#I mean it isn't but first time they should be held responsible

[ivyines]

Respect that these teachers had one attack on their students in their school and immediately started working on how to improve safety and protect them better

[superblysubpar]

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music

6.6k words

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels. 

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished. 

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words. 

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all.  He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too. 

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel. 

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again. 

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time. 

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together. 

His best friend was really fucking pretty. 

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours. 

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb. 

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing. 

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned. 

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing. 

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward. 

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees. 

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin. 

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he  finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him. 

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover  the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway. 

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head. 

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour. 

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger. 

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him. 

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him. 

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore. 

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned. 

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless. 

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands. 

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be. 

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone. 

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment. 

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you. 

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started. 

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink. 

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence. 

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better. 

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. 

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it. 

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it. 

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.” 

He definitely said it out loud that time. 

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.  

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier. 

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…” 

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked. 

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry. 

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had. 

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else. 

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead. 

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him. 

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more. 

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew. 

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips. 

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open. 

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word. 

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours. 

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch. 

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to. 

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing. 

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked. 

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt. 

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either. 

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind. 

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach. 

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied. 

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking. 

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington. 

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again. 

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body. 

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?” 

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat. 

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused. 

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on. 

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick. 

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation. 

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his. 

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.  

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him. 

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more. 

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot. 

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence. 

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer. 

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath. 

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words. 

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later. 

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you. 

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork. 

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him. 

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager. 

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours. 

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it. 

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s. 

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further. 

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced.  “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling. 

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.” 

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Piercing

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get your ears pierced

"I'm sorry, princesse," Pernille sympathises as you sniffle.

You're both in the back seat of the car, you sitting in her her lap as you whine a little.

Your tears have petered off now so you're just left with little tracks down your cheeks and a big pout as you look up at her.

"But they're so pretty now."

Admittedly, Pernille did feel a little bad.

She should have just had them done when you were still little and couldn't understand these things but she'd felt bad about it.

It's always been in the plans to get them done when you were still young but Pernille couldn't bring herself to do it while you still didn't understand.

You were older now, barely, but she didn't want you to get too old where you would overthink and go back and forth for ages.

Which led to the situation now, as you sit on her lap in the car with freshly pierced ears and a lollipop for your good behaviour in the piercing chair.

You sniffle again, wiping your nose on Pernille's shirt before shoving your lolly straight back into your mouth to suck on.

"Hurted," You say between sucks.

"They still hurt?"

You shake your head. "Hurted."

"They hurt when you got them done?"

You nod.

"I'm sorry, princesse," Pernille says again," But you go to choose the special new earrings you got and you got you lolly. Isn't that nice?"

You nod again, huffing a little as you wipe the remaining tears off your cheeks using Pernille's shirt.

"Where's Morsa?"

"She'll be here soon. She's just finishing with the groceries."

Your mothers had split off today.

Magda was at the supermarket, buying the groceries (and hopefully a new toy) for the week while Pernille did the smaller jobs like getting a few packages, getting your ears pierced and buying Magda's new set of earphones.

You and Pernille had finished first of course which is why she could spend so much time soothing you in the car park while Magda, out of the corner of her eye, could be seen pushing the shopping cart towards the car.

"You won't believe how packed it is in there," Magda says as she slips into the driving seat after putting the shopping into the car boot," Why is everyone doing their shopping on a Sunday?"

"Why are we doing our shopping on a Sunday?" Pernille teases as Magda adjusts the rear view mirror to look right at her.

"That's not the point. I..." Magda's words come to a halt as her eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Why are you in the back? Why has Princesse got a sweetie?"

"Was good," You mumble.

"Good? What, like generically good? I thought we weren't giving her sweets. Pernille, you said it would ruin her teeth."

"Momma didn't give," You say and Magda frowns.

"What do you mean- Pernille! What are those things in her ears?!"

Pernille sighs, expertly manoeuvring you from her lap into your car seat, pulling on your straps until you're secure before pressing the softest of kisses to your forehead.

"Earrings."

Pernille climbs over the centre console to the passenger seat in the front.

"But...What?!"

"Magda we talked about this last night. You agreed that it was time."

"We did not talk about it!"

"We did."

You frown a little, the pain in your ears forgotten as your eyes pingpong between Magda and Pernille.

"I'd think I'd remember."

"You literally came in from the bathroom and I told you that I was thinking about getting her ears pierced today."

"You were talking to Tired Magda! I can't be held responsible for Tired Magda's choices!"

"Magda," Pernille says fondly," We've discussed this before. When she was born. You weren't against it then."

Magda's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "I'm not against it," She says after a long, measured pause," I just...Princesse? Are you feeling okay? How are your ears?"

You show her your lollipop. "Got a lolly," You say," Ears okay."

"They don't hurt?"

You think about that for a moment before shaking your head. "No ouchies anymore."

"Are you sure?"

You huff. "Would know if they hurt, Morsa."

Pernille laughs in the front seat. "Yeah, Magda, she's know if they hurt."

Magda rolls her eyes. "Okay. It's about ten minutes until we're home. I'll have a little check of your ears when we get in. Did they give you an information pack, Pernille? If her ears are pierced then I want to make sure we're taking care of them properly."

"I've got everything ready for you," Pernille says, leaning across to press a soft kiss to Magda's cheek," I love how protective you get."

Magda grins, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat at the praise. "Of course."

"Even if it's something as silly as her ear piercings."

[slytherinslut0]

lorenzo berkshire • run.

summary: how do you define the man who embodies contradiction? a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare?

after some pushing, you realize you’ve always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. and perhaps, you also realize, he’s the most dangerous kind of all.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: forced proximity trope, SMUT, multiple orgasm, teasing, PIV, fingering, a chase through the forest, jealousy (slight weaponizing of mattheo), established boundaries entirely consensual, dark!enzoberkshire (meh), left the door open for a part two considering i never elaborate on where they’re going.

Lorenzo Berkshire. He is what he is, until he isn't.

Growing up, you always held your perceptions of Berkshire close. A sweet boy with a puppy dog stare, eyes like liquid amber holding the gentle warmth of a summer's dawn. Innocent lad with a cheeky smile that radiated like sunlight on a dew-kissed meadow--simply too damn nice for his own good. A walking ray of sunshine, wouldn't harm a fly with a feather.

He was what he was, until he wasn't.

You're not entirely certain when the switch flipped, when he chose to reveal his true self to the school and no longer cared to conceal it. You suspect it was around fifth year, perhaps during one of the winter months. You recall hearing it before seeing it, albeit faintly—the rush of footsteps, the sound of flesh meeting stone, the sickening thud of fist against face.

And when your eyes finally caught up to your ears, you recall yourself silently thanking the stars for the gracious gift of karma, and you'll never forget the silent exchange you shared with Berkshire as he was finally pulled, nay dragged, up and away from your cheating, scumbag ex.

He is what he is, until he isn't.

From this, the question still stood to linger: what precisely is Lorenzo Berkshire? These days, if anyone is to know, it should be you. You've spent ample time in close quarters with him, enough to dare attempt an answer. Moments etched in memory, his breath warm against your neck, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin, his lips mapping the crease of your thighs; among others. You suspect that, more than anyone else, you could provide a solid insight into the truth of this enigmatic man.

And yet, the answer eludes description.

How does one configure the blueprint of a man who embodies contradiction—a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare? He defies categorization, existing at the intersection of light and shadow, warmth and danger, innocence and intensity.

Understanding Lorenzo Berkshire, in his entirety, would mean subjecting yourself to the dualities of his nature—standing in both the path of his aggression and the shelter of his protection. It necessitates penetrating beneath his skin to fathom the intricacies of his design and ascending above to attain a panoramic view.

It entails becoming his adversary before earning the privilege of his friendship, which is precisely where you falter—because how do you become an enemy to a man who's already been silently protecting you for years? Who not only touches but worships you with reverence? Who smiles like sin as he kneels before your altar? Who, despite any provocation that may test his patience, has never and would never suggest severing ties?

Perhaps, you decide, the closest you can get is by first figuring out how to get under his skin.

——

"Enz," the word's a hiss, slipping through breathless cords. "You're moving too fast."

Enzo's response is terse, a nod accompanied by a faint smirk that dances across his lips before he continues on, unabated.

"Noted." The word carries zero sincerity.

You fight a groan, frustration simmering beneath your skin. Yes, you anticipated his lacklustre response, yet it did little to quell the mounting annoyance within you, creeping toward heights of Everest.

"Enz--where are we even going?"

It's pathetic really, your vocal inflection. A half-assed plea for a response you know you won't receive. He must detect it too, for all he offers in acknowledgment is a dry chuckle, effortlessly shoving a branch aside as he ducks beneath it. You groan, audibly this time, the chill wind cutting through you like a knife.

"Enzo," you beseech him, again, your voice a breeze lost in the vastness of the night, "please just slow your pace...talk to m-"

With clear reluctance Enzo pauses, abruptly, as though someone poured cement into his shoes. He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness like a beacon--brief and pulsing. You hardly have time to meet his eyes before he's moving again.

"We can't afford to slow down," is all he offers as he resumes his long strides. "Not now."

The urge to strangle him swells within you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your sanity whole. How you curse the moment you offered to accompany him on this perilous journey. How you yearn to be back in the safety of your bed, cocooned in the warmth of the castle walls, far from the chaos that ensues when you entangle yourself with Slytherin boys and their penchant for trouble. Yet here you are, a prisoner of your own folly. By this point you're certain you'll never learn.

You huff your frustration. "Gods, Enzo."

Without giving him time to deflect, you quicken your steps and reach out, grasping his wrist, instantly acknowledging the tension in his skin beneath your touch. Then, in an instant, two eyes the colour of burnt honey pivot to lock onto yours, and you see it--that ferocity. Bees buzzing with anger at the sight of their spoil. It's there. It's always there.

He is what he is--

"We've been walking for fucking ever." As you exhale, the air swallows your breath. "I'm not going to help you if you won't reason with me. If you don't tell me where the hell we're going."

"Your word was given, angel," it's short, cautiously curt, but it's enough. His tone a velvet glove masking the steel beneath. "Wasn't it?"

"My word was given, but it was also contingent on trust." You survey your surroundings. Trees, bush, and Merlin knows what else. Your shoulders slouch. "And right now, that's in short supply."

He blinks, eyes floating up and over your head, a glimpse as fleeting as twilight, before returning to meet your own. You see it again, swirling in his irises, though it's softened slightly by something you perceive as guilt. The winds howl, sucking air thin as the tension thickens, congealing in your throat.

"You know I'd never endanger you."

--until he isn't.

There's a waver in your gaze, torn between the desire to hold his sight and the temptation to descend on his lips. You don't miss the purity in his tone, a sweetness that saturates the honey in his eyes and leaves nothing but pure sugar lingering on your tongue. So saccharine it makes your teeth ache, yet you find yourself craving more.

At any other moment, you'd believe him. Now, far within the depths of the forbidden forest, the circumstances allude it.

"You doubt me," his voice cuts through the silence like a blade through silk. He couldn't miss your hesitation in a dream. You feel his skin turn to ice beneath your touch. "Since when?"

Doubting Enzo feels foreign, a betrayal of self. It's no secret that the man is troublesome, usually up to no good--but you've always known, even as his teeth graze your pulse and his hands encircle your throat, that the last thing he'd ever do is hurt you. This isn't your character. Tonight's different, and you know he senses it.

"Since you started coming out here in the middle of the night," your voice is a whisper, releasing his wrist before you could feel the inevitable leap of his pulse. "Since I had to bribe Mattheo with damn near half my worth to get him to tell me why."

One thing for certain about Lorenzo Berkshire, it's that he should come with a warning. A word of advice not to be deceived by his soft appearance. All puppy cuddles with sharply fangs oozing venom. A caution to approach with the wariness reserved for handling hazardous materials. An infomercial on how his embrace is as deceiving as it is lethal, a trap set with a smile and an eager wag of the tail.

Except, now, there was no smile. No wag. Just the trap.

"You bribed Mattheo." He repeated, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, entirely disregarding the beginning portion of your statement. "And just what exactly did you have to offer to loosen his tongue?"

A lightbulb burst to life in your brain. A waking sun. A brazen flame. The answer, so glaringly obvious in retrospect, had been within reach all along. What rouses a dormant dragon from slumber? What pokes a sleeping bear to wake? It is the threat to their belongings—the primal instinct to protect what is theirs at all costs. To perceive any potential threat and squash it at it source.

This was your moment.

You could insinuate that you tempted Mattheo with your own tongue in exchange, perhaps alongside the opportunity to mark your knees with bruises. You could say you offered your body, your dignity, anything that might garner a reaction. Of course, the truth was far more mundane; it only took a meagre 30 galleons and a pinky promise to loosen Mattheo's lips. And he didn't even tell you anything worth knowing.

But if you aimed to stoke the fires of Lorenzo Berkshire's wrath and draw his fury upon yourself, this appeared to be the sole route remaining. For throughout all the years of knowing him, the one consistent trigger that never failed to ignite his fury was any hint of a threat...against you.

But before you could comprehend the lapse in your response, Enzo stepped closer, your name hissed through clenched teeth. "What'd you give him?"

Your heart thrashed like a caged animal. The wind billowing through the depleted space between your bodies, tousling his hair in the night. Did the forest always sound like this? Didn't he just say you couldn't afford to slow down?

Your gaze meets the air over his shoulder. "You're deflecting my question."

"And you, mine," another step forward, and you take one back. You can't help but notice his fingers twitch at his sides. "Why?"

Have you added astuteness to your Enzo observation list? If not, it must be at the top. He's always been a master at unmasking your bluffs with a single, cutting retort, dripping from the teeth with condescension.

Your eye twitches. "You're just full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

He doesn't find your deflection half as amusing as you do. "Only because I'm being met with evasive answers.”

"Huh." You cock an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Nosey and entitled."

"Hm," he cracks a grin at that. Purely to spite you, you're sure. Purely to make your pulse skyrocket. "I prefer curious and expectant."

"Quite a pair of traits." Tension thickens in your throat. You force yourself to swallow it. "You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?"

His grin widens. "I'm certain you'll enlighten me."

You peer at him, your eyes searching for warmth in the dim of the forest but finding none, like bees seeking nectar in barren fields. You square your shoulders, trying your damnedest to ignore the distant howling sounds coming from the forests depths.

"It's a tale as old as time, Enz, I'm sure you've heard it." A branch snaps underfoot, the sound jolting you back to reality, but you swallow the instinctual yelp that threatens to escape your lips. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Before you can even process it, Enzo moves with lightning speed, seizing your wrist just as you reel from the inevitable impact of your back colliding with an ancient oak behind you. Pulling you into him, his face moves dangerously close to yours, your eyes converging, honey pouring over your skin, sucking you in like quicksand.

"You know there's another part to it, don't you?" his voice cuts through the air like a dagger, sharp and precise. He waits for you to settle before he continues. "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."

That bastard.

"It doesn't matter what I gave him," you force yourself out of hesitation, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart, the tingling sting on your spine. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?"

His silence is telling. Bottomless pits pin you down, an anvil in influence alone.

And then he breaks it. "It matters to me."

