#vicious rumours

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023, Day 8: "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier."

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: angst, death, murder, arrest, vicious rumours/false accusations

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Word count: 1250 || Approx reading time: 5 mins

"I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier."

Teaser: And to be safe, she needed to be free—far from the man who’d taken her away because he believed he could, that his royal blood made him all-powerful, that he deserved to have his fists curled tightly around anything or anyone he pleased. He’ll never let go, she’d said. He’ll never give up.

"I'll never be a hero who all the citizens adore / But if I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?"

The scholar watched her go.

He watched her vanish, watched her wide eyes shimmer with tears as she made her escape.

Met her gaze when, for the most agonizingly beautiful instant, she looked back.

And then was gone.

“I’ll distract him,” he promised. Breath stuttering in his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and wondered if she could feel how his heart thundered against her shivering form.

“Come with me,” she whispered. “Please. But we have to go. Now.”

We have to go. Away from here, away from the castle, away from the place that had turned her visit from a holiday into hell.

He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to say yes, to let her cling to him—and to let himself cling back—for all of eternity, to let centuries pass them by in perfect harmony and happiness. He wanted to. He wanted her.

“I don’t want to go without you,” she said, squeezing more tightly.

He needed her.

He needed her safe.

And to be safe, she needed to be free—far from the man who’d taken her away because he believed he could, that his royal blood made him all-powerful, that he deserved to have his fists curled tightly around anything or anyone he pleased. He’ll never let go, she’d said. He’ll never give up.

That she had escaped his grasp on her own was a miracle.

If he finds me again, he’ll never let me leave.

So the scholar pulled away, clasping her hands as their bodies peeled apart, loath to put any cruel, miserable distance between them, yet knowing he had no choice. He made his promise again. “I’ll distract him.”

Of course, she knew; she must have; she knew him inside and out; she knew his very soul. He was no soldier, no fighter. “What—what are you going to do?” Her fingers tightened, still tangled in his. “They think you’re the one who—”

“I know.”

“They think you killed me.”

“I know.”

She shook her head, those fragile bird’s-wing bones trembling against his. “Please don’t—You can’t—”

“I’ll just distract him long enough for you to run,” he said. Tugged his hand free. Brushed a lock of hair from her dirt-streaked cheek, relishing the silken smoothness of her skin for what was sure to be the very last time. “Then I’ll—I’ll run. I’ll find you.”

Empty words, a hollow promise, a vow of nothing.

“But they think you did it,” she said again, echoing the rumours, the warnings that had been circling him for days, the words that would haunt his memory for the rest of his life. “They’ll arrest you. They’ll kill—”

“They won’t.” He did not know if that was true. “I can’t let him hurt you again. I won’t.” Overcome with too many thoughts, too many fears, too many jabs of paralyzing terror that would conquer him if he allowed it, he drew her close again. One final embrace.

Against him, she shuddered.

“I will find you,” he whispered, despising himself for the lie. He wrapped his coat around her to hide her stained and ripped dress, almost unrecognizable from its former loveliness. Why hadn’t he thought to give it before? “Now. Run. Please.”

“Don’t get hurt,” she said. There were tears on her cheeks. Why? He wished she wouldn’t weep for him. He was a liar and a coward, a fool who’d spent an entire lifetime quailing at conflict and lying to himself. To the end, he knew, those things were what he would remain, even as he did this, this preposterous thing, this stupid but courageous but illogical but selfless thing.

Nothing but a coward.

I love you, he was supposed to say, sealed with a kiss that contained everything that swelled inside him but which he could not put into words. Instead, he said, “Run.”

The scholar watched her go.

***

He was no fighter, but he was a magicwielder, and he was in love with a girl who everyone else believed was dead—who, they believed, he had murdered in cold blood.

He could not protect his reputation, but he could protect her.

He saw the looks, the gazes that turned from confusion to suspicion to astonishment. As recognition flashed across their faces.

I’ll distract him.

But the soldier—who was supposed to see him and, bound by duty, arrest him for his supposed crimes—kept walking, even as those he commanded realized that a wanted man was in their midst.

The commander would find her. He was looking for her, and she could not outrun him. He would find her and bring her back to the prince, and they would lock her away, shut her up in the dark. A girl of leaves and sea air and sunlight, and the prince and his commander would keep her until she wilted and died.

He would use her, she’d choked against his shoulder. She had something they wanted, something she’d kept hidden from everyone, something they’d discovered and were unwilling to relinquish.

No. The scholar wouldn’t allow it. If she wanted to hide, she must have had her reasons.

If he let the prince take her away and hurt her some more…

He wouldn’t forgive himself.

Never.

He raised his hands, magic crackling at his fingertips, and he froze the commander in his tracks. Although he saw the man begin to shake and his eyes to bulge in confusion, other images overtook his senses: her gleaming tears, her torn dress, her bruised wrists.

Her teasing, pealing laugh, the ethereal whisper of her hair against his fingers, the musical sweep of her bare feet through fragrant, luscious grass.

He unleashed his magic and watched the soldier stiffen, as if his bones would crack and shatter. He halted. He fell.

