#perfection and ROSE SHOVES HERSELF IN

[rainbow-arrow]

it’s like. not a big deal but repeated reading how people are excited for protection bc of ‘marichat crumbs’ like!!!!!!!!!! those aren’t cRUMBS marichat has had full episodes and the first. remembered. on-screen kiss. it’s what, crumbs after eating the full cake? not a single iteration of the lovesquare can claim they’re only getting cRUMBS

i remember when words meant things.

[mionemymind]

Chapter 1: Second to You

My Rival Series

Summary: “I hate Wanda Maximoff. I hate her face and the way she hides her freckles. I hate her smile and how perfect she laughs. I hate how smart she is and how she knows everything. I hate her.” Y/n complained. 

But how could she hate the girl that always took #1 in everything? How could she hate the girl that captivated her mind 24/7? How could she hate the girl she would willingly be #2 for?

Or the time where Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff were academic rivals that fell for each other.

A/n: Gif credits to @aftertheglitterfades

Warnings: Rivals to Lovers, Obvious Feelings, Stubborn Reader, Cursing

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

One Month - Spring Semester

“Please be a hundred - please be a hundred.” The brown eyed girl silently pleaded under her breath. Her hands were clenched together, easily covering her mouth. She couldn’t, actually wouldn’t, give her the satisfaction of seeing her nervous. 

With her dark brown hair, quick green eyes, and pretentious smile, Wanda Maximoff already had a lot going for her, something Y/n could easily list out. ‘So god forbid, please humble her for one moment’ Y/n thought to herself. 

Trying her best to not seem so obsessed, Y/n carefully studied Wanda’s reaction. While the rest of the class seemed upset over their grades, seeing Wanda’s smile among the crowd of frowns ticked something inside Y/n. ‘Oh please, not another 100.’ But there went that fucking cocky smile, one that brought Wanda’s dimples out, and Y/n knew the answer. 

Looking back at Professor Hathaway, the older woman gently smiled at Y/n as she handed her test backwards, careful to not expose her grade. Once she passed, Y/n slowly flipped it over, eyes squinted as if it would help lessen the blow. 

‘Oh god - a 99.’ Y/n tried to steel herself from any reaction. She knew Wanda would be looking at her like a hawk. Taking a peak past the paper, Y/n could easily spot those green eyes anywhere in a crowd. And just as Y/n expected, Wanda was looking. 

“Okay class, this week's test was better. We currently have a class average of 65. There were two outliers that have caused the average to bump up. For those that need help for next week, please feel free to reach out to see where we can improve. No homework due but please try to review the remarks I’ve made.” 

Everyone was quick to start packing up, especially those that barely scored a passing D. But for Y/n, she packed quickly to avoid Wanda. Hearing Wanda talk about another perfect score would only rile her up and considering she still had to study for the managerial accounting test, talking to Wanda was the last thing she wanted.

But Y/n never got what she wanted. When a classmate accidentally bumped into her backpack, causing the contents to spill, Y/n couldn’t help me internally curse at her luck. “I’m really sorry about that Y/n!” 

Y/n didn’t dare focus on the feeling of Wanda getting closer, she didn’t even need to see to know she was only a meter away. “It’s okay Katie. Just be careful next time.” The blonde meekly smiled as she walked off to her next lecture, leaving Y/n behind to pick her stuff up. 

Just as the final book was stuffed into her bag, Y/n rose up from the ground, ready to grab her test, but Wanda was quicker. Holding back her distaste, Y/n watched as Wanda’s smug smile grew seeing the 99 plastered right at the corner. 

“Better luck next time, Y/l/n,” Wanda proudly stated as she held up the perfect grade written on her test. Holding back her profanities, Y/n snatched her test and shoved it at the bottom of her backpack. “And messing up a simple year for Renoir’s paintings, my my, this is easy at this point.” 

Y/n slung her backpack and started to walk out of the lecture hall. Usually, no response and the sight of someone leaving would give a normal person the idea that they don’t want to talk. But Wanda wasn’t normal by any means. 

She walked at a similar fast pace beside Y/n, enjoying the silent treatment she was receiving. “Not gonna talk? Ya know, I could help you study in case you need it.” 

Y/n scoffed as they exited the humanities building. ‘The nerve.’ Y/n thought. 

It was a nice spring at Evergreen University. The weather was at a perfect 75 degrees. People were out on the lawn, enjoying themselves, hanging out with friends, having picnics, overall having a great time. But none of that was something Y/n hardly got to experience nowadays. 

For the majority of the first month of the spring semester, Y/n had either been stuck at her dorm, the library, or some other student’s dorm, helping them study. The luxury of having fun was something Y/n could hardly afford. Not when Wanda Maximoff was a constant reminder of your failure to beat her. 

��99 is still good, Maximoff, in case you forgot.” They passed by a couple of people that knew Wanda, but that didn’t deter the brunette at all. She waved at them with her perfect smile which irritated Y/n even more. 

“She speaks! Didn’t know you were settling for second place now. You must’ve lost your confidence. Afraid you can’t beat me?” Y/n grumbled something that Wanda couldn’t hear. 

With Y/n’s dorm hall getting closer, the brown eyed girl quickened her pace, hoping that Wanda would stop. “More like I don’t want to humble you. Princess might get hurt if I actually try my best.” 

Wanda feigned hurt, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. “Going for the ego jab? What will I ever do?” Wanda laughed, a laugh that came from her chest, one that was wholehearted, and god did Y/n hate it. “Takes more than that to hurt me.” 

Stopping right before the entrance, Y/n halted infront of Wanda, the two almost colliding.

“Oh yeah? Then-” 

“Y/n, can you help me with accounting?” Y/n turned around to her savior. It was one of her classmates from her managerial class. Her name was Holly. 

“Sure thing.” Unbeknownst to Y/n, Wanda rolled her eyes at the pathetic excuse. Holly was a smart girl, one that hardly needed to study. This was all just a lame excuse to hang out with Y/n, something Wanda easily saw through. 

Adjusting her backpack, Y/n walked towards Holly, holding the door open. Looking back at Wanda with a frown, Y/n remarked, “Next time, I won’t go easy.” 

Midway - Spring Semester

“Are you going to come with me to the party?” It was a Saturday night at Evergreen University. Parties were a typical thing especially since the campus had a large selection of greek life. 

However, today was not a typical Saturday. Midterms were finally over and the majority of campus was out for the night, trying to enjoy a little stress reliever. 

“Can’t Natty. I gotta study.” Y/n said hunched over a book. While Y/n did receive well above passing grades, none of them could compete with Wanda’s. It’s like no matter how much Y/n studied, there was always one small detail that would prevent her from being perfect.

“You’re always studying. Can’t you give me at least one night away from all of this.” Natasha looked around the room, Y/n’s side was filled to the brim with various books, journals, and papers. It was an academic mess. 

“You know I can’t.” Natasha sighed at Y/n’s response. She walked towards her bed, giving Y/n a tight hug. Having been roommates since freshman year, Natasha knew how Y/n was when it came to her academics. 

“At least I have senior year to try.” Y/n laughed, knowing that she’d never really go to a party. She had nothing against them, but the idea of pretending like you’re having fun was exhausting for her. 

“Text or call me if you need me to pick you up, okay? I’ll have my ringer on the highest volume.” Natasha grabbed her phone and keys, blowing a fake kiss to Y/n. 

“Thanks love. Stay up till 1:00 am for me? If I don’t text you by then, go to sleep. I’ll have a ride.” Y/n gave a thumbs up as Natasha left. 

Looking back at the time, it was only 10:00 pm. The dorms hardly muffled the loud music playing on the floor above. And knowing the RA on the floor, they’d simply dismiss it until 2:00 am. 

Shaking her head, Y/n grabbed the nearest bag and stuffed the essentials she needed. A night trip to the library wasn’t going to hurt. 

“Accounting can literally go fuck themselves,” Y/n uttered. She was currently tucked away in a far corner on the fourth level of the library. This place hardly had any students around and with midterms being over, not a single soul was in the library at this time, well besides Y/n. 

“I need a break.” Pushing the chair back, Y/n stretched her legs and arms out, releasing out a weird primal groan in the process. Tapping her phone screen, it was a quarter past twelve. Her body was stiff and desperately needed a walk. 

“How the hell am I so stiff?” Y/n cracked her neck, hands, and knuckles, a very bad habit she developed at a young age. 

Grabbing her wallet, Y/n walked away from her spot and traversed through the long aisles of books. She eyed a couple of interesting subjects on the way to the vending machine, saving them in her head the next time she needed a new book to read. 

It didn’t take long before she spotted the bright fluorescent machine. Eying the choices, there wasn’t much. To play it safe, she got a Pepsi and quickly started to drink it. 

‘I really need to start drinking more water.’ The thoughts on being healthy always came around this time, among other things. So to distract herself more, Y/n walked around the floor, hoping to do some exploring. 

She was hardly a couple of meters away when Y/n saw her. Asleep on top of her books and notes, mouth slightly parted, and slightly shivering was Wanda Maximoff. The sight caused Y/n’s breathing to hitch. The grip on the bottle tightened, feeling already irritated and Wanda hadn’t even said a word. 

Looking around for anyone nearby, Y/n grumbled knowing that no one else would be studying on a weekend this late at night, but of course the only two people on the campus that would be are herself and Wanda. 

Y/n wanted to leave, everything from her mind and body told her to walk away and act like you didn’t see her. But how could Y/n ignore the way Wanda’s body shivered from being under the a/c? How could she ignore the way her lips twitched from reacting to a dream? How could Y/n ever ignore her? 

Betraying all logic, Y/n walked to Wanda’s table. Although she wanted to wake her up, which would’ve been the nice thing to do, the large part of Y/n didn’t want Wanda to know she could be kind to her. 

They’ve been at this stupid ‘race’ or ‘competition’ since freshman year ever since they took the intro to biology together. A lot of the people in the class had struggled, especially those that were not pursuing a STEM major. So when the professor made a light comment that Wanda was always first place in the class and Y/n was second, something inside them changed. 

Maybe it was the way Y/n noticed how much Wanda thrived under praise or how she loved answering the professor’s questions. None of the characteristics really bothered Y/n at all and she certainly didn’t care to be second. But then more exams came and Wanda was always first and Y/n was always second. 

Next came the light taunting from her friends, saying Wanda has never been beaten academically that it started to rub you the wrong way. And then came the fateful day, where Wanda had come to Y/n after class ended and asked, “Do you want help with biology?” 

The question was supposed to be harmless, but it was the fact that Y/n was around with her friends who then started to chuckle and taunt the question. It felt embarrassing especially since she didn’t even suck at the subject. 

So with a sore ego and hurt pride, Y/n mumbled a no and walked away as her friends howled even more. Ever since then, the two have been at it. And by the looks of it, it was not going to stop. 

‘Just walk away and let her deal with it.’ The thoughts in her head were convincing. Wanda would eventually wake up and be fine. She would get up, go back to her dorm, and probably act like nothing happened. 

Turning back around, Y/n almost walked away but her heart couldn’t. Sleeping alone in this lonely part of the library was not something Y/n wanted for Wanda. Looking around the table, Y/n spotted Wanda’s phone past all the humanities notes. 

Grabbing it, Y/n was surprised to find that there was no passcode. ‘Maximoff, you really need to change that.’ 

Looking through her contacts, Y/n finally was able to find Pietro. Sending a quick ‘pick me up from the fourth floor of the library’ felt harmless. Especially since it sounded like something she would say. 

Placing the phone back in its original spot, Y/n felt satisfied enough to walk away. But Wanda just had to whimper in her sleep, still shivering from the cold. 

Y/n would never admit it outloud but she would have cursed Evergreen University for making their libraries so cold. Taking off her flannel, Y/n shook her head as she placed it on top of Wanda. She had plenty more in the closet, so losing one was not going to hurt. 

‘I fucking hate her.’ Y/n convinced herself as she finally walked away from Wanda. The brown eyed girl got back to her table. It was useless to continue to study. Wanda was all she could think about right now. 

Sighing, Y/n grabbed her phone. It was getting close to 12:30 and there was still no text from Natasha. Packing her stuff up, Y/n walked out the library at a slow place. Within a block away from the library, Pietro had jogged past Y/n, not even recognizing the girl with how dim the streetlights were. 

No one else witnessed this, and once again Y/n would never admit it, but she did smile knowing Wanda was going to be okay.

Pietro could hardly make his way through the library. If we’re being honest, he kind of forgot that this library was 24/7. After scrounging through the fourth floor, he finally found Wanda asleep at her study table.

Muttering curses under his breath, he walked to her, ignoring the flannel that covered her. ‘I didn't even take that long.’ He thought to himself. Pietro had only taken around 10-15 minutes to get to her. How did she manage to fall asleep? 

“Sestra.” Wanda woke up from the constant tugging on her shoulder. Grumbling a few incoherent words, she sat up, barely awake. Yawning into her hand, Pietro shook his head at the sight of Wanda. “You fell asleep studying, again?” 

Wanda shrugged her shoulders, too tired to even respond. “Let's get you back to your dorm.” 

As Pietro helped Wanda pack her stuff up, the brunette finally noticed the flannel on her shoulders. She snaked her arms through it, enjoying the warmth and comfort it provided. 

Too tired to think, Wanda followed Pietro out of the library and to her dorm hall. It didn’t take long for them to arrive. Thankfully, Wanda didn’t have a roommate, perks of having rich parents. 

Pietro had muttered a goodbye as he dropped Wanda’s bag near her desk. He flipped the lights off and closed the door. 

Wanda easily slipped under the covers, flannel still on. The cologne was distinct, something her body already knew who it belonged to. But having been too tired to think, Wanda simply thought it was Pietro’s flannel. 

But had she actually paid attention, she would’ve noticed the only person using this cologne was Y/n. Had she been paying attention, she would’ve noticed how much her body enjoyed having the flannel on. Had she been paying any attention, she would have noticed that the flannel was slightly too small to fit on Pietro. 

And if Wanda had a bit more energy, she would have noticed that her subconscious didn’t fight the feeling of Y/n. 

Almost a week has gone by since the library situation. Y/n was certain that Wanda had figured out her stunt. I mean the flannel had her initials written on the underside of the tag. But when Wanda walked into class, flannel surprisingly on, it shocked Y/n. 

‘Does she seriously not know?’ During the whole lecture, Y/n could not focus. All her undivided attention was on Wanda Maximoff. The way the flannel hung off her shoulders or the way she would purposely cover her hands with the sleeves. 

Every single detail was not left unnoticed. And as class ended, Wanda came over with her usual smug self. She made a comment or two, but Y/n hadn’t heard a single thing. Not when her flannel was still being worn by Wanda Maximoff. 

And by the looks of it, Wanda didn’t know. It literally took Natasha shoving Y/n for the brown eyed girl to even respond. “See ya, Maximoff.”

Y/n had panicked and blanked hard. She left in such a hurry that even Wanda was confused. 

“What’s up with her?” Wanda asked Natasha, but even she didn’t know. 

“Okay, this has been like the 10th time you’ve looked at her in this past conversation. What’s up with you?” If Y/n could, she would leave the country at the moment. Feeling so embarrassed, Y/n thought about denying Natasha’s comment, but god she was being so obvious about it. 

“I-,” Y/n sighed with her head in her hands. “I did something nice to someone I usually don’t do anything for.” 

Natasha hummed as she ate her banana. She carefully looked back and noticed Wanda talking with some of her friends out on the lawn. They were too far away to even notice the pair, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. 

“So you were nice to Maximoff? What’s the big deal?” It irritated Y/n that Natasha could be so nonchalant about everything. Couldn’t she clearly see why it was a big deal? 

“I guess…” Y/n looked over at Wanda once more. Her smile was radiant even if she was a little far away. And the way her body tilts back every time she laughs, Y/n could have sworn that she could hear it from her spot. Or maybe it was the way her mind remembered everything about Wanda. 

“It just made me think what if we were actually friends rather than…this.” Natasha could easily see this was a big deal to Y/n. However, their whole situation was rather odd. The banter and competition was just a children's game to her. No harm really came out of it. 

“Well I think there’s still time to make up. Why don’t you go over there and just try to talk to her?” Y/n scoffed at Natasha’s absurdity. 

“Yeah - over my dead body.” 

“We’re partners.” Y/n wasn’t dead but it certainly almost felt like she was as she choked on Wanda’s comment. Quickly gaining the attention of other classmates, Y/n waved them off and regained her composure. She wiped the water from her lips and stared at the piece of paper that Wanda shoved in her face. 

Team 7 - Y/n Y/l/n and Wanda Maximoff

“I told the professor that you and I could easily do this project alone, but he wasn’t having it. Apparently we need to improve our teamwork skills.” Y/n looked up and easily saw how displeased Wanda was. Using all her acting skills, Y/n did the same. 

Before Y/n could say anything, Wanda commented, “Just come over to my dorm after math club. It’s at Bourbon Hall. Dorm 321.” And just like that, Y/n easily forgot all about her kindness as Wanda walked away. 

The day was almost over. All Y/n had to do was enjoy another meeting at math club, be civil with Wanda, and then go to sleep. Although she didn’t necessarily want to do it in that order, duty called. 

Y/n was about to enter the room for math club until Lily stumbled in front of her with urgent eyes. “Hey Y/n, Dean Holloway wants to see you.”

“Do you know why?” The Dean never had random meetings with students. Generally, students would pop up to him with issues. Not the other way around.

Lily shook her head no with a small frown. “Sorry, he didn’t say.” Looking over the math club, Y/n could see that Wanda had already arrived. There was never an instance where Y/n wasn’t at a meeting, but knowing Wanda, she could handle it like a pro. 

“Okay, can you tell Wanda that I’ll be late and to start off without me?” Y/n adjusted her backpack.