"Why?" you press, your curiosity piqued by his insistence. You're trying to drag this on for as long as you can but his intensity has you stumbling. Words flow like water. "Who cares, really? I mean-"

"Because," he slices your sentence in two. The latter dying from lack of purpose.

Your lips thin to a pursed line. You blink up at him through lidded eyes, mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out as he leans in closer, so close you can practically taste his breath. He'd never been possessive before, not like this. But perhaps you never gave him a reason to be. You've always been his, unquestioned, unsanctioned. Despite the lack of title. You know he’s only acting this way because you’re deflecting. Your heart barrels into your throat, desperate to claw its way out.

"Because I said so," he continues, his grip on your wrist tightening with each passing moment, his nails leaving indentations in the bark beside your head. "Because, whatever dept you owe him, I'll help you absolve it. Professionally."

A sickening grin creeps across your lips, and his eyes are glued to it. You're skinned raw under his gaze, his pupils so piercing you feel them in the marrow of your bones. You observe the subtle flicker of his tongue, moistening his lips as he gleams down at you--your saviour from above, your dormant dragon, your slumbering bear.

He is what he is.

"I don't need your saving, Enzo," your voice is a breath, as soft as a phoenix feather. As flaming as one too. "I need your honesty."

"My honesty." He repeats as he leans in closer, his hand shifting to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder under his possession, his lips grazing against your jaw like fire and ice, simultaneously scorching and soothing. "I'll give you my honesty, angel."

You sigh as you hear the unctuous in that tone. You know he isn't going to give you what you're asking for, but he'll give you enough to quench your thirst. Classic fucking Berkshire. He releases his grip on your wrist, replacing it with a firm hold on your hip, anchoring you to reality.

"My honesty is I knew you'd try to come tonight, and I only let you because at least here, at my side, I can protect you." Warm lips brush feather-light against your lobe. "My honesty, is if Riddle puts a fucking hand on you, we're going to have a problem."

As the last few words spill from his lips, you feel as though you've got a sugar high, his words oozing with saccharine sweetness, like indulging in a bowl of chocolates or sipping from a concentrated cauldron of peach juice. They have a cloying effect, threatening to rot your teeth and stain your tongue. Just like his eyes.

And it's right then, that you come to a startling realization. You've always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. He's not one to overwhelm with his presence, but rather a relentless force, a perpetual energy that never fades. A silent protector, yet also a silent aggressor. He's a master of masking his anger, of controlling it with a precision that borders on chilling, only bringing it out to protect what's his.

Perhaps, you realize, he's the most dangerous kind of man of all.

"Always acting as my shield," you can barely get the words out, your voice soft and reverent, as though speaking in prayer. "My silent knight."

"Mm." Enzo's lips curve into a sardonic smile against your temple. "Only fitting for an angel."

His hands roam up your hips with a possessive urgency, pulling you closer to him until there's barely an inch of space between your bodies. His face buries into your hair, his breath stirring the strands as he holds you close, fingers digging into your waist.

"I know you didn't offer him what's mine," it's not a question, but a statement of absolute conviction, spoken with the confidence of a seer who reads the future unraveling before them. "I know I fuck you too good for that."

"You're right, Enz," you concede, lids fluttering shut, folding faster than a lawn chair in tornado season. How could you not, when he's exerting this kind of influence over you? "I didn't."

You still had no idea why the two of you were out here. And at this point, it was hardly an afterthought.

"Then what's your play here, angel," he growls through a groan, a ferocious intensity ignited in the way he's squeezing you, pressing your hips back against the tree. "What the fuck are you trying to do to me."

Your lips part, poised to release the words swirling within your mind, when a sound pricks your ears. Not a sound of your own making. Something distant, yet distinct.

In an instant, your eyes snap open, but the darkness shrouds any clear view, offering only faint glimpses of looming branches and rustling leaves. Enzo remains oblivious, seemingly consumed by the frustrated desire you've so eagerly drawn from him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a futile attempt to push him back. "Enzo—"

"Are you trying to test me, angel?" Deep as the forest depths. As dark as them, too. His hands leave your hips and find your wrists, pinning them back against the bark above your head. "Make me jealous, yeah?"

There's another sound, now, drawing closer. You blink up at the complicated man before you, fluttering eyelashes fanning the crease of your lid. Bark burns into your skin as his intensity increases, body sweating under the heat of his eyes as they drip down at you, fever rising by the second— fear and arousal mingling as one.

"Enz-" you hardly have time to breathe before his lips are on your neck, and he's sucking. Hard. "Fuck."

Adrenaline surges you, rushing your lungs with rapid breath, sparks of lust snapping over your skin. Enzo has vanished, replaced by a storm cloud brewing with ominous intent, his once collected demeanour now a loaded gun with a cocked trigger. He was primed to annihilate, eager to erupt. You cursed yourself for pushing him to this brink, at this precise moment, as an impending threat loomed closer with unmistakable certainty.

A gasp escaped your lips as Enzo's teeth sank into your neck, branding you with purple pleasured marks of his possession.

"Enzo, damn it-" your voice is ragged, his lips trailing to the other side of your throat, the hold on your wrist growing tighter. You had to warn him. You didn't want him to stop. Your thoughts jumbled, your brain grappling with what to articulate first, settling on the throbbing pain in your wrists. "Gentle—"

Enzo groans against your neck, rolling his hips into you, fucking fire over every available expanse of flesh.

"Gentle." His breath tickles your neck, your thighs trembling, seeking friction as your hips move in rhythm with his. "I'll fuck you right here against this tree and the last fucking thing I'll be is gentle." A plea balloons in you, knocking teeth, choking. He senses it--a grin crawling across his lips in response. "That's what you wanted after all, isn't it angel?"

Nothing could stop the moan from fleeing your lips as he smirks against your pulse. Not even Merlin himself. Gripping the back of your head, Enzo crashes his lips to yours--hurried and unrelenting, the plush entirety soft and sweet and insatiable against your own. As quick as a lightening strike, you're drowning in his sugar, another realization settling on you like an encroaching dawn just how much of a taste you've developed for it. For him.

Then, he pulls away, breathing a command against your lips. "Run."

Your gut bottoms out--fear instantly drawn to the forefront of your ignorantly blissed brain--and before you can catch your breath or summon your stamina or attempt to direct some blood flow from your cunt back up to your head he's already propelling you forward, dragging you through the forest with a grip that could crush steel. Roots and branches blur past, the forest a chaotic whirlwind of greens and browns below your feet.

And it feels like hours, perhaps even years of running and dodging before Enzo finally slows his pace. You're both panting, gasping, chests heaving, but his urgency perseveres, gaze scanning the clearing as if in search of something, and then you see it, too—an old greenhouse tucked behind a few large trees, clearly abandoned.

Before you can process it, he's already on the move again, dragging you toward it.

He whips open the door and practically hurls you inside—the aged wood creaking on rusty hinges as it swings wide. His eyes, sharp as flint, dart back to survey the clearing you just fled from, and whatever he sees there seems to set his nerves on edge because before you can even blink he's striding toward you, his grip resuming its vice around your wrist as he pulls you toward a small supply closet.

You feel like a ragdoll. It's starting to get real fucking old. "Enzo-"

The words dissolve on your tongue when in an instant you find yourself inside the minuscule expanse of the closet, shelves stacked with gardening supplies, Enzo's breath pouring over the back of your neck, his body so fucking close to yours you can't take a breath without touching him. Reaching over you, he shuts the door and locks the two of you inside, engulfing you in a darkness so thick you can almost feel it clinging to your skin.

Then, there's silence, and suddenly you're aware of every inch of your existence, from the breath leaving your lungs to the sweat crawling behind your knees. Enzo shifts, as if uncomfortable, his crotch pressed firm against your ass and you can almost taste the intensity radiating from his eyes as his hands grip your waist, pulling you back against him with a force that makes breathing normally a distant dream.

"Poachers." He mutters against your neck.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you process his words, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Poachers. You try to steady your breathing, but it's like trying to contain a storm within a teacup.

Your throats arid. "What do we do?"

You shift to adjust your stance, the sensation of Enzo's erratic exhales against your neck making your entire body tingle--and at your movements, he huffs, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers pressing into your skin with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

"We wait." He murmurs, his voice rough, like gravel underfoot. "Stop moving."

You need to shut up, but you can't. "And if they come in here? If they find u-"

Enzo's hand clamps over your mouth, silencing your words with a firm yet gentle grip, embodying the duality of his character. Strong yet soft. Cold yet warm. Your pulse quickens, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Only Lorenzo Berkshire could evoke such contradictory sensations, stirring arousal in the face of danger.

"Shh," he cooes against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Trust me."

Lungs hitching, you nod, though the gesture is barely perceptible beneath his palm. He doesn't free your mouth, however, instead choosing to tease your earlobe with his teeth, his free hand on your abdomen, holding you tight against him.

"You can do that, right, angel?" his tone as soft as feathers, a gentle coaxing that wraps around you like a warm blanket. "You trust me."

There's that inflection again. As right as rain. You know he's fully fucking aware that the way he's speaking to you is calming you down, just as he knows you trust him implicitly. You wouldn't have been out here in the first place if you didn't.

And just as you go to nod, to give him the best answer you can provide to his non-question, his lips descend, claiming your pulse, his grip over your mouth intensifying as he attacks it--slow and silent and determined, your back arching and your lids fluttering in response.

"Mhm, you know I've got you," his free hand trails up your stomach, slowing just as his thumb reaches the underwire of your bra. "Always have."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clench, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. You groan against his hand, his growing desire pushing against your ass as evident and desperate as his movements. Darkness cloaks the closet, stealing your sense of sight yet all the others are overwhelmed by him. He's all-consuming, everywhere, everything—

"But this," five poised fingers start to glide down your stomach, his lips shifting back to your ear. "Is what you get for testing me."

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid over your hips, thighs, like he hasn't done this before, like it's care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction, and he tsks you, shaking his head.

"You wanted gentle, didn't you, angel?" The tease in his tone makes you want to choke him. Sort of makes you want him to choke you, too. "Consider this my version of it. Be good."

His fingers slither under the band of your leggings, a slow, torturous crawl toward the epicenter of your longing. Your hands grasp for purchase in the darkness, but there's nothing substantial to hold onto, just like the ephemeral sensation of his touch. He's both intimidating and unnervingly gentle, leading you to the brink of ruin with calculated precision.

You whimper under his palm, hips jerking toward his touch, desperate for more, but it only causes him to go slower. He coos another command to be quiet, a teasing taunt dripping with wicked delight, and you can practically feel the satisfaction pouring from his lips. He's laser-focused on unraveling you, on making you utterly undone before giving you what you crave most.

When his index finger grazes over your clit, you audibly groan, head falling back against his shoulder.

"You can't rush penance, angel," his mouth opens in a smile against your ear, though it feels more like barred teeth. That smile is as much deadly as it is pretty. "Let it simmer."

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, trembling with the intensity of his touch. You're swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realize, and feel like you're choking when he starts to move lower, two fingers shifting your panties to the side and slicking through your folds.

"So wet." He's barely audible now, even as he's breathing the words into your eardrums. "Mm, so fucking wet."

Before you can prepare for it, those same two fingers inch inside you, and curl. Your eyes roll, his palm pulling your head back tight against his shoulder as he slowly finger fucks deep into you--in and out in perfect rhythm, the sloppy sounds emanating from your cunt filling the dark, steaming space and making your skin prickle with hot shame—you're fucking dripping for him.

He growls, low in his chest, and instinctively your legs spread wider, inviting him deeper, inviting him to inebriate you further. You're caught in the perfect balance of his contradiction, teetering on the edge between disciple and devil. He worships you in one breath and ruins you in the next. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Mine." Is all he mutters, before there's a sound outside the door, and you both freeze.

Footsteps.

Almost immediately, you're ripped from the derogatory haze you'd just found yourself in—your body stiffens, tension coiling through your limbs like icy tendrils, turning your blood to frost. Enzo's fingers slow, though they remain inside you, adjusting ever-so-slightly to avoid the slick sounds your cunt makes every time he moves. You feel his teeth tease your ear, his silent way of telling you to calm down. That he's got you.

The footsteps draw closer, and there's no mistaking it—someone, most definitely multiple someone's, are lurking just outside the door—in search, of you.

But before you can even entertain the thought, before it has a chance to sink in and settle in the recesses of your mind, Enzo crooks his fingers against a spot that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids, his thumb applying just enough pressure to your clit to send you hurtling into a realm of sensation he introduces you to regularly, but not one you were prepared to face in this moment, under these circumstances.

You grit your teeth, the urge to scream clawing at the back of your throat like a caged animal desperate for freedom. Enzo is ruthless, merciless, driving you to the very edge and daring you to jump--driving you to the edge of sanity and forcing you to suppress the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

The footsteps grow louder, veer closer, before they slow. Before they stop.

It's cataclysmic, catastrophic—a blaze raging in an open battlefield, a hellfire during open warfare. You hardly have a second to comprehend the sheer insanity of what you're engaged in before Enzo's pace intensifies and he yanks your head back against his shoulder with even more force, to the point you're certain the back of your skull will leave an indent on his skin.

His lips brush against your ear, practically daring you to cum— daring you to keep resisting.

"It's clear," a voice rings out, neither yours nor Enzo's. Footsteps pick back up and draw further away. "Let's move out."

And then, it's over. A weight lifts off your shoulders, a tidal wave crashing over you. Your body erupts, convulses, squeezing around Enzo's fingers and trembling against him as your climax charges through you like a raging bull, unstoppable and overwhelming.

You scream behind his palm, knees threatening to give out from under you, the gates of heaven themselves coming into clear fucking view.

"Good girl." He husks in your ear, working you through your high, his chest rising and falling against your back, the hunger evident in his words. "My little angel was so fucking good...I think she deserves a reward, doesn't she?"

You nod, the fervent desire for more evident in the desperate plea that crawls past your lips, only to be muffled by his palm. Enzo's groan reverberates against your ear, his erection painfully hard against your ass. With a swift motion, he withdraws his hand from your lips, unlocking the door and shoving it open, propelling you forward with a commanding grip on your hips.

He wastes no time in pushing you up against an old wooden table, the rough surface biting into your skin as he yanks your leggings down your thighs. His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back toward his mouth, his lips hungry and insistent against your own. Meanwhile, his free hand works quickly to undo his belt, his urgency evident as he prepares to take what he desires.

"Did you like that, angel?" He breathes against your panting mouth, his eyes barely open, his belt hitting the ground at his feet. "You like what I fucking did to you?"

"Yes—" you're choked by a gasp as he slicks his length between your thighs. "Gods-fuck, yes!"

"Yeah, you did. Fuck, I should have edged you, I shouldn't have let you cum," his voice is wanton, despite himself. You're not even sure if he knows what he's saying. "But I can't fucking help myself. I fucking love ruining you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the tension in the air thick as molasses. With a single swift motion, he plunges into you, a symphony of pleasure and pain ripping through you as he fills you completely in one long, deep thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into the wooden surface beneath you as his grip in your hair tightens, the other latched onto your hip to hold you steady.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, breath hot on your jawline. His hand shifts to grasp your jaw, pulling your lips back to his. "Always so fucking tight for me."

You can only whimper in response, his pace ruthless, and unhinged and unpredictable as always. His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There's a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear.

