#i just feel so connected to him as a character i could keep going

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: I'm Starting To Think That This Drow Guy Is Kind Of An Asshole Edition.

Probably a Ranger in the hunter subclass. I actually intended to multi-class him as fighter/ranger at some point and make that his official class, but I haven't had time/quite figured out the best build that would still suit him - Ranger makes a LOT of sense with his backstory, arguably more than fighter, but he's still supposed to be a magic-less brick-house with 19 strength who hasn't handled a bow and arrow in 10 years, so I'm not sure where that leaves us LOL

A lot of people have suggested that Berserk Barbarian would fit him well, but I think that implies a lot of other characteristics that do NOT suit him at all so 🤷

HE DIDN'T EVEN GO TO THE CRECHE, and honestly it made the game feel much more immersive to pick one path and stick to it like Halsin suggested, even if I did have to endure the shadow cursed lands without the shiny mace 😂

Probably for the best, it'd be a real shame if the story ended there just because he didn't like Vlaakith's attitude.

But yeah Lae'zel (who, for the record, I adore) never stood a chance in his playthrough. Sorry baby girl.

I'm either uninformed or we have different definitions of what constitutes a crush, but sure I'll play in this space LOL

He's both jealous but also kind of aloof when it comes to things like that. It's yet another symptom of his arrogance, where it seems unfathomable that anyone who has him would be genuinely tempted by someone else. He doesn't mind a normal amount of glance-stealing and flattery, even playful flirting to a degree, but if there's persistence or if his partner seems to seek another person out for things he thinks he should be providing, he feels threatened.

Also, he has a difficult time discerning that "deep emotional connection" does not equal "romantic interest". So, at least immediately after the events of the game, he's more likely to be made insecure by his partners forming deep bonds with others than any throwaway expression of physical desire or fleeting infatuation.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Let me preface this with the (hopefully unnecessary) disclaimer that this murderous dark-elf's opinions are not my own, and that I very much purposefully made a bit of an asshole character because I find that entertaining.

And now that you're hopefully primed for what's coming - DU drow is pretty damn judgemental of people's looks save for the rare times when they give him a good impression right off the bat. He notes people's appearances and makes preemptive assumptions about them without even realizing it. He definitely does not equal beauty to value or prowess (in fact he will very much still mock of you if you seem too concerned with your appearance) but he does prescribe things based on looks.

I don't think he'd take issue with what you're describing, It sounds like a pretty average body, but he would assume that person is weaker and less fit to "keep up with him", basically. Which kind of diminishes interest.

As far as to what he finds immediately attractive, he definitely prefers people who seem physically fit (not more than himself though - gods forbid). But, the caveat to this whole tangent is that once you get past initial impressions, he could definitely come to be sexually attracted to pretty much any type of body attached to the person he's in love with.

Thank you! There was no main event, just the building up of resentment over time and the opportunity she saw opening up when the Chosen's plan came into motion. She definitely didn't always hate him though, they had a fairly close relationship until his obsessive behavior and arrogance became an issue.

Thank you!!!

They call him the/that drow, dark elf, or "big drow" if there's more than one present. In private they might facetiously call him Bhaalspawn if they get tired of referring to him by race.

I'll be honest, I forgot whether or not I found it in his playthrough LOL but if he did stumble across that would be VERY funny. He'd be like "look at these idiots and their fake murder god. What kind of dimwit would worship carnage as a religion. Hey Shadowheart get a load of this-"

HAPPY YOU ENJOY HIM! I think his unique situation overall with having been such a overwhelmingly horrid person and forgetting all about it is my favorite bit. That's kind of vague, I know, but I often think of dreams I've had where I committed a crime or did something horrible, and that immediate feeling of relief and disconnect that follows immediately after waking up. That's kind of what I imagine it's like for him - he knows of the things he did, but he doesn't really. In theory it's all true but that's a truth far too fantastical for anyone to conceptualize even if it's put right in front of your face.

That, tackling the guilt (or lack thereof) of something you genuinely don't feel like you've done and the intricacies of it, that's a fascinating state of mind to explore. I love how many directions you can take that.

For me, having a character who is not good, but is not necessarily pure unadulterated evil, makes for a lot of complex thought experiments and contradictory values. DU drow has a lot of those - things he believes and abides by absolutely except for this specific instance, being contradictory is a pillar of his character and it can be a little challenging to keep up with it - but I'd be lying if I said I don't deeply enjoy that aspect as well all the same.

THANK YOUUUU It took me so long to figure out how to draw Astarion in a way I liked, I'm so relieved that others enjoy it too 😂

Shockingly he did succeed it and was immediately put-off by it, lmao. They wouldn't really develop much of a relationship for a while after that, so at that point DU drow just figured he was trying to get something from him and wrote him off, much as he did with everyone else with the exception of Shadowheart.

He didn't meet her at the Tiefling grove! I didn't even know you could meet her before-hand for the longest time. But he did super, duper kill her at camp of course.

He managed to hide the body and everyone else was none the wiser, huge blood bhaal-sigil on the ground aside lmao. He was a little shocked but didn't feel all that bad about it, kind of resigning to that primal feeling of satisfaction at a job-well-done that overwhelmed him instead. He decided she was too weak to survive out there and he had just spared her the trouble.

[class1akids]

hey! how are you feeling following these last chapters? tbh i just want it to end already 😅 but i have a question for you!! as a huge shouto and todo-fam fan what would be YOUR preferred ending for them?? either as what could happen in a possible chapter for the epilogue or in more general terms what do you want for them and for shouto in special in the future

Not good. I thought I was going to enjoy the epilogue, but tbh, after this last chapter, I can't imagine reading about Eri singing or having another Sport Festival without wanting to throw my laptop across the room.

The Todoroki family is really in a tough spot currently, because I don't really see an straightforward way to satisfy all the different characters' arcs. But for me, it should have the following components:

Touya lives. This is a big one. With Tomura, you could argue that he helped bring down AFO, with Toga you could say that her heart was saved, but where Touya was left off? A death would serve no narrative purpose. Even just with an open ending, there needs to be a hope that he can get better.

Enji delivers on his "I'll watch Touya" promise. He needs to make some kind of sacrifice where he puts his family first over his hero career. What form this will take? Idk.

Shouto and Touya need a moment. That moment of connection where Touya saw Shouto as a child needs to be spoken into existence somehow. I don't expect anything as sweet or idyllic as the Tgchk or Deku-Tenko moments, but I think Shouto deserves an opening from Touya even if it comes as a sarcastic comment about favourite foods. Like something fittingly low-key that gives us a glimpse of how they could eventually down the line build something.

Enji and Rei need to take Shouto off the pedestal and embrace him as a child. Shouto getting the "family hero label" and all the expectations that come with that now needs to stop. All the kids are masterpieces in their own beautiful ways and Shouto should be embraced with the unconditional love he deserves without any pressure of who he needs to be and what he needs to deliver to get it. All the other kids too.

Public fall-out addressed. This is a bit a stress-test on a society level. I think it's a given that the Todoroki family will stand by Touya (in contrast to Toga's parents who quickly disowned her). What will happen with Touya (prison, mental clinic, house arrest, some secret rehab program) is a test to see if anything changed. Also, how the public relates to Shouto who chose to save his villain brother, who is tainted by family scandals is a big question.

In the end, I'm hoping for an open, but somewhat hopeful ending. Rei, Fuyumi and Natsuo living in the new house, Touya getting the help he needs with a rehabilitation path, Enji putting him first and Shouto while obviously will keep his family close in his heart, being freed from the "hero role" and can be free to work on his own path and joining his friends.

I don't mind if he forgives Endeavor even - I feel like that's something he may decide for himself just to be rid of the anger, but it's a difficult balance because the past cannot be forgotten. So I definitely don't want the whiplash of a sudden chummy relationship with Endeavor and Shouto being handled as Endeavor's redemption trophy.

I think also a long-overdue hug from Rei and a reason to make Shouto smile genuinely are the only things I'm hoping from the epilogue.

[bibellebibuck]

Finale Thoughts

This is a long ramble that I’ve attempted to categorise and form into something coherent - but bear with me if there’s any mistakes, I’m working rn and didn’t have time to proofread🙏🏻

HENREN & MADNEY

I adore Madney and how inherently GOOD they are all the damn time. My favourite straights ever.

I know there’s differing opinions on this plot line but honestly I am glad that Madney are fostering Mara, for Maras sake. It’s a safe space her for where she’ll be loved and can keep in contact with Henren.

I do agree, though, that the constant struggles they put Henren through as they try to build their family is getting old and tired now, let them off the struggle bus, it’s time for a breather.

It’s a testament to how rushed this episode was that we didn’t even SEE the councilwoman at all. She just drops this bomb on the Henren family last episode and then disappears? No follow up? Okay.

My thoughts/hopes on these guys for S8 are; Madney will be left as they are once the Mara storyline is resolved (which I think won’t take long after the whole Gerrard situation is sorted) as they’ve had a lot going on with their wedding etc. I think they’ll be put aside for a while while other characters stories are expanded this season. I think it’s a possibility we’ll get another Buckley-Han baby after they see the sibling dynamic between Mara and Jee. Afterall, it was Maddie who commented on Denny and Mara “getting along so well” “like siblings”.

Henren specifically id like to see more of, I want Karen and DENNY! to have more screentime. Karen’s job is fucking interesting, SHOW US MORE SOMEHOW!! And Denny, what’s going on with his relationship with his dad now? This kids a great actor, give him a little more screen time.

BATHENA & AMIR

Now, Athena was bad ASS this episode. I love BAMF Athena with all my heart, that’s literally my mother. Her talk with Amir was emotional and I think well written (one of the few well written moments in this episode..) but it all went downhill from there. Amir’s rescue was rushed as fuck, I wasn’t tense at all, Athena basically showed up, burnt the place down and sauntered out with Amir like it was nothing. Ofc my girl is capable of this no problem… but it wouldn’t have hurt to have had more of a fight scene, maybe Amir being a little more proactive, then show them struggling to get out of the fire? Idk. Just SOMETHING to expand on the scene a little. I did like “I’m Mrs Bobby Nash” though, hell yeah you are <3

Oh also Yay! May sighted!! Love my girl, wanna see more of her in S8 I miss her sooo much :(

For S8, I think Bathenas marriage issues should be gently explored a little more, i feel this plot line wasn’t properly resolved during the cruise eps? Idk maybe I’m just a nervous child of divorce but I’d like to see some of their trust issues put to rest. I mean, just an episode ago Athena was terrified Bobby was going to off himself, and Bobby literally retired without telling her. It’s not healthy, I wanna see them work it out and get stronger together. I don’t want more conflict between them to cause this though, maybe they just start up a conversation when things have calmed down and agree to talk it out or go to couples therapy or something. Leaving them where they are right now will feel like a dropped plot line.

I want to see more of Amir but I sincerely doubt we will, I have a feeling he won’t even be seen in S8 at all to be honest. It’s a shame, he’s an interesting character that I’d totally love the see explored more. Someone suggested he could be a connection opportunity for the hospital? I like that. Tim, take notes !!

I also want them to stop murdering Angela Bassets hair. Let her slay, please.

BUDDIE

I wish I had more to say here, but sadly… I don’t. My heart is telling me we’ve been gently queer baited once again, but I think that’s just old scars hurting (Destiel and johnlock survivor ✊🏻), my head is telling me a lot of the hype was stirred up by us as fans giving journalists and actors comments a little too much credit.

This isn’t to say I don’t think Buddie is happening, i still have my naive little belief that if WILL be canon eventually. They’re just going to drag it out as long as possible for the drama and possibly to appease Those fans, and the older viewer base who won’t be pleased by buddie canon.

I was very disappointed by the scene after Chris left, where Buck just put his hand on Eddies shoulder. We can say all we like that the shoulder touch is Their Thing™️ but in that situation a hug was absolutely goddamn necessary. Idc about shipping, that man needed a hug from his best friend in that moment. I think Buck needed it too. They just said goodbye to their son for an indefinite amount of time ffs why are we standing here like absolute mugs.

S8 - I want gay Eddie this season. I want it.

I want gay Eddie and then I want them both to be single for a while and Then I want buddie. If they can fit this into season 8 while keeping a nice steady pace (I have little faith after this insanely rushed finale, but let’s give them the benefit of the short season doubt) then I want Buddie feelings realisation towards the end of S8.. possibly setting up canon for S9 or even ending S8 with canon and a cliffhanger.. maybe a good one this time though!

As much as I’d like to see Buck supporting Eddie as he navigates life without Christopher, I don’t think we’ll get many scenes between them at first. I think this is where Ryan is talking about Eddies isolation. He’s going to go to work, be with his family, then go home and be without his family, and it’s at this time that he’s going to be working on himself. To get better for Chris, and for his own mental health. This journey is his alone, and I think it (although a little painful) makes sense that Buck isn’t involved in this too much.

EDDIE & CHRIS

To sum it up.. OUCH!

Eddie is an amazing father, and if you think otherwise just block me. He made a mistake with Kim, that does not make him a bad father. Him respecting Christopher’s space and choices in this ep was soooo healing and lovely to see, he called Buck because he knows Chris trusts and loves him and needed somebody to talk to, and knew he wasn’t the person for that right now.

I’ve seen some people bothered about how it’s unrealistic for the Diaz parents to have gotten to eddies so fast after the incident. To this I say, how are you not used to 911s complete disregard for timelines/timeline realism at this point? Just let it happen and move on, like it’s a fantasy land where time isn’t real. Now, I’m not American so maybe I don’t get the extent of the distance between LA/Texas - but still, I enjoy the show more I think, because I don’t overanalyse the timeline 😅

What I DO find unrealistic is that Chris would call his grandparents and not Buck. I’m not looking at this through shipping lenses either, I’m saying that when Eddie had his breakdown, Chris’s first instinct was to call Buck. When Chris was upset and scared at the Ana situation, he went straight to Buck. And now this, he doesn’t talk to Buck at all before calling his grandparents?

It makes sense that he wanted to go to Texas as if he stayed with Buck he wouldn’t really be getting much space from his dad, and maybe he’d be thinking that Buck/Eddie would be on his case trying to force forgiveness on him while he’s there. But I think he first instinct would still have been to Call Buck to discuss the situation first, to confide in him, ask for help. Then he’d call his grandparents.

For S8 - I hate to be a downer but I don’t think we’ll see Chris this season. At LEAST the entirely of 8a, anyways.

As I mentioned earlier, I think this season will show Eddie growing and healing from this situation and becoming the person he wants to be, for himself and for Chris.

I think there is a lot of potential for us to finally get some Eddie & Maddie scenes, she could open a conversation with Eddie about her own struggles with feeling like an unfit parent for Jee - maybe Buck initiates this conversation, asking Maddie to speak to him?