“Commander!”

Shouts from far away.

“Commander?”

And then—

“It’s—it’s him! There!”

He was discovered now for the act he was committing, but the scholar knew he could not run. He was weak. A coward. A liar.

Words flowed over him, words he knew he should heed, but he had to stop the commander from getting up again, had to keep the attention on him, had to make sure she got away.

“Commander!”

“Don’t move!”

“He’s magicwielding!”

“Someone stop him!”

“Sir!”

“Stand down!”

“Commander!”

“He’s not breathing!”

“Get him!”

“He’s dead!”

The scholar released his hold, sudden dread coursing through his blood.

Dead?

No.

No.

He hadn’t wanted to—

I’ll distract him. Run. Please.

A diversion, an opportunity.

That was all he—

“I said, he’s dead!”

How?

The scholar stared down at his hands, hands that had never before wielded power strong enough to do what he had just done.

A crowd pressed in around him—too many, too many. Someone knocked him to the ground, and as his glasses went flying and the world turned to a soft watercolour blur, he was awash in shattering pain and biting terror.

“You killed him!” someone roared. “You killed the commander!”

“N—no.” It couldn’t be true. But they’d said. He hadn’t. But they’d screamed it out. He’s dead, he’s dead. But he was a coward, and he was weak. You killed him. But he couldn’t have. “I didn’t—”

“He’s dead, you murdering bastard!”

I wasn’t trying to—

Noise rose around him, furious and panicked, coalescing into one thick wall of sound. Words and words and words and screams and words and bellows, so many voices, too many, too much. Nonsensical. Foreign. Commander. Magic. Him. The girl. Dead. Dead.

Under arrest.

Murderer.

Dead.

Doomed.

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[realkanemartits]

I heard a rumor that you and the Mercurialis kid are…. You know…. Shoving each other against walls semi-regularly ;) thoughts?

the mercurialis kid isn't strong enough to push me into a wall

[polyquestria]

I'm here to combat the vicious homophobic granny smith rumours

[suth-sardian]

V-Day! D-2

[kairospy]

TSC SPOILERS • overall

A list of things I’m still thinking about 2 days later

Jeremy and how he fully avoids his every issue and doesn’t acknowledge them, even to himself. We know nothing about this man.

Cat and Laila.

CAT HAS A BIKE

Cat being nicknamed Cat

Jean simping for every character but Neil (canonically stunning) only gets “cockroach” and “vicious”

Kevin keeping depressed guys alive one promise at a time

Candy drawer. Cheese shelf

Neil never mentioning any of the rumours about Jean in aftg

Jeremy baby wtf happened at the banquet. Who’s your brother. Why would a cop recognise you. Who’s your dad. Why does your sister hate you. What do you mean you ‘chose Exy’.

“As if you can tell a girl apart from a cow on a good day.”

Wymack dialling the the Dad Vibes up to 100

Realising Neil has a lot more of Nathaniel in him than he lets on in his pov

“They’re American” “Hey” “You barely count”

“That’s illegal, just so you know.”

Jean mourning every “what if” with Neil

The girls giving Jean forehead kisses.

Jeremy being disappointed if not slightly jealous when he thought Jean was dating Renee but pushed down those thoughts because “it wouldn’t be fair”.

Jeremy absolutely thirsting after Jean to the point where Cat had to tell him to “tighten those screws before getting on that ride”…. I’m stopping my thoughts here before it gets nsfw

Neil pulling up, killing a guy, walking the FBI around like dogs because he found it amusing, making a trained cop feel guilty for him (a criminal), making up the best alibi and lie on the spot (even Jean was impressed), finding his way back to the ATM no problem despite never having been in the city before (Jean was getting lost).

Neil being a “safe line to follow home” for Jean

Confirmation that Kevin was also severely physically abused prior to having his hand broken

There’s more. I’ll keep adding.

[jaegerbby]

➳ my soul searches

--͙[naoya zenin x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 6512

╰┈➤ rundown; you might be ignorant about anything concerning naoya zenin but somehow he knows everything about you.

╰┈➤ caution; mean! naoya, DUBIOUS CONSENT, virginity loss (mentions of blood), dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, no prep, choking, use of the words slut, whore, bitch (degradation), MISOGYNISTIC ideologies mentioned, manhandling, 1 thigh smack, cum eating, cunnilingus, fellatio (head pushing & rough), belly bulge, throat bulge, size kink, mentions of fingering, hair is referred to as 'cascading' on one occasion. sex on a futon (just so it won't be confusing).

if there are any more warnings i should add please let me know. not proof read!

naoya is awful.

he is a horrible man.

everyone knows it.

whether it be due to the countless stories everyone gossips about or witnessing firsthand the vicious things he does.

you were privy to outrageous hearsay spreading but you did not care enough to understand.

as far as you know, he is a powerful man.

and in your clan, you bow down to powerful men.

you have been fed lies that you do not have much to offer.

women were responsible for wifely duties and child bearing.

it is all you learned your entire life.

