how…how did you know?!”

You tilted your head, confused by what he meant. “Um, know what Jaime? Are you hiding something from me?” You walked closer to him, backing up into a corner. “Is this why you’ve been distant lately? What’s up?”

He panicked, you saw the sweat dripping on his forehead and watched as he played with his hands. Something was up but he wouldn’t tell you. He probably never will.

“Oh, uh nothing. Don't worry about it,” he stammered.

You back away from him, “Well fine, if you want to be like that then. I think…that we should take a break.”

That got him out of his daze, he instantly closed the gap you made between eachother, “What? No, no, no. We don’t have to…you don’t have to do that. We..we’re fine. I’m just busy but-”

“That’s the point, Jaime,” you interrupted him. “You’re always busy, and that’s fine. But maybe you should focus on your work and y’know not lying to me.”

“I’m not lying!” He protested.

“So why were you all jumpy when I made that Batman joke then?” You asked.

“That? I….I said that was nothing. It…”

You shook your head and started back away again, “For someone who lies a lot, you are horrendously bad at it. Bye, Jaime.”

You ignored Jaime for a week. Every text message and phone call. Eventually though, he stopped trying to contact you. Which was a relief, you felt your resolve slipping everytime Jaime’s photo contact appeared on your phone.

It was one of those 0.5 pictures. You took at as revenge for the hundreds he took of you. You remember him being salty about that photo being his contact.

But in the meantime, you went down a rabbit hole of superhero lore. Jaime’s reaction to your snarky comment got you thinking, could Jaime be one?

Your immediate reaction was hell no. But when you started to mull over it, in a crooked way it sorta made sense. For example, Jaime’s behavior has been strange and he’s been looking disgruntled for a while. He has gotten a new job as an intern for Kord but it wasn’t that demanding. Your cousin had the same job and she wasn’t like well how Jaime was.

I mean, you were worried every time he was late or something. Of course, the obvious is, what if he's cheating on you? However, Jaime was many things but he’s not cheater.

So if he really is the Blue Beetle, well you saw his fights on the internet. They looked rough, and if that's him, then maybe you could help.

And maybe he’s looking all tired and being late to a lot of stuff is because he’s moonlighting as a vigilante. Through some digging you made a time line of sorts.

And…it just scares you. Not knowing.

There were some evidence to support your theory. For example, when Jaime’s house caught on fire, many people said Kord and Blue Beetle (the city’s new superhero) was sighted. Kord and the Blue Beetle were some how connected, you saw articles on that.

And around Blue Beetle’s appearance was when Jaime started acting differently. You know this rationale was being held together with glue and a hope that you could at least know where Jaime is.

But how would you even get him to admit it? If he was Blue Beetle. You walked away from and told you wanted a break, and still didn’t confess to it. And all of his texts messages weren’t alluding that he’s Blue Beetle.

Maybe…no, no, that’s dumb. But could Does it work? You think it can, you hoped it can. The Blue Beetle could fly, so if you jumped off the roof then Jamie would have no choice but to transform.

Or call the cops to retrieve your dead body.

The confidence you had in your room began to slowly chipped away as you climbed to your apartment building's roof. Your legs began to shake and your heart was beating faster than before.

But you guessed that's where the "curiosity killed the cat" quote came from. You called Jaime earlier to meet you at the rooftop to talk, he was clearly confused by the location but considering this was the first time you responded to him in weeks, he didn't reject it.

The warm air was blowing in your face when you finally reached up there, Jaime's back was turned to you.

He turned around to face you, "Hey..." He didn't move to come closer to you, just stood in his place, looking at you with those soft brown eyes.

God, he's so pretty.

And liar.

And probably a superhero.

You will find out today though.

"Hey, Jaime. How have you been?" you asked him, sheepishly.

God, why was this so awkward?

He closes the distance between you two, "Um, yeah I've been good. Could've been better, though. You?"

You scratched the back of your neck, "Yeah, I've been good too. But, um, I wanted to talk to you about something. About us." You stepped even closer to Jaime, lowering your voice to a whisper, "I know your secret, Jaime."

Jaime took a few steps backward, a shocked look on his face, "Uh what secret? What are you talking about? Is…is this shout the superhero thing? I thought you wanted to talk about us?"

"This is about us, Jaime! I know everything, why can't you just admit it already?!" your voice getting louder with each word.