I hope he will finally be able to put his insecurities about his parenting aside and stop trying to find Chris a mother figure, and accept that they’re a fine (wonderful, even) family unit as they are.

BUMMY / BT

Ooooohhh lord let’s get into it then.

It’s no secret that I hate this relationship. I do NOT hate it because I am a Buddie shipper, or because I’m homophobic (the fact that I have to clarify this is stupid, but the anon hate in my inbox means it’s necessary). When BiBuck became canon, I was OVERJOYED! I was excited to see Buck exploring his identity and enjoying a relationship with a new partner (I did want him to be single for a while originally, but it wasn’t a big deal, the Natalia relationship was barely a relationship anyways).

I initially had a bit of an ick from the way Tk kissed Buck to ~shut him up~ but I’m a bit of a hypocrite here because I don’t entirely hate this trope usually, but only when it’s between two well established characters who know each other well. At this point, Tk is still new to Buck so it did bother me a little. But, we move.

Then… the first date. I fucking hated this date, Tk almost outed Buck and then left him on the pavement like an a class ASS. I lost all interest in this relationship at this exact moment.

In this episode, on this date, we see Buck opening up about his relationship with Bobby as a father figure (WIN!! Let’s appreciate our small victories!!). Tk then gives us “but your fathers alive” which ?? What’s your point?? Why aren’t you comforting your partner right now?

And shared his own experience with having a shitty dad. We then get the daddy issues joke.

To detour for a moment; we all remember when Buck went to therapy and opened up about his sex addiction, right? How he was being vulnerable about his trauma/mental health, to the point that he was in actual tears… and then his therapist came onto him and slept with him. The show brushes this under the rug and even later makes a joke about it. We’ve all expressed our distaste for this in the past and rightly so. Aside from how morally wrong it was, it was also incredibly distasteful in a very real way.

We’re given a very close repeat of this situation in the finale. Tommy sexualising Bucks trauma is not only unfair on bucks character, but also a shitty slap in the face to real people in the real world too. How many times have we been sexualised for having “daddy issues”? The answer is a lot. This scene was Downright Offensive.

It’s so disappointing because in some ways this show is so progressive, and has handled some sensitive topics in such a great way in the past. But it’s really fumbled the bag with this one.

A large and hopeful part of me thinks all these tense/awkward/unhappy/unsatisfying BT scenes are a setup for BT bones in S8. If they wanted us to like Tk and be invested in this relationship, SURELY they’d make him more likeable & more supportive of Buck?

The awfulness of his character and the stilted scenes between him and Buck do feel intentional. And I reaaallly hope this is the case.

S8 - preferably, BT Bones off screen before the season even begins, Natalia style.

More likely, BT bones within 8a, due to Gerard’s return and the tension this will cause between him and Tk.

Most likely, BT bones by the end of 8b. I truly truly truly, with all my heart and head and hands, do not believe BT is surviving to season 9.

BUCK

just wanted to put in a little paragraph here about Buck specially, piggybacking off of what I’ve said about his trauma being sexualised etc.

They have consistently missed opportunities to flesh out Bucks trauma, and he has MANY to choose from. If they continue to ignore this aspect of Buck, it will be a great disservice to his character. I know we all joke about wanting Buck to go through more shit situations for the angst, and how we want him to have a big breakdown at some point but honestly - it really is overdue. I don’t just want him to suffer for funsies, I want his character to make sense, I want him to continue to be massively relatable, I want him to address his trauma and work through it and move on etc. etc. etc.

Here’s hoping we get the single Eddie and Buck arcs in S8/maybe 9 and both of them get therapy, properly.

RAVI

My boooyyy!!! The framing of that last shot, I do reckon Ravi will main soon. They didn’t drop his insane childhood lore, and built on him as a character (while Chim was at the academy with him) for no reason.

I am personally really looking forward to seeing him get a lot more screentime in S8. It’s what the people want!!!!!!

GERRARD

Why did they act like this was such a major twist?? Like why else would they have shown him last episode..

I don’t really understand how he can have been made captain of the same firehouse he was removed from for bullying a crew that is literally still there.. but for the plot I guess we’ll go with it!

I look forward to him finally getting his comeuppance in season 8, but the asshole he’s going to be to everyone sounds less fun.

Let’s look at what we might have in store, hm?

-Racist to Chim, Hen and now probably Ravi too.

-Homophobic to Buck.

-If Bobby is around, no doubt he’ll be demeaning to him.

-And, i fear, if he somehow knows about Eddies current situation, will he make snide remarks about him as a father? Idk, I wouldn’t put anything past the bastard.

I’d really like to see the team take a stand against him though, I know he’s their captain for now and they will, to an extent, respect him (or at least do as he says). But it would be nice to see some firefam crew solidarity the face of his bigotry and bullying. It won’t be realistic if any of them just stand by and listen/watch while he makes shitty racism/homophobic jokes to their family.

Going to be a fun (🫠) few episodes!

FINAL THOUGHTS

As an episode, this wasn’t horrendous, but certainly not great. As a finale, it was terrible. Underwhelming sums it up, disappointing emphasises it nicely.

I look forward to getting back to a full length season that has hopefully will be written a little more in advance than this one was. Let’s be optimistic, or this hiatus won’t be too enjoyable.

Can’t wait to spend the next few months binging Buddie fics and reading all your theories!! And don’t forget we get S8 BTS pics in just a few weeks 😭🫶🏻

Feel free to send me any asks if there’s something I’ve forgotten to mention that you’d like my thoughts on - or if you have any theories etc. I love to get asks from your guys 💛

[lover-of-mine]

i'm fine with the bt scene being what it was because it showed what is. a shallow superficial relationship that is not being written as endgame so I'm fine with them not having a more emotional connection make it more obvious its BONES in s8.

Okay, I'm gonna say this and I need everyone to know I genuinely mean it, I'm not fine with it. I am tired of the show giving Buck and Eddie love interests that exist to have no agency besides girlfriend/boyfriend or plot device for an exposition dump. I desperately wanted to care about bt. Buck being bi is such incredible representation and I spent the whole season waiting to be convinced I should like T and bt together for anything beyond the fact that they are a queer relationship but I keep coming up empty-handed. I like being a hater right now because no criticism of him is allowed without someone screaming that you're homophobic or hate gay people and that everyone in the show is problematic why doesn't he get a pass too so I am grabbing on to every wrong thing about him the same way people are blowing the good things to justify my aversion to him. But the thing is, T is a character who's being written in a way that is so hard to sympathize with when it comes to Buck. He has this shell that makes him rigid and he has this dry sense of humor and he could be interesting if he was willing to bend a little bit for Buck. That relationship was not something I could get behind when T left Buck on the curb, because while I do believe T was incredibly justified in not liking the situation Buck put them in, he could've communicated that better before he was literally in the car leaving Buck behind, so there Buck was once again in a relationship with someone who left him because they can't handle who he is. That was the impression I got from that first date and I keep waiting for them to be cute for me to move past it and the show is giving me nothing. Why did they make the choice to not let T dress up for the bachelor party and indulge Buck when the job by definition requires for him to change into a uniform so he could've put in some effort? Why did he let Buck walk around with his face covered in soot when they could've shown us a shot of him cleaning Buck's face before they walked into the room holding hands and give the impression that there's more going on there than a few makeout sessions? Why weren't they affectionate at the ceremony? Why wasn't that conversation in the hospital, where it would've shown a level of care and that joke could've been seen as an attempt to make Buck feel better about what was going on? Why are they always two steps to the left of being cute or having any fighting chance? And that's ignoring how intertwined Eddie is with the beginning of their relationship because that's just disturbing. The triangle thing is annoying as fuck if Eddie was not gonna get confirmed as queer and the sides wouldn't actually connect.

I think narratively Buck and Eddie getting together is the thing that makes the most sense for both of their characters, but if that's not gonna happen, I wanna care about the people they're with. I love Buck as a character, I want him to have a nice love story if for whatever reason we are not getting buddie because love is the thing he's been searching for, and whatever bt has going is not it. And the thing that's killing me is that it could be. It's the same thing they did with Taylor because if Taylor was as intense about Buck as she is about the job, they could work, but the show made a choice to use the development of her character to stir away from Buck. And T, he's just there. And it's frustrating. I don't even wanna get into the comparisons between buddie and bt because imma be honest I'm still processing the way the show had T refusing to dress on theme and then had Eddie suggest matching outfits in the next scene, what even was that?? But the way the show constantly takes the chances they have to give depth to their relationship, looks it in the eye, and runs the other direction it's just........... yk? This is Buck's fifth relationship and I can't for the life of me look at it and see where it's going because they are making it seem like it's going nowhere. T parallels Taylor all the time visually, when it comes to screentime he's just a step above Ali, he's nowhere near as developed as Taylor was at this point. I had hopes for that scene when they started to talk about parents, for 20 seconds, I believed they were gonna give emotional depth to them, but they didn't. And I was literally sitting here begging them to give me something to care about when it comes to them if they are gonna keep them together but I have nothing to show for it and I hate it. There's no emotional connection, they will probably breakup at some point during s8 and I'm just gonna be there "oh wow another failed romance what a surprise" while they keep playing up Buck and Eddie's partnership and not letting them go all the way, and it's just tiring.

And this is ignoring the way we keep getting yelled at for not resonating with them. I sincerely don't want to hate them but I can't find a reason to care about them.

[graendoll]

I finally watched the finale of 911 season 7 and my thoughts are below the break.

I have a lot of feelings about what they did and some of them are pretty "oof". Anyway, I realize I swept into Buddie fandom like two months ago and fell deeply in love with Buck and Eddie but after everything that is happening in fandom and in the show, I may slip back out as quickly as I came in because I'm not sure I can deal with the ship wars between now and season 8.

So yeah, if you want to hear what I think about where everything ended up, keep reading. Also...still a Buddie shipper in case it needs to be said 😅

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT PROCEED W/CAUTION

First, Eddie's story has me absolutely heartbroken even if I suspected a lot of it. Chris calling his grandparents, him leaving even if temporary. I knew it was coming and it still hit me really hard. I know Gavin was considering pulling back so I get it. And Chris will obviously still be a part of Eddie's narrative but ouch that hurt.

Next, the scene between Buck and Tommy was just icky to me. Daddy kink is one of those things I filter out of fic because it's a major fucking squick so the fact that Tim Minear put that on my screen against my will nearly had me throwing hands. Any positive I was trying to find in their date interaction was quickly vomited out all over my coffee table.

I'm not optimistic about Tommy leaving quickly in season 8 for any reason. The date was very much a get to know you situation and while I thought Tommy was being a bit harsh about Bobby, I can guarantee the BT's are probably drooling over the implications of that scene.

(This is one of the things seriously impacting my desire not to watch this show anymore.)

On to Hen and Mara - I am very glad we have a mostly resolved situation with Mara going in to season 8. Honestly this whole story line felt unnecessary and written for the sake of drama. The show is feeling very soapy and while I was giving it the benefit of the doubt because of how much the writers were trying to do in 10 episodes, they better knock that shit off. It's a far cry from the writing of episodes like Buck Begins. (The second reason I may not watch anymore.)

Also, every once in a while Athena does something that makes me absolutely despise her character and this episode was one of those situations. Her jumping to conclusions and threatening Amil was just, rushed, overly dramatic and felt unnecessary

If you needed to get her to Amils house for the cartel arrival, maybe have her go without homicidal tendencies?

Honestly the only storyline that got any room to breath in this episode was Eddie's.

Which brings me to my final thoughts, specific to Buddie and the future of that ship in canon.

First, that will is never going to come up again. It belongs to us now. The writers have elected to ignore it for three seasons and it's never going to come up again, unless Eddie actually dies.

Second, the continuation of BT and the loss of Christopher is like a fucking death knell for Buddie in canon imo. I hate it, but without Chris, they are no longer a little family. Whatever magic was happening with Buddie up to the shooting scene has not been recaptured, and I'm not sure it's ever going to be at this rate, especially I'd the writers don't fix their soapy garbage.

Am I old and cynical? Yes. Does that make me wrong? Maybe...but right now what we have is Buck happily engaged in a weird Daddy kink relationship, Chris, one of the main points of connection between Eddie and Buck, out of the picture, and Eddie probably finding God and repenting for his sins.

Okay I made that last part up but it's a real fear!

In either case, I feel like we were horribly ship bated all season, and it was done only to create buzz for the show on a new network with a new queer character.

I miss when fandom didn't have access to creators and didn't feel like a place you could win because the BTs are going to be A NIGHTMARE for the rest of the hiatus and frankly I don't want to deal with toxic ship wars while we all wait for season 8.

So yeah, happy season 7 finale? 🤣

[radioactiveparker]

The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader

Part Five - Don't You Forget About Me

Chapter Summary - Secrets are told and feelings are finally shared, but will they change things for better or for worse? (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)

Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Mentions of Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Dysfunctional Families / References to Religious Beliefs / Sexual References / Stereotyping / Angst / Drug References / Use of Y/N

Word Count - 7.3k

A/N - There is a ridiculous amount of dialogue in this one so I apologise in advance if that isn't your thing xxx

(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

~~~~~

Saturday.

October 25th, 1986.

Hawkins High Library.

3:15pm

~~~~~

"How am I supposed to answer?"

"The idea is to search your mind for your limit, like... would you drive to school naked?"

You all sat in a loose circle back at the comfy chairs. Eddie had finally calmed down from his little self-pitied tantrum and finally decided that he would put his feelings on hold for now. Well, as best as he could. He could scream into his pillow all he wanted when he got back home. Although, that didn't stop any of his nervous jitters from making his heart pound when he so much as took a glance at you. He couldn't decided what was worse, sitting directly in front of you where he could constantly feel your gaze on him, or sitting beside you where he could accidently brush against you, and you could feel the beat of his heart thumping through his veins at every touch. He opted to sit opposite you.

"Would I have to get out of the car?" Steve asked, all serious like he was actually going to go to the school on Monday naked.

"Duh." Robin rolled her eyes.

"Winter or spring?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Nah, would you?"

"Me? No, I take the bus."

"I'd do just about anything for a million dollars, are you kidding!" Eddie gasped, like going to school naked was something he would do for free. "Have explosive diarrhoea for a month, chop off my pinkie finger - I'm sure I'll figure a way to still play guitar - sleep with an octogenarian..."

Steve would rather Eddie had kept his creative thoughts to himself. He winced in disgust at Eddie's artistic suggestions. "You keep talking like that, and you'll get sent to the nut house." 

He crossed his stretched-out legs in front of him and rested his hands behind his head as if he was on a sun lounger. His voice was airy like a daydream. "That'll be a nice change; cosy jackets, getting waited on by hot nurses. Sounds like paradise to me."