“Sure thing, I’ll let her know.” Y/n gave Lily a small smile before walking away. 

Their banter was supposed to be a children's game, simple, harmless. Nothing was supposed to come out of it. But the look in Y/n’s eyes told a different story. Her thoughts flooded with insecurities as the conversation she had with the Dean replayed. 

“Thank you for coming at such short notice Y/n. I wanted to see you before your current meeting with math club.”

Y/n hadn’t gone back to attend math club. It meant seeing Wanda, the very last person she wanted to see at all. She knew that the brunette would already be pissed at her being late, but it was better to avoid that conversation entirely. 

“I’m going to cut to the chase since you’re a very busy student. By the board, new requirements have been added to your scholarship effective immediately.”

“What are they?” There was no letter or notice coming from the school about her scholarship so this must have been a very recent decision. The Dean was unable to look Y/n in the eye as he recalled the meeting. He looked stiff and strained, something that was easy to notice. 

“For the upcoming math club state competition, the school is requiring that you and your group must achieve first place. There is no tolerance for anything less than that.”

Y/n could remember the silence being deafening. She didn’t know what to say. The whole reason she was even at Evergreen University was due to her full ride. And for the board to randomly put that on the line felt so targeted. 

Y/n tried to beg for an explanation as to why the board decided this. Wasn’t she a great enough student? Regardless, Dean Holloway was useless. He couldn’t give her a single reason as to why they decided to implement this. Essentially making Y/n deal with it herself. 

For a minute, Y/n allowed herself to dream about first place. It felt plausible, but as her phone buzzed in her bed, reality came back. Right on the screen it said Wanda Maximoff. Not wanting to speak, Y/n let the phone ring until it hit voicemail. Before she could have her moment of peace, a harsh set of knocks were at her door. 

Figuring it was Natasha forgetting her key again, Y/n slowly got up. “Coming - coming.” Not bothering to check the peephole, Y/n opened the door, her eyes landed on her.

The girl who knew every answer to every question. The girl who hasn’t left Y/n’s mind since freshman year. The girl who was the reason she was second. 

“Not going to the meeting is one thing, but ditching our plans is another.” Wanda passed Y/n up, allowing herself to enter without permission. She sat down at Y/n’s desk, immediately spouting out ideas about their project. 

But as Y/n stared at Wanda, she couldn’t help but think, ‘You’re the reason I will never be first.’ 

And that made it real. It was no longer a children’s game. This was a competition. And Wanda Maximoff was going to have to lose. 

Chapter 2

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[rafesfavbimbo]

Rafe having caught his dads maid stealing

He gives her two options :a) he can tell ward or b) he can f ck her unprotected whenever he wishes

I’m gonna have fun with this! >:)

A/N: I love sleazy frat boy rafe :D

TW: SMUT! Power Dynamics! Degradation! Blackmail! Breeding Kink! Manipulation?? Classist Idealogy! Curtain bangs Rafeyyyyy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maid!Reader

-

“Well, well would ya look at this. I could take you for a desperate whore, but I didn’t take you for a desperate little thief.” Mocked Rafe, watching as the little housemaid his father hired looked at him with wide eyes. The diamond tennis bracelet Ward bought for Rose that he hid in his office just about to slip into her bra. He’s so fucking glad he decided to snoop on the little kitten that’s been slinking around his home, tidying up in the skimpiest outfits with her ass always showing and tits always ready to burst out. Leaving her sweet perfume scent in every corner and invading his senses every time he passes through. Safe to say she’s been the picture he fucks his hand to almost every night, imagining her laid out in his sheets or bent over Ward’s desk as he pounds into her hole and breaks it in for his cock. He’s definitely taking the opportunity to make that happen, her falling right into the palm of his hand.

Rafe watches as her pretty eyes fill with tears, her long faux lashes making them look so damn erotic. He wants to see her cry; he wants to make her cry. Not because he’s caught her steal but he’ll revel in the little opportunity anyway. “Raf-Mr. Cameron please,” she begged, the expensive bracelet gripped in her hand before she sets it gently down on the wooden desk. “I’m-m’so sorry please don’t tell your father.” She cries to him, tears now running down her cheeks and ruining her dewey makeup as Rafe’s gaze cuts into her. His eyes darkening at her pathetic display, he’s gonna have a load of fun with this.

He stalks from the door entrance around Ward’s desk to her slowly. Like a predator who knows he’s about to catch his prey, ready to devour her whole as she shrinks under his intimidating gaze. Sick smirk displayed on his handsome face as he stops in front of her. She bends her head down as tears fall from her eyes onto the floor. She’s so fucked, she knows it. She just couldn’t help herself! It was so pretty! She’d never be able to afford it on her salary and someone like Rose didn’t deserve to have such a nice piece of jewelry. She envies their lifestyle, every time she comes to work all she can think about is what she’d do just to have a taste of this life. It’s everything compared to her nothing of a shack back on the Cut.

Rafe grabs her by the jaw, forcing her face to look back into his as he lowly tells her, “look at me.” He watches as her scared eyes look into his, worry and anxiety swirling around them and her long lashes now clumped with tears. She whimpers under his grasp and gaze, her hands coming to fist in his polo as he smirks down at her. She can see the lust displayed in his eyes; she can see the way he wants to devour her whole. Rafe is the prettiest boy she’s ever seen, no doubt about it. He’s only a couple years older than her and sometimes when she’s in bed laying awake at night she slips a hand between her legs with him in mind. “Shh, don’t cry,” he whispers lowly, squeezing her cheeks to squish her perfect lips. The glittery gloss she had slathered on them making her pout look so enticing he wants to kiss her and shove his cock down her throat all the same.

“What’s the matter, huh? Don’t like being caught? Don’t like me knowing what a dirty little thief you are?” He mocks, the whimper she let out as she began to shake her head side to side making his cock throb painful in his khaki shorts. “No? You’re really trying to lie to me right now? Right after I caught you trying to sneak that very expensive bracelet into your bra like some easy bought whore? You must think I’m fucking stupid, baby. But fuck- if ya ain’t so goddamn beautiful.” He drawled the last part, squeezing her cheeks together even harder and watching as drool began to leave her lips and drip down her chin. What he does next makes the heat building inbetween legs almost intolerable.

Rafe brings his tongue out, licking the drool that dripped down her chin with the tip of it all the way to her lips. Pressing a soft kiss after and smirking when she whines and flutters her eyes, manicured hands fisting tighter in his shirt as she leans her body into him. He chuckles before telling her what he has planned. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I either tell my dad that our sexy little maid has been stealing from him, because god knows this isn’t the first time.” She whines louder at that, pushing her fist into his abdomen and she begins trying to plead. Her whining incessant and making Rafe remove his grip on her face to smack her cheek slightly. “Hey! Ssh! Listen to me or else you won’t like what happens.” He threatened her, voice low and nasally as his large frame towers over her. She subdues and submits, one more sad whimper falling from her lips as her eyes show her submission. His grip returning to her cheeks.

“Atta girl, that’s what I like to see. Already such a girl good f’me.” He rewards her with a soft, yet longer peck to her lips as her eyes flutter close from his touch. This is all she’s ever wanted and even if the way she’s getting it scares her to no end about the future of her stability she falls into the dark hole that is Rafe Cameron all too willingly. He pulls back, eyes having stared at her the whole time. Satisfaction settling deep in his chest at her willingness to submit to him. He’s most definitely using it to his advantage. He’d be an idiot not to, she’s everything he wants and he’s gonna have her one way or another. “Your second option is letting me fuck that little cunt, however I want. Wherever I want. Anytime I want it. I won’t tell my dad and you’ll get some good orgasms out of it. Whaddya say?” But he already knew the answer, he could see the resolve settling deep in her eyes. Her head nodding immediately as she leans forward to hopefully capture his lips with hers. All he wants to do is fuck her and she gets to keep her job? It’s a win-win in her mind, making money while fucking the finest boy on the island.

Rafe chuckles at her eagerness, holding her in place with the grip on her face as he shakes his head mockingly and tuts at her. Little did she know he didn’t want to just fuck her, he wants to fill her up over and over again till that little tummy swells with him. He wants to own her, keep her under his thumb. He knows what she wants, she wants everything he can provide for her and he’s more than willing to do it. Someone as precious as her doesn’t deserve living on the Cut —no. She deserves to be showered in luxury and decked out in the crème de la crème. He’ll give everything to her, the one exception he’s willing to make when it comes to a Pogue. He’s gonna make her the sexiest little Kook, ‘cause regardless of where she comes from he knows she got it deep in her blood.

“One more thing,” he small smirk turning into a wide, sick smile as he holds her gaze. She hangs onto every word he’s saying, waiting for him to continue. “You’re gonna let me fuck you raw. Wanna feel every inch of that tight little cunt and m’gonna fill you up so much it sticks. You got that?” His words leave her stunned, she’s not on birth control and she stuck on the way he said he wants to make it ‘stick.’ He can’t possibly mean? I mean.. what other way could she ensure that all this luxury ends up in her lap. It’s the perfect opportunity to milk him for all he’s worth and she’d be stupid to waste it. She nods her head as much as she can in his grasp, Rafe’s satisfaction morphing into triumph. Her knew her little gold-digging ass wouldn’t waste the opportunity he’s giving her. He’s gonna make good use of her compliance that’s for sure.

He chuckles at her and smacks her cheek once more, grabbing her and pulling her face to his as her dominates her mouth with his and shoves his tongue down her throat. Pulling back after a minute or so as a string of their mixed saliva stretched erotically between their lips. “Mhm, that’s what I thought.” He says with complete confidence, letting her face go and moving his hands to grip her pert ass in her small little spandex shorts. He smacks her ass harshly with one hand, burying his face in her throat as she leans her head back and allows him to press rough kisses to her skin while her hands fisted in his shirt release and reach around his back to pull him in closer. Moaning while he gropes her and licks a long strip up her neck, then chin to her lips smothering them with his own once more. He pulls backs then turns them around quickly, him now in her previous place as her turns her back to face him and shoves her forward. Smacking her ass once more as he tells her ..

“Alright. Get to my room, want you naked and on the bed by the time I get there.”

-

“Can-can’t! No more! Da-daddy no more!” She cries out, tears soaking his sheets while he pounds into her from behind. Rafe’s standing at the edge of the bed while gripping her hips. He’s holding her up, her lower half lifted with his strength as he manipulates her on his dick. Her upper half flat on the bed as she cries into the mattress. They’ve been going at it for hours, he’s grateful no one’s been home all day because with the way she’s screaming he’s sure they can even hear her back on the Cut. The sheets are soaked from the amount of times he’s made he cum, the last few times he managed to make her squirt a waterfall. Mixing with all the cum he’s fucked into her that’s now dripping down her thighs and squelching around his dick. His stomach and thighs still wet from her arousal and his balls dripping with them. It was all so fucking good.

“Shut up.” He growls at her, he meant it when he said however he wanted. He meant it when he said he wants it to stick. He’s addicted to her pussy, her body and everything about her. She feels so much better than he imagined. Her perfume mixed with her natural scent is driving him insane, every ridge and piece of skin under his fingertips feels like it’s meant to be in his hands. “Told you, I want it stick. So you’re gonna keep taking this dick.” He groaned out to her, pounding into her abused cunt even harder and watching as his cum mixed with hers created a milky ring at the base of his dick. His trimmed bush soaked from their love-making, strings of their arousal clinging everytime he pulls back. A deep smirk settles on his face as he realizes he’s branded her from the inside.

She’s crying and squeaking from every harsh thrust, she feels utterly broken in and her mind has thoughts of only him. He’s fucked her dumb and she can’t imagine doing anything else except taking his dick for the rest of her life. She’d known he was a good fuck if the bragging from Kook girls she’s heard at bonfires on the Cut was anything to go by. She feels so happy she’s finally getting a taste of it and she wants to cry at the thought of never getting it again. One of the hands that she used to gripped the sheets reaching back as she desperately seeks his affectionate, praying he intertwines his fingers with hers.

Rafe cooes at her flailing hand knowing exactly what she’s seeking and deciding to take pity on her. He immediately pulls out and shushes her whine at the empty feeling before manhandling her to lay on her back, immediately getting on his knees on the bed with his thighs spreading her legs out and pounds back into her with a sickening squelch. She reaches one hand behind her to grip the sheets while the other begins tapping against his pelvis to make him take pity on her. Hah! Like he’d ever do that.

“You’re crying for me to be nice to you and now you’re trying to stop Daddy’s kindness?” He tsked at her before grabbing her hand that was tapping at his stomach and intertwining their fingers, pressing her hand into the mattress above her had while her other one comes to scratch down his tanned back. Rafe leans down to give her soft pecks to her face as he grinds into her in hard, yet slow strokes. Her whines turning into mewls as she spreads her legs wider and welcomes the new speed. “Yeah, m’little slut just needed to be treated nicely, huh? S’alright baby I forget little girls like you need their Daddy’s to be sweet.” He cooes at, his chest pressed to hers as her grinds into her nice and slow. He thinks this is the perfect time to tell her everything he’s been planning since she agreed to be his.

“After this, m’gonna move you in here. Don’t care what my father or Rose or whoever else has anything to say. M’gonna give you everything you want, gonna give you the life you’ve been waiting for.” He stops himself to let out a long drawn groan when she clenches even tighter at his words, her legs wrapping around him as the hand scratching down his back moves up to grip his his stringy strands of hair that are damp with sweat. Her lowered eyes looking into his and hanging onto every word with her long lashes clumped together from all the tears she shed, biting her swollen lips as she urges him to continue.

“Yeah, yeah. Meant it, baby. Meant everything about making it stick. Wanted you from the moment I saw you, and now I finally have you and m’not letting go. Gonna take you out the Cut and bring you where you rightfully belong. With me and spoiled.” She moans out at that and lifts her head up to close the distance between them, shoving her tongue in his mouth which is welcomed by him. Showing him how grateful she is, how much she wants that. She used the hand that was in his hair to wrap around his back and use it as leverage to push herself up and keep their chest pressed together as she begins fucking herself onto his dick. Her reaction to his words saying everything he needed to know.

“No more cleaning houses, baby. One day this is gonna be all ours. Just you n’me.”

-

A/N: I use to clean houses + offices so this hit home tbh :,(. Wish I had a sexy rich boy to save me from it ahhh! Enjoy! Please send in more request! I’m getting to the ones I have ASAP! Just so busy with school and work! 🐰🌸💕

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.0K

CHAPTER FOUR:

Kento sat sandwiched between a window and Suguru, while Yuki sat next to Suguru, with you facing him. It was an awkward position, and you protested the entire time. 

But Yuki basically shoved you on that side and sat herself down beside Suguru as if Kento needed some protection from you.

Still, as you sat eating a deli sandwich, Kento ate his food. His expression was blank and controlled as if he hadn’t confessed to being interested in you.

It felt as though you were in high school once again. A rush of heat met your cheeks, and even though it didn’t show, you could already feel Yuki’s judgmental stare on you as you fought a smile that crept its way to your face.

“So, Y/N,” Yuki started suspiciously

 Oh no, you thought

“How’s the dating scene going?” A slight smirk was present.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate question to ask during work hours, Yuki.”

“Oh please, We grew up together! Suguru and Kento have seen it all from me during University.”

Yuki leaned in, waiting for your answer.

"So invested in others' private lives, I must ask Yuki, how exactly is his name again?? Kamo?? Kano Chosa?" Kento came to your rescue, or more so his rescue, if completely honest. Fear of you exposing him to the others rose within him; even if he didn't think you were the type of person to do so, it did not worry him any less. The last time he trusted someone with his romantic feelings, he was left abandoned in a hotel, naked and alone.

"Choso," Yuki said plainly with a venom-filled smile as she did so. "See, unlike some people, I am not afraid to be open with one's friends, nor am I unable to control myself when temptations arise."

"Is this going somewhere, Yuki?" You asked, tilting your head at her as though you cared for what she had to say.

Oh, you are so going to kill her when you get home tonight.

"Choso and I are going steady! We haven't had sex yet, but we did do some fun oral stuff." Nanami choked on his water at that, which earned a chuckle from Suguru, whose eyes seemed laser-focused on his phone.

"Is oral stuff not sex?" You asked, more curious than annoyed now, 

"Of course not." Yuki rolled her eyes,

"Now, what brought this random question on, Yuki?" Suguru asked, swirling his water bottle as he finally put his phone down.

"Nothing; I am just curious. You and Toru have this weird unspoken hookup thing but never actually commit, so I have nothing to ask of you. Unless you have decided to finally be a man and ask him out, there is nothing to ask of you. We all know that Kento doesn't date, so the only one left is Y/N."

“I am so sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing to tell.”

“You guys should have heard the college stories Y/N told me over late-night phone calls. Wilder and wilder with each phone call.”

“Oh, please. I’ve cleaned up the act.”

“I find that hard to believe, but okay.”

You only playfully rolled her eyes at this, satisfied with Yuki dropping the interrogation, 

“Okay, I need to pee.” Yuki shuffled her way out of the booth before heading to the restroom, which was inconveniently upstairs. Once she was gone, a soft chime of Suguru’s phone rang, calling him to attention, he stepped out with a small mutter, something along the lines of a smoke break.

Leaving you alone with him.

“So you were a party girl?” Kento broke the silence between the two of you.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t seem like the party type.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” You responded a little too sharply, sighing before continuing, “I was a very repressed and sheltered kid, so when I went to university, it was like everything and nothing at the same time. I was free to do what I wanted but didn’t know what to want. I made so many bad and embarrassing memories, from throwing up on my crush’s shoes to falling off of bar tables because I didn’t know what control was. And the many nights spent with strangers, I don’t regret at all. Even the awkward and embarrassing ones.”