You didn't want it to be like this but fine. You walked past Jaime, walking closer to the railing of the roof. You heard him running after you, panicked "Wait" and "What are you doing?" flew from his mouth.

You turned around to face him, "If you don't tell me the truth right now, I'll jump right now! I know you are Blue Beetle, Jaime."

Your declaration left Jaime speechless, all he could do was close and open his mouth repeatedly. "I...okay just get...get down okay? You're scaring me. I am not Blue Beetle, alright? You're just tired, that's all."

"You're lying to me! You keep lying and I'm sick of it! I'm not stupid or crazy, Jaime. There are too many coincidences for it to not make sense. It's not like I'll tell anyone. I just want to know.”

You could see that Jaime looked conflicted, his eyes kept darting back and forth.

Fine, if he wants it to be difficult, then you can make it difficult. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and fell. You prayed and prayed that Jaime was Blue Beetle because if he wasn't...

You heard Jaime scream your name and leaped after you. You saw with your own very eyes, Jaime transforming, the black and blue suit covered his skin completely, almost like the suit was his second skin.

Now Jaime was flying, with the help of blasters, instead of falling with you. He grabbed a hold of you before you could hit the ground, he held on to you tightly. Like you were grains of sand or sugar, ready to slip through his fingers at any moment without much notice.

He flew you back to the rooftop and sat you on the ground, before crushing you into a bear hug. You could practically feel his heart beating through his chest and could hear him taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

You couldn’t blame him, you were in shock too. Your boyfriend (?) was freaking Blue Beetle! I mean you had your suspicions for weeks, and your murder board led you to the conclusion that he was Blue Beetle.

But seeing it before you very eyes was completely different though. You were right! You trusted your gut and you were correct.

But that means that Jaime lied to you. To your face, for weeks. Even when your on the edge of a building, he wouldn’t even admit it!

You pushed him away, glaring up at him and saw him glaring at you with an equally furious expression.

“What is wrong with you?! How could you do something so stupid, so reckless?!” he screamed at you.

His words, though true, offended you nonetheless. And you returned it with the same energy.

“Well, I wouldn't have to do any of that if you would’ve just told me in the first place! But instead, all you did was lie, lie, and lie!” you argued back.

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I was just trying to protect you! This…this life is dangerous, and I…I just wanted to protect you.”

Your anger disappeared when you heard how broken he sounded, saw how distraught he looked. His cheeks were tear-streaked and his eyes were puffy.

“I…I just don't want to lose you,” he admitted.

Seeing him like this, it made your chest hurt. Felt like it was collapsing onto it self. You wanted to hug him, kiss his tears away.

But those feelings didn’t stop the burning anger you feel. God, this was messy. It would’ve been so much easier if he was as angry as you were. You felt like kicking a puppy while it was already down.

“Jaime, being honest is protecting me. How can you not get that? How do you think it feels when you just run off in the middle of our dates? Or when you come late to them, looking frazzled? Or when you just flat out cancel on them last minute with vague explanations as to why. I didn’t know what was going on with you, and that worried me. If you told me you were Blue Beetle, I would have some comfort of knowing where you are. How can you honestly not get that?”

You took a deep breath after letting out that confession. You didn’t exactly mean to say all of that, you would have preferred to have that conversation once you both have calmed down a bit more.

And maybe not on the roof top in the middle of night as well.

Jaime was confused by your confession, “What? So..this wasn’t because you thought I was cheating?”

“Oh Jaime for the love of God, no! I know you, you aren't a cheater. It was because it scared me. I mean, how would you feel if I just disappeared all the time?!” you were back to screaming in his face with just plain annoyance now.

He had a look of understanding now, on his face. He lets out a soft “oh” and then the silence stretched in between you both as he looked everywhere but you.

God, when this become such a mess.

“Um,” Jaime cleared his throat, “So…what do you wanna do? About this? Us?”

“I…I don’t know Jaime,” you muttered. “But it’s getting late and I have work tomorrow.”

Jaime nodded but you could tell that’s not what he wanted to hear, and you didn’t either. But, maybe more space was what you two needed right now.

You watched him shot up into the sky and until he became a small dot, no different from the stars.