"You know, they'll probably shave your head too." You pointed.

That shut him up.

If only for a minute.

He smirked, propped himself back up, and leaned in towards you. His eyes magnetised to yours. Before when he looked at you his eyes were round and Bambi-like, dreamy even, but he is stare was strong and his eyes had a slight squint as if he was challenging you. "What would you do then, sweetheart?"

"I could go to school naked for a million bucks." You chimed, disguising your sudden urge to shrink away from him when all of the attention was on you.

You were almost always the centre of attention at school. You were the cheerleading Captain, after all. But that didn't mean that you liked it. It was easier somehow when it was everybody else, people you didn't know or care much about; their opinions didn't matter to you. But with this group of people, who you had shared a unique experience with, something changed in all of you. Whether you liked it or not, you all had some strange connection, and you were closer somehow. In just under eight hours, you had felt closer to these people than over two years of knowing your "real" friends.

"Isn't that like against religion?"

"What? No, only if it's sexual."

"So, are you a virgin?" Eddie's eyes lit up, eager for some juicy gossip. Or juicy ammunition to undoubtedly use against you at some point, you couldn't decide which one.

"Didn't we already cover this?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, I can't seem to recall you giving me an answer."

You scoffed, feeling yourself heat up with embarrassment and annoyance at how Eddie's behaviour towards you had suddenly changed. "I'm not going to discuss my private life with strangers."

"It's kind of a double-edged sword, isn't it?" Robin said almost sympathetically.

"A what?"

"If you say you haven't, you're a prude. If you say you have, you're a slut. It's a trap. You want to, but you can't. But then when you do you wish you didn't. Right?"

"Or are you a tease?" Steve interrupted with a smirk.

You frowned. "I'm not a tease."

"She's only a tease if what she does gets guys hot." Eddie nudged Steve with a grin.

"I don't do anything."  You defended.

"That's why you're a tease." 

He took himself back to earlier on when you were dancing, how enticing your moves were, the way would would unknowingly flash him with every quick spin, the perspiration gleaming off of you. He wondered if he could get you all hot and sweaty like that. He had imagined that you would let him, especially when you had barely resisted yourself against him when his head was between your legs. Now, he was just adding fuel to whatever burning desire he had for you. You were just so fucking hot, and you had no idea. You had no idea just what you did to him. 

And for that, he hated you. Even more so that you had confided to Nancy that you liked someone else. But he hated himself more for allowing himself to feel that way in the first place.

"I'm not having this conversation anymore." You scoffed. "You're bizarre."

"I mean, we're all pretty bizarre." Steve shrugged. "Some are just better at hiding it than others."

"How are you bizarre?"

"I can't think for myself. I just do what other people to tell me to do." He had been doing it all day, whether he knew it or not; he had played along when Eddie took the screw out of the door, he let you take the record from the teachers lounge, heck, he even convinced himself to get high just because you had told him to 'loosen up'.  "You know what I did to get in here?"

"You flew a practice." You recalled your conversation from earlier that day.

He shook his head, avoiding everyone's eyes as he frowned. His bottom lip quivered with guilt. "I just said that. I lied. It's so fucked-up, I had to lie."

"Did you lie about your coach and your father?"

"No, that's true." Steve's eyes looked wet. He took a breath like what he was about to say would change his life forever. "What I did was I taped Larry Lester's buns together. You know him?"

Eddie perked up. "I know Larry, he was in Hellfire for a little while."

"Then you know how hairy he is -- when they pulled the tape off, all his hair came with it -- and some skin, too."

"Oh shit."

"The bizarre thing is, that I did it for my old man. I tortured this poor kid because I wanted my dad to think I was cool. He's always going off about when he was young. And I got the impression that he was disappointed that I never cut loose on anybody, right? So, I was sitting in the locker room taping up my knee and Larry was undressing a few lockers down from me, and suddenly the next thing I knew I grabbed him and threw him down and I just started wailing on him. And he screamed and kicked while my buddies laughed and cheered me on. Afterwards, when I was sitting in Vernon's office, all I could think about was Lester's father and Lester having to go home and explain what happened to him. The humiliation, the fucking humiliation... must have been unreal. How the hell do you apologize for something like that? There's no way."

The others just stared in shock at his admission.

Steve's voice deepened, imitating his father. "'Steve, you've got to be number one! I won't tolerate any losers in this family. Win! Win! Win!' He's like this mindless machine who I just can't relate to anymore. God, I fucking hate the way he is. Sometimes when I'm in the court I just wish my knee would give. If I couldn't play again, he'd probably forget all about me, and then I could get on with my life."

Your voice strained around the lump in your throat. "Why do you do everything he says?"

"I don't know. I've been told what to do for so long that I don't know how to say no."

"What did you guys do to get in here?" Nancy asked.

"You first." Eddie challenged.

"I got caught skipping class, trying to investigate Hawkins lab."

"Why were you trying to investigate Hawkins lab?"

"I think they had something to do with Barb's death."

You wondered who this 'Barb' was, then you remembered Barbra Holland who had mysteriously disappeared, presumed dead, almost exactly one year ago. Robin's head hung low at the name. When Barb began first grade, she became best friends with Robin, but when the girls began sixth grade, Barbara had met Nancy and eventually drifted apart from Robin. It wasn't Robin's fault that they had drifted apart, but she couldn't help but feel as though she could have done more to save their friendship. Perhaps if she had, she wouldn't have gone missing. 

You had seen Barbara Holland walking around the school with Nancy. You thought the pair was a strange duo, especially when Nancy started becoming more and more popular. That being said, however, she always seemed nice. Volunteering for different school committees, helping other students study in the library, even helping to set up for basketball games. If she was still alive, you supposed you could have tried to be friends with her after today. 

"What did you do, Rob?"

"Oh, I-I can't say." Her face flushed.

"C'mon, why not? We said ours."

Her heart was racing and pressure was weighing down on her chest. She looked to Steve. His eyes were filled with concern. Those big brown puppy dog eyes that made her feel bad for keeping anything from him.

"I-I got... caught... with someone."

"Caught doing what?"

She took a sharp breath. Nancy's question hadn't done anything to release the weight trying pulling her heart into her stomach. "Something... in the janitors closet."

Eddie laughed. "Buckley, you dirty little rascal. Who was it?"

"I can't say." She shied.

"Oh, c'mon."

"Tell us, Rob."

"C'mon, tell us who it was."

A chorus of 'tell us' chants bashed around in her skull. The weight was getting heavier and heavier until the band snapped.

"Vickie!"

The band had released her heart and sling-shot it up into her throat. She could hardly swallow as tears sprung in her eyes.

"Vickie. Vickie from band, Vickie?"

"Yes!" And although the band had snapped, the weight had gone. Her secret had been fermenting and sizzling inside her, bottled up and expanding until the lid popped and it finally spilled and overflowed. 

"But, Vickie's a girl."

"Oh, Robin." You gasped at the realisation, rubbing her arm to console her. 

"Holy shit."

Her voice trembled. "I get if you guys don't want to be near me anymore--"

"No, Rob. Why wouldn't we want to be near you?" Steve questioned, almost offended that Robin would thing he would stoop that low. 

"I'm a freak."

"Hey, look who you're talking to." Eddie's voice was soft, yet playful. "Nobody's more of a freak than me."

Everybody laughed, you included, although you felt kind of bad. You were all as much of a freak as each other, you had learned today. It was good that Eddie could laugh about it, but he shouldn't have to in the first place. 

You had hoped that the subject would change there, but the dreaded question was pointed at you. "So why are you here, Sweetheart?"

You cleared your throat. "I told my parents that I had cheer practice cause they'd flip if they found out I got a detention."

"Right, that's not exactly what I meant. What did you do to get in here?"

You sighed. Robin and Steve had been brave enough to share their story. You thought it only fair to tell yours, despite your reluctance.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I told my boyfriend that I had detention so I didn't have to see him."

"Wow, I didn't know Billy Hargrove was that bad in the sack." Eddie chuckled.

"No, it's not that. We haven't even..."

"Oh, so you are a virgin!"

"Do you believe in all of that no sex before marriage bullshit?" Steve asked, intrigued.

"So what if I do?" You snapped.

You didn't, but you were offended for your mother's sake. Not that you knew why you were, almost like she had drilled it into your head, or branded it onto your brain with a hot iron where it would scar forever.

But scars can fade.

"Nah, she doesn't. She wants to, but she doesn't." Eddie folded his arms as if to say "watch me rip this girl to shreds". "I can see it in those sweet little eyes of yours. You're just daddy's little girl and mommy's little princess - a kiss ass. Sucking up to your parents' beliefs just to get what you want"

"I do not."

He rolled his eyes, firmly standing by his statement. Nothing would persuade him to think otherwise. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. But you and I both know that I don't need no damn preacher to make you mine."

"Ugh, you're impossible."

Nancy eagerly changed the subject. "So why didn't you want to see your boyfriend?"

Your demeanour instantly shifted. Your glaring eyes turned wide with fear at the mention of Billy. You immediately pulled at your sleeve to hide the bruises on your wrist. The once angry beat of your heart thumped cowardly along the vein in your neck, as if threatening to escape in a scream. "He -umm- he has a bit of a temper. Lately, I feel like nothing I do is good enough for him, and he tends to... lash out."

Eddie rolled his eyes at you. You were as close to perfect as someone could get in his eyes. How could your life not be perfect too? "Nah, I don't buy it. Look at you, all that skin showing, and there's not a scratch on you."

You anger returned in a crash, tsunami waves flooding into your eyes and a whirlpool swirling in your gut. How dare he question you. Eddie hadn't even plucked up the courage to share a single thing about himself, and yet here he was, judging you for being brave enough to. 

"Fuck you!"

In a blaze of fury, you stormed off with stomping feet and secluded yourself in the listening room. Slamming the door behind you, you slumped yourself on the floor against the rack of records. You attempted to control your breathing, but your anger reduced you to nothing but a mess of tears, and you began sobbing uncontrollably into your own arms.

The others stared at Eddie with a mix of shock and disgust. Eddie was used to that kind of reaction. But why did he hate how it felt? He looked into himself as the others had and found that he was just as disgusted with himself. The guilt that coiled around his stomach almost made his throw up. He swallowed it down and avoided the others' gaze as he stood and made his way to you, despite the others telling him to leave you alone.

His heart lurched when he heard you choke out a sob from behind the door. He clenched his fist, angry at himself, but knocked gently on the door.

"Leave me alone." You tried to say angrily, but it sounded so heartbroken that it had no bite to it.

Eddie ignored your request and bravely opened the door. You didn't need to look up to know who it was who sat beside you. The lingering smell of weed, smoke and cheep cologne told you it was Eddie. You didn't make any effort to move, not wanting Eddie to see how his words had effected you.

After a few beats of silence, Eddie finally spoke. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever." You sniffed, keeping your head hidden in your arms.

"No really. I am."

The honesty in his voice made you pause. You stopped your tears with a final sniff and raised your head to look at him. The look on his face when he saw you was if he was going to cry himself. At first you thought how dare he cry after how he made you feel but you could see the regret seething in his chocolatey irises. 

"I am so sorry Y/N. I didn't mean any of it. I was just... just..."

"Just what?"

"Angry, I guess."

"At me?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No, well kinda. Not angry at you, angry because of you..."

"What do you mean?"

You questions were bashing around his skull. He raked his hands over his face. He was frustrated at himself for not being able to give you the answer you wanted to hear, and not being valiant enough to express his feeling to you. Instead, he did the cowardly thing and changed the subject.

"Can I ask you something?"

You nodded, although you were disappointed that he didn't give you an explanation. But you understood that sometimes feelings can be hard to communicate. You knew that Eddie wasn't one to share his feelings and you doubted that he ever would. Not to you anyway.

"Why don't you leave him?"

It was a question you asked yourself all the time. You knew exactly why, you just didn't have the courage to end it. It was easier to ask yourself the question. To you it was some sort of first step to leaving Billy. But that's all it was, a step. One step forward and three steps back. You would tell yourself to leave him, then he would look at you with a storm reeling in his eyes and you would back down. Too chicken shit to stand up for yourself, in fear of what he could do to you.

You took a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill again. "Because I'm scared to. What if all of this time he's been holding back, and leaving him just pisses him off to the max. He'd kill me. I've seen the look in his eyes. I bet if I pushed him hard enough he'd do it."

Eddie's heart was in his throat. He knew that feeling all too well. "Shit, Y/n. I'm sorry you have to go through that."

"I guess it's my own fault." You sniffed. "I dated him thinking it would get back at my parents, but they love him. He's like a completely different person around them, it's so frustrating. He could do no wrong in their eyes. I bet if I told them what he'd been doing they'd take his word over mine."

You paused for a brief moment. Sharing your thoughts with Eddie had forged some clarity and you wondered why you were pouring your heart out to the person who had just hurt your feelings. He had apologised, but could you forgive him? He frustrated you to no end, so why did you have such a soft spot for him?

"I don't get you Eddie."

"What do you mean?" He sat himself straight at your sudden change in demeanour.

"I just don't know how to take you."

"I can think of some ways for you to take me." He smirked sending you a wink.

Any other time, you would have blushed, but he only proved your point.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. One minute we're at each others throats, the next you're acting like your my friend and then you're flirting with me. I just don't know what I'm meant to do."

He turned to you and took your hands in his. "Look I'm sorry. It's just that I...."

"You...?"

I like you and I'm a jealous asshole because you like someone else. He couldn't tell you that, of course. He removed himself from you and wrapped his arms round his knees, mimicking your position. "Whatever, I'm just sorry, okay?"

"Then why don't I believe you?"

"I'm telling you the truth, I swear."

"Prove it."

"Prove it how?"

You paused. The two of you were cursed. Cursed by those who were meant to protect you, to love you; angels that were monsters in disguise. A curse of bruises and scars and broken bones, forever scared to stand up for yourself, scared to love. You wanted to ask him about it. How did he put up with it? You recalled when Steve said it was a part of Eddie's image. You wanted to know the truth.

"Do your parents really beat you?"

Annoyance flashed across his eyes. The question made his blood boil. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer it Eddie. Please" 

"Yes..." He snapped, but you looked at him with those big, watery puppy dog eyes again and he couldn't help but cave. "Well, they did. I don't actually live with them anymore. I live with my uncle. He looks after me."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's whatever." His anger had cooled to a simmer, but it still sizzled in his gut. 

"Can I ask you something?" You repeated Eddie's earlier question. "If your home life is a lot better now, why do you act the way you do?"

He sighed. "I guess Harrington was right before. To keep up my image. If I look all mean and scary, people are less likely to pick on me and my friends. They sort of look up to me, so I gotta put on a brave face, you know?"