“Do you regret losing it in university?”

“Surprisingly, no. I don’t regret any decisions, not the parties I attended or the men and occasional women I had fallen into bed with. They all helped me figure out what I enjoy,” Your eyes flicked to his lips, “and what I want.” your eyes flickered back up to Kento’s eyes, “I wouldn’t have minded waiting either. I think we as a society put way too much importance on virginity, so I never really thought of it as losing something or gaining a badge of honor. I saw my virginity as just a thing that happens. I am not a dramatically different person because I had sex, nor would I be if I hadn’t.”

“Oh.” 

“You aren’t a man, or do you have many words?” You giggled at him, making him blush at your happiness.

“Let’s go on a date.” He said with a black face.

“What?” 

“The bathroom was nice, but why on earth did  I have to climb a thousand and one stairs to get there.” Yuki came back, sliding herself right next to Kento, but you didn’t even process what she said. The only words you heard were Kento’s, as they repeated in your ears repeatedly. 

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Y/N?” Yuki called your name.

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“Yes.” You said to Yuki, but indeed, it was directed at Kento, 

“Yes.” You repeated as you fought a beaming smile that desperately wished to be worn on your face.

Preview...

"I think I quite like you on your knees."

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123 @ureuphoriasworld @jaeminsmilk @rileyglas @bonnieblue0606 @alwaysfreakingout @lovelyiida @ayesayman @dreamgirl5300 @swoozleee @belle-oftheball34 @zeunys @yuzu-ku @aomi04 @y0urpr3ttyp0ck3tpussy @zombriesworld @hazzelle-kento @miinhooo @lucilles-witchery @areyouflying

CHAPTER FIVE: UPLOADED

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

-

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

-

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

-

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

-

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

-

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

-

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

-

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

-

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

-

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

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This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

[starfinss]

I loved your recent zoro gif :) I’d like to request a fem ready x zoro nsfw where maybe a girl flirts with him and reader gets really jealous but he fucks female reader infront of the girl…sorry if that’s insane i’m having major zoro brain rot :p

Ah, thank you! I was really nervous to post that fic since it was my first time ever writing Zoro, and I wasn’t at all confident in the quality, so it’s a huge relief to hear that you liked it so much. Anyway, this ask got me thinking, so you got it.

NSFW under the cut!

— ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ

“Don’t look now,” Nami said, “but some girl is all over Zoro.”

You looked up from your drink and across the bar, to the table where Zoro was sitting. Sure enough, there was indeed a girl. She was wearing a tiny little red dress, one that hugged her curves like she’d been poured into it. A pair of black heels were on her feet, making her long legs look even longer. Her hair was black as spilled ink, worn loose around her narrow shoulders. From this angle, you couldn’t see her face, but you were certain it had to be just as gorgeous as the rest of her.

Nevertheless, you took a gulp of your drink. This wasn’t uncommon. It was no secret that your boyfriend was an attractive man, and while his looks intimidated some, there were a fair few like this girl who took their chances anyway. But you weren’t worried. Anyone who knew Zoro knew he only had eyes for you.

“It’s fine,” you said, “he won’t let it get too far.”

“Oh?” Nami countered, “she’s on his lap now.”

Your head snapped up. “She’s what?”

Nami gestured with a tilt of her head, and you followed her gaze. Just as she said, the girl had settled herself onto Zoro’s knee, and just as you’d thought, she was incredibly beautiful. Big, doe eyes and full lips, painted vibrant red to match her dress. And she was laying it on thick. Eyelashes batting, plump lower lip catching between perfect white teeth, slim arms wrapping around Zoro’s body. You ignored the flush of anger that briefly clouded your mind.

You trusted Zoro. You knew it would be any second before he shoved her off of him, or before his lack of response to her flirting caused her to lose interest.

Nami cleared her throat.

Because then, the girl was leaning close to him, lips grazing his jaw, and before you knew what you were doing, you were standing up and crossing the bar, the buzz of alcohol giving you confidence.

“Excuse me,” you said, and you felt so silly, getting jealous like this, but she was all over him, and the way she looked at you, down her nose like you were less than her, it made your blood boil.

“Yeah?” She said, a laugh on her lips, arms tightening around Zoro, and you felt your anger grow white hot.

“You’re in for it, now,” Zoro said, mirth in his eyes, and you glared at him as he took a swig from his mug of beer, completely unaffected by the girl’s flirting.

“Oh, am I?” She said, clearly taking what Zoro said as a joke, but you knew him well enough to know that he was merely interested in what you were doing.

“You’re in my seat,” you said, and you watched her doe eyes flash in amusement as she shuffled closer to your boyfriend, who did no more than lean away from her, clearly uninterested.

“Am I?” She asked, coy, “I think I’ll keep it.”

“Zoro,” you said, “what do you think of that?”

Zoro’s eyes met yours, and then he was gesturing towards the door with his head, subtly enough that only you saw what he was doing. You stared at him, puzzled.

“Hey,” he said, and though he was turned towards her, his eyes were on you, “meet me outside in ten minutes. In the alleyway.”

She looked at you, smugly, as she rose from Zoro’s lap.

“Looks like you’ve been replaced,” she cooed, her grin devious as she passed you, shoulder bumping yours as she made her way to the back of the bar, surely to freshen up in the bathroom. But Zoro had other plans.

As soon as she was out of sight, he was downing the rest of his beer, even if there was still a substantial amount left, and then he standing to take your hand, quickly leading you out the door.

“I know you’re not taking her into the alleyway,” you said, and Zoro laughed.

“No,” he said, “I’m taking you into the alleyway.”

Giddiness mixed with nerves twisted together in the pit of your stomach as Zoro’s grip on your hand grew tighter. Logically, you supposed you should have guessed what Zoro was doing the second he brought up the alleyway, and you should have fully expected him to pull something like this, yet you were still a little surprised he was actually doing it.

“Were you seriously jealous?” Zoro said, lips dragging along the curve of your jaw as your back made contact with the alley wall. He’d tugged you behind a stack of crates, out of sight just enough that someone who wasn’t looking wouldn’t be able to spot you. Nevertheless, you still felt rather exposed.

“No,” you said, head falling back, and he huffed a laugh against your skin.

“Liar.”

You gasped softly when his teeth grazed the spot where your jaw met your throat, tongue passing over your pulse point, making heat rush down your body, aided by the alcohol already in your system.

“Am not,” you countered, with no actual firmness, and Zoro chuckled, hands finding your waist and slipping beneath the tight fabric of the slightly midriff bearing top you were wearing.

“Are, too,” he murmured, “c’mon, babe, you know you’ve got no competition.”

“She’s so beautiful,” you said, arms slinging around his shoulders, and he moved up to look at you.

“She can’t even compare.”

And he was kissing you. You sighed against his mouth, hands tangling into his hair, back arching as his hands slid down your body to rest on your hips. He hiked up your skirt, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist before breaking away to trail kisses down your throat again. You helped him push up your shirt, and he merely rucked your bra up above your breasts instead of bothering to remove it. When his palm pressed against your bare skin, you had to bite back a whine.

“Someone will see us,” you protested, albeit weakly, and he chuckled darkly, tweaking a nipple between two calloused fingers.

“That’s the point.”

The prospect of that thrilled you more than you wanted to say, some carnal part of you actually pleased that the girl who was all over your boyfriend would see you like this, see him like this, completely enamored with you in a way he’d never be with her.

It was primitive and petty, and you knew it, but damn it if it wasn’t hot as hell.

Zoro’s mouth pressed against the top of your breast, lips finding your nipple, and you covered your mouth as he rolled it under his tongue, forced to bite down on your palm as his hips rolled against yours. You could feel him through his slacks, already halfway hard, and the thought that this thrilled him just as much as you only turned you on even more.

You felt his mouth on yours again, and when his tongue licked against the seam of your lips, you gladly parted them, tangling even further with him. His hand squeezed at your breast gently, thumb rubbing over your nipple, and he swallowed down your cry of pleasure, hips rutting up against you.

His hand slid between your thighs, dipping into your panties, and you whimpered against his mouth as he ran his middle finger against you, aided well by the soak of your arousal. Your back arched when he sank a finger inside of you, breath leaving you when his palm ground against your clit. Another finger was added, and you keened at the stretch, hips bucking against his hand.

Zoro knew just where to touch, just how to make you lose your mind. He whispered soft praises as you rolled your hips against his hand, mouth surely leaving marks on your exposed throat, his hot breath fanning against your skin and sending forks of lightning down your already electrified skin.

“Zoro,” you cried, “just fuck me already.”

He laughed against your skin, fingers curling inside of you.

“That what you want? Yeah?”

You nodded quickly, fingers knotting in the fabric of his shirt, and when he pushed his own fingers deeper, you had to fight back a whimper of bliss.

“Then hold onto me.”

He withdrew his fingers, the resulting sound a wet schlick that would’ve been embarrassing under any other circumstances, but as he lifted your leg, pinning it against his hip, you hardly cared, especially as he pushed your panties aside to expose you to him.

Zoro wrestled with his belt, and you reached forward to help him, freeing his cock and catching it in your hand. He groaned softly as you stroked him, tugging gently to guide him towards you.

“So impatient,” he chided, and you nipped at his throat in retaliation.

“Take responsibility for it, it’s your fault,” you countered, and he snorted in amusement.

“I’m not the one who got so jealous.”

You lifted your hips, aiding him as he slowly pressed forward, filling you in a slow, easy thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the word drawn out with the sound, “you feel so perfect.”

He thrust forward once, then again, and your head fell back against the wall of the alleyway, leaving your throat exposed for him to attach his mouth to. When his teeth sank into your flesh, you whined, the sound turning into a moan when he rolled his hips, the stretch of him inside of you almost too perfect.

Your arms wrapped tight around his neck, and when you muffled another cry, you felt his thumb run over your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth. He always had this effect on you, driving you so completely insane, yet you were completely addicted, and in absolutely no hurry to kick that addiction.

“Faster,” you pleaded, and he grunted as he hiked your leg higher on his hip, hips snapping forward and scattering your thoughts to the wind.

“Zoro, Zoro, fuck—”

He groaned in response, breath uneven as his grip on your thigh grew tighter, and his free hand was slipping between you, the rough pad of his thumb finding your clit. The action sent a jolt up your spine, forcing you to tighten around him, and you struggled to swallow back your yelp of surprised pleasure. He was filling you so fucking well, and your mind was empty except for thoughts of him, the feel of his fat cock splitting you open.

“You take it so pretty,” he praised, voice a low rumble, and you could do no more than whine as he pushed deeper, hips angled to hit the spot that made you see stars.

The leg supporting you was beginning to tremble, but Zoro shifted closer, borderline pinning you against the wall with his hips as he fucked into you, the cool night air filled with the slick sound of him moving in and out of you, uncaring of who heard. You muffled another whine, and he was kissing you hard, thumb pressing harder against your clit, and your head felt like it was full of intoxicating fog.

“Feels good?” Zoro breathed, “yeah?”

You nodded, moaning almost pitifully, back arching as he rubbed circles against your clit, making you tighten around him.

“You’re the only one who does this to me,” he said, kissing your jaw, “you know that, yeah?”

You nodded again, letting out a strangled whine as he rolled his hips just right, reeling from the sensations, and you could feel your climax building, burning low in your stomach, making you toss your head back, gasping, utterly breathless.

“Were you waiting long— oh.”

Both of your heads snapped towards the new voice, and you felt shame mix hot with arousal as you took in the sight of the girl in the red dress standing beside the crates that hid you and Zoro from view, shock emblazoned across her pretty features. You watched her swallow, clearly embarrassed, and Zoro took that chance to thrust roughly up into you, forcing a thin, breathy moan from your throat.

He curled closer to you, pressing hard onto your clit, and you wanted to hide your face as he picked up his pace. He was glaring at her, even as he throbbed inside of you, almost possessive, showing her just how little he cared about her advances. It was intoxicating, in a way that made you burn with both embarrassment and excitement.

“Get lost,” he snarled, rutting up into you again, making you gasp.

The girl swallowed again, face as scarlet as her dress, and she was scurrying off, tail between her legs.

Zoro’s pace picked up, and any other thoughts were ejected from your mind as he focused solely on what he was doing to you.

“She won’t bother us again,” he rasped, “this is all I need, this pussy. You think she can compare? Huh?”

You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut, and fuck, you were getting close, legs shaking as he pushed against your clit harder, thick cock filling you so perfect, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you. You whined between your teeth as he drove you closer, fingers digging into his shoulders, hips bucking against him.

“That’s it,” he urged, “that’s it, cum on my fuckin’ cock.”

That did it. You had to bite down on his shoulder as you came, your orgasm tearing through you, making you clamp tight around him, and he was swearing against your skin, hips stuttering at the sudden tightness. He slowed his thrusts, helping you through the aftershocks of your climax, and you sobbed in pleasure as he rolled your clit slowly under his thumb, prolonging the blissful feel of it all.

“Shit— shit!”

Zoro growled against your skin as he chased his own release, hips unrelenting, and you gasped as you clung to him, trembling and oh-so sensitive. You could do no more than chant his name, muffled by his shoulder, tears beading your lash line.

“Cumming,” he blurted, voice strained, “‘m cumming—”

He pressed all the way forward, stuffing you full, and he was gushing inside of you, stuffing you full. You could feel the heat of it blooming deep inside, and you moaned, eyes rolling back, fucked completely dumb.

The alleyway was quiet as the two of you caught your breaths, the silence only punctuated by labored breath, and then Zoro was kissing you, initially frenzied, but slowing down into passionate and tender. Your hands cupped his cheeks, sliding to lace into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Slowly, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours for a few moments before pulling out and tucking himself back into his trousers. He helped you fix your own clothing before tugging you close, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I love you,” you said, eyes closed, and he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“I love you, too.”

After you finished recovering, he put an arm around your waist, leading you back into the bar. Your legs were wobbly, so he let you lean against him somewhat, guiding you to the table he’d been sitting at before. You settled yourself into his lap when he sat down, and he wrapped his arms around you, the position comfortable and natural.

You could feel that girl’s eyes on you, and when you looked over at her, she quickly pretended she wasn’t watching, busying herself with what she was drinking. You heard Zoro snicker, obviously pleased with what he’d just done.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, stealing closer. You never had any need to feel threatened.

Zoro made sure of that.

[helen-with-an-a]

The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 2

Hi. So here is part 2 (it will have more parts ahahaha - I am incapable of writing small things)

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Ona Batlle x Reader

Flashbacks are in italics.

TW: Injury, suggestiveness, Vilda

Word Count: 3.5k

Description: R gets hurt

It was the final 10 minutes of the game. You were exhausted. England were down 1-0 and you felt like you were fighting for your life. You had the ball at your feet as you pushed forwards. You had made a simple pass to Lucy as you started your run up the pitch. It was a perfect cross back as you arrived near the box. You could feel it, this ball was going into the back of the net.

Something icy and white hot exploded in your leg. You didn’t even know what had happened.

One minute, you were pulling your leg back for a perfect strike, and the next … agony. The silence of the crowd told you it was something bad. The lack of arguing on the pitch told you it was something really bad. You wanted to move, to stand up and continue playing. You had to stand up. All you could see were legs. The pain was growing with every second. It scared you more that people were stopping you from seeing it. That only happened when it was really bad. You were quickly becoming a danger to yourself. Thrashing around – trying to escape the pain, trying to see what was happening to your body. You were petrified. Lucy clasped one of your hands, Alex pressed a hand on your stomach, Cata held your head, and Aitana held your other hand, all attempts to stop you from moving. You think it was Mariona and Millie who were trying to keep your other leg still. All of them trying to talk to you, to calm you down enough for the medics to do their jobs.

“Hey,” Alessia called out to a frozen Ona. Ona hadn’t been anywhere near you when it happened. She couldn’t have stopped the tackle, even if she knew how to. “She needs you.” Tooney gently shoved Ona in your direction. They might not have known what had transpired that fateful day in Manchester, but they knew how deep your love ran for Ona. Alessia had shared a room with you at every international camp. She saw the red shirt you slept in. At first, she thought it was an old United shirt – until she saw the Spanish crest over your heart. The pair of them saw the kiss you pressed to Ona’s hairline as you engulfed her in a hug after the Spain game at the Euros, whispering sweet words into her ear as she finally allowed herself to cry. Tooney saw Ona gently push a stray piece of sweaty hair out of your face in the tunnel after the Euros final, standing too close to be just friends, both of your smiles blinding. They saw the book and rose you left in Ona’s cubby on Sant Jordi. They saw how Ona looked to you first before making any decisions – no matter how small. They saw the devastated Ona look on the first day back at training in January.

Your pained screams eventually snapped Ona out of it. She was suddenly shoving Cata out of the way and replacing her at your head. Even in your pain, you recognised the rough but soft hands and blunt nails that scratched your head. You stopped writhing as Ona placed gentle kisses on your hairline. You stopped screaming as Ona softly shushed you, promising everything would be fine. As the medics carted you away, all the Ona could think about was how to make this right with you. She was moving to Barca after the summer. She was fairly sure you knew, but she couldn’t know for sure as nothing had been officially announced yet. She could tell by your reactions that somewhere, somehow, she was still a calming presence to you. You had always told her that.

You were pacing around your flat. From the counter to the table, table to the fridge, fridge to the couch, couch across to the TV, TV back to the counter. You had been walking in a loop for almost an hour now.

“Amor, calm down. She’s going to call.” Ona laughed, but she was still slightly concerned.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Your voice was weaker than Ona had heard in a while.