-

This was longer than expected. My bad lol

Tags: @fhhahaha12, @allthingsvicf, @louiesdaydream, @herrescasper, @niluuuuu, @666kpopfan, @bluecray0nn, @champagnelovers101, @starii-light, @asvterias, @wintersdeadd, @shslsimpette, @losingmywayyyy, @sodacatz, @scryarchives, @marmar-c, @strawberrycreamb, @nightwingandhissquad, @conicoroahre

Special thanks to @alienstardust for their help with this fic! 🫶🏿

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"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.

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bound 2 , miles morales

miles morales x gn! reader

warnings: death, mentions of weapons, slight panic attacks

synopsis: he was bound to love you in every universe, but he was also bound to lose you in every universe.

a/n: this is really long so i hope you guys enjoy it. i had a blast writing this to be honest, the idea just came to me while i was eating pasta so enjoy.

at a pretty early age, miles’s parents knew and understood how smart their kid was. they knew he had drive and ambition, they understood his passion to learn and his passion to create and they pushed him to explore into that more, pushing him to become a better version of himself.

that drive and passion led to miles getting accepted into visions. a school for incredibly smart people. despite miles sending in his application during the middle of the school year, but nonetheless they accepted him with open arms. or so he thought they were going to.

it was easy for miles to get along with the other students at brooklyn middle. they all shared the same ambition, liked the same music, the same movies and some even shared the same struggles which is what made miles feel at home.

he had thought visions wasn’t going to be any different.

and boy was he wrong.

he was humiliated on the first day by his dad, something miles always expected but it was different this time. being at such a prestige school, where people think they’re better than you, despite the fact that you’re both in the same school.

so at first miles was having a rough time, until he met somebody there that particularly peaked his interests and made his little fourteen year old boy heart beat like crazy.

he walked through the halls, confused as he read the room number on the paper again and again, looking up at all the numbers on the doors. in brookyln middle, all his classes were in one building instead of two, so it didn’t take him this much time to get to class.

“are you lost?” someone questioned him. they were putting their books in their lockers, staring at miles with a confused look in their eyes.

miles flinched, he thought everybody would be in class by now. “uh—no..i’m not—no.” miles said, waving his hands in the air as he shook his head.

“okay.” the person replied, shutting their locker and walking in the opposite direction miles was standing in.

“wait!” miles shouted. “yes—yes i am lost i have no clue where i am.” he sighed, the white paper held tightly in his hand.

the person walked closer towards him, a slight smile forming on their face as they grabbed the paper from miles’s hand. reading the words on the paper, looking around at the buildings surrounding them. “you need to go through the glass tunnel to the other building, then down the stairs and it’s the first class to the left.” they said.

miles blinked in confusion, grabbing the paper back and looking at it. his eyes moving towards the glass tunnel, as he nodded in reply, swallowing a lump in his throat. the persons eyes met miles’s, sending a slight little twist in his stomach as he quickly looked away.

“i can take you..if you want?” they said, tilting their head in miles’s direction. “i don’t have classes right now, we have a sub so there’s nothing interesting.” they said, beginning to walk towards the direction of the tunnel.

miles walked with the person, side by side trying to not get too close to them as he cleared his throat, his uncles words echoing in his head. “i thought that side was just dorms? i didn’t know they had classes over there.” he said, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

“well the last three levels are classes, they had extra floors and they didn’t know what to do with them. the students used to use it as a party area so recently they replaced them with classrooms.” they said, their eyes still facing forward, while miles looked at them like they were the coolest person he’s ever met.

“i’m miles…morales.” he said, attempting to make his voice sound deeper once he said his last name. he was confused on how his uncle made it seem so easy, when it really wasn’t.

“i’m [name]….[last name].” they responded, mimicking miles’s tone of voice which earned a chuckle from miles as he swung his arms.

the two walked next to each other, talking about their lives and what had brought them to vision. for the first time in his entire first day of school, miles didn’t feel alone.

and for the first time in your entire school year, you had made a friend that was truly a good person.

what miles had never expected however, was becoming brooklyn’s next spider-man. he didn’t mean for it to happen, he was just trying to hang out with his uncle. spending the night talking about you, and talking about expectations that have been put against him by his family and his teachers.

but never did he expect to be bitten by a radioactive spider.

he woke up that morning, feeling different than usual. he seemed taller and stronger. his clothes didn’t fit right anymore, he was sticking to his books and papers. miles even managed to get a side of a girls hair buzzed because his hands stuck to her hair.

you remember seeing him run to the staff room, confused as he attempted to shake the excess hair off of his hands. muttering silent words underneath his breath as you watched from the doorway as he held his hands under warm water.