you are surprised when there is news of a member of the zenin clan's impending visitation. the people within your district make countless preparations and take any precaution necessary to ensure they meet naoya's standard. the last thing they want is to face his acrimony.

there are rumours of a potential alliance and it seems exceedingly promising to be closely associated with such a powerful family.

the day of his arrival, everything looks auspicious. you are shocked at the innumerable women adorned in luxurious clothing and decked in lavish jewellery.

you certainly do not understand all the fuss about him. you swore everyone hated him.

the welcome is extravagant and curiosity gets the best of you because you find yourself tip toeing to catch sight of him.

he is definitely not what you expected. he is young, his expression is all too smug. you never had the opportunity to see him before but he is gorgeous. in every sense of the word.

he is the definition of it.

sharp narrow eyes were lined, push pink lips with a barely visible cupid's bow and a straight nose although the tip was slightly upturned. his brows were thin and straight. if anyone looked for long enough and he smiled you could see the indents of dimples. he was truly pretty.

naoya tells the head of your clan that an alliance will only be formed provided he receives something. that whatever he wishes must be granted to him for congruity in return.

somehow, someway he pinpoints you in a crowd of too many people.

you were astonished when his stony eyes found yours. you try to tell yourself, you are not the one. it must be someone else. it has to be! you are proven wrong when your mother grips your arm and drags you up to him.

she bows, her hand roughly shoving your head down while you fidget. his stare is heavy, it makes you want to hide away. your parents practically offer you to him on a silver platter.

your eyes look everywhere but at him while he requests a room. unabashedly he speaks for everyone to witness.

his fingers find your chin, tipping your head back to look over your face. he towers over you. "dress her up." his voice is raspy and deep. he speaks to your mother though he does not spare her a glance.

you are speechless, you can only imagine what it means. an uncontrollable amount of thoughts pile into your head as your mother takes you away.

virginity means everything to a young girl like you. you need to be one to get married. it is your clan's way of life so why do your parents not care? your mother dresses you in the finest silk, something they could never afford before. she knots your hair in a bun and it hurts when she pulls at the strands.

decorative pins are stuck into your hair, some nicking your scalp. she drapes a heavy chain around your neck and squeezes your hand as she forces bracelets onto your wrists.

you look just like every other woman that dolled up for naoya zenin in anticipation of his attention.

you realise your parents do not care for your dignity as they usher you into an intricately decorated room.

they crave the validation of everyone else more than they care about you. you always knew that but you never thought they would go to this extent.

"be good and listen to everything he says." your mom commands. she shoves you to your knees on the thick layers of satin.

"this is for everyone's betterment." your father adds like it would make any of this right. you have no choice in the matter.

they were giving you up for naoya to do whatever he pleased because they were greedy for admiration.

you worry what it meant for you afterwards. you worry what people would think once you left these four walls.

the door slams shut upon their exit, you nervously shift. you wonder if you could run away. the weight of the jewellery feels uncomfortable, the clothes are so thick you swear you are sweating. they seem impossible to do anything in.

it feels like an eternity when naoya enters. his broad back faces you as he closes the door. his presence is intimidating, his aura is immense.

you swallow hard.

you are only to speak when spoken to.

yet you want to ask what took him so long.

why did you chose me?

what are you going to do to me?

you cannot question him. that is not your place.

you are sitting, hands anxiously twitching where they rest on your thighs. your eyes drop to the floor as he faces you.

he draws closer, your breathing stops as he circles you. he does it slowly, intently like he wants to memorise you from every angle.

you feel like prey, you are awaiting your predator to strike. there is absolutely no escape. his gaze sears into your being.

in a way he is scary. "strip." his deep voice instructs. your body tenses, breathing more laboured. you are unmoving as he steps closer. he cups your head, it is softer than you expected. he tilts you back to look at him, you are made aware of his bulge right in front of your face.

it is when he grips your hair, disheveling your bun that you realise it is all pretence. you shriek as he forcefully lifts you to your knees. the way you reach for his hand is futile because you cannot stop him no matter how hard you try.

"don't make me speak twice, y/n." you wonder how he knew your name. you were no one. you were not anyone important to this clan or world. "now take your fucking clothes off before i do it myself."

he shoves you back, you just barely brace yourself. his nimble fingers reach for the laces on his robe as he undoes them with ease. tears prick your eyes, you shakily tug at your bracelets. your movements are frantic enough to send them scattered across the floor. you rip the necklace from your throat, it stings where it nicks your skin.

your hands endlessly tremble when you pull off the layers of heavy fabric draped on you. you are too busy removing your clothing to see that he is already bare.

once you are rid of anything that preserves your modesty, you fold your arms to hide your body. a man has never seen you like this and you never thought the first time would be under this circumstance.

naoya's eyes trail over you, he is already hard. it is borderline painful. he was hard from simply thinking about you obediently waiting for him.

you feel his presence behind you, he lowers himself to his knees. his hands reach for your shoulders first. they are large and rough, they elicit goosebumps across your skin as he trails them down to caress your arms.

he pulls you into him, the hardness of his chest meeting your back. his arms surround your body and you tense at the feeling of his heated cock brushing your skin. his dexterous fingers remove the pins from your hair, he undoes the bun to allow the strands to cascade down your back. he brushes it over your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your nape.

you are shocked by the softness of them. he trails more kisses down the upper part of your spine. it is mind muddling.