You nodded, but felt like he was holding back. "Any other reason?"

"I guess... I mean, I've always been a nobody, so I guess doing all this, acting the way I do, makes me feel seen. The only time my parents ever really payed attention to be was when they were beating on me, so... I guess old habits die hard."

You nodded again, letting silence fall between you. You could tell that your questioning had upset Eddie. Irritation was practically steaming off him. Eddie hadn't shared so much of his life with anyone, not even the Hellfire boys. He was torn between feeling relieved to get it off his chest, and being annoyed at himself for opening up to you so easily.

"Good session today, Munson. Same time next week?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

You wiped the tear stains from your cheeks and stood up to go and join the others. Although you didn't say anything more to him, Eddie he knew he was forgiven. But somehow, that didn't make him feel much better. You stood in the doorway and turned to see if Eddie was following you. Eddie hadn't moved an inch and stayed looking like he was stuck in his own head

"Eddie, if its any consultation, I'd like to think that I can see you now. The real you."

You left him to join the others. They stared at you like you were a bomb going to burst any second, but you simply brushed them off and sat back in your seat. The silence was awkward until Robin spoke.

"Can I ask a question? What happens on Monday?" She asked but received no answer. "I'm assuming we're friends. Right? We're doing things together, we're talking about our private lives, we've broken the law together. It seems like we can call ourselves friends. I think of you guys as my friends anyway. Am I wrong?"

"No. I don't think you're wrong" Eddie piped up, returning to the circle, sitting opposite you and not daring to look you in the eye.

"So, on Monday. What happens?"

"You mean are we still friends?" Nancy asked. "If we're friends now, that is."

Everyone had an interest in the question but no one wanted to commit to an answer. You all eyed each other, waiting for the other to speak. In your ideal world, you would walk into school on Monday waving to Nancy and Steve, saying hello to Robin as Eddie walked you to Mr. Kaminski's chemistry class without a care in the world. 

But would that really happen? 

No.

Because you did care. You cared about what Carol thought, you cared about what Tommy thought, the cheerleading squad, Billy. God, you'd hate to think what Billy would do if he saw you walking the halls with these people. Not only what he would do to you, but what he would do to them.

"Truth?" You braved an answer, fidgeting with the watch on your wrist. "I don't think so."

Steve scoffed at you in disgust. "That's a real nice attitude."

"Be honest, Steve. On Monday, if Robin come up to you in the hall what would you do? When you're there with all the sports."

Steve looked at Robin, nervously. He was on the spot.

"I know exactly what you'd to. You'd  say 'hi' to her and when she left, you'd cut her up so that your friends wouldn't think you really liked her." You answered for him.

You and Steve were friends with the same types of people. You knew all too well how it would go down because you knew your friends.

"No way." He shook the hesitance from his brain, his face laced with determination as he finally thought for himself. "Not anymore."

Robin looked at Steve sadly. "Anymore?" 

"Truth is," Steve puffed his chest like he was about to perform an important speech, keeping his eyes on Robin. "I've been friends with Robin for a while-"

"Steve, you don't-"

"We work at Scoops Ahoy together in Starcourt. And she is the bestest friend I could ever ask for. I mean, she's just so real. None of this fake shit like Tommy and Carol. And she's always there for me, like always. I don't know what I'd do without you, Rob. I've had enough of being fake. From now on, Rob, it's gonna be you and me. I don't give a shit what anyone else says. And I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

"And what if I walked up to you?" Eddie asked you, optimistic after your pervious conversation and hopeful that Steve's speech had given you some encouragement to change your mind.

You looked at him sadly. You hated to say it to him, but he was truthful to you earlier, it was only fair you did the same. Your voice fell quiet, a regretful whisper. "What I said before."

He looked at you like you had just stabbed him in the back. Ruefully, you had. "Don't be a bitch." He snapped.

You were taken aback. You knew Eddie was frustrated with you for questioning him before, but you thought he would have gotten over it. At least enough for him to join the circle again. Perhaps not. 

"What, I'm a bitch for telling the truth? I couldn't, not with Billy-"

"No! Because you know how shitty that it is to do to someone. You admit it and you aren't strong enough to tell your friends to fuck off and let you be friends with who you want!"

"And what about you? Why don't you take Steve to one of your heavy metal vomit parties?"

Eddie shot a look at Steve. You've got him.

"Take Nancy out to the parking lot at lunch and get high. Or me for that matter .. What would your friends say if they saw you and me walking down the hall together? They'd laugh their asses off and you'd cut me up. You'd probably say I'm doing it with you so they'd forgive you for being with me? Correct?"

Steve saved Eddie from an answer. "Okay. I assume Robin and I are better people than you guys." He turned to Nancy. "Would you do that?"

"I don't really have any friends anymore." She shied.

"If you did?"

"No, the kind of friends I'd have wouldn't mind."

There was a silence of a storm suddenly quelled. A pause long enough for everyone to calm down. 

Steve's voice was unusually quiet and timid. "Are we gonna be like our parents?" 

"Yes." Robin's answer was blunt.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's unavoidable."

"Not me." Eddie was determined.

"It just happens. When you grow up... your heart dies." 

You all sat, breathing in the heavy silence. It wasn't uncomfortable by any means, but it still felt heavy. The truth had been spilt whether everyone like it or not, but still, everyone had accepted it. They had accepted that things may just go back to the way they were before, but they also accepted that things could also never be exactly the same. It was a strange mixture of hope, solemn and acknowledgment. And for you - fear. You wanted to be friends with these guys. You wanted things to be different on Monday, but thoughts of Billy shrouded your desires. The things he would say or do if he found out what had happened in this room today; the friendships made, the truth told, the kisses shared. You'd rather wallow in your own self pity.

~~~~~

3:50pm

~~~~~

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely, he won't be able to resist you."

Your eyes fluttered to the ceiling as Nancy prodded at your waterline with her black eyeliner pencil. 

Despite your differences earlier, everybody seemed okay with each other now. You'd all had time to cool off and apologise to one another. Unfortunately, you had meant what you'd said earlier, but you were still sorry for it.

You were currently in the seclusion room with Nancy and Robin giving you what they deigned a 'Munson Make-over'. Robin had given you her spare t-shirt from her bag. It was simply black and large enough to stop at the exact point on your thighs where your skirt had been. You hadn't wanted to take it from her, arguing that there may come a time where she'll need it more that you, but she refused, vowing that she 'just might have found something worth staying for'. 

You made a last minute decision to ditch the skirt underneath when the shirt started bunching up weirdly and making you look frumpy. You felt about ten times more exposed somehow, but the girls reassured you that you looked great. Nancy used a small make-up brush to finalise the finishing touches to your eyes, smudging the black in an edgy way that made the colour of your eyes pop. 

This hadn't been your idea, but a combined effort from both Nancy and Robin when she had accidentally blurted out your admission to having a crush on Eddie earlier. For once you finally felt like a teenager. Not having to worry about what people might think, just girls doing make-up and talking about boys like they do in the movies. 

And something stirred in your gut. Perhaps regret, or maybe defiance, but a pull in your chest decided that maybe you would take back what you had said about ignoring them on Monday. After a few swipes of mascara over your lashes, Nancy affirmed that you were done and 'ready to get your man'. Nancy leaned back to admire her handy work. With a big smile, she grabbed a compact mirror out of her bag and turned it to face you. Your eyes widened, stunned and not believing that it was you in the mirror. It was crazy how a bit of make-up could change the way you looked drastically. 

"Is this me?" You laughed in astonishment.

"It's you."

Your surprise quickly turned to insecurity. Never in your life had you worn make-up like this and you were starting to second guess whether or not you could pull it off. 

"But what if he laughs at me?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "He won't laugh, you look great. C'mon."

They urged you out of the door after assuring you that Principal Higgins was no where to be seen, and you made your way to the broom closet Eddie had told you he had been locked in. 

Eddie had managed (with the help of Steve) to clamber back up the hole in the ceiling that he had made. He was currently sitting on an upside down bucket, fiddling with his coat and scarf. The door swung open abruptly and Eddie stood tall, expecting to see Principal Higgins before him. Instead, you stepped into the room, keeping your eyes on Eddie with smirk as you leaned your back on the door to shut it. You crossed you legs over one another shyly as Eddie gawked at you. Your body felt like it was burning as he raked his eyes over you. 

"Hey." He said. It was the only thing he could think of in his state of disbelief.

"Hey."

His lack of response was worrying you. Nancy had tried so hard to convince you that Eddie liked you, but you were beginning to think that maybe she had been wrong. Eddie was nothing but a moment. Five measly years out of an entire lifetime. But do you simply let the moment pass you by, or do you seize the moment and make something out of it?

"What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see you."

"Me? Why?"

"I'm sorry, do you want me to go?"

"No, no, no, I don't want you to go. Sorry, it's just different being alone with you. Like properly alone with you, especially when you look like that."

"Good different?"

"Definitely good different." 

You smiled, feeling a bit more confident in yourself. You moved towards him and he took your hands in his.

"Listen, I've been wanting to tell you this, but I never really found a great time, especially with the other guys around all the time."

"What is it?"

He paused, having second thoughts about telling you. He knew you liked someone else. What if you just laughed in his face? No, you wouldn't do that. He'd opened up to you before, he could do it again. 

He released an exasperated sigh. "I like you, okay"

When you didn't reply in your state of shock, he continued. "I really like you, but I don't want to. I never thought that I could like someone like you. That's to say the popular chick, the cheerleading captain, you know what I mean. I spent my whole life hating people like that because they were all just bullies." He scoffed a laugh like he could hardly believe what he was saying. "And then you come along and you were just... different. I don't know how to explain it, there's just something about you. Something that I like."

"But I know you don't like me." He quickly added, drooping his head to face the ground.

You couldn't believe what you had just heard. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest. Eddie does like you. You wanted to scream in happiness. But he thinks you like someone else. "what makes you think that?"

"I overheard you say to Nancy that you liked someone."

You laughed in incredulity. "That was about you, airhead!"

"It was?" His head snapped back up, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Do you think I'd dress like this if it wasn't for you?"

"Oh baby," he held your hands gently, pulling you forwards for you to look directly at him, "you look smoking hot don't get me wrong, but you don't have to change yourself for me, okay?"

You nodded, giving him a shy smile.

"You do look smoking hot by the way." He smirked pulling you closer so you were chest to chest. 

He tilted your chin up softly, eyeing the way your kissable lips parted for him and eyelids drooped with desire. Just a simple touch from him could ignite something deep within you. Something that had been dormant for so long. 

Passion? Desire?

Love?

"Eddie." You whispered against his lips.

"Yes, baby?"

"Do you really mean it? Do you really like me?"

"I do, sweetheart, I really do."

"Good." You rested your forehead against his as he stroked a wisp of hair from your face.

"Hey, sweetheart?"

"Yes, baby?" You teased.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your nodded, seizing the moment. You had never been more sure of anything in your life. Your eyes closed, ready for Eddie to press his lips against yours for your first real kiss.

"Munson-- What the...?"

The two of you jumped apart when the door swung open and Principal Higgins stood there looking rather puzzled. He was confused about how you had ended up in the closet, and why you had completely changed your look, but he didn't say anything. He was tired and wanted to go home.

"Let's go." He snapped.

The two of you made your way out of the closet and walked back to the library, Principal Higgins following closely behind like the two of you were going to run away from him any second. The walk to the library was short. The two of you sat down together and Higgins stood sternly before everyone with his arms crossed. He eyed everyone up in a way that was supposed to be intimidating.

"Papers?"

Nancy slid a single piece of paper across the table. Higgins picked it up wearily, reading the signatures of the kids scribbled in a mixed array of handwriting across the top. He looked mystified by the paper, but before he could open his mouth, the bell rang and everyone immediately gathered their things and left, leaving Higgins to read the paper alone.

Dear Principal Higgins,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us — in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain and an athlete, a basket case, a princess, a cheerleader and a criminal.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club

~~~~~

Saturday.

October 25th, 1984.

Hawkins High.

4:05pm.

~~~~~

The sky had reclined into a rich blue, shadows stretching across the school's front steps in the setting sun. The five of you made your way down the stairs to the few cars outside. 

Nancy held hands with Steve on the way down, giving him a peck on the cheek before getting into her mother's car. She immediately began questioning her as they drove off down the road. Steve did a not-so-secret fist pump, and waved everyone goodbye before getting into his fathers car.

"See you guys on Monday." Robin bid you both farewell as she got in the back of the final car. 

You and Eddie stood in a comfortable silence side by side on the final step, neither of you wanting to say goodbye yet. 

"You know, I was thinking." Eddie broke the silence, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leaning his weight on you. "What if there was another way to get back at your parents?"

"Like what?" You playfully shrugged him off, turning to face him.

"Well, I'm sure dating a metalhead weed smoker wouldn't appease them too much." 

You smiled at the way he put it, but frowned almost instantly when a sudden thought flashed behind your eyes. "What about Billy?"

"Let me deal with him." You don't look too convinced. "I'm stronger than I look, you know."

There was a relief that took a weight off your chest. Could this finally be over? Happiness felt like it was bursting in sunrays in your heart, making you giddy. You couldn't stop the smile from stretching across your lips. 

"I'll believe it when I see it." You teased. "Wouldn't want our first date to be at the hospital."

"So is that a yes?"

A chilly breeze rustled through the trees, borrowing your body heat and giving you goose bumps in return. A weight fell on your shoulders when Eddie placed his coat over you.

"Eddie you don't have to."

"You think I'm gonna let you walk home in the cold wearing that?"

"Maybe not." You smiled. "Let me give you something in return then."

"Oh you don't--"

You reached for your watch, unclasping the thin metallic band before grabbing his wrist and wrapping it around.

"You're giving me your watch? Why?"

You fastened it as loosely as you could, but it was still a little tight on him. He didn't resist, however, instead he watched you intently and read the time on it when you were done.

"Because tomorrow night, when the big hand hits twelve and the little hand hits seven, I want you to come pick me up."

"Pick you up? Like a date? So it is a yes."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You couldn't decide whether it was from excitement or nerves. You could only hope that Eddie will placate his chronic tardiness to show up at your door at exactly seven o'clock on the dot. But, you would have to find out tomorrow.

"But where do you want to go?"

"Leave that to me. Think of it as an early birthday present."

Eddie smirked, bending down to wrap his arms around your waist, bringing you close enough that a turn of your head would end up with your lips together. "Tell you what, you know what I want for my birthday?"

"What would that be?"

"I do believe I asked you for a kiss earlier."

"You did, but I guess you'll have to wait for your birthday for that." You smirked, pulling away and hopping off the step, making a start homeward.