He is what he is, until he isn't. Until he's someone else completely.

You're clutching at the desk and screaming into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again and amidst the onslaught you're hit by the realization that this man is everything—simultaneously overwhelming and subtle, too much yet not enough. He's a feeling that engulfs you, swallowing you whole until it fills your lungs, leaving you choking on the intensity of it all. Your lips move against his in perfect synchrony, your eyelashes fluttering with each powerful smack of his hips as he drives himself deep inside you, over and over and over again.

"Enz—" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it.

He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There's a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray strands pulled across gleaming honeyed eyes.

"Cum," you swear it's a plea. You hear the desperation as much as you feel it. "Cum for me."

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddled for him, broken by his touch, stripped of all structure just to be held up by his own. The sight and feel of you erupting sends him over the edge, his groan rumbling against your temple.

"Fucking hell—" his hips stutter, his breath does too, his lashes fanning as he pours his cum deep inside you. "Fuck."

You sink against him as he finally comes to a slow, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from the desk and running up through your hair, pushing sticky strands back from your forehead. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first, it takes forever to recover from it, and before you can even register the movements Enzo has already pulled out, done up his pants and is helping you pull yours back up your still-trembling thighs.

As you turn to face him, he pulls you in. You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

When he pulls back, you let the first thing in your mind slip past your teeth. "You're unbelievable, Enzo."

He smirks, wetting his lips before leaning down and planting a small peck on the top of your head. "I'm yours, angel."

Lorenzo Berkshire is what he is, and what he is, is yours.

[barleyo]

Love Machine.

Android! Leon Kennedy X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: I got this idea while listening to a song with the same title. This was my first time writing for Leon, I hope it isn't too clunky or too short! I am slowly coming out of my hiatus, so my writing skills are a bit rusty, I need you all to give me a little grace for the next few posts in case they aren't great LOL. Love you all so much, thanks for your support!

Part Two: Here

Wordcount: 2.4K

Tags: sex doll/living sex robot (?), sex toys, oral (fem receiving), reader is called things like "pretty girl", p in v, creampie (but not really because he's a sex doll??), unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play

“Welcome in, can I help you find anything?”

(Y/N) gave the cashier a polite smile and shook her head as she walked past him at the check-out desk, trying to be as non-awkward as possible, especially since she was the only customer in the small store at that time of night. It was an in and out trip, she tried to convince herself of that. She needed something small, just enough to get the job done. 

Normally, she would’ve waited until the next day to run an errand like this, but days of stress had left her needy and frustrated, so when her trusty wand finally gave out on her mid-fun, she grabbed her car keys and headed out into the night. 

Her eyes scanned the wall of toys in the back of the store. Pink and purple covered the shelves, vibrating toys and dildos being her main focus. 

“Mini-vibe, bullet vibe,” she mumbled, squatting down to read the boxes on the lower shelves. “What’s even the difference–?”

She settled on a purple rabbit vibrator. Its packaging was the least indicative of its contents, and it was on the smaller side. Easy to hide. 

“Will that be all?” the cashier asked, looking over the box. 

“Yeah, that should be it.”

“You know,” he said, giving her a wide grin, “I can’t say I can suggest this one.” He held the box back out to her, waiting for her to take it. “We’ve gotten a lot of refunded purchases due to it.”

“Oh, shit, really?” (Y/N) took the box back, tucking it under her arm. “Okay, uh, I guess I should ask what the best option would be, then?”

The cashier gave a nod and waved her over, lifting the divider between behind the counter and the rest of the store. “Come with me to the back, we’ve got all the good stuff tucked away back there.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about whether or not to follow him. She didn’t immediately catch any red flags in his behavior: he was polite enough, no major creep-vibes. (Y/N) finally walked past the open divider and followed him into the stock room. 

“So, over here,” he said, waving his hand over a heavily stocked shelf, “is all the high-powered stuff. These over here have a high-customization level, lingerie over here, and over here ....” 

The man continued to go over the ‘hidden’ options in the store, but (Y/N)’s eyes traveled over to a large, sheet-covered box. 

“Hey, what’s that over there?” she asked, pointing at the box. 

“Oh, that? That’s new, uhm, probably a little out of your comfort zone, though, he’s a little advanced.”

“He?”

The cashier sighed and stepped up to the box, gripping the corner of the sheet. “It’s—it’s a long story, but, here, have a look.”

He pulled the sheet down, dropping it to the cement floors of the room.

“What the fuck is that?!”

A blond man stood in the plain box, the only adornment on the cardboard being his name in bolded letters: Leon. His eyes were closed, his hands sat idly beside his sides, and his body stood bare before them both.

“His name is Leon, he’s a prototype for a new line of responsive sex dolls. I mean, most of the bugs are out of the system, he’s not faulty or anything.”

(Y/N) walked up to the box and scratched the cellophane covering, trying to get his attention. “Is he awake? Or on, I guess?”

“Nah, he has to be set up, there’s a manual in the box, I think,” the man replied, bending down to pick the sheet back up to throw over Leon’s box. Just as he began to shake the sheet off, clearing the residual dirt off of it, (Y/N) spoke again.

“How much for him?”

She mentally smacked herself for asking. There was no doubt he was expensive, hell, he probably wasn’t even up for sale.

“You want him?” He raised his eyebrow, looking the girl up and down, confusion painting his features.

“I– I don’t know, can I have him? How much?”

He crossed his arms for a moment, thinking. “He’s not for sale, per se, but– so, listen, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“You can have him for free, okay? But if you aren’t satisfied with him, you can’t bring him back here, you’re stuck with ‘em.” He held his hand out expectantly. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she said, taking his hand quickly, giving it a few affirming shakes.

The boxcutter in her hand worked quickly, slicing open the cellophane. (Y/N) bunched up the plastic and threw it to a random corner in her bedroom, turning back to face Leon. She gave him a testing poke, and when he didn’t respond she turned that poke into a gentle tapping on the side of his face.

“Leon?” The name felt like acid on her tongue, guilt already creeping through her. “Wake up.”

She dropped her hand from his face and guided it further down his chest. The synthetic skin felt real, almost in an uncanny way. He was warm to the touch, not plastic-y and cold like how she assumed other sex dolls felt. 

“Come on, big boy.” she muttered, pulling Leon’s large, heavy body out of the box and placing him on his feet near her bed. “Where’s your–? Oh, got it.” (Y/N) snatched the instruction manual from the box. The print was foggy, and some words were horribly misspelled, but she flipped through the pages and located the directions page. She read the page to herself quietly. “I am Leon, your AI-powered male sex doll. The setup process of a Leon doll is extremely easy. To turn me on, just set my dial. After that, just sit back and let me love you for a little while!” 

(Y/N) walked a small circle around him in search of his ‘on-switch.’ She found it right on the back of his neck, almost hidden by his swoop of blond hair. On the silver dial sat three options: Off, gentle, and rough. A hand rose and ticked the dial to gentle. She stepped away from him quickly after hitting the switch, nervous to see what would happen.

His eyes opened slowly, and a weak blue light beamed from them, scanning outwards before shutting off completely. A grin slowly spread across Leon’s all-too-real features as he powered on. 

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he said, standing still in her room, only moving his head to face her. “Looks like you could use some company.”

“Uh, hello.” Her mouth was dry as she spoke, feeling like she made a bad decision the second he had snapped to life. 

“Hm, why don’t you come closer to me? I don’t bite,” Leon paused before cheekily adding “unless you want me to.” He took her in his arms and let his eyes drift down her body. He eased her shirt over her head and tried to undo the clasps of her bra.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away but he held her in place.

“You have all your clothes, but I’m exposed over here. That’s not so fair, is it?” He looked down at his hardened length, ushering her to look down with him.

Her eyes widened a bit. “When did you even get hard–?”

“I’m always hard around pretty girls like you.” He slipped off her bra and groped her breasts with his large, somewhat calloused hands. “Look at these, baby. You have pretty tits, and a pretty face, huh?” 

A hum left her throat as she felt his head dip down and take one of her swollen nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the bud, latching on to properly suck it after a few teasing moments. She ran her hands through his hair and gripped onto it tightly, whining at the feeling of his mouth popping off of her tit. 

“Bet you’re getting wet from this, aren’t you?” His voice was airy and muffled while he spoke. He left open mouthed licks over her pebbled nipples, grazing over them with his tongue’s warmth.

She gave a weak nod in return.

“Mm, maybe I should take care of that,” he chuckled lightly and lowered himself to his knees. “Gonna let me take these off you?” He tugged at the waistband of her shorts.

“G’head,” (Y/N) said, feeling her thighs rub against each other impatiently. 

He pulled them down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She shuddered at the feeling of his tongue darting across the cotton covering her wet center. Again, Leon laughed a bit at her reaction and licked a heavier stripe against the fabric. When he was rewarded with a gasp from her open mouth, he pulled the panties to the side and pressed his tongue at her slit.

“F–Fuck, that feels good,” she whined, hand still messily buried in his hair. 

Leon kept his eyes on her the whole time, not letting a moment pass where his blue irises weren’t piercing hers. 

His tongue dipped out of her entrance and moved up to her clit. He fidgeted with it, trying to see which motion worked best on her, and settled on a circular movement. The longer he sat slotted between her thighs, her knees thrown over his shoulders, the more frequently he felt her cunt jump from pleasure. He placed his tongue hard on her clit, giving it rough, pressured licks. 

“Almost there, I’m close,” (Y/N) said, feeling a coil form in her stomach. She had felt this with other toys, but by far, Leon was the best at the job. “Don’t stop,” she hummed, voice catching in her throat while he moved his head side to side, dragging his mouth sloppily over her cunt.

A string of profanities escaped her mouth when she felt her orgasm hit. A sputtering wave of warmth flushed through her body, her pussy clenching around nothing. 

“That’s it, good job,” Leon cooed. He held his hand up to her face expectantly. “Spit.”

Her mind already felt melted, like it could’ve oozed out of her brain at any minute. She mindlessly complied with him, spitting onto his lengthy fingers.

“Ah–! S’too much, Leon.”

“No, no, you can take it. I’ll be gentle, I know you want another one,” he said with a slightly mocking tone. “Greedy girl needs something to fill her up.” Plunging his fingers into her pussy, he groaned at the feeling of her slick walls still fluttering. “Y’haven’t even recovered from the first one, but I’m gonna give you another one,” he said, curling his fingers, “gonna be twice as strong.”

“Fuck, it’s too much,” (Y/N) knew her sobs of pleasure were pathetic sounding, but she couldn’t muster anything else up as she tried to push his wrist down and away, not being able to stand the feeling of his two fingers prodding at her most sensitive spot. 

“Don’t fight it,” he warned, “not when you’re so close. Yeah, I feel you getting all tight on me. Mm, you’re gonna love how it feels, it only gets better from here, pretty girl.” 

Leon became more aggressive with his movement, moving his whole arm as his fingers jammed in and out of her. (Y/N) was lost in her ecstasy. Her hands shook and flew aimlessly before taking purchase of Leon’s shoulders and holding onto them, nails digging into the skin.

Her second release, as promised, was much stronger. Her legs clamped around him, her moans came out in long, shaky intervals, and her brain was mush. She couldn’t force herself to focus on anything but the cum dripping out of her cunt and down Leon’s fingers and forearm. She screwed her eyes shut, feeling even the dim light of her bedroom to be too much for her now fucked-out, slutty head to handle. 

She hardly noticed when he had placed on her back in the bed with her legs spread. Not until he guided his cock across her folds, tapping the head of it against her swollen, abused clit. 

“More?” she asked, voice breaking and weak. “Can’t take it ‘nymore.”

“C’mon, sweet thing, you can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more?” He whispered into her ear, slowly pushing into her, holding himself back. 

“Jus’ one? No more after that?”

“Mhm, just one.” Leon bottomed out and stretched her walls with his girth. The tip of his cock gave sweet, shallow kisses to her cervix’s tip, gently pressing into it with each thrust. His hips rocked into her, but he felt his dick being forced out of her walls, pushed out of her heat. “Even after all that, still tight f’me.” He slid back in, rougher this time, trying to keep himself inside. “Need somethin’ to stretch you out, baby. Good thing y’got me now.”

His hands were placed under her knees, scooping and holding them apart while he fucked her. He slowly transitioned from fucking and burrying his cock into her, to bringing her body forward, bouncing her on his cock. 

“Leon—”

“Hush, now, you’re okay. Mm,” he wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, “look at how you take it. It’s like you were made to be used like this, sweet girl. Maybe you’d be better off as a toy.” 

She moaned at this, feeling her cunt twitch at his words.

“Yeah? You like that?” Leon’s eyebrow raised at her a bit, teeth barring in smirk. “You like being a little toy. Being– oh, fuck, you’re enjoying this so much. Your pretty little face...”

(Y/N) threw her arms over his neck, pulling him closer to her body. Their chests pressed together, her sweat slick between them both. “God, Leon, please!”

Leon pressed his mouth on her to quiet her down, swallowing her moans as their tongues and teeth gnashed against each other. He winced as (Y/N) bit down on his lip, choking back her sobs when she clamped down on his cock. Taking this as a sign, Leon emptied his thick, synthetic cum into her. 

Once he pulled out, a mixture of both of their cum pumped out, gushing and wetting in between her thighs.

“Good job, baby,” he said, stroking her face, grinning at the warmth of her cheek. “You did so well, getting all cockdrunk for me. To think I was being gentle. Wanna try my rough mode out for size?” He joked, letting his hand grip her hip. 

“Goodnight, Leon,” she responded, unimpressed at his teasing and tired from what he had done to her. She brought her hand to the back of his neck and turned his dial to ‘off.'

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part four

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is your reminder to reblog and comment on fics you like!! it helps us writers out a TON the girlies who get it get it. thanks!!

series masterlist // playlist

"I just have to ask you a few questions... is that okay?" Coriolanus asks, sitting across from you at the small table you find yourself chained to.

"Please." You nod, grinning at him. You were so tired, the bags under your eyes were evidence enough of that. Screw getting you food- Coryo is worried if you don't sleep you'll be all but useless in the games, even if all he needs you to do is run and hide.

"It's just so people can get to know you a bit better. Okay, so..." He looks down at the sheet in front of him, tapping the pencil against the table as he tries to focus on reading. "First, nice and easy, what is your full name?"

"Y/N M/N L/N."

"Great... Okay, and where are you from?"

"District Twelve, born and raised."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next week." You smile.

"Oh, really?" He asks, pausing mid-sentence as he starts writing it down.

"Yeah." You smile. "Hopefully I'll live to see the day."

"You will." He tries to be reassuring as he scribbles the finished answer on his sheet. God, you got unlucky. Not that his eighteenth was a big celebration like some of his classmates, but Tigris made him a cake with ingredients she'd been saving up for and she refit his school uniform for him. You wouldn't even have that- you would be spending the day fighting for your life, if you even made it that long.

"And who is in your family unit?" He reads directly from the slip as he forces himself to move on.

"Well, there's me, my brother, he's fifteen, and then my ma and pa." You nod. "Well, my pa isn't home much. Lots of work in the mines; usually has sixteen-hour days. I hardly ever see him." You admit, sadness laced into your tone. "Saw him, I mean."