"i can tell you haven't fucked before." you jolt at the sound of his gruff voice. his warm breath meets your skin and you shiver. his forearm comes around your front to keep you flush against him.

"spread your legs, let me see your cunt." he speaks without any shame. you hesitate and his displeasure is evident because his palm connects with the flesh of your thigh so hard that you shriek. your skin stings.

you have no choice but to open your legs for him. he slips his hands between them, his wide palm cupping your cunt.

you cannot breathe. it is all so overwhelming. you notice the evident veins on his lower arm as his hand covers your sex completely. it dawns on you that you have never had this intimacy before. you have never even touched where he would be.

he clicks his tongue, his presence makes you anxious. everything he does makes you tense.

he grimaces, you are not wet. not in the slightest.

naoya removes his hand to spit into his fingers, the fluid is pressed to your clit as he strokes it. he does not like the way you bite down on your lip to muffle your sounds. he hates it.

he rolls the bundle of nerves, pinching it before he slowly trails his fingers down your slit. the tip of his finger prods your entrance, gliding along it though he does not enter.

your smaller hands grip his forearm and for some reason it makes him hug your body tighter.

you breathe shakily in anticipation of his next move. it is a foreign feeling to be caressed but you can hardly complain. it is the furthest thing from unpleasant. it annoys you how good it feels.

"i'm shoving my cock in here." he huffs. the length of his finger coaxing through your lips has you writhing.

"going to stick my dick in this little hole and make you my bitch." his words are vulgar. the obscenity of his remarks have you furrowing your brows.

"it sounds good, right? having your pussy filled to the brim. i'll even fuck my cum into you." his jaw presses into your temple and you unsurely blink. he is so big, you feel like you are tucked into him.

he pinches your clit and you choose to focus on that rather than what he is saying. it feels good, enough to make you squirm. each time he does it, your cunt leaks with liquid. his entire palm strokes up and down, smearing sticky liquid over your cunt.

"naoya." you mewl. he has you spread open on his lap as he strokes your dripping pussy. he knows one thing for certain, your pretty voice forming his name is the greatest thing he has ever heard. he loves the sounds you make because of him.

you are so wet now, you are drenched and leaking. the sticky liquid trails out of your slit endlessly. his fingers steadily collect it and your lips part when he pulls away. your eyes follow his hand as he brings the sodden liquid digits near his mouth.

it is dirty. it is gross, it must be. somehow, you find yourself entranced. his tongue slips out to lave over his drenched palm.

"so fucking messy." he grits his teeth, he tilts his head to you. his wet hand grips your jaw, "you always taste so good." he presses his mouths to yours.

you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he aggressively kisses you. despite your inexperience you try to replicate him.

his expression looks irritated as he wetly separates from you. he forces you onto your back, leaning over you. his eyes glimpse at your cunt and they trail up your body.

you are on display for his prying eyes. he gropes your breasts, kissing and licking down your sternum. you are delirious as he sucks on your skin. he kisses all the way up to your jaw before he covers your mouth with his.

he licks into your mouth until you are a breathless mess.

"i'm not prepping you. m'not." he squeezes your jaw. "the first thing i'm stuffing in your pussy is my cock and it's gonna hurt. it'll hurt a lot but you deserve it." he airily speaks, his eyes dark.

you stare in confusion, panic sets in your chest. what wrong did you do? you wonder what warranted having your virginity stripped with no compassion.

you were more than aware he did not care for you.

as far as you know, you are suppose to pride yourself in your virginity. you were to save it for your husband and no one else. the man between your legs is a stranger, the man telling you such nasty things is nothing to you.

you swallow hard as you stare at his intimidating size. the head of his cock is purplish and dripping pre cum. his shaft is thick and it seems to go on forever. you wonder how it is suppose to fit inside you.

naoya grasps his aching cock to tap the head on your clit. you try to move away, you really do but he is so strong. he is completely unmoving. he coats his tip in your slick before pressing into your hole.

despite how tight you are, despite how big and thick he is. you shove at his abdomen, his abs flexing under your palms. "naoya please." tears stream down your cheeks but he relents. he cups your thighs to bring them over his and spread you open.

his rough fingers find your perked clit, rubbing it in aggressive circles. you hate to admit it but it feels too good. your hands clamp down on your mouth to mute the moans escaping you.

you gush on him with no fanfare. this entire circumstance makes you feel like an easy slut. he presses more into you, reaching the ridge where his cock and shaft meet. your legs jolt the further his girth fills you.

your insides squeeze and clamp down trying to deny his intrusion, you make naoya crazy. "fucking stop." he hisses. you are like a vice around his pulsing cock.

he says what you should be saying. you should be telling him to stop but you do not. you should be screaming and crying, telling him to get off of you but that is the last thing in your head.