“She will. You have received a phone call from the Lionesses every camp since you were what? 19? She will phone.” It was 3.30 pm. On the day of the Euros squad, phone calls. You knew Sarina did it randomly. She had said as much when she first became manager. That way, no one can be sure they were bubble players. That way, no one’s egos could get too big. Ona had already had her phone call yesterday. There was a flurry of Spanish, and she had been a mix of emotions. She was terrified of the camps themselves. Sleep deprivation. The harshness from the coaches. The emotional and mental abuse. The borderline physical abuse. But she was so excited to be back in Spain with her friends. She loved Manchester, but she loved being around her people, where she didn’t have to translate everything in her head first or be the last one to laugh since she had to interpret the jokes into her native language.

“But what if she doesn’t?” This was the one thing Ona disliked about you – your inability to understand just how great you were. Not just at football. Yes, you were incredibly talented. Your ability to read the pitch, to pick out players and send perfect crosses to them, your technical skills with the ball were unparalleled. She didn’t doubt a Ballon d’Or was coming your way. But you were so much more than football. You were kind, and gentle, and honest, and funny, and beautiful – so beautiful. But you couldn’t see it.

“If Sarina doesn’t call…” she began, “which won’t happen”, she added quickly as your eyes widened. “You can just be my WAG. Sound good?” A peel of laughter erupted from you. If she could make that sound escape your lips every day, she would die incredibly happy. As you were about to open your mouth to respond, a buzzing cut you off. SARINA flashed across your screen. Ona made ‘go on then’ gestures at you as you panicked for a split second.

The phone call was short and sweet—just like every other phone call. You liked that it was to the point. As you hung up the phone, Ona came charging at you, pushing you back onto the sofa and kissing across your face. “You know… I’m kind of sad you don’t get to be my WAG now.” She said as you squealed, trying to escape the onslaught of affection.

“Shush Oni. You know I’ll always support you. I’ll always watch every one of your games, and you know it.” You laughed as she settled on top of you, the weight comforting as you began to play with her hair.

“Gracias,” you whispered into the quiet a little while later. The world outside seemed so far away whenever you were with Ona. The smell of her apple shampoo mixed with her perfume and something that was indescribably Ona.

“What for?” She whispered back, afraid to break the softness surrounding the pair of you.

“Everything. You always calm me down. Even if you don’t say anything. Just you being with me. I don’t know.” You laughed gently, slightly embarrassed at the confession.

“No need to thank me. I will always help you in any way that I can.” She replied as she shifted from your chest to hover over you, strong arms bracing either side of your head. “Ya sea que necesites un abrazo, un hombro sobre el que llorar, alguien con quien reír, alguien que te disuada de cualquier pensamiento desagradable que tengas en mente. I will always be here for you.”

“What if I need help in another way?” You asked shyly, shifting your hips up in an attempt to get the message across. This wasn’t the first time you had initiated sex with Ona, but you were always unsure what her answer would be – never wanting to push her too far. You would take whatever she was willing to give if it meant to could keep her in your life.

“Quieres que to folle?” She asked so bluntly. This dynamic you had with Ona was something you adored. Sometimes she would be the shy one, especially in the beginning when alcohol was required to get you into the bedroom. Sometimes she was so blasé about everything. It made your head spin in the best way.

Ona still had 10 minutes left to play. No one wanted to continue. You were integral to the English team, most of them considering you more of a sister than a friend or teammate. You were a good friend to a lot of the Spanish girls as well. You played with a lot of them at Barca, and through Ona or the others, you had met most of them multiple times. The game had lost any and all fight; the ball being passed around with little attacks from either side. Eventually, the final whistle went. Ona didn’t know how to feel. She had just won to World Cup – something she had dreamed about since she knew what a football was. But it was at the expense of her good friends. She went round and tried to comfort people, but she didn’t know how to help them.

And then there was you. Seeing you again had helped ease the ache that ran so deeply in her soul. She had known from the minute she’d left your flat in Manchester that she was the biggest idiot known to man. After a drunken night, she spilt everything to Laia and Leila. They had berated her for hurting you and herself, comforted her as she cried heart-wrenching, painful sobs into their arms, and helped her concoct a plan. A plan for what, she wasn’t so sure, but she was so desperate to see you again, to talk to you again, and if you would let her, to love you again. And then there was that stupid, reckless tackle. It was a straight red. The studs were obviously up, and she didn’t even make contact with the ball. The way you crumpled in a heap, the pure agony that was written across your face. Your leg was horrific to look at – the sight of blood and bone made Ona want to gag. She didn’t want to wait around and collect her medal. She wanted to run to wherever you were – hospital, hopefully – and help nurse you back to health if you would let her. She had tried to leave, but Vilda had been keeping a close eye on the ones that were closest to you.

You had met Vilda once. After the Spain game in the Euros, he had come up to you to shake your hand. You had refused to; you knew all about him from Ona. You knew it wasn’t professional, but you could find it in you to care. You were aware of the beginnings of a movement to stand up against the RFEF, and you hoped this would show the Spanish girls you were with them. He grabbed your shoulder roughly as you blanked him, your gasp catching the attention of those around you. He pointedly looked at his outstretched hand. You stared him straight in the eyes, shrugged his hand off you and carried on walking to Ona, wrapping your arms around her waist. It was caught on camera. You apologised to Sarina, the Lionesses, and the public for your unprofessionalism, but you didn’t mention his name in the apology.

Vilda made sure every girl received their medal, insisted everyone still stay for a minimum of an hour to celebrate the win and forced them all to get on the coach back to the hotel before finally allowing them to do as they pleased.

All of the girls from Barca travelled with Ona to the hospital. Lucy had given them the information as soon as they notified her of their plans. The room was crisp and white and smelled of antiseptic. Even the waiting room, with its plastic chairs and out-of-date magazines, had a sterile feel to it. The room was full to the brim. Every seat was taken. Your family was in a little huddle in the corner, speaking in low tones, talking to a man in scrubs. Everyone was quiet as they awaited news from your parents.

“She’s out of surgery for now,” your dad said to the expectant crowd. They have to go in again in a few days, but she’s stable.” The weight slowly crushing Ona’s heart lifted slightly at your father’s words. She had met your family a few times at games, but you had always seemed reluctant to let her get too close to them.

Ona had sat so still throughout all of it that people were convinced she had fallen asleep. She hadn’t. She was just so lost in everything she was feeling that the world around her faded into obscurity. A gentle cough from someone at the door brought Ona crashing back to earth.

“Um, I’m sorry to disturb you, but you’re the last one in here; even her parents have gone,” the nurse said. Do you want to see her?” She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expecting to actually see you.

“Sí,” She cleared her throat. “Um, yeh. If I’m allowed.”

“She’s in room 4, if you want to go to her” She pointed in the direction of the room you were currently lying in.

You looked so strange, lying in the bed. You didn’t look like she was expecting you to. Ona was anticipating you to look washed out and pale. But you looked almost normal like you could have been asleep in bed, not recovering from surgery and facing another one in a few days’ time.

“Hey,” your voice was a little croaky. You hadn’t seen who it was at the door. “Oh…”  you trailed off as you realised.

“Is it ok ... that I’m here? If you don’t want me here, that’s fine too. Totally your call.” You had only heard Ona be so unsure of herself once before. She was always confident in herself and her abilities.

“Ona, you’re starting tomorrow,” Marc called from across the room. It was her first start for United. She wasn’t expecting it either. She had been sure she would be brought on as a sub for a little longer. It was the first Derby of the season, and she was getting her first start. It was too sudden. She couldn’t think very clearly. She was blindsided.

“Oni, estás bien?” Your sweet voice asked from beside her. That voice that she was slowly falling in love with.

“I… I’m starting… tomorrow. I’m starting tomorrow.” Her voice was shaky. You hadn’t known her long, but this was something else. She sounded so small, so unsure of herself.

“Really? Oh, my god, that’s great.” You jumped on her in excitement, her arms automatically catching you, keeping you close to her. She wanted you to always be this close to her. “We have to celebrate. Come back to mine, yeh? We could do a movie night or something. We could cook … well, actually, you could cook for me; you know how much I love your food,” you babbled excitedly. “I would suggest we order something, but with a match tomorrow, we should eat decently. But tomorrow we’ll properly celebrate after the match. We could go to that bar we’ve been wanting to go to? Have a few drinks?” You were seemingly oblivious to her nerves, too busy playing with the baby hairs.

“I’m starting tomorrow” She whispered again. “No puedo empezar mañana. No estoy listo. Esto es un error. Debería decirle a Marc que no puedo.”

“Now that Ona Batlle is complete and utter bullshit.” She hadn’t heard you swear before. It sounded wrong coming from you. “Estás más que listo. Eres perfecta.” The Spanish you were quickly picking up on sounded adorable to Ona. The way she was trying to learn and incorporate as much of her native language as possible was to make her feel more at home. She didn’t know that you had a steady streak on Duolingo that you kept up with to impress her. “You will start tomorrow, and you will have a great game.” You responded with such confidence and authority that she had no other choice but to believe you. “Now, we are going to go back to my place. You are going to cook me some of your fantastic food, and then we are going to watch a movie before having an early night.” You slipped out of her arms and took her hand, pulling her towards your cubbies.

“Umm … you can… stay … if you want to.” You answered her.

“I don’t want to impose. If you want to rest that’s fine. Simplemente me iré” She turned to leave. God, it was so awkward between you to. Everything used to be so natural.

Ona had just entered the changing rooms when she was jumped on. She knew immediately who it was, even without the excited squeal you let out. “See, I told you, you would be great. A start and the full game! Best day ever. We are most definitely going out tonight. Because Manchester is red, baby.” You chatted away as you clung to Ona’s back. Everyone around you was confused. You were never this talkative; you were always the one to soak up the atmosphere in silence, only really contributing to conversations when you had something you thought was valuable to say. Katie had seen this side of you, but she wasn’t upset. This new, chatty, happy Y/N was something they hoped would stay. They hoped your newfound confidence with shine through and you would finally realise how good you were.

After showering, you waited by your car for Ona. You were taking her back to yours before heading out for some drinks with the girls. All your attention was on her as she left the building. Ivana was chatting animatedly to her as Ona laughed, her head thrown back and the most amazing sound drifting across the car park. You knew you were falling in love with her. You had been from the moment you met her. She was shy and slightly awkward, not knowing much English, but you had quietly approached her and, with schoolgirl Spanish, introduced yourself. You liked who you were around her. She brought out the loud and carefree side of you. A side that you hadn’t let out in a long time. But you couldn’t help it, not with her around.

“You’ll catch flies” Tobin giggled as she walked past, her arm wrapped around Christen. You hadn’t even noticed you mouth was slightly open.

“Shut up” you grumbled as Ona arrived, looking concerned at your irritated tone

“Qué ocurre?” She asked immediately, trying to stop whatever was making you sad. You just shook your head, gesturing at her to get in the passenger side.

You arrived at the bar with her arm wrapped securely around your waist. Whilst she was a definite fan of your outfit – a black bralette and jeans – she didn’t like how much of you was exposed to people who weren’t her.

“Is that what your wearing?” She asked as you reached for your bag. She was wearing long sleeves and was already a little cold.

“Yeh… Why do I look not look good?” You looked down at yourself, slightly hurt but the insinuation.

“No, no … you, um, you look beautiful,” she was quick to reassure you. “It’s just … won’t you be cold?” You laughed loudly at her concern.

“Oni…” You cooed. Oni. You had never called her that before, but she liked it. It made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt before. “I won’t be cold, I promised. Whilst you might think it’s freezing, not all of us grew up in Spain. I’m Northern – this is a pretty mild night for me. And besides, it's sacrilegious to bring a coat on a night out, and I’ll have an alcohol jacket for warmth fairly soon. And even after all of that, if I’m still cold, you’ll keep me warm, right?” You grabbed her hand, pulling her out of your flat with ease.

The night was full of dancing and laughter. It felt like the most normal thing to press your body against her as you swayed your hips. It felt right as she stared into your eyes, stealing a sip of the fruity drink in your hand. It felt normal as your eyes focused on her lips more than what she was saying. The way your heart pounded felt nice when her arms looped around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The way the world slid sideways as your lips pressed delicately against her felt like the more natural thing in the world.

“Llevame a la cama.” You wouldn’t have heard her if you weren’t already staring at her lips. It took you a moment to translate it. She could tell the moment you understood what she said. That dazzling smile spread across your face, your arms pulling her even closer to you. You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to your teammates.

“Stay … please” You called out.

I'm not too sure when the next part will be, but I hope you liked it.

[darknight3904]

Between the Comfort and the Chaos

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ᴋᴀᴛɴɪꜱꜱ (ʏᴀʏ) ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɴᴏᴡ'ꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀꜱᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴇɴʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴏ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ "ᴏʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇɴᴛ!" ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴡ. ᴛʜᴀᴛꜱ ᴡʜʏ ɪᴛꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ / ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴛ ʙᴜʀɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ. ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ @squidscottjeans ,ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴄᴇɪʟɪɴɢꜱ ʙʏ ʟɪᴢᴢɪᴇ ᴍᴄᴀʟᴘɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ʙʏ ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴇ ᴀʙʀᴀᴍꜱ.

Italics designate that it is a dream.

The sun is warm on his skin as his eyes meet yours. Musical laughter fills his ears and soft hair tickles his nose.

"What are you laughing at now?" He asked, his voice deep with sleep.

"Your hair is ridiculous, Coryo." You tease pointing at his head

"And who did that hmm? I seem to remember you pushing your fingers through it a thousand times last night." He replies shifting around in the soft white sheets so he's sitting upright.

"You lie! I'd never." You laugh, sitting up beside him, clothed in a soft-looking nightgown he picked out for you.

"Sure you would, you're a menace." He says, wrapping his arms around you and caging you to his chest

"How rude to say to the only person who puts up with that terrible attitude of yours!" You say trying to free yourself from his iron grip.

His muscles flex slightly and his fingers begin to tickle you.

"Coryo!" You laugh, wiggling around in his lap "Coriolanus Snow! I'm going to pee!"

He relents and lets you go at the threat of urine. Wetting the bed is unattractive.

Coriolanus wakes with his heart feeling full. A smile fights for a spot on his face amongst the wrinkles that have formed over the years.

"Now there's something you don't normally see on a dead man's face, a smile."

His smile falls and his gaze snaps to the voice. He groans and straightens up in the uncomfortable chair he dozed off in

"I'm Commander Paylor. From District 8. I wanted to see you before the Mockingjay executes you tomorrow."

Coriolanus isn't entirely sure what to say to the woman in front of him.

"You wanted to meet the monster up close?" He asks, pulling a pure white rose from its spot next to a fountain.

"Yes." She confirms.

Her voice is unshaken as he steps towards her and holds his hand with the rose out.

"Give the Girl on Fire this for me. As a gift." He requests

The woman, rebel, Paylor, slowly takes it from him, undoubtedly suspicious. He smiles when she does, a sign of good faith, but it must scare her because he can tell she's not charmed.

Unsurprisingly, his good looks had vanished years ago.

"What makes you think she'll want this?" She asks shoving the rose back at him.

"You're right, maybe she she wouldn't want it. Although perhaps she'll find me herself, then I can give it to her directly."

Paylor doesn't say another word to him and instead takes her leave. He watches her mumble something to the guards before walking. Most likely demanding that they watch him closely. Like he had somewhere he could run off to, the moment the Capitol's children were killed by bombs, he had lost any bits of support he had left.

He isn't surprised when she appears in his greenhouse. She looks laughably out of place amongst the dazzling white and green, clad in black as she admires one of his roses.

"That's a nice one."

His voice must frighten her because she spins around quickly. How easy it is to startle a bird outside of its cage. It reminds him that Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion that will kill him tomorrow is nothing more than a scared little girl.

"Nothing says perfection like white." He says, wiping at his mouth, " I was hoping you'd find your way here. There's so many things we should discuss."

Katniss walks towards him as he sits down on a bench, old knees prevent him from standing the way he wanted to. She's silent but he catches her eyes and how they watch the blood on his handkerchief.

Katniss is quiet, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I was 18 when I killed my first person. It was a boy, in the arena. I was there to rescue my friend who was stupid enough to enter the arena to administer burial rights to a District 2 boy he believed was important."

"I don't care," Katniss says getting ready to walk away, clearly uninterested in his life.

"You don't want to know the thoughts of an old man? After all, I'll be dead this time tomorrow. Then my story won't matter. I'll be nothing but pages on a history book one day. You'll be the only one to know how my mind worked back then."

His words get her to stay. Perhaps she is curious about him. Or maybe she doesn't have anything else to do, now that the Districts have taken the Capitol. How terrible it must be to lose your purpose so early on in life.

"I saved him, Sejanus Plinth, that fool. I saved him only to sign his death warrant later. Plotting to escape Panem and killing the mayor of District 12's daughter. You see, Miss Everdeen, taking life without purpose is wasteful. The mayor's daughter never did anything to Sejanus."

"You say don't take life without waste but what about your Fiancee? The one who killed herself. There have been whispers about it for as long as I can remember. I've never bought that she died on her own accord."

"Patience, Miss Everdeen." He smiles, surprised that the rumor about you still has life, he could have sworn he had covered that up perfectly.

"Have you ever heard the name Lucy Gray Baird?" He asked, genuinely curious if that foolish Covey of hers had passed her name down the way her songs had swirled around the rebellion.

"No," Katniss says

"She was a victor of the Hunger Games, just like you. The first victor of District 12 to be precise." Coriolanus watches Katniss' face as she listens, "There's nothing left of her though. She is but a whisper in the wind, I saw to that myself. I must not have done it thoroughly though, after all, you know her songs. The Hanging Tree, and that sweet song you sang that little girl who died in your arms in your first games."

Coriolanus smiles as Katniss' face knits into a mask of displeasure and anger.

"Stop it." She demands, no begs.