“what the hell did you do?” you questioned, walking towards him, leaning against the sink. “you know you can’t be in here right? this is staff only.” you muttered, watching him attempt to scrub the hair off of his hands.

“i don’t even know what i did to be honest, i think i grabbed glue? or something…i have no idea.” he sighed, his hands starting to sting from the amount of scrubbing he had been doing.

you shook your head, grabbing his hands as you attempted to pull of the pieces of hair. gently soaking them in warm water every now and then to make it hurt less. miles’s face warmed up, feeling the softness of your hands against his and watching your confused face attempting to help him as if you were doing your math homework.

the two of you spent almost the rest of the day inside your dorm, scrapping the hair off and making sure his hands wouldn’t stick to anything else. you found it..odd that he was so worried and confused, how could he have not known what he grabbed for his hands to be sticky? but despite that, you didn’t question it.

when the two of you had finished, miles let out a long sigh. his eyes meeting your comic book collection of spider-man. silently, he got up, slowly grabbing the book in hopes that his hands wouldn’t stick—and they didn’t. he flipped through the pages, ones about spider-man’s origen story. that’s when miles realized what had happened to him.

he looked out the window, it was almost time for the spider-man memorial to start. “hey..i have to go, but thank you so much, honestly. i owe you tons.” miles said, making his way towards the door.

“yeah you do morales.” you replied, throwing all the blonde hair into the garbage.

throughout the next couple of days, miles learned that traveling through other universes was a real thing. he learned that, not only was he spider-man but so were a whole lot of people, each in their own little world fighting the same fight miles was.

there was so much going on, miles couldn’t really keep track. all he knew is that he was eager to do this, this is what he wanted to do. if his life had led him to this moment, then what’s stopping him?

miles then soon realized that, with great power comes great responsibility. he realized that—maybe being spider-man wasn’t all it chalked up to be. he realized that when he sat next to his uncles dead body in an alleyway, tears pouring down from his eyes as the only person who truly knew him faded away.

he ran.

miles had never ran that fast in his life, holding back sobs as he turned invisible, running through the streets and onto buildings. he found himself making his way to your dorm, despite his best efforts not to. he didn’t know how he was going to explain all of this to you, but all he knew was that he wanted to see you.

you sat on your desk, listening to music and doing homework before you noticed the shadow outside your window. you were a bit confused, being five stories up and there being no fire escape on your floor made it seem impossible for there to even be a shadow. you got up, making your way towards the window when you saw miles, his hands sticking to the sides of the building.

quickly, you opened the window, letting miles come inside as you looked at him in astonishment. he was wearing a spider-man costume, he had tears in his eyes and he looked—tired.

“miles what happened?” you asked.

he didn’t reply, he simply threw himself on you. his tears staining your shirt as he cried in your arms. you gently wrapped your arms around him, reassuring him that whatever happened, he was going to be okay.

when he was finished, he explained himself to you. everything. he came clean, told you what had happened to him, about the multiverse, about his uncle. he showed you how he could stick to walls, he showed you how he could turn invisible.

he told you how he was destined to become spider-man.

you chuckled slightly, not because you were making fun of him but because you were in disbelief. miles morales, the passionate boy you had met just days earlier was the next spider-man. miles stood there, awaiting from a reply from you. but instead, you pulled him back into a hug.

“i don’t know what those other spider people say, but you are spider-man. nobody can ever take that away from you miles.” you whispered in his ear, giving him all the confidence that he had so desperately needed.

after miles had successfully stopped the collider, stopping kingpin and sending all of his spider-friends back home he started spending more time around you. the two of you constantly hanging out, playing video games, basketball. he even introduced you to his parents.

he started to recognize his feelings for you, knowing how much he yearned to be around you. he stayed up late at night, wondering if you felt the same way also. listening to music that reminded him of you, constantly drawing you in his sketchbook.

you had a habit of watching miles swing around when he was out and about being spider-man. occasionally, you’d get upset with him for skipping classes. but after a while you got used to it, even skipping classes with him to go swinging with him.

miles would visit you at your families store, checking up on you, helping you stock the store. all as an excuse for him just to talk to you. it helped him feel less alone, less confused. because he knew if you could understand and like him still, than maybe so could his parents.

one night, miles showed up to your house. seriously injured, which scared you more than it scared him. you silently shouted at him, looking at him in disbelief as blood poured down from his head and how his legs shook from the fear. but for some reason, miles couldn’t understand why you were so upset. and he made the best mistake of his life asking you.