it feels good. more of him is pressed into you and your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. it is an unfamiliar feeling but the pressure in your abdomen is more pleasurable than painful. you find yourself adjusting, you are still so tight that naoya loses his mind.

he presses down on your clit an inch accompanying the motion and you shriek at the feeling. he continually rocks his hips, slowly coaxing over your bundle of nerves. your hands find purchase in the sheets, panting while you try to gather your bearings.

the stimulation has you fidgeting, it has you moaning his name endlessly. your thighs tremble on either side of him and your expression is contorted at the feeling. he looks down at your body, tongue slipping out to coat his lips and you find yourself wishing it was in your mouth, on your skin. anywhere you wanted him.

he leans down, his muscles rippling and the flesh along his abs bunching in little rolls, his biceps are almost as big as your head. you feel like he was strong enough to lift you with one finger. he seemed that way, strong and mighty in all that he did.

his hips shallowly move to thrust the portion of his length he has managed to shove into you. "you're fucking me." you stutter, your voice barely audible. you have never spoken those words, have never even conjured them up.

naoya's eyes flash, his large hand spanning over your stomach, trailing between your breasts and then gripping your throat. "m'not. but i can, i can fuck you so deep you feel it here." he squeezes the sides of your neck, eyes glancing to your leaking cunt that soaks him even though he has not gotten to the hilt.

the warmth and tightness of you makes him ache to have his entire cock deep in your pussy but you are little and you are looking at him with the sweetest eyes.

he wants to hurt you, he wants to make you cry but you are so adorable. "i can fuck you and have your belly bulging every. single. time. i shove my cock in your dripping cunt."

you have never had someone speak to you like that. you never heard those words strung together nor spoken in such a depraved tone.

you wonder how he could be this handsome. you wonder what led him here, with you.

"i'll make this pussy mine whether you want it or not but you want it, don't you? you want me to fuck you, you want me to have you shaped to my cock and mine alone" he pants. you nod your head, you swear there is cotton between your ears, there is empty space perhaps but there is surely not a working brain.

not after he painted such an image of him fucking you like you were his and turned it to mush. "say it. say it all, say you want naoya zenin to fuck you." you whine, he squeezes your throat, his grip so strong you swore he could crush it to dust.

you whine and babble and your hips move to get more of the stimulation as he shallowly fucks you. your hands find his broad shoulders, just barely gripping them and he leans down. no you could never move someone like him, he let you. he conceded because it is you.

his face is so close, he is composed and collected while you are a mess beneath him. "i want naoya zenin to fuck me" your voice is broken by a moan as he forces more of himself into you.

you whine in his face "i want him to claim me, break me. i only want him in my cunt." your voice is a warbled mess and for some reason naoya did not expect you to be so nasty. to tell him those things. claiming you is one thing but breaking you?

he would do more than break you. he would wreck every inch of you, destroy and decimate it all, there would be no way to return you to what you were.

"then loosen up, slut." you cannot mute the scream that escapes you when the thickness of his girth is pushed entirely into your walls. your legs desperately hook on his hips, so tense they feel sore.

it burns, it hurts and stings but it feels unbelievably good, it did not feel like something you could fathom in a real world only in fantasy.

why, why, why? why does it feel so good? you had no expectations of sex. absolutely none.

when the women spoke they did not entertain such topics. was this what they did behind closed doors? did such depravity remain hidden while they portrayed themselves as saints?

he is so hot, you feel him everywhere. he is nestled inside you like he belongs there, he throbs into your gummy walls.

his large palm graces your tummy, gliding to your lower abdomen. he presses down and you sigh in unison. your eyes wildly look down. "look where my cock is in you, you really are too small to take it."

he is not your husband, he should not have stuffed his cock all the way inside you that his head impresses in your stomach. what right did he have to lay claim?

it does not matter, not anymore. he has your cunt wrapped around him and your body does not protest. no, your body welcomes him with endless slick. it yearns and begs for him. it felt like you were just waiting for him to come and take you.

he pulls out until only his leaking head is enclosed by your cunt. his expression is pleased at the sight of red streaks along him. "got your blood all over my cock. y'know what that means?"

your head is too empty to hear, to function. you cannot quite make out his words but the sound of his voice makes you mewl. you are soaking him again and again.

"means you're all mine." you eyes roll as he shallowly pumps into you. you swear you cannot see beyond him.

his hands grope the perimeter of your waist. "i haven't even fucked you yet and you already look like a brain dead whore." he coos but his eyes are dark.

he is caught up in the sight of your dripping slit stretched around the girth of his cock. his strong thighs flex, you shriek when he starts pounding into you.

naoya bullies his cock into your pussy that will not stop pulsing around him. you are so tight he sees stars. your insides are gooey and warm. he wants to be wrapped in you forever.

his abs strain, his cock is coated in your juices. slick strands are covering him. the more he slams into you the nastier sounds your pussy makes.

"shouldn't be this tight or feel this good." he huffs, he uses your body like a sex doll. he holds you down and thrusts into you so hard your skin stings. every loud collision of his flesh with yours hurts.