"My father died in Twelve." Coryo says, catching you off guard. He doesn't even fully understand why he felt the need to tell you this. "About ten years ago, it was rebels."

"I remember that." You reply quietly, recalling the lockdown placed on the District after the murder of a peacekeeper general. "He was the general. Crassus Snow, I assume?"

"Yes."

Everyone was forced into their homes at gunpoint, and in search of the responsible parties everyone you knew had their home destroyed by peacekeepers. Yourself included. Your bed was torn apart, and your mattress shredded for any hidden weapons or plans. Since then, you have shared a bed with your brother. A new mattress was hard to make, and your ma never got the free time or materials again.

Up until this week, that was the scariest day of your life. Just before the peacekeepers kicked in your door, your mother had grabbed the two of you and shoved you into an opening under the floorboards- a crawlspace made from a faulty foundation. You were in there for what felt like hours, listening to shouting and your home being ruined as you held onto each other with a hand pressed over your brother's mouth to keep him from crying too loud. Your mother's cries that day never seemed to end.

"It's a small world." You say after a solid few moments of silence, and Coryo can see it in the way you're staring at his paper that you're not reading it. You're zoned out completely. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It must have been scary."

"The war was hard on all of us." He responds. "What... what do you remember?" He had never heard anything about it besides the bare bones of what happened, he had never considered that the people of Twelve would remember it as well. And judging by the look on your face, it wasn't a good memory.

"I was about six, maybe seven, and I was playing with my brother, and I didn't hear anything but my ma must have because she grabbed us and hid us under the floorboards so fast I could have got whiplash. Peacekeepers came into our home, tore the whole thing to shreds, hurt my ma, then took off. Onto the next house. I didn't find out until a while later that rebels killed the peacekeeper general, they were looking for any evidence of conspiracy, I guess. The people who did it."

"Sounds like it was scarier for you than for me."

"But I want you to know," You speak so quickly you almost cut him off. "My parents had nothing to do with it. My pa is an honest, good man. All he ever wanted was to keep us safe. We're not rebels, I promise you that."

Coriolanus almost wishes you were, so he wouldn't be so hurt by what his people were putting you through. "I know. I wouldn't blame you for that."

"Thank you." You whisper, picking at your nails now as you look down at your shaky hands.

Coryo clears his throat, forcing himself to look away from you. "Uh..." He chuckles at the next question, making you look up at him again. "Are you married?"

"No." You reply, having almost completely forgotten about the worksheet in front of him. "I'm not."

"It's just... I just, I have to ask." He says, clearing his throat as he writes it down.

"Of course." You nod in understanding.

"Boyfriend?" He asks, and as you squint at the sheet you can see it's not there, and he quickly covers the next lines with his palm, cheeks flushing pink.

"Yes." You giggle as he snaps his head up to look at you.

"You do?" He asks, voice catching as his curls fall back onto his forehead from the sudden movement.

"Yes, what is so wrong in that?" You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh.

"No, no, I mean, of course you do, you're beautiful, I just, you never mentioned-"

"Relax, Coriolanus. I'm kidding." You smile at the panic in his tone. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, right. Thanks, it's just for, yeah..." He mumbles, pretending to write something down behind his cupped hand so you couldn't see.

You shake your head at him while he's not paying attention, smiling to yourself.

"So, uh, do you have a job?"

"Not formally, but my ma is a seamstress. I help her lots with that. Fixing people's work clothes, stuff like that." You answer, getting back on topic.

"Did you make your dress?" He asks.

"Now I know that question's not on that form of yours." You laugh. "But yes, my ma made it for me when I was five. It's been my favourite ever since."

He looked the parts of it over that he could see above the table. It was well worn down, but well cared for. Similar to a lot of his own clothing.

"It used to be this big, flowing thing. Too big for a five year old- I would step on the bottom of it, just tore it right up." You recall. "So we trimmed the bottom, and as I grew, it grew right with me. I stitched up the bottom when I was old enough to enter the reaping, so now it's got shorts instead. But I still love it, lots of good memories held in the pockets of this old thing."

Shorts instead. So it's easier to run in. The thought haunts Coryo for a moment. The idea that you, at twelve years old, decided this is what you would want to run in, to die in, and took the liberty of sewing up the crotch in it yourself. Every stitch possibly sealing your fate.

"It's nice. I like it." He responds.

"Thank you." You smile, nodding proudly to yourself as you look down at the fabric. "It's real comfy, too."

"It looks it. Not very... restricting." He chooses his words wisely. No wonder you had kept it so many years. It still fit, so why not? Especially when it looked so good on you. The typically plain, neutral tone of the fabric complimented your skin tone so well. Even in bad lighting, it seemed as though you were glowing where the cloth met your skin. Glowing everywhere, now that he thought about it. Maybe you just lit up every room you walked into. Maybe it wasn't the clothing that was made just for you and hugged your form so flawlessly, maybe it was just you.

"Yes, it is not." You agree. "Now, our time is limited. Next question." You interrupt his thoughts, gesturing to the sheet of paper in between you.

"Yes, sorry." Coryo chuckles, shaking the distraction from his head. "Any hobbies?

"Reading."

"I did know that." He smiles to himself. "Anything else?"

"Well..." You think about it for a moment, chewing your lip. "I have a cat, and I like to play with him and take care of him, does that count?"

"I'll count it." He nods, quickly jotting it down. "What's your cat's name?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

"Tybalt." You giggle.

"Tybalt?" Coryo tilts his head at you and you nod, bottom lip drawn between your teeth.

He nods slightly, prompting you to explain. "He's named after a character from Romeo and Juliet."

"That's your favourite, I remember."

"Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives." You quote. "Mercutio calls Tybalt the king of the cats, so I named him after that."

"That's clever. Very funny."

"Thank you. I thought so." You smile proudly, watching him write down your cats name in his notes. "What is this for, if I can ask?"

"Uh, there's going to be an interview you'll have to do the night before the games. It'll be aired live on Capitol television, and people will be able to send in donations so I can send you things in the arena. Just like I told you." Coryo explains.

"An interview?" You ask. "What does that entail?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet." He answers honestly. "But we'll pass this sheet onto the host, Lucky, if you remember him, and he can ask you questions about your family, your life, any of this stuff. I think really whatever we want, though, so if there's anything in particular you want to say or talk about I can write that down for you."

"Oh, I'm really not sure." You reply. "Nothing in particular, but if you need me to talk I can talk about books for hours on end." You smile.

"Could you do a monologue?" He suggests. He had discussed this with Tigris before, and he was hoping you would, but knowing you, you would be dropping quotes in your interview anyway so you might as well commit to it and display how smart you are with something well-planned.

"Maybe, if you could find me a copy of Romeo and Juliet." You smile. "I think I know it, but it would be nice to have a refresher. Just to make sure I get it right. Would be awfully embarrassing if I made a mistake."

Coryo nods, quickly writing that down in the margins of the page. Considering he had never even heard of this book, it may be hard, but he would certainly try for you. "That would be great. Your goodbye was very moving, although quite confusing for most, but it had people talking about you and that's what we want."

"Okay. I'll practice."

"Thank you." Coryo smiles. "And I just have one more question on here to fill out... Do you have any special skills that you think will be helpful in the games?"

Your smile fades slightly and you just shake your head.

"That's okay. We'll figure it out."

That night, Coryo came to see you again. You were curled up with his blanket, draped half over yourself and half over Jessup as he lay next to you. It was a small blanket, obviously meant for a child, but it helped anyway. Maybe it was just a placebo, but for you, that was more than enough.

As you got up, hearing him call your name in a familiar tone, you draped the blanket more fully over Jessup before making your way over to the bars of the enclosure. "Good evening, Coryo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I brought you some things." He whispers, digging in his bag.

"How kind." You smile, watching as he pulls things out, handing you a napkin with some bread wrapped inside and tucking whatever else he brought under his arm to give to you after you've eaten. "Can you sit for a few minutes?"

"Of course." He nods, sitting down with you as you cross your legs and unfold the fabric carefully as not to drop what's inside. "I was hoping to talk to you anyway."

"Let's talk; it is not day." You smile, leaning toward him more.

"Should I be asking what that's from?" He jokes, but is surprised when you shrug.

"You could, but I wouldn't want to bore you." You giggle, shaking your head. "Take a guess, though. I believe you'd know it."

He smiles, watching as you take a bite out of the bread. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes." You nod in confirmation, covering your mouth while you speak. "You're a real fan, now, aren't you?"

"I guess so." He chuckles. "The fact that I've never read it is unimportant."

"Completely irrelevant." You agree with a quiet laugh. His smile fades as his eyes land on something behind you, and you turn to follow his gaze over your shoulder. "What are you looking at?" You whisper, looking back at him again.

"Are you sharing everything I bring you with Jessup?" He asks, voice stern as his brow furrows at the question.

"I try to." You nod, taking another bite. "He's not well. I think something bit him the first night we were here."

"You can't." Coryo insists. Of course, he wants you to win, and you handing over every bit of sustenance or help you receive is only lessening your odds. Making Jessup stronger and you only weaker. "I know you're a good person, but once you get in that arena you won't have any friends. Not even him." Coryo explains, strategically skipping over the part where it makes him ill to see you sleeping with your head on the boy's shoulder and sharing the blanket that he gifted to you.

"Oh..." You say, so quietly he can hardly hear. "But-"

"Y/N." He cuts you off, a serious look on his face. "If you keep feeding him, keep helping him, and it comes down to you and him in the end, who do you think will win in that fight? If you had all the same nutrients and sleep, who do you think will win?"

"I- well..." You stutter, looking back at your friend. "It won't come to that. I think we both know that."

"We have to assume it will." He pleads, eyes now locked on yours. "Don't make it easier for him."

"Coryo, he's got a family, siblings, his ma to get home to. They need him." You protest, leaning closer so no one else could properly hear.

"So do you." He reminds you. The look of guilt that crosses your face indicates to him that even though you had your own family, something about Jessup makes you willing to give that up for him to get home. "What about Tybalt? He'll never know what happened to his own mother. Or your brother losing his sister. Y/N, please..."

Your eyes widen at the mention of your cat and your brother in particular. Clearly, Coryo is so desperate for you to listen that he's pulling strings he shouldn't. To make you hurt. To make you pay attention.

Tears fill your eyes as you speak. "I know." Your voice cracks, and the pit in Coryo's stomach tells him he's gone too far. "I'm sorry, I just- I don't want to be afraid anymore. It's selfish of me, I know, but I won't last long and I know that so I just want to get it over with." You cry quietly, reaching up to wipe your eyes on your wrist. You hadn't been so candid with him before, he almost doesn't recognize you without a smile on your face.

"Hey, no, don't be sorry. It's not selfish." He whispers, without hesitation reaching through the bars and resting his hand on your knee. Your skin is cold to the touch, even for him after he had just walked all the way here in the same air. "But it'll be over soon, and I'll get you home. I'll do everything I can."

You sniff and nod, hesitating before placing your hand over his. "I promise I'll do my best in the interview. I want you to win your prize."

Coryo's mouth gets dry at the insinuation. You didn't think you could win, you won't even consider it even with all the encouragement he tries to feed you every day, but you want him to win. "That's not important." He says, shocking himself with the sentiment. The Plinth Prize is his only hope at a viable future, at saving his family. But right now, he doesn't even care.

You don't respond right away, just sliding your hand under his to hold it. His skin on yours feels warm, comforting, the same way it did when he held it when you were first dumped in the zoo. You don't know if it's more comforting to you or him.

"I'm sorry to cry at you, I just sometimes realize what's going to happen to me and spiral over the possibilities and no matter how hard I try to accept it..." You shake your head, looking down at your hands. "I'm still fearful." Your voice drops below a whisper.

"Then don't accept it." Coryo grasps your hand tighter, leaning closer to you and looking at you through the bars. "Fight. Try to win."

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis, @innercreationflower, @nallasstuff, @spring-goddess1, @baybieruth, @lovelyxtom, @throughgoeshxmilton, @enwonie, @scorpiolystoned, @iovemoonyy, @kodzuvk, @soupasoup, @eedwardss, @thatmarvelchick19, @wearemadeofstardust0, @regulusblackcore, @kbakery , @qardasngan, @omgsuperstarg, @kuroosbby001, @puredreamagination,

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

[arceus-insanity]

So When Did Things Start Going Down Hill

I don't mean everything is shit after this, but things looking back started getting (steadily) worse starting with. Check bottom for more indept view on each option

A) at first I wasn't going to include this one as it happened before most of what I considered shit started happening, but with how much it blatantly favours this lazy-ass child abuser, how could I not include it. And of course, it shows so much evidence that he hasn't changed at all, like only even offering to teach Midoriya and Bakugo to manipulate his favourite victim Shoto

B) when it first happened I was devastated but expected this to lead to greater change to the hero system and society. But no, just a meaningless footnote to the heroes epic battle

C) literally no one questions how a top hero was just so eager to kill someone, or buy a wife, breed her, abuse & neglect his kids to the point one of them was believed dead. Only citizens whining about how Dabi is bad for them

D) here's this apparently big shot hero from the States we've never heard of before and immediately dies. If they wanted to keep Shigaraki from having too many powers they could of just chalked it up to the heroes interupting the process

E) the Todoroki family all blames themselves, this isn't to go into the complexity of abusive households, but to absolve Endeavor's responsibility and guilt. Despite the fact that as the one who created and was in control of this situation, he should be held accountable for theirs as well. The only backlash for his shit is framed as ohh poor Endeavor, he didn't mean for the child he threw away to create consequences, and now people are being mean to them

F) what was the point of this arc? Deku barely asks a villain three questions before giving up. He learns the HPSC had Lady Nagant acting as a secret assassin against any undesireables for them, covered up her arrest and got a replacement assassin (Hawks who has at least one confirmed extra jurdical murder under his belt). Witnesses an innocent woman get attacked for her appearance and was turned away from multiple shelters for said appearance. Deku: Hero Society is the Best, Nothing needs to change, because not every single apple in this basket is rotten to the core! Looking back he just looks worse for this

G) so this child, who due to his parents mistake was blackmailed under great threat & risk, into giving information to the blackmailer, deserves to be chained up and forced to take further risk by the heroes. Remember Endeavor never faces any consequences, nor does Hawks, but this child, Yuga, gets treated like this.

H) once again what was the point? How does Edgeshot know he can do this? How does he know how to do this? Why is he a top hero who has never interacted with Bakugo before this, sacrifices his appearing to be unharmed self, for a random hero student in the middle of a war? Oh and Edgeshot is revealed to be alive at the end of the manga, because Heroes have no consequences and live in magical fairytail land. Again what was the fucking point!