"Calm yourself, Miss Everdeen, I'll be finished shortly."

He watches her fists clench, suffocating the stem of the rose she picked between her fingers.

"You asked about my fiance. You're right about your theory, she didn't kill herself the way the gossips spread their lies across this country say. I rid myself of her one day, it was an accident you see. She attacked me first...I regret it though. I regret it most when I'm alone."

Coriolanus sighs, suddenly overcome with sadness as he thinks of you, Lucy Gray, and even Sejanus.

Katniss is quiet for a moment. Her fingers turn the rose over in her fingers, examining it for nonexistent imperfections.

"You deserve it. You deserve every bit of pain her death causes you. You deserve to know the pain you've caused countless families by sending their children into the games. What you've caused me and my family by killing Prim."

He can hear the emotion dripping in her voice when her sister's name leaves her lips. In a way that sister is responsible for where he is now, a prisoner in his own greenhouse.

"Yes, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your sister. I was about to release an official surrender when they released the parachutes." He says, truthfully.

"You released those parachutes," Katniss says, her tone cold.

"You think I gave the order? We both know I'm not above killing children, but I'm not wasteful. I take life for specific reasons. I always have. There was no reason for me to destroy a pen of Capitol children."

He coughs, wiping at his mouth, wishing his sores would stop aching.

"It was a masterful move on Coin's part. It turned the last of my guards against me." He smiles "There was no resistance left in the mansion. Did you know it aired live?"

He watches as Katniss takes in his words, her face remains stoic but he can tell she understands him. Understands that Prim is dead because of the woman who is to take his place as leader of Panem.

"I'm sure she wasn't gunning for your sister...but these things happen in war."

"I don't believe you," Katniss says, determined to convince herself more than him.

"Oh my dear Miss Everdeen, I thought we had agreed never to lie to each other."

Sleep is something that has usually evaded Coriolanus Snow. Whether it be his old bones aching, the sores in his mouth, or just a busy mind, he hasn't had a peaceful night in many years.

Tonight is different though. Perhaps it was his conversation with Katniss, or maybe the fact that he would die tomorrow. Tonight Coriolanus Snow falls into a deep slumber, avoiding what his future holds.

Coriolanus!

Coriolanus!

Coryo!

He can't believe eyes. Here you are, healthy and whole in front of him. Not a winkle or smile line, pollutes your face.

You are as beautiful as the day you left him.

"Y-You're here...with me." He stammers, cursing himself for his blunder.

"Where else would I be, silly?" You smile "This is my room after all."

He glances around and sure enough, you're right. Your sunroom is here, he's in it. Coriolanus sits across from you on the plush baby blue furniture you hand-picked. It's color is as vibrant as ever, not faded like the last time he saw it. Your overflowing desk is to his on his right, burdened with books, drawings, and wildflowers of every color.

"You look lost, Coryo." You observe, taking a sip from the tea cup in front of you.

He takes in your appearance. A pretty sundress sits on your figure. Its yellow flowers make you look as delicate as the teacup in front of him. Your hair is done immaculately and a soft touch of makeup enhances your already stunning features.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly blurts out

"For what?" You ask

" I'm sorry for looking like this." He apologizes, suddenly self-conscious that he's an old man.

"Looking like what?" Your musical voice fills his ears.

Suddenly a mirror is there, in his lap. He looks down and is met with a familiar yet unfamiliar face. Sure, his reflection stares back at him as it always is. But, this time he is met with how he looked the day he killed you. His youth is back, curly hair a mess on his head, out of the confines of the gel he used to slick it back. It is styled just the way you like it.

"Are you sorry for anything else?" You ask sweetly

Coriolanus thinks for a split second that you're testing him. But what reason would you have?

"For everything that happened between us. I regret it all." He admits

Silence feels like a weight on his chest as he waits for you to speak.

"Do you regret what you did to me then? How we ended?" You ask

He can't look at you as he disgests your words.

"Yes." He says, his voice barely a whisper.

"Look at me, Coriolanus."

His gaze remains down, has he always been wearing blue socks?

"Look at me, Coriolanus!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

"Look at me!"

His eyes open to meet the bright light of a flashlight being shown into his eyes.

"He's still alive." A gruff voice says, switching the light off.

"Unfortunately." Another snickers " Here I thought we might get to tell Coin he died of old age."

"Stay alive, snake. We want a good show tomorrow when Katniss shoots you." The first one says tossing him backward onto the small cot that has been placed in his greenhouse for him.

"You're a monster, Coriolanus."

Your voice. It's you!

He turns around and there you are, a gray scarf has been added to your outfit. It's out of place and clashes with your pretty yellow dress. He wants to tell you to get rid of it.

"I'm not." He denies

"You are. Look what you did to Sejanus, to Lucy Gray, to me, to every child who ever stepped foot in an arena. There were never any victors, not really, only you." You hiss

"It is the order of things." He tries to defend his actions, hearing you spout this incorrect information is angering him. Every life he has ever ended has served a greater purpose.

"Snow lands on top, isn't that how it goes?"

Your words send a shiver down his spine.

"I wish I could have changed what happened to you." He says

"No, you don't. You wanted to do it. You wanted to hurt me." You spit

"No, I didn't you're wrong. I never meant for any of that to happen!" He panics, wishing your harsh tone would stop. He haunches over elbows resting on his knees, hands over his ears like a child.

"Yes, you did." You say

He looks up at you now. The ugly scarf is gone but Coriolanus wishes for its return. Deep purple bruises mar your once-perfect skin. From his position, he can see the chinks of the chain that had pressed into your skin.

"You can't even accept what you did to me. You're disgusting, Coryo."

And just like that you're gone. A figment of his imagination comes to life and vanishes just like that.

His chest heaves as he wipes his bloody lips on his deep red robe. His heart rate slows and he wishes someone would bring him a warm cup of tea to soothe his burning throat. Perhaps those guards might indulge him.

A low whistle reaches his ears as he fiddles with the string that sticks out of his pillowcase.

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary.

It's why I

Need you-

You're as pure as the driven snow.

Lucy Gray Baird's sweet voice fills his ears for the first time in decades.

"Hello, Coriolanus." She greets him, stepping out from behind a display of roses.

"What do you want?" He snaps

"Well now, there's no need to be rude." She scolds

"Say your piece I'm tired." He says, uninterested in playing her games

"Ah, did she tire you out? She's feisty. I understand why you went back to the Capitol for her." Lucy Gray says

"No, you don't. You barely even met her." He says

"Now thats where you're wrong. She and I know each other well. After all, we're connected through you." Lucy Gray taunts

"You're not real!" He exclaims. "You're gone! Nothing but a whisper of songbird chatter left behind in the woods of District 12!"

His outburst doesn't faze Lucy Gray Baird who smiles at him.

" I can see you're not interested in talking to me the way you did her."

"You're right, I'm not," Coriolanus confirms, wishing Lucy Gray would disappear again.

"Very well, then. I'll leave you to it, then."

The rest of the night is sleepless for Coriolanus. He lays on his back and tries to shake the whispers that flood his mind. Your voice dances with Lucy Gray's tonight, taunting him, driving him mad. Lucy Gray's singing swirls through him like a thick fog over city lights and clouds his mind. At some point, you join in and Coriolanus can't even fathom how you've learned the words of a ghost's songs.

The sun has arisen by the time your voices finally go quiet. He suspects the guards that stand outside his greenhouse doors will come to lead him to his execution any moment now.

"Did you ever stop and think that what you were doing was wrong?"

Sejanus Plinth. He should have known his mind would save the most annoying for last.

"I've never viewed my actions as wrong. Maybe I didn't mean them all but they all served a purpose." Coriolanus affirms, not bothering to look at Sejanus who is apparently behind him.

Sejanus lets out an amused laugh and Coriolanus feels his blood boil. What does a dead boy have to laugh at? He is the one who got to live a long life, not Sejanus Plinth.

"You meant every wrong you've ever committed, Coryo. You're a monster that's going to burn in the deepest pits of hell."

He finally turns, ready to rip Sejanus apart for his words and the use of his personal nickname, a name reserved for you only. He is ready to send Sejanus back to whatever corner of his mind he resided in but is met with nothing but roses.

He runs a hand over his face. Coriolanus Snow has never felt more weary than he does now. He wishes to bury his head beneath his blankets and let the world melt away.

He never gets a chance though because as he relaxes back into his mattress, the greenhouse doors open, signaling his time here has come to a close.

"Get up." a voice orders "It's time."

Coriolanus can see Katniss Everdeen growing closer with every beat of the drums that play. The bow in her hand is as pitch black as the costume she wears. A soft breeze threads its way through the tense scene as he awaits his doom. He's not so worried about it now, his mind has dragged him through the dirt so much within the past twelve hours that he wants an out. He never wants the ability to listen to Sejanus' garbage or Lucy Gray's sweet voice, Coriolanus doesn't even want to have another conversation with you in your sunroom.

No that's not it. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he does want some of those things back. Maybe not Sejanus or Lucy Gray but he does yearn for you. He wants you to wrap your arms around him and tell him it's alright. He wants to sit down with you and exist with you in between the comfort and the chaos of this world. He wants you to stay by his side and say that you didn't mean to say that you disgust him.

Maybe none of it was real. No none of it was. You had left him that night in the basement. Your eyes had glazed over and you had stopped fighting him and the chain that brought about your doom.

He can feel hysteria creeping into his mind as Katniss Everdeen stops walking. Behind her, the victors that escaped him stand tall. He catches the gaze of Peeta Mellark, the boy he had kept in your room after he used tracker jacker venom on him.

Three birds fly over him, they flap their wings in perfect harmony. Their black feathers are a stark contrast to the light blue sky that he stares up at now. Coin's words fall on deaf ears as he ignores her whole speech.

"Mockingjay...may your aim be as true as your heart is pure."

Coriolanus watches Katniss Everdeen release her arrow. He expects something, perhaps a dazzling white light or maybe even pitch darkness but it never comes. Instead horrified gasps fill his ears and the thud of a body.

Coriolanus doesn't have to even try to turn around to see what has happened. He knows what the Mockingjay has done to what was Panem's future.

Time slows down as the mob behind her rushes forward. The birds have flown away, off to start a different life, away from darkness and all things bad.

His laughter rings in his ears as his eyes comb the crowd. He can't see much but the red rouge of an academy uniform catches his eyes, accompanied by a flash of rainbow. Sejanus, Lucy Gray. What were they doing here? They couldn't possibly be in the crowd that was running towards him.

They're growing closer, the mob that will end his life. He looks at them, ready to let go. They collide with him, their fists are brutal but justified and he can feel his end rapidly approaching.

"Coryo."

And there it is, at last. Your sweet voice is calling him home.

Thank you for reading this little bonus story. If you enjoyed it please comment, like, or reblog! I love getting feedback. Follow me for more content or check out my master list.

Taglist: (To be added to my permanent Coriolanus taglist please message me directly.)

@katherines-imagines

@stelleduarte

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[juniperxyz]

How Windbreaker men would be if they dated women like them

Context: A refresher from the generic trope of grumpy guy x sunshine girl where their lovers share the same traits and personalities as them, causing to bring out something besides their usual behaviour

Pairing: WB men x f!reader

Jay Jo x Reader

Wc: 1,067 words

Note: Uploading Jay's first because I started it before the poll finished

M A S T E R L I S T

“You'll pass out at this rate.”

“As a valedictorian? I hope so.”

Maybe it's believable that the school's most diligent boy would set his heart upon an equally diligent girl; both excelling in studies, ranking first in sports, and exceeding the charts in the looks department.

But the difference most didn't expect would be in their passions.

Jay leant against the wall, his shoulders drooping as exhaustion weighed him down. Call him arrogant, but he never thought he'll want to hit the bed faster than her.

“11 in the night….”,he sighed, straining to keep his vision focused. It was three weeks into the new semester, and the books still held his girlfriend hostage. The schedule for the exams hasn't even been created, and yet she was already skimming through every past paper.

“Sleep is for the weak.”,she slurred, rubbing her throbbing temples. For all the organization habits she so tediously lived by, they seem to have taken a break as plates, notepads, pen holders and stained mugs congested around her laptop and weary hands. Contrary to the psychotic degree of perfection others held them to, the two were more prone to slip up than anyone else. They were skillful enough to ensure no one hears a whisper about them, but exempted each other from hiding their vulnerabilities.

But with the helplessness he felt, Jay wished she too hid this from him, lest he's forced to keep seeing her in misery.

His other vulnerability was also his dramaticness, which is why he shoved his worries, shoved himself off the wall, and approached the woman from behind. Y/N already rolled her eyes as his shadow grew larger, until she straightened her spine and swiveled to level him with a glare, “If you're gonna lecture me ag-”

But no lecture sprouted from his mouth, instead his arms extended around her head, colliding it against his chest, oddly close enough to feel his racing heartbeat. She sputtered in confusion, a hindrance that lack of sleep teased her with, before she gave in to his whims reluctantly.

“You're an amazing woman.”,she blinked slowly as he pressed a soft kiss on her crown, “A truly outstanding person, I'm glad I get to be with you.”

An awkward silence rolled by the couple, having the woman rack her brains for a possible reason, “Did Dom spike your drink again.”

True, emotionless was his primary attitude to most of his relationships. That didn't however include the most cherished one he possessed.

“You…worry me.”,he wasn't good with words, but it didn't stop him from speaking his heart, “I see you and I get scared.”

Her shoulders slumped as if on cue, forehead leaned against his shirt as a deep sigh left her chest. “It's just I'm worried‐”

“I'm willing to score less if it will make you content.”,after a moment of hesitation, his hand smoothed her hair, ignorant to her astonished scowl, “It will be one less competition to worry about. Maybe you can rest.”

“Are you insane?”,she smacked his arms away, dismissing her neck cramps as she craned up with an incredulous look, “Don't disregard your studies over something stupid.”

His brows furrowed, irritation bypassing his unemotional facade with ease, “But you're stressing too much on grades, I can help by-”

“Do you think I only do this to get validation?”,she guffawed, pushing herself backwards, “That I only work hard for people's approval or something?”

An irritated huff escaped his lips. He was too tired to argue, “Y/N, you gotta see it from my‐”

“I do it so I can compete with you.”

His eyebrows rose, surprise etched into his face as he inspected her vexed scowl.

“There's no joy in fighting so hard when my main opponent wants to back out. I get inspired and motivated by you, I wanna beat you.”,she stated in a low voice, “It doesn't matter if I hold your hand in victory or defeat when it means I competed beside you…”

Though Jay spoke nothing, the air was heavy with emotions as each simply gazed into each other's eyes, suppressing the urge to spill their hearts and feelings before the other.

“No one's as stubborn as you…”,he sighed, though his lips quirked up in a grin.

Her eyes peeled off him, a light blush tinting her cheeks, “There's you.”

The man shrugged his shoulders in mock defeat, “Sadly, I found my first opponent.”

She shot back a glare that failed miserably, and a strong tug dragged her off the chair and tumbled her into her sheets, with a variety of pillows being chucked off as straightened herself, “What's up with you?”

“Not up, down.”,he stated plainly, flapping the blanket before it fluttered over their bodies, “We're laying down, going to bed.”

“You're gonna write papers for me?”,she snorted, scowling as he draped an inescapable arm around her torso.

“Plenty. Expect many professing my love for you.”

Her frown deepened as her blush brightened, prompting the man to smirk as she swiveled around, before he brought her closer with his arm-cage.

“You can't compete with me if you're not in good health.”,he whispered, face sinking into her long hair, “It's no use fighting for grades if you're fighting against your body.”

She opened her mouth to bark another retort, when his next words left hers hanging.

“And I hate to see my own motivation and inspiration wither away before we can even compete.”,he placed a chin on her shoulder, lips trailing along her jawline, “It's a lonely road to the top.”

Knowing her reservedness prevented all responses, the man nuzzled his chin into the crook of her neck, and purred in satisfaction, “And that's why, I need you beside me.”

Need. She always categorized all her wants as needs. Need for academic excellence, Need for astounding athleticism, need for a one prim and proper reputation of herself.

But it was the first time she heard of her as a need. Not for the expectations imposed by her parents, nor the plethora of notes and advice sought by her teachers, but just….her?

People around prophesied something grandiose and impactful, like their graduation ceremony or her college acceptance, could succeed in revealing a sliver of emotion. But the measly half muffled words of her boyfriend were the ones that glazed her eyes with tears. Joyful tears.

[ilovebuckers5]

.·:·.✧ Say No pt 4✧.·:·.

NIka Muhl x Fem!Reader

"I just wanted to be yours. can I be yours? can I be yours? just tell me I'm yours"

word count - 2.3k

themes:

-angst (if u squint)

-fluff

-smoking

A/N - this is kind of a filler but then again its not... I really liked writing this part tho 😋

august 5th 2023

My eyes stung the morning after. Not even the feelings of more tears helped because she wasn't here to wipe them away. As much as I wanted to wake up curled next to Nika, faced pressed against her chest. I wasn't. She was still in Paige's room. I kept trying to gaslight myself into thinking that she was down the hallway, waiting for me, but she wasn't. My eyes started to blink open to see a bunch of blankets piled up next to my face. I shoved the blankets out of the way and sat up, supporting my body weight with hands behind me. I gazed around my room looking for a sweater to put on. I finally stood up once I found a black hoodie with the UCONN logo on it. It took me forever to realize that I had slipped on Nika's sweatshirt. The first thing I noticed when I walked out of my room was a couple of the girls sitting in the lobby. On their phones, talking, doing whatever. I started looking around for Paige but before I could find the blonde, I found the brunette. Nika was sitting on the arm of a cushioned chair. Of course she decided to not sit on the actual part your ass should be on. I tried my best to look away but just the sight of her was refreshing after a night without her touch.