"you're my slut, fuck, you're the only bitch i want." your entire body shakes with the weigh of his movements. your eyes water and you fist the soaked sheets.

naoya looks too good above you. the sweat on his forehead dampens his hair and his muscles shift every time he sinks back inside you.

you are delirious, he did as he said he would, he makes your stomach bulge over and over again. he turns your brain into useless chum.

your cunt sputters liquid, his movements are flurried and aggressive. your sex loudly squelches. you never thought it would feel this good.

every vein on his cock slides along your gummy insides, you feel like you are about to pass out. "a whore like you doesn't deserve to cum but i need to feel you gripping me. i need to know how tight your pussy gets when you're cumming." his fingers find your buzzing clit.

"m'not a whore."

"you're getting fucked like one."

all you can focus on is him, he rolls your clit with experience. a part of you hates that despite him being nothing to you. your vision is blurred by tears but blinking them away allows you to see him.

his body seems like a sculpture. every muscle is evident for prying eyes. beads of sweat leak down his temple and his jaw is locked. he looks unreal. you wish he was yours although you do not know him. you have no relation but he is stretching out your cunt and making it his.

your hand grips his, head thrown back as you writhe on the sheets. you breathe in exasperation as his much larger fingers intertwine with yours. he is holding your hand. he is holding it while he pummels your insides.

you are too sensitive and too overwhelmed. when you cum, your entire body trembles. your eyes squeeze tightly and you clamp down on him like a vice. you cream on his cock your entire body coated in sweat while you shake.

the sight of you throws him over the edge.

"shit, fuck, no one is as good as you. no one." he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering. his length is soaked in you, strands coating him and the harder he pounds the more frothy cream collects at his base.

"want you like this forever." his body covers you completely. his arms wrap around your waist to hold you tight to him. all his weight is pressed into you, desperately thrusting his hips as he chases his release.

despite how you whine and cry at the excessive stimulation. your nails digging into his flesh and scratching lines down his skin.

you seem to mark another area of his back every time he pounds into you.

his movements have your body jerking and his muscles flexing. your cunt feels like it is forcefully drawing the orgasm from him, his teeth grit and his eyes flicker as they threaten to roll back.

he is so powerful but right now he looks like he is losing it. his mouth roughly presses into yours, his tongue and spit in excess and his hips stutter for a moment before he slams into you so hard your cunt squelches.

his hips rock as he stays flush to you and for the first time you are getting filled up. it is even hotter than his cock, it sears along your walls, endlessly pouring and leaking as he grows soft.

"you take it so well for a virgin." he pants before his lips claim yours in a nasty kiss.

he says that like he has not already stripped that title from you.

his weight crushes you beneath him but somehow it is comforting. somehow you like it. you like that there is no space between you and him.

your arms reach around his neck, tears streaked down your cheeks while your mouth desperately returns his kiss.

he briefly parts before leaning back in. it is unfair that he has everything. he is too pretty and he seems to be good at everything.

you whine when he sits up on his knees, your hands losing their grip on his muscles. his eyes train where his cock still fills you.

you wince while he slowly pulls out, the cum still dripping out of you. you feel empty without him.

he takes in the cum leaking from your used cunt. all he can think about is doing it again and again. without tire or care. a surprisingly gentle touch swipes your hair from your face before he strokes your cheek and leans down.

his soft lips though swollen softly move along yours. he breathes a bit more laboured as his hands touch and squeeze along your body and his kisses make their way from your neck to your sternum and tits.

you are panting while he trails open mouthed kisses on your skin. his eyes do not leave yours and they are so golden you swear they glow.

your body grows tense when he drifts lower than your belly and suddenly he is kissing right above your cum filled slit and your inner thighs.

"you're so soft." you did not expect it. was that a good thing? his breath is so close to your pussy, it is weird to think he was just inside you.

you squeal, a hand covering your mouth as his tongue swipes over your cunt. "naoya, that's dirty." your voice is muffled beneath your palm, all he does is clamp his mouth on your clit and suck.

laughing into your cunt before his tongue is gliding up and down your slit endlessly.

a man of his calibre was between your legs with his mouth in such a place. it did not make sense. his heated muscle slips into your pussy, saliva coating you in excess.

your feet lift onto the tip of your toes while you moan. you moan for naoya like you were made for it, made for him.

his fingers gently caress the back of your thighs, all while he sloppily sucks up your messy cunt.

he does not want to stop, his cum is inside of you, it is in your pussy.

he came there. he came within your silky walls and he will never stop thinking about it, about you. he pulls back, licking his lips and nipping the flesh of your thigh before trailing his tongue along your slit.

his cum is still seeping out despite the amount he lapped up from your hole. there are sticky strands of liquid on his jaw and mouth as he brings his face to yours

"it's not dirty. what's filthy, is that you let me fuck you like a cock hungry slut." his large palms grasp your tits while you are speechless.