You turned around teasingly to see Eddie frozen on the step completely stunned. You giggled to yourself, turning back with a skip in your step. You took about ten more steps before turning around again, only to see Eddie right behind you. He wrapped his arms around you waist, picking you up and spinning you around as your laughter echoed across the school field. 

"Oh no you don't, sweetheart." 

He span you around wildly as you attempted to beg him to stop through your laughter. His fingers prodded at your ribs, tickling you into submission. With a final dizzying spin, he set you down with a chuckle. You grabbed onto his shoulders to steady yourself as the world kept spinning around you. 

"Fine, just one kiss."

"That's more like it." He smiled.

He gently placed a calloused hand along your jaw, cupping your cheek to pull you closer. Your eyes closed softly as his lips finally pressed to yours in your first proper kiss together. The kiss was sweet with passion, pure and vulnerable with a promise of love. His warm tongue stroked against your lips tenderly and you threaded your hands through his hair, tilting your head as you massaged your tongue against his. He moaned softly into your mouth, using his other hand to draw your bodies together. 

Hesitantly, you pulled apart, the two of you with heavy eyelids and drunken smiles.

"How about I walk you home? Make a start on trying to "impress" your parents."

"I think I'd like that."

Somehow, eight hours in a school library had managed to change your life completely. Fate was the librarian, usually known for matching you with the book you want. Only this time you all got paired with a book you didn't want, or rather one that didn't suit your taste. Yet, you read it anyway and discovered that it is possible to branch out. It is possible to make changes, and that changes can be for the better. You can learn things that you otherwise wouldn't have about life, people, love. You can learn that everyone is different, yet we all share the same emotions. Insecurity and vulnerability can be embraced, and there is no right and wrong. At the end of the day, what matters most is acceptance, within yourself and within others.

~~~~~

<<<Previous // Next>>>

~~~~~

Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn @peaches-roses-sins @lodeddiperrodrick @catherinnn @lilocapoca @minniedreamers @melaninjhs @chaosfrogsonfire @levylovegood @bowsforsienna @rcailleachcola @spookysace24 @metalhead-succubus

[brandileigh2003]

[#FFF255 prompt In the Heart] @flashfictionfridayofficial

CW: major character death, hospitals

Ship: remus lupin/sirius black

Words: 996

Feel free to give kudos on AO3 if you want ❤️❤️

“Sirius?” Remus croaked.

“Remus? Are really awake this time?” Sirius asked, pressing the button for the mediwitch. He glanced up at the spell displaying Remus' heart rate and grimaced. He didn't like what he saw.

“Yeah, think so. What's happening?” Remus said, attempting to sit-up but failing.

“Remus, they discovered what's wrong. There's a hole…” Sirius blinked back tears, trying to compose himself. “It's in the heart.”

He'd had nearly three weeks to try to process this. Three weeks in mungos after that horrible full moon. Moony had barely howled, the only time he’d gotten up was to sniff Padfoot and nudge him to curl up together. After the change back, Sirius thought he would lose Remus. Never get to see his beautiful eyes again, never get to hear his voice again or tell him he loves him. But he got his heart started and to the hospital, lips blue and face pale. Then he'd not fully woken up until today.

“Don't cry, cariad. Come here,” Remus said, patting the bed.

Sirius gingerly sat down and buried his face in his neck. He wasn't sure how long he cried. He knew that the mediwitch and healer both came in; he could feel the vibrations of Remus talking to them but he had no idea what was said.

Eventually, the world slowly started to come back into focus. He felt Remus playing with his hair, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his heart beating in his chest. The very heart that was going to take his husband from him in all likelihood within the next seven days.

“We were supposed to have more time,” Sirius said when he finally sat up.

“Sirius, my love, we've had more time than we ever imagined,” Remus said.

And while that was true, it really didn't make any of this any better. They were 63, and the average lifespan for those with lycanthropy was about 45, and that number was lower for those bitten as children. And they had made the most of their time. They discovered the horcruxes through kreature, forced Dumbledore to give over what he knew, and worked through a way to deal with the one inside of Harry. Harry had helped clear Sirius’ name and they settled in a cottage in the countryside, a room set up for Harry. They'd gotten married, traveled, worked to make wolfsbane accessible and advocated for changes in the laws associated with lycanthropy.

And this wasn't a surprise, not really. Remus was wheelchair bound, he had potions for multiple organs that just couldn't keep up with the years of transformations. Moony had grown weaker right along with Remus and it was heartbreaking to see.

Remus had given up pieces of himself, his pride and independence. They'd had fights about Remus wanting Sirius to be able to have more time to himself, instead of constantly have to take care of Remus. Sirius was happy to do it but after lots of therapy and learning to communicate and compromise, they had hired someone to come in and help with the house and with Remus’ medical care. Sirius had a hard time giving over that control, but it gave Remus peace of mind.

“Sirius? Can we go home? I don't want my last days to be here,” Remus asked later that evening. Sirius had been reading to him, something that they often did, and he dropped the book.

It felt like ice had flooded his veins and then stabbed him right in his heart. Maybe they were connected now? If Remus’ stops, so will his? He almost wished that it would, but he thought of Harry and their family, and knew that no matter how much it would hurt, he couldn't truly hope for it. Although how he would go on without the man who was his other half, he had no idea.

“Yeah, Moony. Let's wait until tomorrow okay?” Sirius knew that the healer who would be on in the morning would be kind, and give Remus whatever he might need instead of being prejudiced and sending them on their way with nothing. Sirius could get them what they needed, he would do anything for Remus, but it was easier with the hospital’s help.

Sirius didn't sleep that night, watching over Remus, and he barely did the next 6 days either. Remus was much more comfortable at home, and people were in and out visiting all of the time. Everyone knew what was happening, and they had tearful conversations of course, but they tried to keep it upbeat.

Remus got weaker but he seemed at peace. He slept more and more until the morning of the full moon, when he actually was able to get up by himself and the blueish tint from his lips, fingers and toes had disappeared. Sirius hoped so much for a miracle but it was also a known thing that could happen to those who are dying. A sudden burst of energy which unfortunately usually didn't last very long. Remus danced with Sirius to their wedding song, knowing Sirius loved to dance but Remus was horrible. After that it was late afternoon and Remus convinced Sirius that he wanted to make love. Sirius was nervous, he didn't want to do anything to stress his heart, but he also knew it was a matter of time, and he wanted to give Remus everything he could ask for.

After, they lay together until it was time to go to their safe room. Remus wasn't able to take the wolfsbane this time around and they were both a little sad about it. But it turned out it wasn't needed, because minutes before moonrise, Remus looked into his eyes and said: “I'll see you in our next lifetime okay? I love you.”

Before Sirius could respond, Remus went slack in his arms and for the first time since he was four, stayed human beneath a full moon.

[dollypopup]

I truly cannot overstate just how much I adore Colin Bridgerton as a male love lead, and how important his story is, in particular in a current, modern reading. We live in a time of alpha male machismo that in many ways mirrors the sexism of the historical time period Colin is in, and we have a hero who explicitly rejects it. More than that, we have a hero who first tries on the persona, first tries to fit in, and then determines, with no outside influence and all on his own, that it's wrong. That he doesn't want to be like the men of his society, that he doesn't like the expectation of sex without love and commitment and connection, that he doesn't want to be 'one of the boys', even if it comes at their derision.

Because when Violet says he has always been her most sensitive child, when he has always considered others before himself, when he has always offered a joke or a moment of levity- for so long, he felt he had to. That there was no other choice.

Colin Bridgerton, The Great Pretender, is finally coming into the light.

Take my hand. Come walk with me.

Colin's arc is incredibly clear, and incredibly dear to me. We can track his progress throughout the seasons he has been in, but if we consider his backstory, it comes even more in clarity.

Piecing together a timeline with some influence from the books and loose historical accuracy, Colin loses his father at 12 and then is sent off to Eton. And he is a tiny thing when his father passes, shorter even than his 9 year old sister, Eloise.

(Yes, I checked!! He's half a head shorter than Eloise, and an entire head shorter than Daphne. This boy is SMALL)

So it makes a lot of sense to me that this is the start of his fake-it-to-make-it personality. He cannot grieve with his family in these circumstances, he's been sent off to school with other boys who are bigger and stronger than him, and he must realize relatively quickly that weakness in their eyes will never be tolerated. In fact, Eton was well known for corporal punishment and bullying during this time. Older boys were well known to mistreat the younger once, and considering just how small and soft-hearted Colin is, and just how vulnerable he is having lost his father-

Of course Colin would become a target of such.

And despite that, we meet him in Season 1 with an endearing earnestness and hopefulness in the world. Something inside him, something sweet and gentle and warm, thrives to live. And fights against grief to do so. How easy it would have been for him to lose his father and be bitter. How easy for him to see his father die from the steps of Aubrey Hall, to be sent to a boarding school away, and withdraw in on himself.

And yet, he doesn't.

At least, not in the way one would suspect. Instead, Colin becomes a chronic people pleaser. If the people around him are happy, then he will be safe. Will not be hurt. And they have no space for his own hurt, regardless. There's hardly even any space for his mirth, as most people didn't even reply to his letters on his travels the previous season.

In Colin's confession in Season 3, he says 'I have spent so long trying to feel less', and this numbing begins early in his life. He's a consummate gentleman in Season 1. He does everything by the book, everything as he should. He wants to be accepted in his society, wants to be taken seriously, wants to belong. So he sees a pretty woman, and he gets along with her well enough, and he courts her. Openly, honestly, in full view. It isn't a heart-stopping love, but he has numbed himself for years at this point, so affection will do, and if proper men of his society are married, well, maybe he'd finally be taken seriously.

And yet, no one notices him, even still. No one except Penelope. His own mother doesn't recognize his behavior, and worries for him after she does. How long has it been since she's actually seen him? We know from the show that he's incredibly close to his mother, and loves her dearly, but we also know that after Edmund's passing, Violet was mired in grief and post-partum depression. Colin misses much of this as a firsthand witness since he's at school, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be affected by losing his mother and father in one fell swoop. In fact, Colin loses his connection to the majority of his family in being sent to school so soon after the tragedy. So of course he comes back and he tries not to make waves. Tries to do things correctly.

His friction with Anthony proves time and time again that nothing he does is entirely ever able to fully please him, and this causes contention in their brotherly bond. Of all the siblings, Anthony is arguably the most harsh with Colin. And he is also the model for who a man should be in the family, as the head of the family.

So when Anthony sees Colin earnestly try to marry, he scoffs him off. Accuses Colin of only wanting to marry to have sex, and then claiming "It is my fault. I should have taken you to brothels." This is the first on-screen shaming of Colin looking for connection before sex, and Colin doubles down. He wants to marry for love.

But he doesn't actually love Marina. Neither of them truly know each other, and so when it all blows up, and he is humiliated to the entirety of his community, Colin gets his first taste of romantic failure. He tried to do it right, and it ended more wrong than he could have ever imagined. So, maybe Anthony was right. Maybe he is just a foolish, green boy, who has no idea how to go about things. The fallout of his failed engagement echoes in the persona he puts on in Season 3, and the choices he undergoes during them. Is it any wonder he ends up going to brothels to have unfulfilling sex if even his own BROTHER, the head of his family, tells him to do so?

It doesn't happen right away, though. Despite the fact that no one truly checks on him or sees how this breakup effects him (Eloise dismisses the hurt he must feel in light of such events with an honestly rather accurate wave-away "Men are always less affected", and that is true), it is evident that he is NOT okay.

We leave Colin in Season 1 putting on a mask, a happy face to his family, a 'you inspired me' to Penelope, and then spends his travels sad. Depressed. Taking drugs to try to ease his mind, occupying himself with writing to Penelope. In Season 2, he spends the entirety of it trying to be useful. And he does this with Penelope. He feels deeply for her, he cares so much for her, and he even says it to her aloud 'You are special to me' and 'I will always look after you' and how he could never give her up. Season 2 is a season of healing for Colin- he closes his chapter with Marina with a relationship post-mortum conversation after he does a wellness check to make sure she's alive (let's be real here, no one else was going to reach out to her. She made it clear to him that even her own father didn't want her), makes amends with Will, proves himself useful to Penelope, and departs on a high: he thinks he threaded the needle. He thinks he was successful sending Jack off, that he made Penelope happy, and that he's in with The Boys.

But whilst the person he is around Penelope is genuine, the person he is around these men are not. We know from Season 3 that they don't actually like him. They make snide, underhanded comments toward him, and laugh at him. I stand by the idea that end of season 2 is Fife and Co. laughing at Penelope AND laughing at Colin. They don't care about their friendship, they're teasing him for caring about her so openly, and Colin is protective of the relationship he has with Penelope. So he makes a comment for the boys, and puts on his mask. 'I would never court Penelope Featherington' (look, I'm just like you. I walk like you, talk like you, speak like you) 'Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife' (I am one of you one of you one of you- so why does it feel so hollow?)

He gets, now, his first taste of acceptance from them. They come to him to Mondrich's bar, he repays his slight against him, and he feels he is one of them. (Does he truly *want* to be one of them?) And so when we open Season 3, it's a smooth progression.

Colin is walking the walk and talking the talk, and yet his heart isn't in it. He's not one of these smarmy men, but he mimics them. Their behavior. In part, at least. Whilst Fife is out preying on 18 year old women in coat closets, Colin is telling gaggles of girls how pretty they are and how with such nice dresses, they're sure to find a husband. He makes it clear he's not an option, but that he doesn't mind being a fantasy. And Luke Newton does an amazing job making that clear: there are three sides of Colin. The Colin portrayed to his society in the light in good company (1) and the Colin portrayed to his society in the dark, in. . .less savory circles (aka: The Lads)(2), his 'armor' as his mum calls it. And finally, the most important but the one kept closest to the chest: the Colin of truth. The Colin who cries alone in his room after a breakup, the Colin who doesn't burden others with his feelings, the Colin who writes to Penelope, the Colin who loves deeply and feels deeply.

But his society has no use for a man like the real Colin, they do not *want* a man like real Colin, so he puts it under lock and key. And so much of this is centered around his feelings about sex, so here comes my 'Colin is Queer' soapbox. Colin does not experience sexual attraction like the rest of the men of the ton. He is expected to find it casual and be cavalier about it. To just want to fuck for the sake of fucking. But Colin needs love and romance and connection to actually enjoy sexual interactions. Nowadays, we recognize this as being on the asexual spectrum, of being demisexual, but he didn't have words for that in the time period he's in, so he has to forge ahead to figure himself out without a community identity to find solidarity with. That's what makes the brothel scenes so interesting as a narrative device: in the first, he's masking even in the midst of it, and in the second, he can't. After kissing Penelope, he finally, for the first time in his life, has a sexual interaction that means something to him.