“why do i care?” you scoffed, wrapping the bandages around his knuckles. “i care because i care about you miles! i care about you more than anything. do you know how worried i get when your swinging around, fighting bad guys?” you said, standing up. “i get scared that something’s going to happen to you, that i’m never going to see my best-friend again.” you said with a shaky breath. “i care because i love you.” you said.

miles blinked in confusion, feeling his face heat up. “like you—like you love me? or you love love me?” he questioned, looking up at you confused.

you crouched down in front of him, placing a soft kiss against his lips, causing him to flinch. when you pulled away, miles had the smuggest little look on his face that made you regret doing it in the first place.

“alright morales, i take it back.” you said, attempting to turn around but not before miles grabbed your arm, cupping the sides of your cheek and kissing you again. it was a bit longer this time, but it wasn’t anything too crazy.

6 MONTHS had gone by and there was a lot of changes between the two of you. for one, miles looked a lot more older and matured, despite the fact that he still had the jokes of a twelve year old. but so did you, the two of you were growing up together.

people in brookyln started to appreciate the new spider-man, each and every one of them starting to buy merch, making their own merch. dressing up as miles for halloween, asking miles for help with every-day things.

miles was brookyln’s one and only spider-man.

but he was also your one and only boyfriend.

and currently, instead of him being spider-man he was miles. miles who was sitting on the rooftop of his apartment complex, eating food and having a date with his partner.

“do you think..” miles said, swallowing the food that was in his mouth. “do you think things are destined to be in every universe?” he questions, his gaze meeting yours. “like—i’m spider man here, do you think there’s another universe where i’m also spider man? or is it like a one time thing?”

you took a sip from your cup. “i don’t know it’s hard to say. i mean, peter parker here was spider-man and there was also a peter b. parker in another earth that was spider-man.” you started, “but then there’s other spider people like porker and penni and gwen and you know, so maybe? who knows.” you shrugged.

“do you think in another universe we’re together?” he asked, his look calmly on yours as you started to smile slightly.

“maybe..” you muttered, “i mean look. in every universe where there’s a peter parker there’s a mary jane right? so maybe it’s the same like that. maybe there’s another universe where there’s a miles morales and me, and ganke. just cause we’re a path you cross in your life you know?” you said.

“so do you think we’re bound to be together in every universe and stuff? like it’s destiny or something?” miles asked.

you smiled softly, shaking your head. “i think anything is possible miles.” you replied softly.

miles soon came to realize that anything is in fact, possible.

miles sat quietly on the roof of a building. just two weeks after the conversation about destiny he had with you. he was listening to his music, constantly checking his phone for a reply from you. you hadn’t texted him, but miles didn’t think much of it. you were working after all.

the police radio he had stolen from his dad sat next to him as miles mumbled the words of the song, kicking his feet that hung of the edge of the building. suddenly, the police radio pinged, causing miles to turn down the music that played through his phone.

“we have an robbery at a music shop on fifth avenue, suspect is armed with a gun.”

miles felt his heart sink. a music shop on fifth avenue? that had to be you, you’re families music shop was the only one on that street. miles got up so fast it made him dizzy, throwing himself off the ledge of the building as he quickly swung from building to building, hearing the incoming sirens.

please don’t let it be you.

that’s what he thought the whole way over there.

when he had arrived, he noticed the glass windows were shattered, they had been shot at. soft music played in the background, cd’s and vinyls scattered on the floor. you had tried to fight back.

miles walked slowly through the mess, his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his stomach. then, he felt his spidey senses go off, running into the backrooms of the music shop. there, he saw the man, holding a gun to your head.

“stop right there spider-man, i will kill them.” the man muttered, his arm around your chest and the gun placed firmly on the side of your head.

miles’s stomach was starting to hurt, the sounds of your crying sending pains through his heart as if knives had been stabbing him repeatedly. “please..don’t do this, they don’t have anything to do with this.” he pleaded.

the man scoffed, “why are the two of you so close, huh? i’ve been planning this for a while now…i get to her and i get to the mighty new spider-man of brookyln.” he muttered, noticing the rapid breathing of the kid in front of him. “spider-man isn’t all it’s racked up to be? isn’t it? it’s not all fun and saving bad guys..and i’ll make sure you know that.” he said, his finger moving towards the trigger.