"is that what you are, my cockslut?" you find yourself nodding your head, whimpering in agreement.

you just want to be something to him.

his thumb strokes over your lips while he grips your face, you are so much smaller his entire hand seems to hold it. "you think you can suck me off? get me nice and wet in that little mouth and make me cum?"

you stare up at him with the prettiest wide eyes. you were crying for so long. you cry so much it makes him hard. "i can." you softly whisper and naoya cannot help but kiss you sweetly.

he nips your lips, laving his tongue over them before he sits next to you.

you swallow, he helps you up by a firm grip on your upper arm. your head feels light.

you are surprised when his hand cups the back of your head and shoves down. his erect cock presses against your cheek. "c'mon, don't waste time."

your hand unsurely surrounds the base, you cannot believe something like this had managed to fit inside you. naoya sighs at the softness. your tongue clumsily laps at his slit, the taste of his cum and your juices filling your mouth.

your lips enclose just before his shaft, your mouth insanely warm it makes naoya pant. "take more of it, i don't fucking care if it's your first time." he gruffly says. you are perched on your knees with his cock in your mouth.

moments before you had never seen one in your life.

you are so unsure, you lower on him but the second his tip brushes the back of your throat you gag. you lurch, the muscles constricting around him.

you pull back frantically, coughing as you clutch your throat. naoya finds your eyes more teary. "so fuckin dramatic." he tuts.

his tip presses against the seam of your lips and you have no choice but to open up.

you really do try to be good. you try your hardest to take more but it seems never ending. you gag so much desperately trying to get him seated deep in your throat. but you can't.

that tight little throat of yours can hardly get even half of him in on your own.

"you're shit at this." he laughs airily. you are drooling so much it is insanely messy, he never had it like this before.

every bit of him says to bruise the back of your throat, to fist your hair and fuck into your mouth so that every inch of him feels the silky walls of your throat.

he listens.

at first, his fingers gently caress through your hair. it lasts for a second before he is pushing your head down. your throat constricts and he shudders. he cannot tell which liquid that drips onto his skin is your spit or tears. 

he is vicious and rough. constantly bobbing your head along his cock regardless of how you choke. the sloppy noises are all he needs to get there. the feeling of your gooey throat objecting his forceful intrusion. your muscles resisting. "fuck you're such a good bitch. little baby throat s'taking it all."

his body tenses, hips stuttering to fuck into your mouth. he does not usually come this fast. he shoves you down until your lips surround his base. he swears he can see your throat bulging from his cock. your hot sticky saliva drip all over him as he shallowly ruts his hips.

naoya grits his teeth, moaning loudly before he spews cum down your throat. you jerk in confusion but he does not release you. your hands scramble. he feels you swallowing around him but it is not enough.

liquid spills past the perimeter of his cock.

he tugs you off, your mouth wetly separating with a sticky pop.

"you look pretty like this." your hair is knotted, tear streaks coat your cheeks, your lips are swollen from sucking his dick and his cum is spewed in your mouth in a sticky web. it drips down your jaw but he still kisses you.

still does it all sweetly and cups your cheeks as if he is a nice man.

you eagerly accept it. you kiss and kiss and his salty cum is messily exchanged. you are a breathless mess when he pulls away with spit still connecting you.

"so stupid." he shoves your forehead with his forefinger. you want to cry. he leaves you sitting while he lies on the sodden sheets.

it hurts to hear. you sniffle, looking at him. you let all this happen. you slept with him. this is not some lucid sex dream, it really occurred. he came in you, he touched you everywhere.

he had you in way a man never did before.

you are crying for a different reason now. when the lust that clouded your brain finally dispels you realise everything is ruined.

"do you have any idea what you've done?" tears are profusely coating your cheeks, you tug the blanket to your chest.

you are hiding your body as though he has not violated every inch of it. as if his desecration has not tainted you in the form of bruises and cum.

naoya breathes, his eyes rolling as he folds his arms under his head. "i fucked a bitch, s'all."

your face contorts in more pain. this was never supposed to be your life. you meant nothing to the man who was just inside you.

you were nothing to him. "i can't get married now."

naoya looks angry. the muscles in his arms flex, eyes flitting over to you.

in a second he sits up, the expanse of his palm covers your throat. it draws a sound of shock from you. his face is all too close and you wince at the flashes of him fucking you as they are forced into your mind.

how can you forget it? especially when he is at this proximity, when his hands were all over your body and now he simply held your neck.

his gaze flits downwards, he is angry without a doubt. it is hard to not see it when his skin is flushed red and his jaw is locked.

he rips the sheet from your body before he roughly shakes you.

your eyes flash in panic as you grip his tightening hand. "you have me and you want to marry some lowlife prick from your shitty clan?" he hisses into your face, his nose brushing yours over the nonexistent distance.

you gasp for air because he holds too tight. "you weren't a good fuck. not at all." his hand slips between your legs to cup your cum filled cunt and you blanch.