It's the first one he truly enjoys, and the first one that feels right to him. It clicks for him that oh, that's what it's meant to be like. And the strain of that realization whilst still having to be what his society expects of him puts immense stress on his shoulders. You see how he grows more and more uncomfortable about the conversations, until finally he rejects it outright.

Even when it's very much not encouraged for him to do so. He's even told "You are much more fun this season." That's why he hides himself. From near everyone, even his family, even his brothers. It's telling how Anthony's positive interaction with Colin is when they're at the club, and Anthony praises him for his most recent attention. Have we seen much of Anthony being proud of Colin, otherwise? Not really. So he's reinforced in his persona. Doesn't boast of his travels because it didn't have anyone liking him for it, before. Doesn't even say how many cities he's gone to. Except with Penelope.

In the books, there's a line about their kiss, referencing how his world will never be the same. And it won't be. Because when Colin says that she helps him see the world in new ways, it's in a multitude of meanings.

Penelope refuses to let him wear the mask, because in truth, Penelope is the only one who doesn't like it. Not only does she see the real Colin, but she enjoys the real Colin. Whilst everyone else is simpering over Colin's new look and attitude, rejects who he is in reality, Penelope dismisses it, wants the person she knows him to be instead. It's only when he strips down the facades that Penelope allows him into her life again. And her Whistledown article was harsh, but it was also true. He *is* masking. He *is* putting on a persona and a role. But she was wrong when she asked if Colin even knows which is real: Colin knows very well which is real. And he also knows the realities of him haven't been accepted.

When Colin tells Penelope charm can be taught, he speaks from experience. When he says 'living for the expectations of others is a trap' it is because he has already fallen into it, and if he can't dig himself out, maybe he can keep her from it. Colin tells her 'you do not need lessons' and that she is fine exactly as she is, because just as she sees the real him and loves him, he sees the real her, and loves her, too. But they both live in the constraints of their society, and so they both put on the masquerade. Even sometimes to hide from each other.

The current climax of his arc is when he's out with the lads, after they all go off to the brothel again, and he disassociates from the experience. Playing cards and insisting on sharing sexual exploits, to which he does not want to take part, and makes a lighthearted dig at them. 'There is no gentleman at this table'. He includes himself in that, and then clarifies. He speaks aloud for the first time to them the truth of his heart- 'Do you not ever tire of the expectation to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning? Do you not find it lonely?' Can it really only just be him?

And it is. Or, maybe it isn't, but the rest of them aren't brave enough to admit it, so they're okay in making him feel like it is, in outcasting him for being a romantic, for caring about a woman beyond what she can provide for him sexually. Colin professes he doesn't like who he's become, doesn't like the expectations for him to behave the way he has, and they laugh at him. Again. He is made fun of, again.

He goes home and he falls in his bed and he feels like he lost it all. Lost Penelope to his own advice, and lost his newfound shine in his community. But when he's faced with which one matters more to him, he chooses Penelope. Unhesitatingly.

Colin chooses to be sensitive. He chooses to be a warm-hearted, gentle man in a society that prefers sexist machismo. Act one way in the light and another in the shadows. Colin wants to live authentically, as a man he doesn't really have a role model for. He is brave and he is tender, he sees the sexism of his society and he rejects it. He sees the importance Penelope has in his life, the way she makes him feel, and he embraces her wholeheartedly. He wants love and romance, he wants connection and meaning.

Colin, The Great Pretender, sick of pretending. Colin, walking into that ballroom and giving Fife the cut direct when he invites him out. Colin, cutting into a dance in the middle of a ball between Penelope and a man the entire city knows is about to propose. Colin staring deeply into her eyes with such unfiltered longing even *Cressida* can't help but notice what's going on. Colin running off after Penelope in full view of his society, outrunning a *carriage* to see her. Begging her to let him in. Colin on his knees, all but flaying his chest open for Penelope to see his heart. Colin made a choice when that candle flickered out, and his choice was Penelope. His choice was himself. And his choice was to flip off societal expectation and to live for love, damn the consequences.

I think our own world would be a better place if modern men took his example, too. Colin Bridgerton as male love lead in Bridgerton, a global show, is such a refreshing, wonderful example. A man who tried to be like what the world wanted, and who decided to go against the gender norms of his time. A man who prioritizes the woman he loves, who risks ridicule in doing so and comes to realize that he doesn't care. He doesn't care anymore about being one of the boys, one of the lads, one of the guys. Fuck his society if his society can't recognize the beauty of what he feels with Pen. He cares about being the best self he can be. And that best self is around Penelope, inspired by Penelope.

Because how he is with Penelope? God, I could swoon. At every turn, he prioritizes her comfort and personhood. He validates her, he sees her in beautiful, positive light and he helps her see herself that way, too. He encourages her to be brave because he already feels she is, he refuses to let her call herself stupid or a laughingstock, he apologizes without excuses, he checks in on her every step of the way. He's so passionate in that carriage, he's burning for her, he's yearning, but he doesn't do anything until she agrees for him to. He confesses his feelings and when she says they're friends, he backs off. He listens, he cares. He apologizes for overstepping her boundaries, and then when she gives him her consent, the only thing on his mind is showing how much he wants and appreciates her by providing her pleasure. Colin, the people pleaser, dedicated only to pleasing two people in that moment: Penelope, and himself. Because he wants to do that, to give her an orgasm that exists just for her. He's a witness to it, and that's pleasure for him, too. He waits for her nod of consent, he revels in seeing her enjoying herself. And the aftercare- I could cry.

Colin is a man who had every single reason not to be a kind, sensitive soul, and still he chose it. Chose to share it because the headline, even a wallflower can bloom, that's not just for Penelope.

It's for Colin, too.

[nonuggetshere]

I'm gonna continue with the requests later, but I also felt the need to doodle my two PVs with a little bit of gender on the side

They're both still very much genderless, but because not every non-binary/agender person will have the same perception/feelings regarding their gender and won't have the same gender presentation, I decided to mess around with it a little

Hallow is genderfluidv(though after some consideration I realised agenderflux describes them more accurately, but oh well, these labels don't even exist in their story so who cares), they're non-binary but their alignment fluctuates between fem-leaning, masc-leaning, something in-between and neither. They're fine with any terms and pronouns but mostly go by they/them.

Luna is genderfae/transfem, their gender fluctuates between agender and fem-aligned non-binary. They mostly go by they/them and gender-neutral and feminine terms, they're fine with she/her and some neopronouns, but any masculine terms and pronouns are a big no-no for them. Currently, I'm considering making them an enby lesbian, but that might change in the future.

[tovaicas]

I literally can't believe you do not get a one-on-one section or conversation with estinien until the VERY END OF THE GODDAMN EXPAC

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.” 

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

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

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

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

~  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks. 

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

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

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

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[fionnaskyborn]

On a scale from one to ten, how based of me is it that I took the GGST survey for the second time just to put a BlazBlue character that appeared in exactly one novel and then never again in one of my three "additional character I would like to see the most in the future" spots?

[hxney-lemcn]

First Kiss — Housewardens x gn! reader

summary: your first kiss with your lover.

tw: none.

a/n: teehee. Its hard for me to pick what character I wanna daydream about. Also, can you tell who my fav is? *cough* Vil *cough*

wc: 2.1k (~250 each character)

Master List

Riddle Rosehearts

The warm sun gently warmed you both. A refreshing breeze softly caressed you, Riddle’s red hair swaying gently as he took a sip of his tea. You felt more than content as Riddle’s gray-blue eyes watched you intently as you rambled about whatever carried your fancy. It was a side of Riddle that few others saw, and you were grateful that he allowed you to, that he was willing to listen to whatever nonsense you spouted. The warmth in your heart burst as he nodded, giving his two cents about the book you spoke of. By the sevens did you want to just give him a little peck. You two were dating, so there was no harm in asking…right? Although the two of you had been dating for a bit, the question had caused him to fluster greatly. Cheeks a bright red, mouth gaping, chest heaving. You should’ve expected such a reaction, it took quite a bit for him to hold your hand without shutting down. To your surprise, he gave you his consent. Leaning over, you couldn’t help but find him absolutely adorable. Eyes closed expectantly, lips pursed, cheeks red. You closed the gap, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips before pulling away. When you pulled away he seemed to look both in awe and slight disappointment. 

“As my partner, you are allowed to show me your affection in such ways, I only ask you to keep it between us. Other’s do not need to witness such acts.”

Leona Kingscholar

You were bored. Your phone could no longer hold your attention and you just wanted to do something different. Too bad you had a whole ass lion using you as his personal body pillow. You stared at the familiar ceiling of his room, contemplating on a possible way to sneak out. You loved Leona, really, you did…but your limbs were sore and you felt antsy. So, what better than poking the bear, err…lion. You found yourself brushing his hair with your hands, scratching his scalp every so often. When that no longer kept you entertained, you lightly scratched at the base of his ears. His ear twitched, but you continued with your ministrations, a smirk pulling at your lips as a deep rumble was pulled out of him. You only paused when one of his eyes glared at you. When you mentioned you were merely bored and your legs felt like needles were constantly pricking them he only rolled his eyes. Quicker than you could comprehend, he pinned you down below him with a slight huff. His green eyes stared at you for a few moments, as if he was seeking permission, and when you didn’t push him away or fight him, he leaned down, connecting your lips in a harsh kiss. He didn’t stop until you were breathless, a smug smirk filling his features.

“Is this what you wanted, herbivore? If you want to ruin my sleep then you’ll have to compensate me.”

Azul Ashengrotto

You felt like you were going crazy. Azul would take you out on fancy dates, offering you discounts (is it really a discount if you were basically eating for free?) at the Mostro Lounge, and shower you in light forms of affection (kissing the back of your hand, guiding you with a hand on your back, gentlemanly shit), yet you haven’t kissed him? Preposterous! It was proving to be a difficult task, as even though you both had been dating for a while, Azul would shy away at any form of affection you showered him with. The good news was that he had become more receptive to it, the key was you both had to be completely alone and it could only be small gestures. A small squeeze of his hand, brushing back a stray hair, hell even giving him a compliment no longer caused him to run away. Sadly, you started to feel greedy, his pink lips always seemed to taunt you, an open invitation to lean over and place your own over his. But you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, you understood how kissing could be a big deal. There was one night, the dim lights highlighting Azul’s beautiful face as he watched you expectantly. He had you taste a new dish that he wanted to add to his menu and it just so happened to be your favorite food. As thanks, you asked him to come closer, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He did so hesitatingly, and felt himself burn up when you placed a kiss on his cheek. Then he felt like he was going to pass out as you pouted stating that you ‘missed’. Against his better judgment, he gave into your pleading, enchanting eyes, leaning in closer as you silently asked for permission. When your lips met his, he thought he was ascending to heaven.

“A-ahem, I-I’m glad to see that the d-dish was to your l-liking. I-if there’s anything else I could provide, p-please do not be afraid to ask.”

Kalim Al-Asim

It's a wonder you two haven’t kissed yet. You felt so spoiled with how much care and affection Kalim showered you with. He never failed to warm you heart whether it be from his hugs, his solutions if anything ever concerned you, or even just his smile. He was a beaming ray of sunshine, and it kind of intimidated you. Contrary to popular belief, you felt shy under Kalim’s love. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the way your heart skipped a beat as he kissed your cheek or refused to let you go. Oh and not to mention the spoiling. You knew you'd never stop the prince from lavishing you with golden jewelry and gems you didn’t even want to guess how much they were worth. Honestly, it wasn’t good for your poor heart…or consciousness. So when Kalim noticed your slightly downtrodden expression at the new ring he slipped on your finger he worried. Was it not to your liking? Was the color wrong? Don’t worry! He’ll find you ten more rings that you’ll love! …why did you look even more scared at that suggestion? You deserved all this and more! Poor Kalim, he doesn’t know a world without it being at his fingertips, he can’t understand your concern. Your heart hurt at his frown, his sad eyes reminded you of a poor puppy that was kicked. With a sigh you relented, it did compliment you nicely. And so, hoping to right the wrong of making Kalim feel sad, you leaned over and gently pecked his lips. It was like nothing had occurred at all as he stared with sparkles in his eyes.

“Could we do that again? How about another? Just one more, pleeeeease~ Haha! I’m sorry, I just love you so much!”

Vil Schoenheit

It wasn’t fair how pretty and charming your boyfriend was. You wouldn’t tell him this, but he could run you over and blame you for being in the way and you’d apologize. Yeah, you were a major simp, but you really tried to be normal about it. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you managed to bag him, something about how your stupidity was frustratingly charming…in which you showed him your B in potions but he simply rolled his eyes. Aparatenly that proved his point somehow. Anyways! It was one of those rare moments of peace, the two of you watching a movie that Vil had deemed a classic. As much as you tried to pay attention (you know how annoying it is when someone scrolls on their phone during a movie you love), you kept glancing at Vil to see his reactions. You weren’t being sneaky by any means, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy you couldn’t take your eyes off of him or annoyed that you clearly missed the symbolism that was important to understanding the plot. Yet when you pointed out something even he missed…he was secretly proud. Perhaps you were a better multitasker than you seemed because he had watched that movie plenty of times and missed such a simple thing you pointed out on first view. His heart warmed as you pointed out more details that you liked, and others you didn’t completely understand, such a simple moment, yet one he would cherish. And now he was becoming the bad one, eyes straying to your lips while trying to listen to your rambling. He truly wanted your first kiss to be romantic, in a garden with fairy lights or over a fancy dinner, but perhaps this was just as, if not more so romantic. Gently lifting your head up, your words died on your tongue as Vil’s purple eyes stared at you so lovingly. As he inched his face closer to yours, he softly asked if he could kiss you, nearly sending your heart into cardiac arrest. As his soft lips met yours, you felt true bliss for the first time, and as he pulled away with a self assured smirk, cheeks a light pink, you questioned how you managed to achieve a dream like scenario. 

“It seems like you’re becoming a bad influence, dear. You want another? Perhaps I can oblige if you can actually focus on the next movie.” 

Idia Shroud

Where do I begin? You had been with Idia for nearly a year. You both were on the shy side, getting used to such intimate touches slowly. You can successfully say that you can now hug Idia without him freaking out. In fact, he seemed to seek out your affection, albeit in a backwards way. He’d act like he hated any form of affection and then proceed to stare daggers at you like he was trying to telepathically ask you to play with his hair. True cat behavior. You showed him the joy of affection and now you had to pay the crime (you did so happily). Idia was laying on your chest playing on his handheld console, you were mindlessly playing with his hair and your eyes kept drifting from your phone to your boyfriend. He was so pretty, you never understood how he thought otherwise. From his fiery blue hair, his yellow determined eyes, to his blue tinted lips. He may be a loser otaku, but that just happened to be your type. Your hand trailed from his bright hair to his pale face, gently caressing his cheeks. He looked over at you, his cheeks turning a light pink, no matter how much love you showered him with he would never get used to the way you made his heart want to rip itself out of his chest. And…oh sevens, were you staring at his lips? Just what was going on in that mind of yours? Did…did you just ask to kiss him?! Hair burning pink and hiding his face in your neck, he felt like his brain was melting. He’s dreamt of kissing you, how soft your lips may be, the flavor of your chapstick…but actually doing it?! Was your intimacy meter high enough? His charm stats are rock bottom, would he even kiss you right? Wait! H-he didn’t say no! Please kiss him… Oh, that’s a lot better than when he practiced kissing his body pillow. Great, you’ve got him hooked all over again.