Her eyes were glued onto her phone that was being held by her left hand. Her right was hanging off to the side. I watched as her thumb gently spun one of her more loose rings around. I watched the way her heels was kicking against the soft material on the chair. I watched every little movement she made. And suddenly I was back at the beach. When even if she had sand in her finger nails and in her hair, she was still perfect to me and always is. Watching her silently took me back to the first night she stayed in my bed. She laid there so peacefully and all I could was watch her chest rise and fall with each breath she took. Arguments completely break me. Even if this isn't the end it feels like it. To know that there is a point in us that Nika didn't feel at peace when the thought of myself came to her mind. that is horrible to think of.

Before she could catch me admiring her, I moved my eyes to the front door when I heard KK, Ice, and Paige walk through the door holding Panda Express. Ice ran up to me holding a bag in front of me. "I couldn't remember your go to for the life of me and you were asleep so forgive me if I botched your order." She handed me a bag of food that was steaming. "No you're good I love anything from Panda." I grabbed onto the bag and sat down at one of the chair in the lobby. The smell of orange chicken and beef mixed with steam rose up to my face hitting my nose with heat. Luckily there was a table in front of me so I took out everything and set it down before throwing away the bag. When I stood up to walk to the trash can I was stopped by a strong hand holding onto my shoulder. I turned around to see Paige looking right at me "You're gonna talk to her today right? It's so insufferable to see you two not being all up on each other." I nodded silently as I was trying to forget what happened even happened. I came back to my food and noticed a bite of my rice was gone. I knew immediately that it was Ashlynn since when I looked up I saw her running away from my chair. I rolled my eyes and continued eating.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

august 11th 2023

"Did you get your shoes from my room?" Jana yelled out from across the hallway. "Yes we're good!" Today was the day that the team was headed back home. I had just finalized my packing plan and had my suitcases full to the brim. As much as I wanted to help Nika pack, she seemed like she was fully capable by herself. By the way, I did talk to her. At least I tried. In fact I tried multiple times. Each and every time I did, she either ignored me or brushed my words off.

august 5th 2023

I was back at my room now. Leftovers of my food were left in the mini fridge. I remember hearing some girls in the room next to me laughing loudly. Even though I wasn't into smoking or drinking, Nika's tipsy voice made it hard to resist. The book in my hand was almost glued to my bed once I heard her voice. I walked next door and knocked on the door while trying to think of an excuse to just be in the room. The door swung open to reveal Qadence standing in front of me. She had a soft smile on her face when she noticed it was me. Me and Qadence have always been close even if it doesn't show. Once the door was opened wide enough, I saw Nika's smile drop as we locked eyes. My heart dropped to my stomach just at the sight of her not being happy around me. Qadence let me into the room which I didn't expect. To be honest, I just went to the room to get some part of Nika's presence near mine. Qadence shut the door and sat down on the floor next to Paige and Amari. I looked around with confusion, not knowing what to do. The group of girls were clearly wanted me to sit down but the only place I could sit was of course right next to Nika. On a bed too. So I did. I mean its not like it would bother me, it's Nika who would be bothered by it. And Paige who would be amused. Azzi took a puff from her pen before handing it to what I thought would be me but was Nika. Azzi leaned over into Nika's ear and whispered what I'm guessing was something having to do with me. Nika took a hit then handed the pen to me without making any eye contact. It was excruciating to not kiss her right then and there in front of everyone.

"Alright. Take a hit or tell the truth. y/n, did you actually fuck Nika?" Clearly Paige was in a mood. My eyes widened at the very quick start to the night. I let out a sigh and handed the pen to Qadence before answering. "Yep." I tried to be as cold and blunt as possible to make it seem like I didn't give a shit, which I did. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out at how much I wanted to look into Nika's eyes to see if she was looking at me. Paige tilted her head to Azzi, indicating that she needed to ask the next question.

After a couple more questions thrown back and forth, I felt myself getting more dissociated and high. The next question was asked by Amari and it was something I did think she would ask. "I'm gonna break the rules a little here, this is for Nika and y/n. are y'all done?" the room went silent. My brain could barely think about what I was going to say so I silently left Nika to answer first. We still didn't make eye contact. The only thing I saw was her hands starting to fidget with each other. I held my breath until she spoke out. "Only if this one wants it to be." Nika tapped my shoulder shyly which sent a chill down my back. That when I noticed just how high she was because sober Nika would never be that bold after being asked a question like that. Nothing left my mouth but heavy breaths. I wanted to speak but no words were able to form on my tongue. All I could do was leave. So I stood up and rushed through the door and back to my room. This happened to be the second time that I had smoked ever so it was a bit rough when I was back in my bed. I couldn't even stand up so flipped myself over so that my face was in the pillow and all I did was cry. I got mascara all over my pillow but that didn't matter right now.

I want Nika back more than anything in the world. Before these couple days I couldn't even fathom the thought of being without her yet I still managed to fuck things up. Just because I wasn't careful? Fucking stupid. I cried for almost an hour nonstop before Azzi walked through my door. She sat herself on the ledge of my bed and gently rubbed my back as more tears fell out of my eyes and got soaked up by my pillow. The only reason I didn't answer the question was because I wanted Nika back so much that it felt like if I told her that, it would be stressful for her. I want what's best for her not for me. I probably sounded so stupid crying so hard over something like a month long relationship issue but it was as if I knew Nika for 20 years. Azzi sat there and rubbed my back for what felt like hours until I finally revealed my now even more reddened and puffy eyes. Azzi grabbed a tissue and wiped my cheeks and eyes of dark mascara. She pulled me into a long embrace which only made more tears flow out. "I don't want it to be over az." She held me close for a couple more seconds before pulling away to speak. "Then you have to do something so that she knows that."

I eventually built up the balls to stand up and approach Nika who was now running after KK who had taken her phone. KK stopped once she saw me walk out the door and head towards Nika direction. In fact, KK froze in place and just stared at me. "What?" Nika flailed her arms around until she turned around, then her hands rested at her sides. Finally for the first time in a month, we looked at each other. But this time we didn't just look at each other, we focused on each other. I felt the air in my lungs become trapped by the lump sitting at the top of my throat. I cleared my throat and broke the eye contact "Um, could I talk to you. Please." I felt the sense that Nika really didn't want to talk to me but she painfully nodded and followed me back into our hotel room. My hands gravitated to her wrists but she pulled away softer than I expected. "Nika. Can I tell you something?" Nika took her lip under her teeth and nodded. "I really love you. Like, a fucking lot." Nika hadn't even spoke and I felt a tear run down my cheek. "I would never in a million years- no in any years, want to hurt you." I looked behind Nika's eyes and felt nothing but hate with a hint of love in her head. Even if she didn't take me back in this moment I needed her to know that she meant everything to me. I would give up my life to spare her happiness.

august 11th 2023

I was loading everyone's bags into the car when I felt a hand wrap around my waist. Ok maybe not around my waist but a hand touched my waist. I look behind me to see Nika. She had tears ready to fall from her eyes. Things had eased out since the fifth but we still weren't back together. I still had the same love for her no matter what, that wouldn't change. Even though she never wanted to admit it, I could always tell when something was wrong with Nika. The sorrows of having to leave California forced me to try and comfort Nika even if that meant holding her in my arms without dating. No words were exchanged I just felt a couple tears slide down my skin that Nika's face was pressed against. My hand trailed across her back that was halfway exposed by the tube top she was wearing. The second she pulled her face out of my chest, I held her jaw with my hands and looked into her glossy eyes. "I'm...sorry." Her words were laced with even more sobs but that didn't matter. She didn't have to be sorry. Did it hurt being without her? Yes. But nothing changed the fact that it was me who did something wrong. She had every right to be mad at me. "Don't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for." a couple more tears fell down her cheeks but I quickly stroked them away with the pad of my thumb. I thought she would pull away now but her hands wrapped around my waist before she slowly inched her lips onto mine. I kissed back and then felt her smile across my mouth. I missed her smile.

I pulled away to peek at her now dried eyes and glowing smile. I pressed my head against her forehead and pulled her close. We held onto each other until I looked up and saw a couple of the girls lurking through the window of the hotel lobby. "Alright everyone's staring at us..." A small laugh left Nika's mouth and just that alone warmed my heart even more. Nika left to go grab a couple more bags to put in the car. I admired from afar as Paige, Azzi, and KK basically congratulated her. I leaned my head back on the trunk door of the car and I couldn't help but bring a large smile on my lips. Now the car ride wouldn't be as painful as I predicted it to be.

[kiwi-on-ice]

It’s late, I can’t sleep and all I can think about is Ashe giving me white lingerie to wear :(

18+ smut, wlw, thigh riding, depraved thoughts (sorry ya’ll) xxx

Just her texting you, demanding you wear the cute lace lingerie she’d recently bought you. Small decorative white roses adorning the fabric, making your skin look so stunning as it cups your tits just right.

Her getting in, slightly disheveled from the tough day she’s had, setting her red eyes on you and the tension just melting from her shoulders as she looks at you.

Getting you on her lap, her touch gentle as she caresses the exposed skin, telling you ‘ain’t you the most stunnin’ little thing’ as her fingertips trace up your waist.

She can’t help but rock you on her thigh, wanting to see how wet the white fabric gets as she ruins it. Manicured red nails digging in to the meat of your hips to move you over the fabric of her trousers. Telling you ‘it’s okay doll, just put on a show for me, yeah?’

Thinking you look so innocent in the white lace, so corruptible. Wanting to make you say the most disgustingly wanton things, have you grind on her boot, have you lick at her strap while her coach gun traces your jawline, have you tied to the bed as she shoves a vibrator in your cunt to watch you squirm.

But she doesn’t. She can’t bring herself to, not when you’re looking at her with those eyes, talking about how much you missed her as your pussy rubs against her thigh so sweetly, just like she asked.

So she just helps you, bounces her thigh a little and gives you a proud smile. ‘Look so good, so sweet for me sugar. Doin’ exactly what i say, you’re the perfect girl for me.’

When you cum, she can’t help but moan with you like she’s the one being pleasured. Cause in a way she is. What better way to relieve the stress from a hard day of being an infamous gang leader than to have your gorgeous girlfriend cum on your thigh in the prettiest bra you’ve ever seen?

I don’t usually do drabbles but it’s 3am and have been thinking about this non stop

[psicheanima]

i got intrigued by the fact that you did a senior paper on the witches from madoka - can you please tell us some more about that? i love when academic work ties to personal interests.

I can do you one better. You can just read it. Screenshots as it’s from a website. This is the actual final. I can’t include my analysis portion in an image because there’s a ten image limit on mobile. So it’s under the cut. And please be gentle, because I wrote this when I was 18.

Icebox Cake

Icebox Cake is the alternate name for the pastry Charlotte. This is of course a reference to the witch Charlotte, who the poem is about. This story is a direct adaptation of Charlotte’s canon backstory as revealed in the Magia Record Game. Charlotte is the only witch in this collection with a concrete backstory, and the only one who we know the real name of — Nagisa Momoe.

Nivelles Charaxinae

Nivelles Charaxinae is a reference to both this witch’s namesake and her design. The witch this story is about is Gertrud, named after the saint of gardens, Gertrud of Nivelles. Charaxinae is a reference to the type of butterfly that is in Gertrud’s witch form. The names of her roses in her diary entries are names of saints. I wanted to give her roses human names to show they are the true ‘humans’ to her, but also maintain a degree of disconnect. I think like Gertrud’s namesake, saints are the least human human you can be.

In case your words are all that’s left of me…

In case your words are all that’s left of me… is the only poem with a completely made up title. Though I want the ending of what happened to HN Elly, the witch of this story, to be up to reader interpretation, her feelings of having no real presence besides her online one was something I wanted to make very clear, so that’s why I chose this title.

The usernames are all references to songs sung by Marguerite in Faust. Faust is a work with immense impact on Madoka, having numerous references both visually and story wise. Most notably, quotes from it are littered in every witch labyrinth. Keeping with the theme of this poem being the odd one out name wise, HN Elly actually has another name— Kirsten. This is after Dorothy Kirsten, who famously portrayed Marguerite, which is why I paid tribute to her role.

POESIE SCHMECKT GUT

I based most of my references off the real life women the witches are named after. It shows most in POESIE SCHMECKT GUT. The namesake of this story’s witch, Elsa Maria, is Elsa Asenijeff. POESIE SCHMECKT GUT was a publishing firm for one of Elsa’s books. The base storyline is based off of Elsa’s unhappy arranged marriage, and the religious and star theme was already there in Elsa Maria’s labyrinth.

Guernica

This poem is all about visual art from the point of view of a girl who doesn’t really understand it, so I was a perfect person to write this. All the references were surface level, sort of awkwardly shoved in ones to famous pieces and artists. The title is reference to one of Piccaso’s most famous pieces, an extremely meaningful and striking abstract about war. For this witch, who is named Izabel, who does nothing but copy others, I couldn’t think of anything better to name her story, because I knew she herself could never find value in Guernica.

It’s raining again today. How long will I continue to be unlucky for?

There’s not a lot to say about this one, but I think the witch that it’s about, Patricia, would like that. The story is pretty self explanatory, but it’s one of my favorites because of that. The title is reference to a line in her labyrinth.

2 parts Absinthe 1 part Brandy 1/2 part Gin 3 parts Vodka 1 part Crème de Mûres

This witch, Roberta, is pretty special. First off, she’s an adult witch, the only in the series. She’s said to be fond of alcohol, which I tried to portray in the lack of grammar and punctuation, like you’re listening to the incoherent thought stream of the intoxicated. The title is the ingredients to her namesake, the Aunt Roberta cocktail, which is the strongest drink in the world.

Source Title: Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Source Creators: Atsuhiro Shinbo & Gen Urobuchi & Shaft Productions

Year Published/Produced: 2011

Setting: The series mainly takes place in the fictional city of Mikakihara Japan, 2011. The rest of the series takes places in the otherworldly “Labyrinths”, dark mental landscapes based on the inner feelings of the witch they belong to.

Plot Summary: The series follows a middle school girl named Madoka Kaname, who is approached by a creature named Kyuubey to grant her any wish in exchange for becoming a “magical girl” and fighting against witches— supernatural creatures that kill humans. Eventually, it is revealed witches are fallen magical girls who fall into despair and that Kyuubey purposefully creates this magical girl to witch cycle to feed off their sadness, as his species uses said emotion like energy to fight otherworldly creatures far away, to prevent the destruction of the universe.

In the end, Madoka becomes a magical girl to wish for all magical girls to get happy endings— which erases witches from existence, including herself, as all Magical Girls eventually become witches. This creates a paradox through which no one remembers her anymore, except one person, the girl who had wished for her not to live a normal life more than anyone.

Key Character Descriptions

Charlotte— The witch of sweets, it is her nature to be tenacious. Charlotte used to be a ten year old girl named Momoe, who became a witch after falling in despair at the death of her mother.

H.N. Elly— The box witch, it is her nature to be covetous. Her labrynth and cards all imply that she was an internet addicted shut-in turned internet-famous idol, who cracked under the pressure of constant performance.

Elsa Maria— The shadow witch, it is her nature to be self-righteous. Due to her religious imagery, many theorize she was driven to despair after finding out the witches she slayed as a magical girl used to be fellow humans. However, I based my story on her on the life of her namesake, Elsa Asenijeff.

Gertrud— The rose garden witch, it is her nature to be distrustful. Nothing is known about her backstory, so I constructed my adaptation for her based on the info we do know about her, such as the fact that “she holds roses dearer than anything else” and that, “she loathes the thought of humans trampling her labyrinth”.

Patricia— The class representative witch, it is her nature to be an onlooker. It has been said she used to be a normal, serious girl who was overlooked by her classmates. In the show, her wish is for her school life routine to go on forever, which is what I based my adaptation for her on.

Izabel— The artist witch, it is her nature to be vain. In her prior life, she was an artist suffering from a creative block who yearned for others to notice her. It is said that every art piece she produced was something “that you have probably seen somewhere before”.

Roberta— The birdcage witch, it is her nature to rage. Before she became a witch, she was a party girl living a life of surface level relationships, specifically with men, but secretly, she was disgusted by all of them. Her wish was for friends who wouldn’t dislike her.

Cultural Themes

The fear of being alone is a major theme in Madoka Magica, as depicted through the struggles of various characters. Sayaka Miki's desire to win the affections of her crush, Kyousuke, despite his lack of care for her efforts, highlights her fear of being unloved. She becomes obsessed with trying to gain his love, ultimately leading to her downfall.

In a more subtle way, Mami Tomoe's yearning for companionship also highlights the theme of fear of being alone. Despite her cheerful and big sister-like front, Mami is revealed to be deeply lonely and craves companionship. She reaches out to other magical girls in an attempt to alleviate her loneliness, but her efforts are paid in dust.

And of course, the biggest example of this is Homura Akemi's refusal to let Madoka die. Homura goes to great lengths to protect Madoka, trapping herself in a time loop to prevent Madoka from becoming a victim of the magical girl system. Her actions are driven by her fear of losing Madoka and being left alone in a world without her, to the point where she would even let the universe itself be destroyed to save her love.

Through these characters, the series explores the visceral human need for connection, and the disastrous consequences that arise from the lengths we will go to to obtain it.

The central message I want to explore in my adaptation is the prior lives of monsters. Through these stories of monsters before they "became" monsters, I want to delve into the idea of how the creatures of Madoka Magica, framed as so inhumane the literal art style changes for them, used to lead extremely human, flawed lives before the show portrayed them. Using a simple, fairytale-like style of writing and multiple types of writing, like receipts, reviews, and diary entries, I want to portray the mundaneness of their lives, and just how involved in the world they were. That they were real little girls, with real lives that impacted the things around them.