“no stop it!” miles shouted, shooting his web onto the man’s hand.

miles heard a loud bang. one that seemed so familiar, that when he had heard it he could’ve sworn he saw his uncle, just for a split moment. when miles came back to reality, he saw you on the floor. the man hovering above your body, as miles’s chest rose with anger. miles shot out his webs at the man, trapping him against the wall. he could hear the faint police sirens nearing, so they’d have him soon enough.

but his priority was you.

you were on the floor, your head tilted to the side as your body stiffened. tears staining your face as your eyes stayed wide open, your body going limp in miles’s embrace as he whispered sorry apologizes to you, tears falling out his eyes and being trapped in his mask.

miles had lost his uncle, one person who truly knew him.

and now miles had you, another person who truly knew him.

all this at the ripe age of fifteen years old.

for the next couple of months, miles was more distant. he skipped class more, ignored his parents more, went out and did more graffiti. he was still, however spider-man, that hadn’t changed. he knew that if you were here you’d still want him to continue to be spider-man.

it only felt right to help other people since he couldn’t help you.

he found himself missing his other spider friends, he knew they’d understand the pain he was going through. the confusion and the anger. they would understand everything.

miles stood in a dark alleyway, one that was being dimly lit by a street lamp. he looked at the wall, a graffiti of your face on it with the word BOUND2 in the background. miles had still believed that the two of you were bound to fall in love and be together, in every universe.

he found comfort that somewhere, in another universe, you were still alive.

more months and crazy adventures had gone by that miles wishes you were here to see. apparently, he had a nemesis now. gwen was back, and comforting miles and miles found out there was a spider-society, one that he was eager to join.

but miles was soon disappointed.

miles found out that this supposed “spider-society” wasn’t all it seemed to be. he also found out that apparently, your death and his uncles death was an important step to him becoming spider-man. but what really irked him, was the fact that his father was to die next.

“a captain close to spider-man dies, saving a child from falling rubble.”

miles soon realized what this was. the true reason why all of his friends miraculously showed up, he realized that miguel didn’t want to recruit him, miguel wanted to stop him.

miles was confident he could do both, he was confident he could save his father and save the world.

“i can do both! spider-man always—“

“not always.”

and while miles ran for his life he remembered you. he thought of what you wouldn’t wanted, what you would’ve said in this situation. of course you’d understand right? he couldn’t just leave his father to die. hell, if he could go back he would save you, even if meant the whole world fell apart.

miles realized that these people didn’t actually miss him, they were using him.

miles realized that he wasn’t supposed to be spider-man.

miles realized that he was tired of taking shit from other people.

miles ran, as fast as he could. escaping back in his word, attempting to help his father as fast as he could. except only, he was greeted by his mother. miles came clean about everything, about him being spider-man about the spot, about everything. but he was just as confused as his mother when she uttered the words, “whose spider-man?”

miles found out pretty quickly that he was in the wrong dimension. the dimension that the spider had bit him came from. his thoughts were interrupted by a rattling doorknob, the sight of his uncle walking into the house catching his attention.

he hugged his uncle tightly, he hadn’t seen him in a year. for a moment, miles thought about the possibility that you could be alive also. that he might be able to see you again.

miles followed his uncle, confused and worried about what they were about to do. they both made their way onto the rooftop. in the back of miles’s mind, he wondered where his father was, what his father would’ve thought about all this.

when he got to the rooftop, he heard loud sirens, dogs barking and alarms ringing. something about this brooklyn was different, it wasn’t safe. it wasn’t like the brookyln miles knew.

miles couldn’t help but think about you.

“you finish up the graffiti? it looks good.” his uncle chimed in, looking down at his phone.

miles was confused, he turned to look at the side of the building. one where in his earth there was a mural of his uncle.

miles’s eyes widened at the sight of his dads face, with the words rest in power underneath. his dad was dead in this universe. but what caught his attention even more, was the person next to his dad.

[NAME] [LAST NAME]

CHILD

SIBLING

PARTNER IN CRIME

REST IN POWER

reading those words miles realized that things were really bound to happen. he was bound to love you, in every universe. but he was also bound to lose you, in every universe.

༊*·˚ ƧΛM !

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