“C-could we do that…again…I-I n-need to grind to get my charm s-stats up.”

Malleus Draconia

For Vil you were the simp, well now the turns have tabled. Malleus is straight up courting you, letting you progress the relationship as you’d like. You’re only comfortable with holding hands? That’s alright, he is more than happy to oblige your requests. You enjoy being hugged? Be prepared for dragon hugs, you can’t escape. He would never push you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. Honestly, he was expecting your first kiss to be at the altar of your wedding…yeah he’s a bit of a traditionalist. So don’t expect him to make the first move, he’s content with any and all affection you're willing to give. And poor you, you constantly found yourself with cute aggression when you’re with your boyfriend. He was just so cute! You wanted to squish his cheeks and squeeze him as tightly as possible (he wouldn’t mind, it's not like you could hurt him). You found yourself once again with a wave of cute aggression as Malleus pouted at the phone he currently held. You were teaching him how to use it and it was a bit harder than you realized. I mean even your mom got the concepts quicker than him…but you suppose your mom wasn’t a century year old fae. The feeling became so strong you couldn’t stop yourself from smushing his cheeks, causing his bright green eyes to stare at you in surprise that quickly turned into fondness. Letting your instincts fully take over, you brought his face closer, pressing your lips together. You had tried to pull away, but Malleus followed you, taking over and kissing you possessively. He wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

“I apologize, child of man. I can’t seem to hold myself back when it comes to you.”

[ohbother2]

Okay….Adam sfw and nsfw headcanons? I cannot believe I have begun to simp after this trashbag DAMN YOU ALEX BRIGHTMAN-

I have an admission... I fucking love Adam pls keep sending Adam requests in I can't get enough of this man

Also, sorry I've been MIA, I've got a lot of deadlines coming up so updates will be more spaced out over the next few weeks :)

I love Adam but he's quite difficult to write, so pls lmk what you guys think! I tried to keep him in character! (This was far longer than planned lol I just love this man)

NSFW - Minors DNI

---

Adam x f!reader - General Headcannons

SFW

You'd been in heaven for many decades, possibly even centuries, before you had ever even entered Adam's radar

He was the 'original dick', as he liked to constantly remind everyone within shouting distance, and spent all of his time surrounded by the higher-ups of Heaven, attending meetings, court-hearings, and dealing with training his danger-tits army for the next extermination

It would take a lot to enter his radar, having to work your way into the correct circles, gain the right connections and attend the right events

But once you're in the circumference of society he haunts, you're on his radar immediately

He's a man with fine tastes, look at his previous wives, he has a type ("fucking bombshells" as he would describe them) and as soon as he sees you in his peripheral one afternoon he's zoned in and absolutely entranced

No one has ever said no to him before, so when you do, he's taken aback. Hiding his confusion and deep-rooted offence with a flippant comment "Oh, playing the hard to get game, babe? Lucky for you I fucking love the chase."

Inwardly, he's fucking fuming, why on earth would you reject him? Alas, he's sure he'll win you over eventually... right?

He's arrogant, he's cocky, he's a self-entitled piece of shit, but he's also determined, passionate, and is anything but a quitter

You will not know peace for months after your reject him

He'll storm into your office whenever he feels like it - which is whenever he has enough free time to do so - bugging you relentlessly as you try and finish your work. He never stops asking questions about you: your day, your hobbies, your love life, what're you doing after work tonight? He's free, he could take you somewhere nice, show you a real fun time

When you stop answering he starts bitching about his day to you, about the local gossip, about some Seraphim that pissed him off, about some bitch at the bar, which he could totally take you to, did he mention he was free tonight?

He doesn't just hound you at work, and you often find yourself coming to a screeching halt in the street and abruptly turning the other way when you spot his iconic mask - he's a tall man, his horns poking noticeably above the crowd as he tries to find any excuse to find and talk to you

When he gets really desperate, after months and months of unsuccessful attempts of gaining your attention, he finally turns to Lute with the all too familiar question "You're a woman, right? What do you-"

The advice she gives is not one he is happy to receive, 'stay away and tone it the fuck down', but he listens, ego taking a massive hit as he watches you carry on as normal

Funnily enough, you start to miss the annoying dick, and you begin to look forward to his far less frequent visits, which mainly consist of you both bumping into each other at work and making polite conversation

When he really can't take it anymore, and he happens to hear rumour about another man planning on asking you on a date, he practically breaks down your office door with a bouquet of flowers, thrusting them unhappily into your hands and asking incredibly politely for you to please go on a date with him

You're both surprised when you agree, and he can feel his face heating up beneath his mask as he whoops, calling a "I knew you'd come around babe, I'll pick you up at 8 tonight. Can't wait to see what you wear." over his shoulder as he bustles back out of your office, practically vibrating until he can tell Lute the news

He's 'The Original Man', and once you become his girl there is nothing he wouldn't do for you - he's constantly swinging by your office and pulling away the less important paperwork, commenting that he can get one of his workers to do it and freeing up time for you both to hang out; he's constantly flying through your balcony with bags of some new takeaway and chatting about this amazing new food place he found as he drops the heavy bags on your counter; someone causing you trouble? If he can't personally deal with it due to some 'relationship' he has to upkeep, he's sure to inform Lute who will have the situation handled before sunset that same day

Basically, he has authority in Heaven, and he's going to use that to make your life as easy as possible

Having a bad day? He can fix that. Oh, not in the mood for sex? Well, he's an amazing cuddle buddy, and he has the softest wings, let him just grab some snacks from the kitchen and then get ready for a night on the sofa wrapped in his strong arms and soft wings

His wings are insanely soft, and big, and despite his best efforts, no matter how long you've both been dating, they will flutter if he hasn't seen you in an extended amount of time, or if you're wearing something particular nice - he can't control it and it thoroughly ruins his bad-boy persona

You're the only other person beside Lute who he feels comfortable with letting preen his wings, and after you start officially dating he only comes to you with the issue, batting his eyelashes and pleading with you to 'take care of him'. You do, and he always breaks his promise not to 'make it weird' until you give him a firm smack on the back of his head - he's fallen asleep more times than you can count with your hands in his wings

He returns the favour, of course, and he sticks to his word like a gentleman, hands remaining firmly against your wings and not daring to wander. He's not a saint, however, and he will whisper less-than-holy things in your ear as he works - he'll stop if you don't play along, and finds himself enjoying the innocent intimacy of it. If you do play along? Oh, boy, his hands don't stay on your wings for long

He uses his wings a lot in his body language, and in your initial stages of courting he'll constantly puff them out to make him seem bigger, trying to impress you with his sheer size - embarrassingly for you, it works

PDA is not approved of in heaven, so he has to maintain his distance from you in public but that is a completely different matter in private

He will take every opportunity to touch you, innocently, whether that be a had on your jaw to bring your attention back to him or to guide your gaze wherever he wants you to look, a hand on your bicep to pull you this way and that, a large hand between your shoulder blades if you're being too slow

In public, completely subconsciously, whichever wing is closest to you will outstretch, barely noticeable to the majority of people, corralling you in closer to his side, and protecting you from whatever might happen - there's no danger in heaven, but still, he likes to know you're safe, and his wings reflect that desire

In private, he's constantly got a hand on you, oftentimes both, on your arms, your shoulders, your waist, the small of your back, your thighs, fucking anywhere - he likes having you on his chest on the sofa, and he finds it funny when he tries to do the same and crushes the air from your lungs

He loves when you cook and he can just stand behind you with his chin propped on your head or shoulder and his arms around your waist. You constantly have to tell him off for whispering foul things in your ear, but he quickly shuts up when you threaten to send him away, his grip tightening against you as he pouts playfully and watches silently

He will actively stretch out his wing when it's cold or windy or rainy, shielding you from the elements with his large wings and loving the excuse to pull you close. "What're they gonna say babe? I'm just keeping you dry."

The biggest difficulty in your domestic lives is the housework, he's an old fashioned man and he's never really had to do housework before. He's gotten better throughout your relationship, but he still absolutely hates washing dishes, but he'll happily sit in the kitchen and keep you company and talk mindlessly as he watches you work. He always thanks you with a kiss

If you ever make him do it, expect to be sat on the counter right next to him and no you cannot leave until he's done and yes you will listen to him complain the entire time and yes he will always slap your ass with a wet hand as payback, cackling as you yell half-heartedly

Deep down, incredibly deep, oceanic levels of deep, past the many many levels of crude jokes and brash humour, of over-compensating confidence and attempted witty one-liners, past the smirk and the puffed chest and the domineering presence, is a man who is cripplingly doubtful and insecure - two of his wives have left him for the same man, and he's absolutely terrified (but would rather burn in the fiery pits of hell than ever admit it) that it's going to happen again

He can seem rude and brash and uncaring, but he really is trying his best, and he's desperate to prove to you, in his own way, how much he really cares (He's scared to admit even to himself how much losing you would crush him)

Because of this, no event is ever half-assed - it's your birthday? He's got the biggest cake he can find and he's made some of his exterminators set up a surprise birthday party for you. It's your anniversary? He's pretending he's forgotten until the morning of and suddenly you've got a reservation at one of the nicest and most in-demand places in all of Heaven

"Come on, sugar," He'd reprimand you mockingly, shit-eating grin on his face at your excitement "you really thought I'd forget my special girl?"

He can doubt himself sometimes, worrying about your feelings for him, but he hides his insecurities whenever you catch him in deep-thought with some lame sex-joke

He doesn't ever want to talk about his insecurities, and he'll never outright tell you what he fears more than anything, but you pick up on it after enough time together

You don't pry, but you do card your hands through his hair when you see his eyes go particularly glossy one afternoon, pressing a kiss to his temple and scratching at his scalp, making your way slowly to his wings and back and taking your sweet time. He closes his eyes and listens to you ramble about your day, which eventually turns into you rambling about him, how handsome he is, how hard he works, and how much you love him and how you don't know what you'd do without him

He doesn't realise it, but you say just the rights things he needs for him to regain that pep in his step and for his cocky words to have more meaning behind them

NSFW

He's the Original Dick, and you'd hope he had the goods to back up the talk with the amount of bragging he does

He does; he does have the goods, and some would say he's being humble because what the fuck

He's the oldest human in history - he's seen it all, done it all twice, and he's more than willing to share some of his tricks with you

He's too proud and self-centred to ever let you have complete control, but when he's particularly lazy he'll let you go on top (as rare as this occasion is) but he'll still guide you as best as he can, lifting you easily with his strong arms and sweet-talking you with his sharp tongue

The first time you ever see him without his god-awful mask is during an intimate moment - you're first intimate moment, where you downright refused to continue if he didn't take the cursed thing off his face

Again, he's insecure, and it takes a lot of reassurance and just the right amount of kisses on his jaw and neck for him to be convinced that taking his mask off was worth it

He lets you look at him for several moments, and then he's had enough and he took his mask off for a fucking reason and he's pulling you into his lap and kissing you properly for the fist time

You can compliment him later, he has other things on his mind right now, the main one being fucking you until you can't even conjure a coherent thought

After that encounter he slowly takes his mask off in private with you more and more, learning to appreciate how nice it was to be able to kiss your temple and actually feel you against his lips, as well as how nice it was to feel your lips against his cheek

Still keeps the mask on sometimes, especially when you ask so nicely

He absolutely loves receiving head, resting back in his office chair or against the back of the sofa and letting you get to work, grunts and groans falling from his lips as his hands grip your hair tightly and guide you exactly how he wants you

He will give head as well, he's not selfish by any means, but he much prefers kissing you as you fall apart beneath him - for him, he'd much rather swallow your screams and mutter dirty things in your ear as he brings you to release

Be careful with his wings, especially when he lets you preen them - gentle touches can easily be misinterpreted as passionate caresses and before you know it you're pinned on your back with a red-faced and disheveled looking Adam hovering above you, muttering about how you're a "fucking tease" and if "you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask, sugar. I'll never leave you wanting."

He knows the power of wings, and his heavy touches against your own when he needs to "Just sliding past babe, what's that fucking look for? Can't a man work?" are no accident. He loves getting you all wound up. He takes it as a personal challenge to do it in public, and his shit-eating grin remains the entire day before he's pressing you against the door of his office or your plush bed and muttering about how fucking needy you are.

He doesn't take being teased well, and he'll glare at you the entire time until he can do something about it - he'll have even less patience than usual, especially for people who aren't you, and often has to do damage-control after he's regained his bearings a few hours later

He's a big man, and he uses that to his full advantage, man-handling you with ease, positioning you exactly where he wants you, pinning both of your wrists easily with only one of his large hands, pushing your legs apart like butter

He can lift you easily, and he'll hold you against the wall, or countertop, or wherever the fuck you guys are, and he'll keep you there until he's done

Lute has walked in on you both far too many times, and she always hurtles back out of the door cursing at you both angrily

He likes pinning you beneath him, spreading his wings over your forms and completely shrouding you with his form - you're fucking his, and no one else will take that from him

He fucking loves dirty talk, and it's a challenge to get him to shut up - he'll carry on talking at you long after you're able to respond, and he'll just start talking about that instead: "Aw, look at you, can't even fucking say my name you're so fucking dumb for this c-"

As said before, he's insecure based on the way he lost his two previous wives and the reflects into the bedroom

If you do degrade him, he'll just challenge you, telling you you've obviously not learnt your fucking lesson and picking up the pace, desperate to prove he's the exact opposite of whatever had just spilled from your mouth - you'll pay for trying to goad him on, he won't relent until you're a babbling shaking mess, stuttering out apologies and taking back everything you had just dared to say to him

Any praise you offer him he absolutely laps up. Call him handsome, tell him your his, tell him there's no one else in the world who would ever compared to him, how good he's fucking you - he'll get so wrapped up in the praise he'll even stop talking, completely focussed on his task of making you feel good, making sure you know there's no one else who could give you what he does

Dig your hands into his wings and he becomes a groaning mess, and it'll only be a few seconds of you muttering those sweet praises in his ears and your nails digging into his wings before he's collapsing on top of you and panting raggedly, still trying to mutter out curses and praises through his gruff gasping

When he really loses control his wings will flap of their own accord, and you've had to completely clear your side tables because he kept accidentally smashing everything that was on them

He likes to rest afterwards, and he usually tries to encourage you into going another round.