I) This was originally going to be two points, Oh poor Endeavor, victim blaming part 2 and the hospital battle. But I ran out of options and Endeavor doesn't need another personal option. So we got the whole Todofam blaming Dabi/Touya this time, and Endeavor being a whiney responsibility dodging coward again. Then we see the heroes knew that the villains were going to go after Kurogiri, kept him in a hospital. We see that the people aren't going after doctors or patients just trying to get to Kurogiri, get demonized for it. We have victim blamer/ pick-me Tentacole say that their kids will be attacked for this (already happening), and that it's up to them/ him to inspire the violent quirkests to not constantly attack, assualt, and otherwise discriminate against them, no need for the quirkists to be given any responsibility or consequences for their own actions. Oh and Spinner has major brain damage because how else was Tentacole supposed to win this arguement. Bonus points for Hawks calling for Toga to be murdered, doubling right back down on his previous murder

J) in this already overcrowded 3rd act lets make sure all these background characters get a scene! And despite the fact it took years for Deku to get a powersuit in the epilogue, All Might just randomly gets one, no build up or anything. AFO's backstory is left in the past so no one has to consider anything

K) I had hope going into this, but at every turn they kept on making it worse. Deku only tries punching and attacking, rather than make any attempts to actually talk unlike what Shigaraki has been doing since his introduction. Is randomly able to enter Shigaraki's head, doesn't have to see just how fucked Hero Society is as it gets cut short by moral scapegoat AFO coming in and revealing he orcastrated everything! Oh and he flat out kills Shigaraki. Living up to his name and not his goal. Deku that could my ass

Sorry if this comes off as super negative but I've been wondering this for a while, and well I'm pissed at the ending. Here's some people I want to hear the opinions of:

@moodyvoid @nagitosstolenhand @codenamesazanka @shortstrawberryshake @darkonekrisrewrite @nothingofinterest @itsnothingofinterest @villainsandvictimsalliance

Feel free to @ more people

[lalovi]

(does a lil twirl) hi!!! hello!! i’ve never sent in an ask like this before, so sorry if i do something wrong o|-<! but what would be your take/your thoughts on a yandere shadow milk situation, where the reader truly starts to fight back, resist? 🤔

AN: Inspo from the song "Meant To be Yours."

Shadow Milk x Reader

Oneshot

Warnings: Yandere, toxic relationship, obsessing, manipulation, mentions of murder

-Locked Out-

"Come on doll, you're just being silly!"

A few knocks would be sounded on your door.

"I already told you. I'm not coming out until you agree to let me leave!"

Shadow Milk sighed. Surely you didn't think that something as simple as a door would be able to stop him... right? He almost found your stupidity amusing....

Oh well. Entertaining this small delusion of yours for a little while couldn't hurt.

"You know locking yourself in there kind of defeats the purpose of being able to escape, right?" He'd ask you.

...

"I don't care! I just don't want to see your stupid face. I hate you!"

And you'd keep repeating that last line over and over.

"I hate you."

He knew better than anyone that those words held no truth. They couldn't! How could you hate him when all he's been doing has been in your name?

He lived for you. He breathed for you. All of his thoughts were for you. It was all you, you, you, you, you!

You were akin to a beautiful bird. One that, if it were to ever escape, would surely be hunted down by others. That's why you needed to stay here, with him, where he could keep you safe.

Keeping you chained down was in your best intrets, even if it did strip you of your freedom... He was the only one who deserved to see you, after all.

"Listen, my doll. I love you so much. Why don't we just end this silly argument?"

His voice sounded so inciting, yet it was laced with a venom that would kill you if you ever let it in.

"No. Don't talk to me unless you're bringing me outside."

There you went again, acting all stubborn... It was a fun game at first, but it's now become a lot more troublesome.

"Open this door," he said, this time with much less leniency in his voice.

He said it in such a way that shook you to your very core. It was cold and uncaring, unlike his usual playful self.

But... you just knew you couldn't open that door. You'd basically be handing your freedom over to him.

"You know I hate it when you do these things-" a loud bang came from the other side of the door, "you always make it look like I'm the bad guy."

But you would not move. You did not open that door. You could not open that door.

"If this door isn't open in five seconds, I'm going to come in there myself."

...

What caused his personality to change so much?

"Five."

Why did it have to be you that he adored?

"Four."

Can't he just leave you alone?

"Three."

He's actually insane!

"Two."

Please go away...

"One."

....

You asked for this, Shadow Milk thought to himself. If only you had cooperated more. Maybe he wouldn't have to do these things. It really was all your fault.

He vanished into some shadows before swiftly reappearing on the other side of the door; where you were.

Ah, he just loved seeing your face full of fear.

We're you scared of him?

Good. You should be.

It's about time you realize who's really pulling the strings.

"You didn't really think escaping me would be so easy right? A simple locked door is hardly an obstacle, doll." He bent down in front of you, smiling and patting your head degradingly.

Tears would prick the corners of your glossy eyes as you realized you had lost.

"Oh, I've just had the most brilliant idea!" He leaned slightly closer to you. "You said you wanted to go outside, right?"

There wasn't a response from you, but you looked up at him ever so slightly.

"How about I bring you to a nice little village and slaughter each one of the residents in front of you?" His smile turned crazed, and there was hardly any sanity left in those eyes of his.

I mean, of course he'd never actually bring you outside. There was too much risk in something like that. He just needed to scare you a bit. Get you to submit.

You'd grab his arm and started to beg; quite pathetically at that.

"Don't-"

He just kept smiling, forcing you to your feet and dragging you around by the wrist.

"Wait! Don't do that please," You'd say in between a few sobs.

His grasp around your wrist tightened.

"Tell me you're sorry," he said.

"What-?"

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry.." your legs began to quiver and you'd take a small step away from him instinctly.

He cupped your face, bringing you closer to him. "For what?"

"For not listening."

It's strange, really. He was the one breaking you down, yet you were the one apologizing. It's scary how easy it is to get you crawling back to him.

"All right. I'll forgive you. But only because I'm so loving and understanding."

He brought your face to his, pushing his forehead against yours.

"Just know that next time I won't hesitate to kill all of them, and it'll be all your fault if I do."

《☆》 Fin

[kanmom51]

I actually have a crazy theory...

I have already sent this ask as the response to someone else’s thoughts, but then I thought about it and I REALLY wanted to know your opinion about this.

I think Jikook by the beginning of last year didn't know they were enlisting together.

I think they obviously knew about buddy system but didn't actually think they would need to use it. Because it's not really done by idols, and also they both could've gone to safer and easier stations, where they could have more freedom.

BUT THEN Jimin started working intensely on his album and JK started acting out (like having drunken lives), and it became VERY CLEAR that they would not be able to do 18 months apart.

I mean do you remember, that at this time JK said himself that he was not working on anything. And I think the plan was for Jimin to go first (just like a lot of us thought he would) and for JK to have more time for promo alone, when others are gone (I’m pretty sure that HYBE definitely wanted for JK to have big solo debut apart from other members).

But then like I said the drunken lives happened and realization hit, that they have to apply for buddy system, that 18 months apart would be BAD for both of them.

And that's when HYBE (or whoever) made specific demands from JK. Like if he wanted to leave by the end of the year (and he had to for buddy system to work) he HAS TO do the album, and because there was no time to write it from scratch they got all the English songs. Also his schedule was extremely packed and difficult.

So I think that the travel show was something Jikook specifically done for themselves because JK's schedule was so insane that if not for that excuse they would not be able to hang out freely before the enlistment. (By the way am I the only one who thinks that we are getting the travel show only next year? And waiting for it now is kinda crazy?)

But again it's just my theory, mostly because HYBE doesn't feel (to me) like the company who would just let their artists do whatever they want. To me they are waaay more pragmatic than that, and if they decided to allow their stars to enlist together (something that isn't really done in idol culture), than they would make sure to get something in return. They worked JK very hard, and I think he took it because he had a specific goal (more like a person) in mind that he was willing to work for.

So, although we might be on the same wave with some of your thoughts, I don't fully agree with you.

I agree that they didn't know they would be enlisting together way back at the start of 2023.

I think that way back then they were still struggling with the realization that they will have to be enlisting. All the way back to the end of 2022, basically up to around the Busan concert, which was October 2022, they still held hope that some kind of arrangement could and would be found to allow for them not to enlist or to serve a shorter term. It was quite a conundrum for them, something I think most of them struggled with (and I say most because I do think that at least one of them did genuinely want to enlist) - on the one hand this is a life changing pretty scary thing (terrifying even - we saw how sad, and I will even say broken, JM was having to shave off his hair, and that was only a small part of it) they would have to do (joining the army is not a walk in the park, no pun intended), not to mention being in their prime, in the height of their success, having to part with the life they are accustomed to (professionally and personally), not being something they would necessarily want to do. And on the other hand you have that sense of commitment to the country and to their fellow Koreans, that have to face that same compulsory enlistment, adding the knowledge that not taking that path of enlistment could also come at a price. Like us, they knew that there were those that indeed believed they should be given an exemption, but at the same time many Koreans would have frowned upon it, and it's them that have to live among their people. Also, enlisting like any other SK young man would allow them more freedom in the future when it comes to voicing their opinions, as they had, like all others who had served their country fulfilling their duties. Criticisms of anything within a society you live in is easier to swallow when the person voicing said opinion is part of that society and enjoys not only the rights bestowed on those who live there, but has also fulfilled all required duties as well.

Long story short, end of 2022 the decision to enlist became a reality and Jin enlisting hit them all VERY hard. At that point I don't think they had a plan of enlistment just yet, although we do know from RM, for instance, that he was supposed to enlist with Hobi but ended up pushing back as he was busy working on his album and preferred not to lose the momentum.

And btw, hearing this from RM also teaches us that JM was never going to enlist so early on. And here I think our ways part when it comes to the continuation of your theory, because I do believe that JM's plan had ALWAYS been to stick around for JK's solo debut, whenever that would be. And I'll get back to it in a few...

JK was struggling start of 2023. What we got to see, starting with his lives in Feb 2023, him deleting his IG, was him pulling himself out of the pit he was in. Taking initiative and deleting his IG (which I will once again say was a big old F U to the company) and reaching out to us with his lives was JK becoming more active in getting better.

*Side note: I'm using the term getting better meaning pulling yourself out of a bad place you are in mentally (one that effects you physically as well).

Idk if starting the lives was a conscious decision on his part towards getting better, but I do believe that starting them was a key part in it.

Talking to us, sharing things with us, setting (at least trying to set) boundaries with his fans what is and is not acceptable on his part as an idol when it comes to fan behavior and interactions with him, doing it all in the most JK way, intelligently and respectfully.

JM was busy all the way from end of July 2023 through to the release of Face and until the end of his promotions. It's not that they weren't seeing each other or spending time together during this time. It's not that JM wasn't there for JK, as much as he could in the moment. It's very important to state this. But JK was struggling with everything. It's the hiatus, Jin's enlistment, their looming enlistment (the unknown of what will be with the two of them - separation for such a long time is something that both of them would find extremely hard to handle for so many reasons), the lack of direction, the lack of a structured timetable (JK is neuro divergent - there is zero doubt in my mind - if it's asd or adhd or a combination of the two, which in my mind is the most likely of them all). He was kind of lost and his anchor, JM, was not available in the way that he needed. Not JM's fault. Not JK's fault. It just was what it was, and JK was a little lost. It's natural for something like this to happen. I spoke about it quite a bit in my posts about his lives at the time. We saw RM was kind of lost for a while there too. The trick is to pick yourself up and pull yourself out of it (with help of others if necessary), and JK did, and JM was ecstatic to see him doing it. Those comments of his during JK's lives (we are talking about the lives during Feb-Mar 2023) were testimony to that.

Once again I can't seem to reign myself in and keep on point, lol.

So, where was I? Oh yes, they didn't know what will happen, but at the same time JM was not planning on enlisting earlier that year. Understand this: JM enlisting earlier would, to them, mean them being apart for not 18 months, but for 18 months plus. Plus the time between JM's enlistment and JK's enlistment. And plus the time from JM's discharge to JK's discharge. Even without JK's situation this was not something that they would want or agree on. Not to mention JK not only wanting JM around for his solo debut, but NEEDING him around for it. And it's not about being by his side 24/7, which he wasn't and he couldn't be. It's about being accessible. Being there to support him if he needed. Whenever he needed it. Being able to be with him for his first solo performance (this brings me close to another ask I received and am working on regarding JK's FIRST big solo performance). All this has to be within the limits of their glass closet (glass getting a little murky for their own liking since the end of 2021 all the way to the end of 2023), and the limits set by the powers of be (some of which JK very defiantly crossed). So yeah, JM was going to wait for JK's solo debut before enlisting.

As for enlisting together. That was something that was being assessed and in the works for several months. Something obviously kept quiet for good reason.

Was there a give and take with the company when it came to JK and the album? 100%. There were things he wanted, there were things they wanted, there were frogs that it being a first solo album he knew he would have to swallow.

Were some of these concessions given to allow the two more freedom, like allowing the 'travel show'? I do believe they were. Perhaps also prices paid (with Golden) for demands agreed upon in their new contracts. I can definitely see that happening.

The push for a full length album could be one of those, for example. JK was talking about a mini album even as late as mid July, and then it turned into a full length album. Could it have been the company pressuring him into it? Yes it could, as in the company wanting this. But JK is not one to cave in just because the company wants. So very possibly we had a bit of give and take going on here, and some of it most definitley would have had to do with allowances made for the two of them.

But at the same time I don't think it had anything to do with the joint enlistment. Not only don't I think that the company would have a say in it, legally or morally, but this wouldn't be something that either of them would stand for. So, in case I didn't make myself clear here, I will say it again - the company didn't use the possibility of joint enlistment as a tool to get something extra out of JK.

You talk about Hybe not being a company that will allow their artists to do as they wish. BTS belong to Big Hit, which is a subsidiary of Hybe. But Hybe would not have existed if not for BTS. BTS made BH what it is today and Hybe was built on their coat tails. And BTS, the members, they have enjoyed many freedoms within their company over the years. Not full freedom though. And Jikook, well they were allowed to be (while in other companies this was not allowed, couples forced apart or forced out). And not only were they allowed to be, but towards the end of 2020 there was movement towards normalizing their relationship, ear suck, hickey and all.

But then came Hybe and Hybe going public, and I knew the day that was announced that even though the members will get a huge payout this move will cost them freedoms they already had, because now there were shareholders and share prices to worry about, and when your band is the main bread winner for that company, well, as I mentioned, there is a price to pay. And they have been paying that price. The two of them for the 2 years prior to their enlistment. As long as they were under their old contracts they were bound by them. Which is why I feel like there will be changes coming when they are done with their MS and well into their new contracts. This will be freedom regarding their art (I think we can already see part of that with RM's new album) but also regarding their personal lives, in a sense of what they can or cannot show if they choose to. JK telling us he's human, telling us he loves us but he deserves to be happy, or even more needs to be happy to be able to create and perform and make us happy (you need to be especially dense if you don't understand that this also includes being in a relationship with another person, who may or may not be a member of his own band). This includes setting boundaries with their fans - yes they love them and feel indebted to them, but at the same time they need to stay in their own lane (I do think JK has been too nice at times setting these boundaries, while others like RM, Yoongi and Tae - a couple of times - were way blunter).

Once again, Hybe wouldn't have the right to 'allow' or 'disallow' them to enlist together. This would have been their decision and theirs alone. Hybe could talk about timing and what they would like to happen before or after, but not if it can or will happen. Hybe could like or dislike it, support it or not, but they would have no power over it. The military alone would have a say if to allow it or not, and at the end of the day we know how that one ended.

I also want to touch on another point.

Again.

Their choice to enlist together.

I've seen talk about Jikookers using the term NEED when it comes to the two of them - needing to be with one another to get through their military service, and I wanted to put in my two cents on this.