Motifs

The most common motif in Madoka Magica is fairytale motifs, specifically Eastern European fairytales. Witches, little girls tempted by strange creatures, candy houses. One character, Sayaka Miki, even has her entire story based on the little mermaid. She loves a boy, he doesn’t love her, she sacrifices everything for him anyways and then turns into a huge, mermaid monster. I aim to invoke this through my style of writing, taking a simple yet whimsical approach.

Why Madoka?

I like almost everything about this anime. The characters, the love they have for one another, the Czech fairytale-like art style, and that despite the dark themes, the story never supports falling into the darkness yourself. One thing I dislike is that the short 12 episode length, while making the series very “complete” also serves to stunt the potential of a majority of the characters. As the series relies on the connections these characters have, it would have benefited very extremely from a longer run-time to show us the chemistry between the girls and their loved ones, as the lack of screen time can make these deep bonds seem rushed and superficial. I want to try to convey the importance of those deep bonds in my work, but like I said, it’s a matter of time, not passion, so my adaptation can’t fix this issue.

Adding sequels and prequels has, in my opinion, sullied the impact of the original work. Madoka Magica is an intensely popular brand, and thus, is extremely profitable. Making spin-offs for the short series seems obvious from a business point of view. But a majority of these spin-offs are just made simply from this business point of view, and nothing else. One example of this is the most popular spin-off series for Madoka, "Magia Record," which takes place in the same universe with a new, expansive cast of characters. The show feels like a cheap imitation of the original series. Instead of trying to explore new interesting themes or go into depth on the topics brought up in Madoka, it’s just trying to recapture what made it so special without truly understanding why it was so special in the first place.

One of the primary cultural fears explored in Madoka Magica is the fear of death, specifically the death of the ones you love. At the end of the series, it is revealed that Madoka’s aloof best friend, Homura, is actually in love with her and has been stuck in a time loop trying to prevent Madoka’s death, which proves unavoidable. The finale deals with Homura stopping the time loop and accepting her crush’s death, and that the world will move on without her, and so should she. The series tells us death is natural, it happens to all of us, and we cannot stop it. But we can honor the ones we loved and lost and step into the future as they would want.

[justplainwhump]

Bea

In a moment of despair, Bea finds herself.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]

Content: BBU, BBU recovery, recapture(-ish) - but really, mostly recovery.

Bea. Bea.

She'd said the new name to herself in the mirror, every time she looked at one; sometimes out loud when she was home alone; just a soft mumble at other times. "Good morning, Bea", she would say, or "Good evening, Bea", and the one-eyed woman in the mirror would smile a beautiful smile, and the pet who wasn't really a pet any longer would smile back.

She held on to her old name, too, deep inside, the old name and its old life, its flickers of memory, vague faces, echoes of touches.

Bea, however, was now. A new life, a new name, even a new face. Maybe less regular than the old one, less perfect. But beautiful. Happy.

And she owed it all to Adrian Delgado, the man who was cowering next to her on the street right now, his hands on the shoulders of a skinny, shaking runaway pet.

"We'll get you out of here," Adrian mumbled into the runaway's hair.

They'd found him huddled up in a narrow alleyway on their walk home from dinner, feverish and injured. Adrian hadn't hesitated. With practised routine, one hand had dialed Marta's number, the other wrapped a scarf around his face, before he'd sank to his knees to check the pet's health. He wasn't good. Bea knew. She'd seen similar injuries. She'd suffered them, too. And she'd barely survived.

"Please," the pet whimpered now. "Please don't make me go back, please."

"You won't. My friend will be here soon," Adrian said, holding his hand. "She'll help you."

"Negative." Marta's voice through the phone was pressed, sharp. "A, B, you need to bail, right now, we have a WRU re-ac team coming in."

"Please," the pet whispered again and grabbed Adrian's other hand, too. "Please. Not back to my owner."

The phone cracked. "Are you leaving? Fuck. You're not leaving, A, I'd hear that. Fucking run, or you bring him in to WRU yourself, you hear me? Don't blow your cover."

The pet sobbed.

Bea reached for the phone and got to her feet. There wasn't a mirror here, only Bea's dull reflection in a dirty storefront window, her face half shadowed in the streetlight. Hi Bea, she thought. Hi, girl. You're good. You've got this.

"Bea," Adrian called. "What are you doing?" He shook off the pet's hand.

Bea held his gaze. "Get A and the pet," Bea said into the phone, carefully avoiding their names just as Marta did. "I'll handle the team."

"What?"

She shoved up her sleeves, turned her wrist in the streetlight, so the black lines of her bar code shone. "They return runaways to their owners," she said. "Let them return me, not him."

"No," Adrian rose as well, the pet mindlessly sobbing at his feet. "You can't go back to Ja-"

"Jack's not my owner," she reminded him softly. "You are." She smiled. "Tell them I ran, after dinner. I am a good liar, Sir. So are you."

"Do it, B," Marta called via phone. "Now!"

Bea tossed the phone back to Adrian and pointed to her feet. "You told me to run. I have good shoes."

From the main street, the brakes of a heavy car echoed into the alley. Adrian deftly grabbed the pet, pressed a hand on his mouth. Already running towards the corner, Bea knew they were getting cover.

Just in time.

A man and a woman in WRU black stepped out of a van, just as Bea cut around the corner. "Hey," the woman called, hand on her shock baton. "You! Stop!"

Bea stopped, slowly lifted her hands, making sure they could see the bar code.

It was some meters. It was fine. She just needed to get them away from Adrian Delgado and the injured pet. She took some measured steps backwards, keeping her distance. "Please," she cried, just as the runaway had. "Please. I can't go back!"

"Respect," the man boomed, his own baton already in hand.

Bea's knees trembled, but didn't waver. Broken, they'd called her in WRU refurb. Messed up. Stupid. Dysfunctional. Problematic. Because she'd obeyed, done her best to appease them, to survive. But she'd stopped believing. In the handlers, in the truth of the rules, in the power of their orders.

"No," she whispered. Because she could. "Never."

"Stubborn, little shit." The man reached for his taser.

Bea spun on her heel and ran.

"Fuck," the man yelled. "After her. Go! Go!"

She heard footsteps behind her, the screeching tires of the van as it turned on the street, and she knew she wouldn't be able to escape them.

But she didn't need to. She just needed to make it around a corner or two, just clear the path to the alley with Adrian and the runway.

And she knew she could do that.

Good job, Bea, she thought.

Running away from a WRU reacquisition team, her good shoes carrying her, wind in her face, raindrops on her skin, Bea felt herself smile.

She still did, two corners later, when the van drove on the sidewalk in front of her, when a baton crashed into her ribs and she was thrown over the van's hood. When a scanner beeped over her wrist, when the man mumbled number and designation.

For the first time, it didn't feel like hers.

She wasn't a number. She was Bea. And finally, she knew, who Bea was meant be.

----

-

pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi, I am literally awful at making requests and I really hope you’re currently taking requests but I read your fic about Chubby!Bucky and was wondering if you could reverse it, like a short plus size reader and normal movie like Bucky , but not one where he just accepts her body because looks aren’t important but one where he worships her body, he doesn’t just think curves are okay for a woman he loves curves on a woman, you can make it an established relationship or a not, I prefer it not to be an established relationship but just write whatever flows. A smut story would be what I am asking for, some light dom!bucky sub!reader. If it’s not too much to ask can you throw in a kissing/spit kink, not too much focus on spitting but about slobbery messy kisses. Sorry if this is a rambling mess but I hope you can work with it, thank you, love your writing. 💜

YES I GOTCHU!! Always taking requests. Also I got what you meant don’t put yourself down DAMMIT *angry pointing*!! Sorry for the wait had a writers block moment this week but hope you enjoy :)

Big softie buck luvs his chubby gf

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,830

Tags: V!fingering, rough sex, pnv!sex, sloppy kissing, dirty talk, fluff and smut, Bucky is Babie, plus size!reader

A/N: Idk where the breeding kink hopped in but y’know how it be folks.

Bucky had a skip in his step going down the street. He was done with all of the bullshit paperwork in the Flagsmashers aftermath. Sam was taking over mantle of Steve amazingly, Walker was ousted and shamed, and they even got Sharon back into the states. Although he wasn’t completely sure about her.

Regardless he could breathe and go see his sweetie. Perfect, patient, lovely, and owner of the most wondrous curves. Bucky had to keep his dick in his pants for now. He carried a bouquet of roses and some chocolates, hustling down the row of brownstones. His girlfriend was very talented in her career and managed to buy one for herself.

He fought back his giddy grin when rapping on the red wooden door. It slowly opened to reveal her pretty face, mussed hair, and adorable huge t-shirt. The man had to shove down his intense desire knowing that was his shirt. She yelped in surprise, practically launching on the super-soldier.

Bucky laughed and grabbed her under the ass to keep the crying thing from falling. He chuckled, “Hey, hey, you’ll mess up the chocolates hold on.” She grabbed the package blindly and tossed them on a side table. She nuzzled into his scruff, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

She sniffled, “Don’t need em- I got you.” The super soldier shook his head with a toothy smile, placing the flowers on another surface while leading the pair to the living room. He stroked her back in an attempt to quiet her crying. Bucky did not need to have the usual happy-go-lucky woman crying over the likes of him.

Sitting back onto the plush couch he murmured, “I’m back now, done, you’ll want to kick me out before the end of it.” His flesh hand thumbed away a tear and tipped her chin up. The girl wiped at her eyes and half-giggled and sobbed, “I know, I was so worried during it all. The news aren’t good for my nerves.”

Bucky wanted to sappily get lost in her watery eyes, framed by long clumped lashes. He murmured while stroking along her lush sides, “I can give you first hand doll,” he absently waved, “Tell me about you.” She rolled her eyes and replied, “Work, worrying, watching Alpine, I started a new project.”

As soon as the white cat was mentioned she appeared, purring and snuggling up to the pair. Bucky felt his eyes slightly water as he croaked, “There’s my sweet girl.” The cat let out a little ‘mrow?’ and promptly bit his hand. The couple busted into guffaws, Bucky snarking, “I guess that’s what I deserve.”

He leaned back, pulling his girl onto his chest.

“So tell me about that project, baby.”

He was listening to her talk about work and the project, really, but other things were starting to rear their head. She was so soft against him, lovely curves and pillowy breasts. The woman seemed sleepy recounting the latest news, words slightly stumbling. Bucky figured it was time for a wakeup call. So he grabbed a handful of ass, smirking lecherously.

She squeaked and bolted upright, gaping at Bucky. He snickered, “What?” She narrowed her eyes and groped his half-hard dick in return, the brunette’s eyes rolling with a breathy laugh. Bucky rumbled, “Sorry sweetheart, y’feel so good I lost control.” He squeezed again and nosed along her jaw— drawing out a gasp.

“Imagine how I’ve felt, toys don’t do the trick when I have a sexy super hero saving the world.”

Bucky grew jealous. He didn’t care if they were inanimate— only Bucky gets to watch his sweet girl lose herself in pleasure. He growled, “Oh yeah? What did you try?” She bit on her lower lip, eyes darting to the side, face flushing with embarrassment. Bucky ground his heavy cock against her thin underwear to goad her along.

She mumbled, “The vibrator, mm, then the shower one, y’know with the suction.”

He could’ve taken her right there imagining his girlfriend whining frustratedly on the dildo in the shower— curves slick, soapy, and bouncing with her movements. Bucky nipped her bottom lip sharply, relishing in her whimper. He cooed, “Didn’t do ya’ a lick of good either huh baby? Needed this to treat you right.” He rutted again for good measure, cock throbbing insistently. She shivered on his thighs, eyes growing glossy in desire.

She whimpered, “B-Buck, please.”

He growled, “Open.”

The girl did so obediently, widening lax lips. Bucky tilted her head back and dropped some of his spit onto her tongue. He commanded, “Swallow.” She whined thinly, throat bobbing as she did so. Her plush thighs were practically vibrating on his toned ones.

“Please, fuck, fuck,” she cried, tears pricking.

Bucky grabbed a soft cheek forcefully and claimed her lips. She pressed forward clumsily, heavy tits on his chest and little hands wrenching his jacket. Bucky dominated the kiss, his baby too overcome to do much except weak kisses and drooling. He laughed while sucking on her tongue, plundering the cute thing’s mouth.

It was sloppy. Bucky was in heaven. He liked knowing he could reduce her to tears and careless kisses without even getting in her pants. She mouthed against his lips, practically rutting to get closer. Which on that note, he snuck a hand down her plush tummy to get at her pussy. She cried out again, gasping hotly into the super soldier’s mouth.

Bucky slid two flesh fingers across her weeping slit and groaned, “Fuck- sweetheart you’re so wet.” She warbled, “Missed you, please.” In a fitful movement, Bucky flipped her around on his lap. Full ass thickly against his cock and now all of her soft parts for him to grab freely. She seemed too dazed to register, whimpering at the manhandling.

Nibbling on her neck Bucky hummed, “Can you take my shirt off for me baby? Hm?”

She flushed and nodded shyly. He hated when she got shy, thinking her extra padding wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d laid eyes on. Bucky was a man, he wanted something to grab on when he fucked a girl stupid. She shucked off the shirt, almost curling in on herself.

“No- no- you better stop it. Still like ya’ curves doll,” he tutted.

An annoyed whine was his response.

So Bucky ripped off her underwear with his vibranium arm, donning a shit eating grin. The woman yelping and jolting on his cock. Bucky snickered, “That’s what ya’ get, now I get to see it all.” Her face flushed even prettier, swollen lips lax and wet. He grabbed handfuls of her soft tits and groaned deeply, massaging and tweaking the tender flesh.

Her head fell back again the brunette’s shoulder, brokenly whimpering his name. Bucky murmured, “So sweet, missed my baby.” He thumbed at a peaked nipple and circled around it, sending her ass rocking back against his throbbing cock. Regretfully leaving her breast, he slid his other hand to grope at plush hips and belly before drawing fingers against her slick cunt.

She urged breathlessly, “Oh, c’mon touch me bear, oh!”

He sucked a dark mark behind her ear while delving two vibranium fingers into her slick channel— hot, pulsing, and oh-so-soaked. He grunted in arousal, thrusting and curling his fingers. Bucky growled, “Be a good girl and ride my hand.” She nodded vigorously, mewling and canting her hips against the heel of his palm.

Bucky gritted his teeth to hold back from her ass rubbing perfectly along his strained dick. He had to compartmentalize. Objective one, make his Angel cum. Then he can have a go. She squealed on a perfectly timed curl of fingers on the g-spot and his smooth palm against her clit.

The man used his other hand to grab and pull at her bouncing breasts, mouth leaving a mess of marks all over her neck. She began to tremble, hands twitching to find purchase. His sweetie wailed, “Buck, oh goddd, m’so close baby!” The former assassin paused his bite to growl, “Let go, I know it feels s’good. Then I’ll fuck ya’ raw.”

That did the trick. She loved fucking raw. Bucky had an inkling his girl had been wanting him to knock her up. He wouldn’t mind, more tits, more curves, and a Junior. But Bucky was selfish and wanted her to himself for now— no sharing. Her gushing all over his hand brought Bucky out of his fantasies.

She sucked in deep breaths, exhaling with moans, body wracked with pleasure. Bucky cooed and eased her down, drawing his hand out of her. He could bust right now at the slick coating his pants. She turned and begged for a kiss silently, eyelashes fluttering.

They kissed again, softer this time, softly intertwining their tongues. She whispered into Bucky’s mouth, “Your turn, old man.” Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes dramatically, nipping her upper lip teasingly. She reached behind blindly to help him unbutton, lips sealing together with wet smacks.

Bucky moaned when his achy cock hit the air, her slick center so close to where he needed it buried. She mewled, “Take me, use me baby, get it out.” Later, the man would deny the absolutely pathetic noise he made. Bucky aligned the ruddy tip of his cock to her and gritted his jaw at being sheathed. Her back arched at the intrusion, mouthing at Bucky’s scruff.

He gripped onto her wide hips and lifted her up and down on his cock. Basically a cocksleeve at this point with the way Bucky was slamming his angry cock in. She cried and babbled at the rough treatment, incoherent slurs. Bucky choppily grunted and moaned, veins pulsing with sheer need. She felt so fucking good.

Bucky hissed, “That’s my- hah- best girl, bein’a good little fucktoy.”

She nodded deliriously, drool running down a corner or her gaping mouth, tits bouncing wildly as she held onto Bucky’s hands for dear life. The brunette was going to blow quick at this rate— his girl was sucking him in too good. She seized up and squeezed his dick like a vice.

She had cum again, only a shrill yelp and Bucky’s cock being throughly milked as the indicator. His baby fell limp against him, nuzzling into his sweaty cheek. His balls were full up and pulsing, ready to release. Another one, two, three pumps Bucky came with a loud cry of her name.

He slumped into the couch, still seating inside of his girlfriend while riding out the aftershocks. He could vaguely hear her whimpering about being full under the blood rushing in Bucky’s ears. He wrapped his arms around her soft midsection, suddenly very tired. She hissed, “Not there.”

Yawning, Bucky snorted, “No way in hell baby. Can’t a man hug the woman he loves who just made him see stars?”

She narrowed her eyes for a pause then pecked his lips. The woman murmured, “Fine. Since you’re the man I love who made me see stars two times.”

“Well I could count two since you’re in my lap.”

“Hush.”

[dhorrl]

Mine First, Spider Second

Feitan/Reader

MDNI 18+

First fan fiction I’ve wrote in a long time. I have this and another posted on AO3 but I’m going to start trying to post over here too since most of what I read in on Tumblr. Bear with me as I get a feel of how to post on here.