He'll tug you into his sweaty side, pulling you half onto his chest as he breathes deeply, immediately asking if you enjoyed it, and when you agree, he'll always mutter something along the lines of "Of course you fucking did, it's me."

[gaysindistress]

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man?

a/n: This is technically part two for this list. You could read them separately but I really think you should read them both so you can fully feel the angst.

non-mcu characters masterlist

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries this is one is for you girl

Price stalks over to him and grabs him by the front of his vest, not caring that everyone can see what’s going on. “You call and apologize to her right now, ya hear me? It’s unacceptable for you to lie to her like that and I should have your balls for it. You fix it before she does go off and find herself a better man.”

Now let’s say that when Simon got back, things were….different. You rarely fought but now you’re bickering about every little thing and having full on battles of the will that leave you crying in the bedroom while he’s storming out. The connection between you two feels strained and distant where’s before it was warm and comforting. You barely look at each other and sometimes you think he’s straight up ignoring you.

Even the dogs have started to notice that there’s something off about mom and dad. Most nights you’ll sleep alone with the dogs by your door while Simon is on the couch. It feels like they’re laying in wait, ready to spring into action if anything were to happen. They don’t go to him as much as they did before and your female dog, Echo, refuses to leave your side. She’s become glued to you while your other dog, Zade, keeps you within eyesight at all times. It really pisses Simon off because Zade is supposed to be his dog and the mutt won’t even look at him (Simon’s words, not yours).

It all comes to a head though one night when Simon is trying to get Zade to come with him on a walk and the dog just stares at him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stares into Simon’s soul and judges him for how he’s been treating you.

“Zade! Come here now!” Simon grumbles in a half shout but the dog doesn’t move a muscle. You’re in the bedroom with Echo at your feet and she glances over at you with a look that says ‘let’s go’.

What happened next is a blur. Echo barely makes it into the living room before she’s growling and placing herself between you and Simon. Zade is up and stalking closer to his sister’s side while Simon is growing more and more angry. You don’t think you even had the time to say anything before Echo and Zade tackle Simon to the ground. You know they wouldn’t hurt him but it’s still a terrifying sight and you’re doing everything you can to get the dogs off of him. You manage to get them off but they refuse to go to their kennels and keep tucked behind you, still ready to protect you if needed.

“Simon, oh my god are you okay?” You ask him in a panicked and high pitched voice as you try to help him up. He shoves your hands off of him and accidentally uses too much force which sends you to stumbling into the dogs.

Everything is absolute chaos with his anger, the dogs trying to protect you, and now you’re crying while trying not to tell him off. At this point you grab the dogs by their collars and pull them away as tears are streaming down your face. When they hear your sniffles, they immediately give into you and let you pull them to the bedroom. You don’t hear Simon as you start to pack as much as you can. The weeks of being on edge have finally gotten to you and you’re done.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who isn’t willing to communicate with you.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who used to be the most loving and devoted man you’ve ever met but now he can’t acknowledge your presence.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s come so far and has forgiven himself for the things he’s done but now he’s slipping back into his old self destructive ways.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who can’t be honest with himself and admit that he’s wrong.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s become Ghost.

You’ve tried having faith in him after he broke up with you but it’s rotting you from the inside out. It’s eating away at your heart, gnawing at your ribs with your flesh stuck in its teeth. This faith is liquifying the kindness and patience you once had. It’s changing you into an anxious shell of a coward who can’t stand up for yourself. Change is alright but this is not. This change is making you cruel and hopeless while it waits for you to become a faithless savage who devours whatever light touches you.

It’s only when you come back into the living room with your bags packed and the dogs ready to go that Simon says something to you.

He questions what you’re doing.

He doesn’t apologize.

“I’m leaving. We’ll figure out everything tomorrow,” you tell him as you find your keys.

“What do you mean?”

You stop. You stare at the front door with completely blank eyes. They flicker to him over your shoulder.

“I’m leaving you. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out how to make it a clean break then.”

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you after that.

He lets you walk out the door. You don’t ask him to fight for you either.

He lets you leave him. You don’t turn back either.

You meant to drive to your friend’s place but somewhere on the way there you pull over and cry until you feel like you’re going to pass out. Zade and Echo watch from the backseat of your car with their heads on your center console. They want to comfort you but there’s not exactly room for two 100 pound dogs in the front seat so they stay put. Your friend calls you frantically because she’s not home but tells you that you should come meet her wherever she’s at. As nice as it might be to get away, it’s not appealing to you at the moment so you call the only other person you know you’d be comfortable with right now.

A part of you knows it’s a mistake to call him and if Simon finds out, he might very well almost kill his captain a third time. The other part of you knows that John would be understanding and the calm presence that you want right now. He already checks on you regularly so would it be a huge surprise if you showed up on his doorstep?

As if he’s been waiting for this moment, John already has a guest room for you and has the back door open for the dogs to run around outside. They’ve met him before so they feel more secure with leaving your side although they both give him a warning look.

Now it’s important to remember that the entire time you’ve known John, you’ve been with Simon. John thinks himself a gentleman, albeit a bit gruff, but a gentleman no less so you’ve been off limits. Obviously he can’t ignore the initial attraction he felt towards you because you are an utterly breathtaking person and it would be impossible to not notice that. He’s tried to lock away the yearning that tugs at the marrow in his bones when he sees you but it’s difficult. It’s like asking a dog to stop begging; they might listen for a moment but they go back to it within seconds. Also during the course of your friendship, he’s come to know the absolute amazing person that you are and seen that you have the kindness soul he’s ever known. It didn’t used to hurt when he saw you but after that night you texted him to keep Simon safe after he broke up with you, it’s damn near unbearable. Simon told you to find yourself a better man and John knows he could be that man. He wants to be that man but only if you come to him. He won’t approach you or even hint at it with you. It needs to be you who seeks him out. It needs to be you who wants him. It needs to be you who asks him to be that man otherwise John would never be able to forgive himself if it all went wrong.

Nothing happens that night or at all for that matter during your stay with John. It was meant to only be a few days but with losing your house so suddenly and trying to navigate a world Post Simon, it ends up being a few weeks. You feel awful about it and promise that you’ll be gone as soon as you can. John always laughs it off and tells you to stay as long as you need. Secretly he’s growing accustomed to your calming presence and gentle ways. He adores how thoughtful you are when you have to work early and barely make a sound. He appreciates how you make him a plate and leave it in the fridge if he comes home late. He’s thankful that you’re comfortable enough with him to tell him about everything that’s going on.

John made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t bring up anything unless you said something first. Even when he wants desperately to know why you’re crying when you came back from Simon’s tonight, he won’t. Instead he offers you a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and some space while he busies himself in his shop outside. It absolutely destroys him to even think about leaving you alone in the living room but it’s the right thing to do.

Just as he’s getting ready to leave, your small voice stops him.

“Can…can you stay?” It’s unusual for you to not be confident in your words. It causes him to freeze to hear the uncertainty. “If..if you want.”

He smiles at the ground before turning to look at you and nod. You’re curled into a ball on the couch with your dogs at your feet but there’s space for him next to you. You lean away from the arm of the couch and he takes the hint. Settling into the space between you and couch, he tosses his arm over the back and lets you decide how to proceed. Against your logical head, you tuck yourself into his side with yours pulled around yourself and your head on his shoulder. His fingers itch to play with the ends of your hair but they stay tightly closed around the couch cushion.

“Thank you…for everything.”

“No need for that.” He murmurs with bated breath. He knows you can feel the tension, how could you not when you’re practically laying on his chest?

“One day you’re going to accept my thanks. It might not be tomorrow or the day after, but you will,” you say with a snort. He says that every single time and you reply with the same phrase every time as well.

John’s hand betrays him and starts to play with the very ends of your hair. You feel it just like you felt his strained breathing. It’s strange to feel affection from anyone else but from him, it’s…. welcomed. You don’t acknowledge it and he knows that you’re doing that for his own sake.

“Maybe,” he tosses back and his breath catches when you move closer to him. Your arm moves to wrap around his waist and stills when he tenses. It’s your silent way of asking for consent to hold him. “Love,” he starts and moves his hand away from your hair.

You move to look at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He’s looking at you with such tenderness and warmth it makes your stomach flip.

“Do you have feelings for me?” You ask him directly, unwilling to be tossed around again. It’s abrasive and you know there’s a better way to have asked but it gets straight to the point.

John looks sick and a tight lipped smile pulls across his face as he tries to come up with an answer. “I…love I think you need to rest. There’s been a…”

“No. Answer the question.”

He glances down at your lips and that’s telling enough.

“Now isn’t the right time,” he whispers more to himself than to you. “You’ve just gone through…”

Cutting him off, you say firmly, “and that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

He can only stare at you with half lidded eyes and pray that he doesn’t break in front of you. His resolve is crumbling and it’s only thanks to his military service that he’s not throwing himself at you.

“I told him it’s over.”

John tries to interrupt you but you silence him with a pointed look. “I told him that I will always love him but that doesn’t mean I want to be with him anymore. I won’t wait around for him to figure his life out. I don’t deserve that. I deserve a man who knows what he wants and will communicate with me.”

Honestly it feels like his world is crumbling around him. You’re here snuggled into his chest and saying all these things which he knows what they mean but he can’t believe that you know what they mean. He can’t trust his own understanding of you and believe that you’d mean that.

“I need you to tell me what you want…now.”

You.

He wants you. More than anything in the world, John Price wants you and you’re asking him to confess that secret.

[uzurakis]

N★STYY OVER DA PHONEEE?!

featuring: gojo satoru. geto suguru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji. (characters are all aged up)

NSFW MDNI. what kind of e-sex do they each prefer?

n. should be doing my other reqs but.. i gotta do what i gotta do (they say). have fun <3

GOJO SATORU

you found yourself staring at your phone screen, nerves fluttering as you tapped the icon to start the video call. you had been waiting for this moment, wanting to share something special with gojo, someone who meant a lot to you. as the call connected, you held your breath, hoping he would pick up.

suddenly, his face appeared on the screen. his expression changed from casual to surprised as he took in the view of you.

“how’s my darling doi—whoa,”

holding the phone up so he could see every inch of your cunt, hands already covered in some sticky substance, your fingers slipped down and down again. how embarrassing, he wasn't even with you there, merely over the cellphone, and you couldn't tell how many times you had hit your climax.

“oh my, all for me, you lil’ slut?”

“too slow for my liking, ya know that?”

that increased your arousal in some way, as your yearning fingers sank into your walls for the nth time. taking a quick breath and repeating the speed he had previously wanted you to do, as if it were his, curving them precisely.

“i’ll keep making ya do that ‘til i come home later, alright? then show me what you got, darling.”

GETO SUGURU

suguru: 1 missed call

you chose to call your boyfriend back right away after he called, not sure if it was a serious call. he answered the phone, but didn't say anything until you noticed what was going on. the rustle of fabric and the faint sound of his breath hitching didn’t quite cover the sound of his hand sliding up and down his length. your mind raced, trying to comprehend the situation unfolding through the phone, a mix of confusion and anticipation settling in your chest.

“fuck, missed ya so bad princess,”

“can’t help it.”

now your body was heated, the feelings arise, growing stronger with each groan that came out of his mouth. your fingers moved on its own, paving their way to your clit, those fingers of you played with your pussy. the constant spiraling inside made you aroused.

“suguru..”

“keep goin’ just like that, yeah.”

one of your digits quickened to match the pace he started moving at. though separated by distance, drew you closer, your own breaths and moans growing shallow as you felt the climax getting you.

“‘bouta cum, suguru..”

“let me hear you, princess.”

“s-suguru!”

“so fuckin’ good for me.”

ITADORI YUUJI

your phone buzzed beside you once again. with a sigh, you retrieved it, torn between ignoring the distraction and feeling compelled to check the message. glancing at the screen, annoyance flooded you, it was merely another mundane notification—or not. it was a message from your boyfriend.

baby yuuji <3: 2 attachments

sliding into your messages, there were two videos, with the bedroom linen as its cover. once you played it though, hands slowly going up and down his length, displaying his cock. seeing very carefully as he wax his length with the amount of cum he produced.

“ah–shit, look at what ya make me do, pretty.”

he was calling your name with a moan when you turned up the audio a little. he seemed, irritated? suggesting to you that he had likely been playing with himself all along, maybe waiting for you to be at his side.

“god, wanna feel ya cunt so baad.”

same with the other video, he was all over you while stroking his length and groaning out how you’d make him feel good. you felt like he was testing your patience, the sensation rushed to your every body and goes down to your stomach. maybe it’s time for payback.

you: 1 attachment

you: just as you like it <3

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

you found yourself sinking into the depths of boredom as the hours dragged on. searching for a distraction, your gaze fell upon your phone resting on the table. unlocking your device, you navigated to the camera app. with a playful smirk and a dirty mind, you started experimenting with different angles and poses, ones to send to your beloved boyfriend.

you: hey megs, guess what i’ve been up to ;)

you: 3 attachments

you sent three images of your tits; two with your hand groping them nude, and one with your bra on—in an attempt provoke the man. you were aware that you were playing a game against him when you teased him in this way, since he has a tendency to drop everything and come to screw you over.

when the "delivered" became "read," your brief bliss gave way to a null sense, and to your amazement, he didn't even bother to fucking respond?

what comes next, then? you opened your camera once more and took some pictures of your cunt with two fingers inside of them. you thought to yourself, this will definitely catch his attention.

you: 1 attachment

you: need you inside me, stupid ‘gumi

emo boyfriend: typing…

gnawing down your lips when he finally saw the texts. then a reply came up, didn’t imagine him to answer that fast this time.

emo boyfriend: fuck you.

emo boyfriend: stay there, i’m coming over.

YUUTA OKKOTSU

the familiarity of the day was broken by the sudden buzz of your device, signaling a notification unlike any other from your boyfriend. curiosity piqued, you tapped on the message, only to find a voice note waiting for you.

without any expectations, you pressed play and his voice saying your name filled the room. but as the seconds passed, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. it wasn't just a usual audio message; instead, noises of worked breathing that eventually turn into moans and groans.

“can’t stop thinkin’ bout ya, god,”

“can’t help myself.”

your heart raced as you listened, the voice note seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each moment amplifying your embarrassment. when you listened to the 30 second audio clip again, you noticed how he was pumping his cock, and the last thing you heard was a loud groan of your name as he released his climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“

“please come over, baby.”

@uzurakis — reblogs are very appreciated sweeties xp