The way I think of it is that when people use the term need in that case it's not about saying that if they weren't allowed to enlist together they wouldn't have survived it. No. That isn't it. Not in my opinion, in any case.

These two young men are strong physically and mentally, and they would get through whatever was thrown their way (wouldn't be easy, I tell you that, but they would get through it). Chances are that if they wouldn't have gone down the path of enlisting together they could have landed a cushier placement, band perhaps, like NJ, who knows. But definitley the choice to do this together had a price tag to it, and their letters from Festa tell us as much as well (even though they obviously sugar coat it for us, but the sentiments are clear - it's hard).

So, they chose this. They knew this was going to be hard. A harder, more difficult, placement if they were to go down this path. And yet this was their choice!!

Why?

And here comes that NEED into play.

Yes, I do think that they needed this. They needed each other. They needed to not be separated for 18 months not knowing if and how often they could get to see each other or be together (maybe, if allowed, once in 3 months, and only if their units allowed the time off at the same time). They needed that person that they trusted and KNEW that would stand by their side, that would support them, be their rock, catch them when they fall, be by their side in their time of need, just like they always have been.

They are each other's PERSON. The one that would ALWAYS be there through good and bad.

They both put it down in words:

JM

And JK

Shock, awe... I must be one of those delusional Jikookers that believe JK's lyrics were not describing his relationship with us, the fans. Another song written for the one person they love, yet given as a gift to Army.

And in his very subtle but intelligent way, he told us that himself:

"Even when I was working on the song, I really wanted to release it as a fan song".

Just like JM did, eh?

Would it be too hard to just say : "I wrote this song for my fans"? He chose not to, didn't he? Once again we have choices here.

I digress.

You could replace NEED with WANT, if you will. Same same in this case, imo. Seeing how hard they fought to find their way to this exact point.

The first, the only idols to ever do this!!

Bottom line:

To me, using the term NEED in this context is not about them not being able to make it otherwise, but more about a choice made to have that person they feel closest to, the person that has since forever been their emotional anchor, the person that lifted them up when they fell, the person that stood by them, cared for them, supported them when they were struggling. The person that KNEW them to the core and would be there by their side to get through this together with.

Each other.

[reddesires]

I stumbled upon your blog and love your Noa fics especially the bathing one and your most recent courting ones! I love your characterisation of him 💕

Can I please request Caesar courting fic pls! Desperately need more of him on your blog! Thank you🩷

Caesar Courting Headcanons [Caesar x Human!Reader]

Caesar x Human Reader

Fandom: Planet Of The Apes

Rating: No Warnings.

A/N: I really think that Caesar is an Acts Of Service king. He shows his love best that way, but you can sprinkle in some words of affirmation here and there since he knows that humans often need assurance of love vocally. I know this isn't a full fic but I had these headcanons written out already, I promise in the near future I'll make it into a whole fic ❤️

•First off, if you think that you'll maintain personal space whilst in the presence of Caesar, you'd be dead wrong. You can guarantee that he'll practically be breathing down your neck making sure that your by all means in top condition, you could be doing daily tasks and sure enough your favorite ape man is somewhere nearby watching.

•He's gonna want your input for things that should be generally for his advisors, but your opinion on things holds a special place for him. Essentially, you'll be his right-hand woman, and no one will convince him that isn't the right choice, starting as right-hand woman to wife after all.

•Your gonna have a chauffeur if you're not within the colony. If he's held up by responsibilities and unable to accompany you, then he's send Rocket or even Blue Eyes to go with you. He'd rather take no risks when it comes to your safety.

• 👏PROVIDING👏 he's determined to make sure that you are as comfortable and fulfilled as possible, as your potential mate (in his mind, you're already his mate sooo) he has to display his resourcefulness. He's aware of most human customs and how difficult life can be when without the luxury of certain necessities that you were used to having before the colony so he's more than willing on being on the hunt for it in the abandoned human locations.

•Whatever free time he has is time spent with you. it's a no-brainer that he's an avid quality time type of guy. All the stress of looking after the colony and constantly being dragged into various meetings and such, you put him at ease with your presence. The usual scowl that resides within his expression softens as he looks at you when you quietly speak to him about whatever crosses your mind.

•Sharing meals with Caesar and his boys up in top nest, you were taken aback the first time he requested it but now it's a given since Caesar figures since you'll soon be joining his family as his mate you minus well share meals with them (your unware of his train of thought on this pfffttt). As soon as meal time is announced, you're off to top nest with an expecting Caesar awaiting your arrival.

•Can you guess who attended to the making of your hut and your comfy nest? You can guarantee that you'll be in possession of the finest pelts and the most structurally sound nest possible, your hut is honestly your sanctuary during the winter months since Caesar ensured that it was as warm enough for you to be comfortable after all you don't have the fur coat to protect you from the freezing temperatures.

•He gifts you with very specific adornments for you to wear, he's almost smug he notices that it's every day that you'll have the custom pieces on your person.

•Caesar is aware that you perceive his actions as him being gracious to you, but he has all the intentions of you becoming his mate. He understands humans have a more casual and outright dating culture, and he plans on speaking more plainly on his aim of becoming your mate. He just enjoys the chase.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

HELLO I moved last week and I have no WiFi or service in my flat (posting from a coffee shop) so I apologise for the lack of posting.

However, this was meant to be for today's wolfstarmicrofic prompt Basilisk, but it's officially much too long because I've missed writing to post lmao, so it's not a microfic.

(Ravenclaw Remus AU.)

"Lupin, you're patrolling with..." Moody flicks quickly through his notes, "Black."

"Oh, er... Alright," he says with a shrug, trying to pass himself off as calm.

Internally? Every single alarm is going off in his head.

Remus never exactly... spoke to Sirius Black, or his friends. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors aren't really destined to interact, and Remus would have chosen death over joining the Quidditch team. That didn't stop him from being one of far too many people in the school that had a major minor crush on Sirius.

Sure, he knew that Sirius had grown up rich and pampered. He always held himself in this way that made him seem ten times more important than everyone else. That wasn't exactly helped by the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Lily, Mary and Marlene were the only Gryffindors Remus has ever really tolerated. The rest are all pretentious as fuck. Everyone knows that.

Still, for some reason, his brain would short circuit whenever he was so much in the same room as Sirius. He still lays awake at night, humiliated about the time he accidentally caught Sirius' eyes and tripped over the bench in the Great Hall.

Joining the Order wasn't even a question for him. Anything to help them win the war. He hadn't exactly expected Sirius to do the same, but it just makes him feel like he's back in school. Frustratingly enough for him, Sirius has only gotten more attractive in the year since they've left school. It hasn't really mattered until now, though. He's been pretty successful in avoiding him. It's probably helped by the fact that he isn't even on Sirius' radar, but this? He's going to set the strangest first impression on the planet.

There's nothing he can do about it, though.

That's how Remus finds himself waiting outside the Order house, fidgeting with an unlit cigarette.

"Hey, Remus!"

There he is.

Remus looks up, shoving the cigarette back into the carton. Sirius has stopped in front of him, running a hand through his hair and grinning at Remus.

Leather jackets look weird on literally everyone other than him.

Remus has to jostle his brain into functioning. He blinks once, before finally mustering a polite smile.

"Hi. Should we get going?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

They walk in silence for a while, moving from spot to spot and taking the odd note.

Until Sirius decides he's done with all of that.

"Y'know, I was hoping you'd join the Order."

"Sorry?" Remus practically stops in his tracks, turning to Sirius with wide eyes. Shock ripples through him.

Hoping?

"I mean, I had a feeling you would. I'm just... glad you did, I guess."

"I didn't even know you knew I existed," Remus confesses quickly.

Sirius actually does stop moving, grabbing Remus' forearm and stopping him too.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, really. You existed on this... separate plane. I mean, you were you. Everyone knew about you. Why would I be on your radar?"

"Remus," Sirius says slowly, eyes boring into Remus'. It sends a shiver down Remus' spine. "All I did was think about you."

"What?" Remus sputters, a strange mixture of confusion and shock overwhelming him.

"Oh, I had such a crush on you." He shrugs like it's nothing; like what he just said hasn't turned Remus' entire world on its axis. "I thought that was obvious, I mean... you're bloody brilliant. Ravenclaw prefect, running a study group-"

"I can't believe you've even given me a second thought," Remus says, a little breathless.

"Merlin, I did. I remember telling James that I'd fight a Basilisk for you." Sirius chuckles to himself, but Remus is losing control over his own responses scarily quickly. "I know you couldn't stand me, but-"

"Who said that?"

"Nobody had to." Sirius watches Remus, a little puzzled. "You're not the biggest fan of Gryffindors, right?"

Well, he's not wrong.

"Besides, you couldn't stay in the same room as me. You literally fell over yourself trying to get away from me before."

"Oh, God," Remus mutters under his breath, his face heating up uncomfortably. His one comfort has been that Sirius didn't notice him embarrassing himself every time he walked into the room.

"Sorry," Sirius says suddenly, releasing Remus' hand. "I didn't mean to- Christ, I've made things even more awkward, haven't I?"

Huh.

He's not as confident as Remus thought.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- let's just forget I said that. Finish patrolling."

No.

Remus doesn't want to forget. He needs to do something, before Sirius never speaks to him again.

Hurriedly, he grabs Sirius' hand, pulling him into an alley nearby.

Well, he's committed to it now. No turning back.

"Remus, what-"

He pulls Sirius in by his stupidly perfect jacket and connects their lips before he has a chance to second guess himself.

Thankfully, Sirius wastes no time in falling into the kiss. His lips are soft against Remus', parting just enough for their tongues to meet.

The kiss is everything he could have imagined and more. Sirius is somehow both tentative and eager and he tastes like cinnamon and fuck, Remus may as well have died and gone to heaven. His hand involuntarily slides into Sirius' hair, and he's rewarded with a muffled gasp.

Okay, maybe Gryffindors aren't that bad.

[thefuseoftemptation]

wrong number

'you get a phone call and find out it's a wrong number but realize that you don't want to stop talking to the person at the other end. come to find out, he's from another decade.’

eddie munson x reader/ eddie munson x gn!reader

warning(s): cursing, au (not sure if it would be considered an au but imma put it), mention of modern time. I'm just putting tags I'm not even sure what to tag this under. lmk if there are more.

a/n: prompt # 4 from the strangerprompts by @allthingsjoeq @somnambulic-thing and @bettyfrommars. mkay, I've never done these types of things or participated before, but yknow, I took a shot and I liked it lol so thank you guys!

—

"What?"

Your voice was nothing short of clipped. The results of hearing your phone vibrate too many times for you to tolerate another call going unanswered.

It was abnormal in your opinion. To receive this many calls from the same number within a short time.

While sure, you occasionally complained about the lack of service that came through the device due to your inability to actually hold a relationship with anybody, much less a conversation, this isn't what you were looking for.

And if your shortness wasn't clear enough before, your annoyance must've been by the way you questioned a 'hello,' with a lifted brow. Not really saying it as one should when normally speaking to someone. That was, if anyone was even on the other side.

"Uh, hello." The voice imitated your previous tone, pulling out the last vowel as he sung it.

He.

If you had to guess, probably no more than your age.

"Huh, so you can speak? You know you could've begun with that? When someone picks up the phone after being called, who knows how many times," you state through your teeth, "the least you could do is have the decency to actually say something when they answer."

"Y’know I don’t like your tone, we’re going to try this again.” He mouthed.

“Wait, what? No-”

He hung up before you could refuse. Your phone pulled away from your ear as your mind tried to catch up with what just happened. And in the midst of that, your phone vibrated, again.

Your finger hovered over the button as you eyed the device, sliding it over when you’d been staring long enough.

“Hello?” You questioned, unsure. The shift in your tone is clearly obvious.

“You learn quickly.”

The same voice replied back, and his response had you narrowing your eyes.

Asshole.

“I had said it before. You were the one who needed the lesson in how to answer back.” You reiterate.

“Well, m’not about to respond to somebody who starts a conversation with 'what.' I mean, have you no manners?" The guy said. You could hear the lilt in his voice and how he seemed to be grinning on the other side, but you had to shake your head from thinking any further on it because there was still a question that you'd been meaning to ask.

"Who are you?"

"It's your conscience, clearly I haven't been able to get through to you which is why you're probably lacking, well, manners, but- worry not, for I am here."

You weren't sure if it was you still trying to comprehend everything that's happened in the last few minutes, or that this guy knew how to pull conversation so easily that you went along with it- but you hadn't even realized he never properly answered or that he just lowkey called you out on something you knew was evident to a blind person.

And you didn't even correct him, and rather than just hang up on someone you didn't know, you stayed on the phone and chose to enlighten him.

"Hm, so that's what that was? Who would've thought I'd have one of those," you sighed and shrugged, leaning back against the bed frame. You could hear him snort at the small insult you'd given yourself, hearing the feign in your voice was enough to let him know your humor was in tack.

It made you grin. The first of many, and the first in a while to tell the truth. You also couldn't stop yourself from thinking about how this was probably the longest conversation you've ever held with someone.

"I'm Eddie." His voice pulled you from your thoughts, trying to catch up in the moments you'd been away.

"Huh?"

You could hear chuckling before it was repeated. "My name. You asked me who I was."

Eddie.

It didn't sound familiar. You didn't know anyone named Eddie, but then again, you didn't really know anyone and you had questioned it when you guy's began talking. It was a number you'd never seen before either so there was that.

You hadn't realized you'd been quiet until Eddie spoke.

"Y'know, this is where you tell me your name." He remarked. "We really gotta work on your communication skills and social cues." Unbeknownst to you though, since you only just met the guy, he shouldn't be one to talk.

You let out something between a scoff and a breathy chuckle before telling him yours. And Eddie repeated what you did moments ago- saying your name under his breath, to himself- as if he was worried he'd forget it in those few seconds.

It was easy to get into conversation with him, primarily because he kept pulling you into things he’d knew would get a response out of you. Like saying shit that you’d end up reprimanding him for because it annoyed you.

He knew that, and you weren’t so sure you liked how transparent you seemed to be. You’d known him for only a short time and he already knew how to push your buttons. Which you told him but his response was anything but what you expected it to be. He simply shrugged it off, telling you that ‘you let it get to you.’

To which you rebutted fully knowing he was right, which annoyed you more. Though other than that, the conversation between you two had been decent.

There were a few times when you had been confused by what he’d been speaking about, but you just assumed it was the way he was. I mean, the guy spent- you’re guessing- most of his time today calling the wrong number, only to hang up on you just to call you again because he didn’t like your tone. And then went on to call you out on your shit, which by the way, you still haven’t let go of. Either way, you just thought that what he was talking about, was how he spoke. A sort of slang, you know? I mean, now, that’s all people use these days.

Who were you to question it? It’s not like you could ask anybody what it meant. You weren’t even sure what the words were yourself. I mean you did but nobody said that sort of thing anymore.

There were a few moments of silence that occurred, mainly between your guys' turns in speaking. It wasn’t until you heard him on his end that you asked what he’d been up to. He kept muttering something under breath.

Well, it was more him humming, every other minute or so though you’d hear a word, and the more he hummed- the more familiar it sounded.

“Is that…..Metallica?” You peeked, unsure if you were right. His side went quiet the second you said it, and you could assume it was because you were likely wrong in your guess.