Many triggers, including but not limited to:

Knife play

Blood Play

Bondage/BDSM

Breath Play

AFAB/She/her pronouns used, no names given purposefully.

Feitan starts out VERY rough and intense, but Reader had a healing ability, so don’t worry about her too much. There will be a lot of blood. You have been warned.

Also this is basically 100% smut, but my other fic has some story building to how they got together, maybe I’ll post that later.

She looked up at her hands, tied in perfect knots to the bed's metal frame. Careful thought was put into them, wrapped intricately around her wrists and hands. She could squeeze down on the ropes with her palms, but they were not budging. Her mouth was gagged with a bar, allowing her to breathe and to bite down but not to speak. Looking down, she was completely naked. Her legs were still free to move, but she wasn't getting free from her position. Feitan had thought of everything to make this night perfect… for himself.

After checking that his prey was sufficiently secured to his liking, he removed his coat and shirt, leaving his pants. He knelt between her legs, a knife between his teeth. She could tell what was coming, and yet she was terrified. That's what he wanted: fear.

Feitan pressed the knife firmly down her hip, almost to the bone. She bit down on the gag and tried to scream, tears immediately welling up and streaming down her face. He smiles, instantly aroused by the screams and cries. The knife was so sharp he barely had to pull down to begin fileting open her leg. Only a few inches to cause a good stream of blood to flow. He pulled out the knife and examined his work. A beautiful crimson river cascaded down her body onto the mattress. His aura began to race with bloodlust. He leaned forward over his target, holding the knife over her face, letting the blood drops fall on her porcelain skin. Her eyes said what her mouth could not, that she feared what came next. Feitan smiled malevolently and licked her blood off the knife before shoving his tongue under the bar in her mouth. The taste of iron began to spread with the immense saliva forming in her mouth.

"Taste good?" Feitan whispered, enjoying the vibration of her body trembling under him. "Plenty more to come."

He began dragging the tip of the knife down from her neck, between her breasts, not breaking the skin. She shivered, sensing the metal being pulled torturously against her. Blood trailed from the tip of the knife. Feitan continued tilting over here, resting his weight on one arm. He began sucking on her breasts, twisting her hardened nipples with his tongue, prompting involuntary moans between her teeth. She shut her eyes, bracing herself for his subsequent action. Feitan continued down, biting and sucking marks all over her stomach. He then took a deep breath and slashed the knife across her belly, once, then twice, in a clean X mark, giggling maniacally. Each gash caused her to flinch, and she whimpered. Seeing her like that, Feitan became so stimulated that his erection rose, being held back only by his pants. He crumbled against her, basking in his butchery and her wetness. She felt a shift on the bed and opened her eyes. Feitan stood beside her, removing the remaining parts of his clothing, and towered next to the bed, completely erect. His cock glistened, beginning to leak from arousal. She sensed his bloodlust rising and began to contort with dread.

"Why fight? Doesn't matter. I take what I want," Feitan spoke, cold and firm.

He wanted the fight, though. He longed for it. He climbed back into the bed, fanning her legs further apart. He salivated, needing to taste her. Scooping his arms around her hips, he enveloped her clit with his tongue while manipulating his fingers through the bloody laceration on her leg. She squirmed uncontrollably, battling between the pain of him fingering her wound and the exhilaration of his tongue churning around her clit. She sobbed harder as her hips bucked into his face. Her body was betraying her, wanting more. He glanced up, grinning from ear to ear.

"Needy baby."

He continued working her slit, unable to contain his moans as he covered his face with her juices and his hand with her blood. Her body reacted violently to the stimulation, the nerves all over her body betraying her as she came into his mouth. He didn't stop. Continuing to torment her with overstimulation, Feitan ate her out hungrily. The pain and pleasure were excruciating. Despite the misery, she started to feel another orgasm forming. Unable to fight any longer, she enveloped his head with her legs, pulling him in further and grinding hard to release again. Happy with his work, he pulled himself up on his knees to admire the beautiful disaster. Thinking fast, she shifted her weight to one leg and swiftly wrenched into a kick, catching him in the mouth. She couldn't do much damage at this angle but split his lip just enough to see a trickle of blood bead down his chin. His eyes narrowed.

"You fucking slut. You'll pay for that."

Feitan grabbed another coil of rope and began to tie her knees back, forcing her into an exposed position. She tried to fight him, twisting her shoulders around frantically. He became frustrated and smashed his hand into her left shoulder, dislocating it. She became blind with pain, and Feitan continued his work, tying her legs back into position. Her pussy was spread wide, and her ass was open for him now.

"Bad little whores get punished."

He looked around for a moment and found his black leather belt. When she saw him coming, she began to squirm and weep as if to beg for his forgiveness.

"Too late for that," he said menacingly.

Feitan pulled back and popped her with the belt buckle, causing her to wail harder. Again and again, he thrashed at her, between her pussy and her ass. The pillow under her head was soaked with tears and sweat. His biceps bulged as he continued, leaving welts on her perfect flesh. He flipped the belt around and began smacking the leather against the back of her thighs, composing a symphony of sounds. The hide against flesh and the staccato wails were like music to him.

After having his fill with the belt, Feitan climbed back onto the bed and leaned over her body, whispering into her ear.

"Are we going to be good girl now?"

She nodded, attempting to breathe through the sobs.

"Good, reward you now."

Feitan's massive cock penetrated her with fervor, smashing against her flesh. He dug his claws into her fleshy thighs as he pounded into her over and over, leaving little drops of blood under his nails. Her hips tried to grind back, but the new position halted her movements. He noticed her attempt and graciously moved one hand to her swollen bud, swirling tight circles. The heat began to twist in her stomach, but he pulled himself and his hands away before she could finish.

"Ah ah, not yet."

What more could he do to her? She looked up at the demonic angel who stooped before her, wishing for a release. She couldn't guess what he was thinking.

Feitan reached one hand under her hips, twisting her slightly upwards towards him. Using the other hand, he stuck his fingers inside her dripping pussy, then one, two, three fingers he worked into her asshole. Once again, she tried to resist, but it was no use. Feitan removed his fingers and forced his massive erection into her hole, eliciting the loudest howls of the night. He was merciless, giving her no time to truly adjust before forcing himself back in and out again. Just as he felt himself starting to get close, he once again moved his hand over her pulsing clit and began to work her into release. She couldn't resist the orgasm that was welling deep within. She came forcefully, sending Feitan over the edge and pumping his seed into her ass. He held it in momentarily, coming off the high, then slowly pulled out. She nearly blacked out, unable to take anymore.

Feitan took one last glimpse at his handiwork and left the room, leaving her alone, in a state of destruction and euphoria.

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Feitan returned. He removed the gag from her mouth, leaned over, and kissed her gently. He then grabs the knife once again, slicing through the ropes attaching her to the bed, and begins to undo the knots around her hands and knees. Feitan grabs the arm he broke, gives her a knowing look as she braces herself, and pops the shoulder back into place. He then leans over and whispers gently in her ear.

"Heal."

Her body begins to radiate, her Nen ability activating. Feitan sat at the end of the bed and watched as the gash on her leg began to close up. The slashes he made on her stomach close up one by one. The glowing stops and Feitan relishes the aftermath of blood and scars on her body. While her wounds had closed, she had still lost a fair amount of blood. Feitan delicately sat her up and held a large glass of water to her lips.

"Drink all." He waited until every last drop was gone.

He lifts her up and takes her from the room. Down the hall, a bath is waiting for his beloved. The room is lit with candles. He carefully sets her down in the tub, and soft cooing escapes her lips. The warm water stings against her bruised skin, but He climbs in behind her and cleans her back with a soapy washcloth, starting with the small spider tattoo with the number 9 in the middle. He traces a scarred number "2" on her other shoulder. She sighs deeply, leaning into his touch.

"This feels amazing. Thank you, Fei."

"No, thank you. You were amazing."

"Did you believe I was scared?" She laughed.

"Yes, thought about stopping a few times. Glad I didn't." Feitan closed his eyes a moment, thinking back to earlier. He became slightly engorged, taking in the memories.

"Fei, I trust you with my life. I'll never trust anyone the way I trust you, not even the rest of the team. I'm a Spider first; that's the agreement we made. But after that, it's only you. I live for the troupe, but I'd die for you."

Feitan's heart fluttered. "Mine first. Spider's second." He knew the risk of feeling that way but also knew he would sacrifice everyone, even Chrollo, to protect her.

Gathering her strength, she lifts herself from the bath to turn and face Feitan. Leaning into him, she kisses him intensely. Feitan snakes his fingers into her hair, pulling her into a passionate embrace. Before things got too far, he pulled back and sat her in the tub.

"Clean first. Dirty later."

She rolls her eyes but silently agrees. After bathing, Feitan steps out of the tub, towels himself off, then grabs another dry towel. He holds his hand for her, helping her out of the tub, then lightly pat down his darling girl. He loves this part, reveling at the exquisite scars along her velvety skin. She was mutilated head to toe, and he loved every inch. He knew which scars were from battle and which were caused by himself. Once sufficiently dry, he tossed the towel aside and scooped her again in his arms.

"To bed, my love," he whispered softly. She nuzzled in closely as he carried her off to a different room this time, opposite the dungeon he had played with her earlier. Feitan laid her out on the plush mattress, and she ran her foot up the length of his chest. He grabbed at her foot and began leaving a trail of kisses down her leg. She inhaled sharply as he approached her warmth, reaching down to grab his hair. He bit down on her inner thigh, teasing her.

"Please, Fei, I need you," she expressed in a desperate voice.

"Anything for you."

Feitan dove into her softness as if he hadn't tasted her hours before. With her hands free to roam now, she held his head, grinding into his lips, begging for more. He darted his tongue into her opening, sending ecstasy shots through her nerve endings.

"Yes, please, my king, give me more." She begged and pleaded, unable to maintain any semblance of humility. He flickered his tongue sharply inside and moaned into her, adding delectable vibrations. Her wetness dripped down his chin and onto the sheets.

He stopped a moment, causing an audible cry from her lips. "No! Please don't stop," she whined. Immediately she knew she had messed up.

Feitan barred his teeth. "Punish you for that later." He lay out on the bed near the headboard. "First, come sit."

She knew what he was asking, and goosebumps crawled along her flesh. She clamored up to the head of the bed and mounted his face, hands on the headboard for support. She hovered over his face instinctively when he snaked his arms around her legs and hips and pressed her onto himself. He had no intention of coming up for air anytime soon.

"Oh fuck. Fei, oh fuck!"

She momentarily tried to rise from his face, but he had a death grip on her. She may be on top, but he was in control. Her hips began to stir, and she saw stars. Feitan's nose circled her clit, with his tongue moved up and down and all around. Electricity shot through her body in a thunderous display. The wetness was now leaking down Feitan's face and ears, which only stood to make him more heated.

He released her, and she flopped onto the bed, completely spent. Feitan wiped some dampness onto the sheet, then leaned over her, kissing her passionately. He wanted to share the taste with her and combine all the flavors he loved. She accepted his gift with longing, wrestling together in a fiery embrace. Feitan moved on top of her, stroking the tip of his cock between her slit.

Feitan pulled from her lips. "I think you have one more, my love. Not holding back."

He entered her slowly, wanting to feel every sensation of the stroke inside her. She clawed into the sheets, but he took her hand and pinned it above her head, lacing his fingers into hers. She found his lips again, kissing him with unbearable vigor, all while Feitan continued moving inside her slowly, steadily, and intentionally. Moans were exchanged into each other's open mouths, telling the other what words could not. Feitan's movements became more vigorous; he knew he couldn't hold himself together much longer. He was determined to bring her to her climax again.

"Cum, love. cum with me."

Feitan wrapped his finger around her throat and began to lightly choke her. Her head began to swim, intensifying every sensation. They began grinding together intensely while he continued restricting her oxygen just enough to amplify everything. When he could tell she was almost there, he let go. She inhaled deeply and began to scream until her voice became raspy. The orgasm was so intense her vision went black. Feitan released simultaneously, moaning and cursing through the fantastic feeling. He collapsed into her heaving breasts, unable to hold himself up any longer. Neither moved for several minutes. The only sounds were of heavy breaths.

Feitan slowly moved to her side, pulling her into his chest. "Mine," he said into her ear. They drifted to sleep together, enjoying one last night before leaving for their next job.

[disgraceful-writings]

Meant To Be

Chapter 6

Y/n and Aegon were born on the same day, with velvet eyes and white crowns. Y/n is sent to Oldtown by their mother to keep her pure. What happens when she doesn't return so? How will her twin react?

Y/n was laid in a field of wildflowers. The wind dancing through the tall grass and flowers. The sun kissing her cheeks. Suddenly, a tightness overtook her throat. She began clawing at her throat in an attempt to relieve the pressure, but it seemed in vain. When her vision went black, she rose in her bed, sweat dripping from her hairline. She gasped and looked around her room for reassurance. When she realized she was in her room back at the Keep, she relaxed a bit. Still, she decided to request some wine be sent to her room and put her housecoat on to speak to the guards. However, when she opened the door, Xavier was waiting for her. She screamed and stumbled backwards, crashing into the table. He lunged at her and his hand encircled her throat. “You will never escape me”, he whispered in her ear. 

The princess bolted upright to find a maid trying to shake her awake, “Your grace, are you alright?” Y/n pushed her hands away and tried to adjust her eyes to the morning sun. “How long was I asleep”, the princess asked, while the maid wiped her forehead with a cool cloth. “You slept through dinner and the night, your grace. Your mother asked we let you rest.” Y/n nodded and stood up to be washed of the sweat and dressed by the maids. Afterward, still shaken from her dreams, the princess visited her mother’s chambers. “Y/n, how are you, my love?” Alicent raised both arms to her elder daughter. Y/n sunk into her mother’s hold, “y/n? You look white as a ghost.”

“Mother…I-”, y/n was interrupted by a guard entering the room. “Your grace”, he bowed, “the maester has asked for you in the king’s chambers.” She nodded and looked to her daughter, caressed her cheek, “We will speak later, dear.” Alicent kissed y/n’s forehead and stood to follow the guard to Viserys’s chambers. Y/n watched her walk out of the room and sighed. Will he haunt her forever? She knows she is safe, her uncle made sure of his death, and now she is with her family. Her mother wouldn’t let anything happen while she is within her grasp. She decided to go to the Sept, maybe the gods will bring a sense of calm to her. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid”, Aegon gradually shouted in his chambers, kicking a candle stand over, then falling onto his bed face first. Why did he have to open his mouth? It isn’t like anyone was asking him to say those things, especially y/n. Y/n…he doesn’t deserve her. She’s too perfect and proper for him. He should just put an heir in her and stick to the whores of flea bottom. That’s all he’s good at. He looked over to the drawer that held his peasant clothes. Not that he needed them, with the white hair and all, and the whores always welcomed their favorite cock…at least the coin that had come with it. He rose from the bed and changed into them. Before climbing out of his window, he secured a pouch of coins to his belt. Tonight, he was going to do as he pleased. 

The prince made his way to flea bottom, specifically one of the more curious whorehouses. After fucking two women, he laid on his back with them cuddled up to his sides, feeding him and keeping his goblet full. He was curious of the woman on display, nude, and inserting the handle of a blade into herself. She was loud and fake, but that didn’t stop his mind wondering how y/n was in bed. “Shall I suck your cock, my prince”, one of the girls asked. He grabbed her by the throat and kissed her deeply, when departed, he whispered, “I’ll put a prince’s bastard in you.” At this she climbed onto his lap, lined him up, and sunk herself onto him. She let out a fake moan like the other girl had been doing, and Aegon huffed, putting his hands on her waist to quicken her pace. When she let out another exaggerated moan, he picked her up off of him and shoved her to the floor, where he stuffed his cock down her throat. 

“Now I don’t have to hear you”, Aegon grunted out, the sounds of her choking being music to his ears. When he finished, he pushed her off of him, collected his clothes, dropped a bag of coins, and left the whorehouse into the morning sun. “Always happy to house our favorite prince for the night”, the madam said as he walked out. He walked towards the Keep, however, he felt the need to go to the Sept. He had never cared for the gods, why would they be calling him of all people? At the last turn, he decided to go to the Sept. The room was dark and musty smelling. People shuffled around like they couldn’t make noise for fear the gods would strike them where they stand. Then he saw her, y/n was on her knees, praying to the gods. What would she need to pray to the gods for? 

Then he noticed the tear stains on her cheeks and the quiet sobs threatening to leave her mouth as she whispered her prayer.

Y/n heard someone walking in her direction and suddenly turned to them. Aegon. What is he doing here?

“Y/n”, Aegon looked puzzled, “are you alright?”

Y/n hadn’t noticed she was crying until he changed her thoughts. She turned back to the candles and said, “yes. I just felt the power of the gods come over me.” She wiped her tears with the backs of her hands. 

“I don’t believe you.” She looked scared and small to him. He decided to sit beside her with his back to the table holding all the candles. She looked into his eyes, but stayed quiet. His hand reached to wipe her cheek of a fresh tear, and she fell into him, sobbing. He just held her, not knowing what to do for her. 

When she had calmed a bit, she pushed herself off of him, “Sorry, I-.” She couldn’t finish her sentence, or she would cry again. She stood and started walking back to the keep. Aegon quickly rose and caught up to her quickly. Holding onto her arms, out of breath from getting up so quickly, “Y/n, what’s wrong?” She opened her mouth, however, no words could exit. She just stared into his eyes. Could she trust him? With her mind intact currently, she decided to get a proper look at him. He smells of wine and sex, he just came from flea bottom. Maybe he is as cruel and sick as the people say. “Prince Aegon, Princess Y/n, your mother has requested your presence”, the guard who had come with y/n said after receiving word from another.

Taglist : @watercolorskyy, @xitsemm, @d3nny,

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