“Y-You know Metallica?” Eddie enounced. He was standing upright, his previous stance of leaning on the frame gone, as he stood there with wide eyes and mouth agape at your sudden query.

So you were right.

“Uh, yes.” It came out sounding like a question rather than you stating the obvious. “My Uncle used to listen to them. Whenever he came over when I was younger, that was all I’d ever hear. He’d tell us he grew up on them, so it was only right that we did too.” You explained. Eddie’s mouth stretched up at hearing your words, too caught up in the recognition you had for one of his favorite bands, for him to even comprehend what you just said.

“I’ve never-” and then it hit him. His brows pinched together as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Did he hear you right?  “Wait…grew up on them?” If it hadn’t been for the way you told the story, as if it actually happened, he would’ve thought you were pulling his leg. And you probably were so he just reacted logically. He chuckled. “Mkay, right right.” 

It was your turn to pinch your face together, not understanding his sudden shift or why he was chuckling to begin with. “What? It’s true. The man grew up on them.” You raised, still clearly confused by his response.

“Mhm, sure.” You could hear the way he pulled the word, like he wasn’t convinced at all. Why was it so hard for him to get that what you were saying was true? “He’d have to be my age, kid.” He voiced.

W-What? 

“Excuse me?” You uttered, sitting up from your bed frame. Not only were you confused but you were getting a little freaked out. He sounded young, your age, give or take. There was no way you had been conversing with a guy in his 50’s.

“You heard me, he’d have to be my age. There’s no way this guy grew up on them. The band isn’t even that old, it hasn’t been that long. I mean, I get we were joking before but man, you really got me there. I almost fell for it!” Eddie said. “How old are you?” He managed through his breathy laughs.

You could feel your heart pick up, the genuineness clear in his voice. He really thought you were joking, that everything you just said in the last few minutes was made up. But it hadn’t been and that’s what had you getting up from your bed. This was beginning to be too much for you.

“E-Eddie, what are you talking about? You’re freaking me out.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so amusing anymore. His face fell upon hearing your tone. The humor he once found in the situation, now gone, as he stared ahead. You sounded worried, alarmed even. It was quiet for a few seconds until he spoke, his tongue swiped his bottom lip before he did so.

“Uhm, look t-this isn’t-” his hand wiped down his face. “W-What are you talking about, man? One minute we're laughing and joking around and the next you’re telling me about your Uncle growing up on Metallica. There’s no way! Mkay?” He was getting agitated, visibly shaken up as he thought about you on the other side in the same state. “Like I said, the band isn’t even that old. It's only been a couple of years, it’s 1986 for christ sake!” And though he had been saying it all so fast, you still understood them. It’s why you felt yourself unable to move upon hearing his last few words.

1986. 

The numbers repeated over and over in your head as you stood there. 

“W-What?” You stuttered, voice shaky as you asked. It wasn’t possible. “It’s not!” You raise, your hands moving with a mind of their own as you swiped out of where you were and looked at the screen. In the corner of your phone, the current date stared back. The time you were currently in. As in, right now. You could hear Eddie speaking but because you didn’t have it against your ear, you couldn’t tell what exactly he’d been saying.

It’s not possible, it's not possible, it’s not.

He said it like it was true. He didn't just think it was 86', he was saying it like he knew it was. It was just impossible, the year he said, wasn’t the year you were in.

You lifted the phone back up to your ear, hands unable to keep still as you look ahead. Your eyes glassy as you spoke.

“Who are you?”

Eddie’s breath picked up at the way you questioned it, your voice at a whisper. He ran his hand through his hair again, already disheveled from how many times he’d done it prior to when you went quiet.

“I told you. My name is Eddie....and it's 1986."

Your eyes shut as he uttered his name, the lack of deceit evident.

—

a/n: I wasn't sure how to end it.

feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[lumpyspaceprincess05]

Til death do us part

Pairing: Luke Castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

Warning: angst, betrayal, violence, mentions of blood

Word Count: 1.3k

Author note: I really hope you like it!

Summary: After Luke admitted to working with Kronos, he wants you to escape with him. Will you go?

Tensions were high, why wouldn't they be? Luke brought Percy out into the woods where he figured everything out. He was the traitor that they had been desperately searching for. Now, he wanted to recruit Percy to help Kronos with his plan of revenge against the gods for what they had done to him before Zeus took over.

After his failed attempts at convincing, Percy lunged at Luke, sword in hand ready to deal the first blow, but Luke was faster. Always had been. He smirked as the sound of metal clashing over and over echoed through the quiet forest.

Luke was becoming increasingly frustrated. He was angry. This was not how it was supposed to go. By all means, he was not losing. Well, that was until Annabeth removed her invisibility cap and revealed herself to Luke. His smile dropped. If she was here then that means you must be close by.

He already wasted enough time.

The adrenaline coursed through his veins as he fought back even harder against the two he once considered his friends. He eventually overcame them and they were now sprawled on the dirt, trying desperately to regain themselves and capture him.

"Luke!" Your voice echoed as you finally emerged from the tree line. As soon as you saw him, you felt relief and ran over to him nearly knocking him over after jumping into his arms. He smiled as he steadied himself and wrapped his arms around you in response.

You pulled away and cupped his face as you examined him for injuries. "What happened? It sounded like a fight was going on. Are you hurt anywhere?" Your anxiety settled a little as you saw no bruising or blood on his person.

"(y/n), I'm fine. See?" He took hold of your hands that cupped his checks and just held them in his. He looked deeply into your eyes as he gently caressed the back of your thumbs.

"(y-y/n)...get away from Luke." Annabeth coughed, finally regaining her strength. Your head snapped around and you saw both her and Percy lying on the ground and covered in dirt. Also, was that blood falling from Annabeth's cheek.

You quickly rushed over to them wondering how you hadn't noticed them before. "What the hell happened to you guys?" You slowly helped your friend sit up and guided her to lean against the tree.

"It was Luke." She quickly coughed out before losing her breath.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by that, Annabeth?"

"He's the traitor. He stole Zeus's master bolt and Hades' helm to start a war with the gods. He and Ares used Percy to deliver the bolt to Kronos himself-" Your heart broke at this revelation.

You stood from her side and slowly walked back to where you left Luke standing. A tear rolled down your cheek as you looked at your boyfriend. He avoided eye contact with you, feeling guilty that you had to find out this way.

"Tell me that she isn't telling the truth." And when he remained silent, you had your answer. "Why, Luke?"

He ran a hand through his hair wondering if he should bring you into this. He then spoke.

"The gods need to pay for what they've done to us, and Kronos is the only one able to make that happen," he stepped forward and brushed a loose piece of hair behind your ear before finally settling on your cheek.

"I'm doing this for you, for us. Don't you get that? I want us to be free from our parents. Free to make our own choices. Free from the monsters that want to hurt us. I don't want to live in fear of their wrath anymore. Worrying every single day that we'll never be good enough for them. That they can claim us and just easily disown us without any remorse." He poured his heart out as tears left his eyes. How did I not notice that he reached his breaking point? Have I really been that oblivious to his feelings?

The both of you were in tears. Luke quickly wiped his away as he turned towards the treeline. He grabbed his sword and began cutting into the air until a portal of blues formed.

"I love you, (y/n). I want to love until the end of life itself, but I can't do that with Zeus still on that throne." He reached his hand out to me. "Come with me, please."

The world stopped. Your eyes moved between his open hand and him.

Did you want to go with him? Of course, you did. You would follow him to the very ends of the earth if given the chance. Why would you even consider declining his offer? You loved him with all your heart, mind, body, and soul, and you would do nothing more than spend the last of your days fighting by his side.

He looked at you with desperation you had never seen from him before. He knew you would come with him, but he had a tiny little piece of doubt when you started hanging out with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover. Did their ideals get to you?

There was a war coming and your lover wanted you close to him. This was the only way he knew he could protect you... if you left with him.

You quickly wiped your tears and raised your hand up to his, but a quick shot of a small sword prevented them from joining. Luke cursed under his breath when he saw that Annabeth had quickly recovered her strength and now she held Percy's sword, ready to finish him off once and for all.

Luke quickly grabbed hold of your arm and turned you around with your back to his chest. He held the sword against your neck.

"Drop your weapon if you don't want me to hurt her."

You quietly called him wondering why he was doing this. You had already agreed to go with him. Why did he have to put on a show if the both of you could just run to the portal? You just decided to trust his judgment. He would never hurt you.

"You're bluffing. You'd never harm her." Luke scoffed as he pressed the sword harder against your neck. It made a small cut into your skin and blood trickled down. Ok, that stung a little.

"Do you want to test that theory, Annabeth? Do you really want to be the reason why one of your friends doesn't make it out of here alive to see the sunrise tomorrow?"

She thought about it. Luke was not in his right mind anymore so who's to say he wouldn't go through with his threat. She slowly lowered her weapon and watched as Luke walked backward pulling you along until he disappeared into the portal.

You were both gone.

Percy groaned as Annabeth rushed over to help him up. She quickly wrapped one of his arms around her neck and her free arm around his waist.

"I can't believe that he hurt her. That seems out of character, even for him." He rolled up his sleeves and looked at all the bruises that had gained from the fight.

"It was all a show." She said, matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" She shook her head. Oblivious as always.

"He was offering her a way out."

"A way out of what?"

"If Luke held her with a sword to her neck, who's to say she went with him out of her own free will." The cogs started to turn in his brain and a light bulb went off. His face dropped soon after that revelation.

Guilt plagued his mind. "Do we have to tell Chiron about this?"

Annabeth remained silent as she gathered her thoughts. "I didn't hear their conversation really well. Did you? What I just told you right now was just purely speculation." She stated before they began their journey back to camp.

[threepandas]

The Vod's List: Yandere Clones

The Galaxy changes, thanks to spit.

It's not even the first time it's happened, in my peoples history. But it's... kinda weird it happend? Twice? The FIRST time we actually PLANNED for it to happen. It was biological warfare. But this? This was just an accident. One that could have KILLED somebody.

Cause, see, the Techganic people? Are... well to put it lightly, we are the result of centuries of an ideological and spiritual holy war, that nearly tore our plant apart. The two sides don't really "talk" to each other any more. Or... you know... ACKNOWLEDGE the other.

They are waiting for the other to "inevitably die off, due to their own hubris".

Yeeeeeah. Fun times. You can see why I wanted OFF that dirtball.

At least on other planets? The politics aren't PERSONAL... is what I naively thought. Forgot about empathy! You know, like an idiot! Kark. Where was I? Right! Galaxy, changed, spit. Okay, sooo... here's the thing? My family was part of the bloody bone-sucking Holy Naturalist Empire. (Translated to Basic, the word "Naturalist" has more of a specific to the body? Meaning? Not so much "nature of the world" as "nature of the Self" you know? And in THIS case, the word they are using for "holy" in ancient means less strictly "divine" and more "pure like the divine"? It's Complicated.)

And the Progress Collective was ORIGINALLY this whole project, supposedly, that got WAY out of hand, became a cult, then a religion, and tore the planet apart? It was a technological hive mind that want to "perfect" the planet to a "higher state of being". And then extend its reachs to the stars.

We held the karking LINE. Died in legions. Refusing to give our bodies to be made machines. Droids and puppets. Refused to give our freedoms, our homes, our planet. Any of it. But it was at the cost of our original bodies. The only way to truely fight BACK? Was to become... poison.

The Jedi who eventually came, some how FEELING our distress, dispite the blockade the Collective created on the interplanetary transmitters? Our planet's holonet connection? Said that the creator of Our Salvation was guided by the Force. None of us could really argue. The Salvation treatment was madness. A machine so ahead of it's time, we STILL aren't sure how it works, just that it DOES.

We had a choice.

It was no choice at all.

And now? NOW? Kriffing CENTURIES later? I am STILL a biological weapon! Not do much to non-human adjacent races, but anyone human or human modified? Human descended? Kriff, even a few humanoids! If they're CLOSE enough!

I have to take neutralizers if I plan to be swapping any sort of bodily fluids with ANY race that isn't on the "verified Safe" list. For MONTHS. So it can build up in my system properly. And the side effects? Ugh. Stars and Bone, is it AWFUL! Like I GET why people do it. You love who you love. But the nausea! All those meds just to counter the side effects of other side effects!

It made me kinda glad to be single. Stars, poor cousin Tango.

Of course, I AM responsible. I always carry a FULL kit of emergency neutralizers with me. Just in case, Bones and Blood forbid it, the worst should occur. I have some for accidental blood mixing, some for plasma, a couple for bile, and the majority of the rest? Saliva. The most common accident reported. My kit even has an emergency medical guide on a lil piece of flimsy, on the inside lid!

...I feel like I'm getting distracted agai- OH! Right!!

I work in the senate building, now! Astral, right?! Center of the GALAXY! First step to making a DIFFERENCE! Granted, I am basicly the assistant nobody of no one... but STILL! It's a start! I'm ON Coruscant! That's more then most people can say! I go to work passing THE jedi temple each day! You can see them coming and going from your airspeeder!

Unfortunately? Rent is BRUTAL. I live in a glorified closet with barely a bunk and a sonic shower to my name. Not even a proper 'fresher! It's not like we're traveling. Or my species needs to avoid water! No, I literally just CAN'T AFFORD IT! And if you saw the prices? Droids be carting you off to the medcenter before you know it! Where do they GET their water? The outer rim?! Do they deliver it by HAND?!

.....I haven't had my Caf. Ignore me. I just miss feeling proper CLEAN. Sonic showers just... I know it's a psychological thing, but it doesn't FEEL as clean, you know? I am pouting. Pouty me. Unhappy.

Wait... what time is i- OH KARK!!!

See, on Coruscant there is no real "beating" the traffic. But there ARE certain steps you can take to cut travel time. Like making sure you're on the Senatorial speeder. It has right of way and is pretty comfy. And? If I get ON it early enough? Blend in with the walls? I not only can't get kicked off by some plasbone slimeball of a "I think I'm better then you" senator's aid... but they'll run their mouths!

I have learned SO MUCH that way~!

Unfortunately for me? The Caf merchant was REALLY popular today. So dignified I am NOT.

"Hold the 'LIFT!"

It more a desperate plea then an order, but two seperate armored hands immediately reach out and stop the turbolift's doors from closing. Out of breath behind my Goverments mandated mouth gaurd, I struggle to catch my breath as I finally make it. The kriffing thing makes running almost impossible. It makes most things karking near impossible.

"Tha... thank! You!" I manage to pant, trying not to double over. I am a bit light headed. It's hard to remember what I'm supposed to do when I'm like this. "Kriff! I hate running. Can.. never breathe! Afterwards!"

The lift is full of Coruscant gaurds, their mysterious gazes presumably locked onto me. I could only assume, given how their helmets were turned towards me, but ultimately it was impossible to tell. The gaurd standing next to me was more heavily painted then the others. I still couldn't for the life of me figure out what the marks MEANT. Rank maybe?

"Should we be requesting a medical droid?" Came the mechanized voice of... I was fairly sure the one to my left? I turned to address the one I was preeeeetty sure had spoken. It was a small, echo-y lift.

"No, no. It's just the mask. Makes it kinda hard to breathe. Gover-"

I never got to finish explaining. Just as we reach the Speeder platform. As the doors began to open. An explosion ripped the world apart. The very mask I disliked so much, likely saving my lower jaw from being ripped completely off. The turbolift slammed back, crashing, durasteel screeching as supports ripped apart and gave way.

Rapid fire, more explosions. The Gaurd next to me grabbed me, tucked me tight as they braced. Away from the exit. As.. the world... slowly LEANED.

All I could do was stare, terrified, down at the sheer drop of the now frantic Coruscant traffic below. Commuters desperately trying to avoid falling debris. I could hear alarms. The transparasteel below my face cracked.

Wait.

Below?

The 'lift had leaned. MORE then leaned. It was half unmoored. Hanging out into open air. I clung to the gaurd that held me, my caf dropped long ago, now seeping like dark blood through the cracks to drip... drip... drip... out into that terrible drop.

I.. I couldn't breath. My heart was pounding. Too fast. Too hard. Oh Stars that take us in the End, oh Bones and Blood, that we are! C-can't BREATHE! I managed to make a hand unseize. Rip the glorified muzzle from my face, so I could suck in air. I was drooling. Like a mad hunt beast. A panic response, I remembered distantly.

So far down. Oh Stars. We were going to fall so far down!

A creak. A snap. We jerked and swung downwards. I think... I think I sobbed. Pressed as tight as I could make myself to the red heavy gaurd. He was sturdy. Hold strong. I could hear the other gaurds working quickly and in tandem behind me. But... but I was frozen. Useless. N..nothing but dead weight.

I must have started babbling. Apologizing. Because the helmet near my head turned slightly, the arm around my waist tightened just a bit.

"You have nothing to apologize for ma'am. We were trained for this. Made for this. Not you. You're going to be just fine, all right? We'll get you out of here. Just stay calm and try not to move."

We are almost out. Almost free. When the next attack hits. The cheap duracrete crumbles and we DROP. Gravity releasing us for a few, brief, and terrifying moments.

I do not face them with dignity. I am terrified. A fractured, strangled, scream trying to rip its way free of me. Fear too great to let it. Some stars blessed 'Lift cord catches, arresting our fall violently. We slam into the side of the building the Senatorial Speeder pad is on. Throwing gaurds around the lift pod. Smashing us all together.

The man holding me has his helmet knocked off in a violent bounce that leaves his jaw sporting a shallow but painful looking scrape from someone's boot. Two panes of the transparensteel are just... GONE. Howling wind a deadly reminder of what waits below, should anyone fall through those holes.

"Hammer, Tricks! Get those doors open NOW! I don't care if you have to BLAST them open! We are running out of time and I'd prefer not to learn what the low levels taste like at SPEED." Growled a commanding voice in my ear. Then the voice turn reassuring. "We got you. You're not dying here. We're getting out, okay? Just hold on."

I managed to nod. Drool had long ago overwhelmed my mouth, now painting my chin, smearing everywhere. A mess. It mixed with my tears and some part of me was screaming. Dangerous, dangerous! But... but all I could see was that DROP. Gonna fall. Oh Stars, gonna fall! Please. Scared. Don't let go!

I pressed closer. Ignorant of the way my drool wet cheek pressed against the still bleeding wound on his his face. Ignorant of how I was doing the ONE THING I had been warned time and time again to NEVER EVER do.

The turbolift door gave a screeching clunk as they were force out of place. Toppling away. The gaurds ignored it, immediately getting into action. There was a patrol speeder clearly waiting to get into position. One by one the jumped into it. Careful not to destabilize the already precarious lift any further.

Finally it was our turn. And? With a gut turning drop as I was carried down? We were safe. The Speeder immediately making room. I cried. Clung. It took me entirely too long to remember that something might be amiss. It was only when the gaurd I was clinging to stumbled. Admitted to a "bit" of a headache. That everything came crashing back.

Like ice water to the soul.

Oh Stars! What have I DONE!?

I scramble for my neutralizers. The full anti-spectrum kit. Oh Stars! It's in his BLOOD! I stared in horror at the damning sheen of my own spit against his cheek, my hands shaking, trying to rip open the pack. A medic takes it from me. Opens it for me and reads the flimsy guide in side. Curses.

There is no way to REALLY know who was exposed to me. So everyone has to go to the medcenter. Immediately. Get emergency shots just in case. Then follow up with medical droids for a couple weeks afterwards. BARE MINIMUM.

Why? Because my spit carries organic nanites. They hunt and DESTROY anything they deem "non-native" to the body... as defined by MY species. They ignore obviously alien races but human adjacent ones? They were DESIGNED to destroy augmented humans. "Purge" them of their enhancements. They can't tell they difference. Alien humanoid? Augmented Techganic? Same thing, right?!

Without the neutralizers? The nanites will RIP PEOPLES BODIES APART. And even WITH them? All it does is soft reset them to whatever current race their in. They still cause massive problems and medical trauma as they go about "fixing" any perceived damaged. Like, you know, medical devices. Or shrapnel.

They are meant to break and cannibalize what they can. Fix indiscriminately. If it causes YOU unimaginable agony? So be it. At least you will be "whole". Die Technoganic. Pure. The pain has KILLED people. The nanites? Dumb enough to attack VITAL STSTEMS they deem "wrong". Killing their hosts before they themselves can FIX anything. They were a WEAPON. And... and I infected an innocent man.

I am a monster.

All I can do, is apologize. Again and again and again. Stare in horror, into the eyes of the man who SAVED me, and know that I returned the favor by poisoning him horribly. If there was room? I would grovel. This is... this is unforgivable.

He grimaced past the building headache. Pats my shoulder.

The worst part is... is no one is blaming me.

T-they SHOULD be...

The hand on my shoulder spasms, grip turning crushing as my savior's body violently seizes. His hands shoot to his head, limbs twitching and lashing. Blood trickles from his nose. Eyes shut tight against some terrible pain. They've GIVEN him the shot! It should be countering the nanites! The only reason he should be in this much pain would be if there was something lodged in his brain!

All at once... like a doll with his string cut... he relaxes. Just in time for us to arrive at the Medcenter. They try to usher me away from the gaurds. Push them off towards some "take care of it yourself" corner of nowhere.

I throw a FIT. Loudly.

I am prepared to sit on the floor and scream and cry like a youngling, and it must SHOW, because they hurriedly rush us along. People GET their kriffing bacta. Their technoganic poisoning shots. Yes, I had to harrass the nurses it digging the shots out of storage. NO it couldn't KARKING WAIT!

I learned my saviors name was "Fox". That he's actually stationed in the same building as where I work. The Senate.

Thankfully? "I got BOMBED" is a valid excuse not to show up to work. I was allowed to head home. Fox even escorted me. Showed me where the Gaurds all get their off duty meals. Pretty spicy! But good! I don't really notice how clear headed Fox seems. Surely he always was, right? I can't have CHANGED anything, right?

I don't notice him bracing for headaches that never come. Having thoughts that don't slip away. Seeing the world and for once... REALLY seeing it. Being about to trace all the changes back to one person. The smiling, laughing, soul who NEEDED him so much.

He...he was MADE to be needed. To serve and protect. But does everyone DESERVE his service?

Huh... a strange new thought, that one.

But THIS one... this one might make The List. He really hopes she does. Nodding to a passing vod, his eyes drift back to her. She was warm. Stands as a rare bit of bright in Coruscant's filthy everything. He'd... He'd really like to keep her. Feels too soon, but it's true.

Everyone else have their generals. What do the Gaurds have?

Maybe this? Might be nice.

He hopes she makes the List.

[klutzyroses]

IkeVamp HCs: Virgin S/O

How do they react when they find out their s/o is a virgin during their first time and was embarrassed to say anything?

Suitors: Napoleon, Arthur, Comte, Charles

Warnings: NSFW, loss of virginity, Minors DNI

He froze when Y/N let it slip that she had never been with a man before. And she decided to tell him this now?

Napoleon

He hovered over her for a second, his eyes watching her nervous orbs twinkling with trepidation and...appeared a little glassy.

He had noticed she seemed hesitant to take off her clothes and he had assumed it was because she was nervous that it was her first time with him as his lover.

Not her first time at all.

He reached down and held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes with a stern look. He wasn't mad, or disappointed, he was just... concerned.

"Nunuche...why didn't you say anything?"

"I...I just...It's embarrassing and I don't know what to do and...I.."

His heart panged a little when he saw the mist in her eyes thicken with shame.

He found it worrisome that she would lie about this, luckily, they had only just gotten through foreplay when she made her accidental confession.

He would've felt terrible if he had only found out after it was all said and done.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Nothing at all."

He pressed his forehead to hers, sighing.

"Geez, don't lie to me about this kind of thing. I could've hurt you, nunuche."

He won't say it, but he feels a bit proud, to be her first and her last, which is why he will be sure to be gentle with her and make it special, so that he can show her just how much she means to him.

Arthur

Um...do we remember what Arthur said in his first chapter? Because Y/N most certainly did.

Which was why when Arthur had her under him, his dexterous fingers sliding under her panties to feel her wetness as he slipped the first in slowly, he paused when he felt something...unusual.

Y/N watched the slight confusion swimming through the sapphire eyes before they widened with the realization that he had just made contact with her fully in tact hymen.

"Y/N...?"

"I...Arthur...um..."

She stuttered and bit her lip, trying to come up with an excuse. She flinched when he levelled her with a slightly hurt look that caused her to tear up.

"You could've told me, you know?"

"B...But you said...you preferred..."

Now it was Arthur's turn to flinch. Yes, he remembered what he had said the first night they met. There were so many things he did wrong that night and it seems one of the things he said stuck with his beloved long after the fact.

"I thought if you knew, you wouldn't want to...I mean."

"Oh Y/N...Darling, no..."

The amount of kisses and cuddling she received contained every ounce of regret for putting those ideas in her pretty head.

"I'm sorry luv. Let me make it up to you. "

He slides his fingers through hers as he wipes away a stray tear.

"It'll hurt at first, but I promise, this will be an experience you won't forget in a long, long time."

And he most definitely made sure of that. Once the pain dissipated, Y/N is almost drowned in more ecstasy than she knew what to do with.

Comte

The master of the mansion had his suspicions but they weren't confirmed until he had asked her directly just as he started unlacing her dress for her.

He knows it's not... uncommon for people to lie about these things, and while it was easier for men to get away with it but women...

Indeed, it'd be quite difficult to lie successfully about her virginity.

Which is why he asked in the first place, running a finger down the line of her back, tickling her smooth skin.

When met with her uneasy silence, he sighed and gently turned her to face him.

"Had I not asked, would you have told me yourself, ma cherie?"

The slow shake of her head caused a flicker of sadness to mar his visage as he caressed her cheek.

"Ma cherie, that isn't very responsible. You should tell me these things."

"I always wanted...to give it up to someone special...like you and now I feel...It's pathetic!"

Having travelled to her time before, he was somewhat aware that there was something of a stigma around women maintaining their virginity past a certain age, so he understood where she was coming from...but still...

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, ma beaute. I'm actually honored that you deem me worthy of being your first. But please be more honest about it. I loathe to think what would have happened had I hurt you out of ignorance."

He tucked her hair behind her ear, cupping her soft red cheek with a tender smile.

He would take care of her and make it the best she would ever experience. After all, he had every intention of not just being the first, but also the last.

Charles

Unfortunately, by the time Charles realized that his belle was as untouched as freshly laid snow, he was already inside her....oops.

He just taken notice of the pain all over Y/N's beautiful face and froze in his place before becoming aware of the ominous slickness down there. One glance at the bit of bleeding sent a chill down his spine as it hit him.

"Y...Y/N, you're a...I'm sorry, I didn't realize!"

He is so apologetic, peppering kisses all over her teary face as she shakily lets out a few whimpers, each one sending a cut into his heart.

"You...didn't realize...because I didn't tell you. It's not...your fault."

Her squeaky, pained reassurance did little to assuage his worries.

Charles remained as still as could be, not wanting to tear or break anything else. His large, cat-like eyes were wide, mournful and his lover feared he would also start crying.

"B...But why didn't you, now you're bleeding! I'm so sooo sorry!"

"I...I just felt...I thought it was embarrassing. I never did this before, because I wanted...to give it to someone who loved me and I know that you're more experienced than me and I..."

She couldn't continue before she had to bite down on her lip to restrain another onslaught of pained noises. She got her point across though, because Charles understood.

"Please don't be embarrassed! It's really sweet and I'm really happy you're letting me be the one to...Just...please don't lie to me anymore..."

Now, he actually did look like he was going to cry, nuzzling her like a love starved kitten, his tongue darting out to flick away a tear on her cheek.

Y/N swallowed thickly as she responded with a jerky nod.

Charles was always going to smother her with love, but now, she might as well have been gold. He will bend over backwards to make sure her first time with him would be earth shattering to make up for the pain.

🌸

[arxxq]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

Oh wow....I'm alive? My writing is rusty....

Rin and Sae with a s/o who does figure skating.

(mentions of stress and breaking down? Fluff-ish angst)

(no gender implied)

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

He probably didn't know

Since he's busy with football/soccer as well

But when he found out he was well....he didn't know what to feel

He was impressed because figure skating takes a lot of flexibility

As well as a strong mentality

But when he saw you play, he saw you got 2nd place....

He was happy for you? But he could tell you weren't

You sat there in your room for hours not going out, not eating and not even talking. Rin isn't the type to worry but he is right now.

"(name)...please open the door,"

No replies. He sighed but when he held the door knob he found out it was unlocked. He entered the room and there he saw you, sitting on the bed with your knees to your chest.

It was silent...he didn't know what to say. No, it was more that he was scared to say the wrong thing.

"I could've done better...no, I should've done better," you muttered enough for him to hear.

"You did amazing-"

"Well not according to the judges," you cut him off, words full of hatred on yourself.

"You yourself know that there's only one winner...that's what you always say but being second is like..."

"being the first loser.." he continues. You then buried your face in your knees. "Love...you did your best. I'm proud of you. You're amazing, your mentality is strong enough to suffer being a figure skater...i probably wouldn't survive a day,"

"so cheer up okay...you can do better next time alright?"

"alright.." Rin gave a small smile satisfied with your response. "Cmon let's eat okay?"

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

He knows your standards

He knows you're strong

And he knows you're competitive and hard on yourself

But when he saw you win that day...he could tell even if he was a mile away

You weren't happy

Although you won first place you weren't happy

When you went to him after getting the medal and the bouquet he looked at you. Others would think he wasn't happy with that serious expression but he was looking at you with concern.

"why are you looking at me like that?" You asked with a smile.

"You can stop faking the smile...tell me what's wrong," he says with a straight face.

"What do you mean?"

"I know that look (name), you're not happy..I can tell,"

You stopped smiling. You looked down not wanting him to see you cry. "Tell me what's wrong amor..?"

And you broke into tears. "It just felt so lonely. I won but the others looked at me with envy and jealousy and it hurts....and my legs feel like there about to give up after...a-after learning the butterfly and the other tricks.."

He then sighed. "who cares what the others think?"

"I do..I do." Sae sighed. He took your hand and looked at you with a soft expression. "You did brilliant today...I know you love figure skating but for the sake of your health I think you should stop for now alright?"

You nod as a reply. "Alright then...let's get out of here, we're celebrating your win tonight,"

(all rights reserved Arxx/Hasinah)

(Ew my writing is rusty...)