"you're just a prissy little virgin but you're pretty. i'll give it to you, you're gorgeous." without any warning his digits slide inside of you.

it is forceful and rough as he repeatedly thrusts his long fingers into the soaked walls of your pussy. you grit your teeth. it should not feel good. it should not but you cannot help the uninhibited movement of your hips.

your legs practically part for him on instinct despite how badly you want him to get away from you. that is what you want, right?

you should not want him and your eyes that are trailing all over his defined muscles should be looking to the heavens for some hope.

they should not be gleaming at his pretty features or his damp hair. "and you'll be one hell of a bitch but you gotta prove it to me before i marry you." marriage.

oh marriage, marriage, marriage.

it had been on your mind since you were a little girl. you have ached and dreamed and wished upon the stars for it to find you.

"how?" his brows tilt at your broken voice. he shoves you down until your head meets the wooden flooring and your back stings at the impact.

he is over you, his shadow casting along your figure. "let me fuck you. submit yourself to me alone. if ever you touch another man, i'll know."

his voice is deep, his expression dark. he is terrifying, you wonder how someone so pretty could look so horrific. you swallow hard.

"i'd kill him and i'd kill you." his eyes do not leave yours for a second. he brings your legs around his narrow waist, the weigh of his erection digging into the flesh of your inner thighs.

"but if you be good, i'll marry you. i'll take you away from this place."

you want so desperately to escape, you want so desperately to be anywhere but here. you want to be with him even if he is awful.

"will you marry me?" your fingers itch with the urge to draw him closer, your voice a warbled mess. your legs tighten around him, you want him close. so close.

it seems he knows because he nears until his body is flush to yours. until you are engulfed by his scent and the hardness of his figure.

"i swear it." his eyes flick to your lips, so close to him that they brush with his words. his admission has you gripping his cheeks and kissing him.

it's an inexperienced and sloppy kiss but you do as best as you can and naoya finds your mouth one of his favourite things.

tears leak from your eyes as he shoves his entire length into you and your body tenses.

for the second time that night he claims you.

---

despite wanting to be angry at him, you cannot. not when he kissed every bruise he left on your skin, not when he pressed his lips to yours like you meant something to him.

not when he tugged you into his side and you find revery in his scent.

something about naoya is so comforting you find yourself falling asleep with no issue.

or maybe it is because he used and exhausted your body.

he has you wrapped in his arms with familiarity. your face mushed to his chest and your leg thrown over his waist.

his thumb coaxes along your back, his face nuzzling your hair. you look adorable, you look too precious. even in your sleep you press into him more.

naoya wants to burn the sight into his brain.

you are his forever.

"my soul always searches for yours but you have never remembered mine. not once." he whispers into the air although you cannot hear it.

although you do not respond.

isn't he so dreamy ^^

[sytoran]

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[ffiahh]

PROJECT PLUTO

Protect and Serve.

Sevika did her duty as knight, a bit too well, perhaps.

Pairings: Knight!Top!Dom!Sevika x Lady!Bottom!Feminine!Fem! Reader

Content Warning: Swearing, unwanted/forced marriage, mention of kidnapping, mention of death, slight description of food, jealously, slight description of blood, attempted assassination. SMUT WARNING: Degradation, dirty talk, size kink (kind of), cocks were mentioned (not real), jealously, scratching/marking, spanking, choking, mentions of overstimulation, biting.

Word Count: 5.7K

☾*:･ﾟ✧. Finally, a full Sevika fic!! Only took nearly a year, pft. As of writing this, I don't really know how to feel about it; I like some bits, but other sections I keep rewriting and it doesn't seem to get better; it feels very rushed. I was going to add hatred toward men in the content warnings, but, you know. This is a chance for me to introduce Angie, if she's popular enough I may write a piece of just her only. (She ATE). If you squint real hard, there's suggestive implications between Reader and Angie. Angie is queen, because I say so. Reader is also a whore, and not shy about it.

SEVIKA only knew two things. To protect and serve. So, when she saw you; in all your gracefulness and powerful elegancy; she did what she knew; protect and serve. Sevika took her job as royal knight seriously, so it was no surprise when the Queen gave her an even better task. She took an oath to protect you; and she did so diligently. Sevika was always there; a stealthy frame lurking around your sweet figure, towering over you as a means to make your presence a little more intimidating. She’d be there when you spend your time in the gardens; she would take stance outside your bedchambers; she would be there for any gown fitting you would attend; and she most certainly didn’t miss any meetings with your potential suitors. Sevika was there when the Council and your parents forced you to marry a man for the ruse of political power. Sevika was everywhere, and you couldn’t complain.

Sevika was standing dutifully by the Queen when she first caught sight of you at a ball. And so, her dark, broody presence simmered down just slightly once she caught sight of your glittering form through the crowd. Her eyes never left you; the way your body danced across the floor, you looked like a ghost with the brightness of your dress and the sparkles in your hair. She admired the way your hair danced alongside you, the way your dress waved and billowed after you. She admired you the way she admired the art of skilful fighting. Sevika stared at you so much; her eyes almost teared up with her subtle wide-eyed stare, so much so she could only hope that the Queen didn’t catch on.

It was no shock for Sevika to see the Queen choosing you as her favourite; you were soft and short, with a bright face and mellow features. The Queen, however was a force to be reckoned with, sharp, angular; standing with an impassive face and an impressive build that even shocked Sevika at first. There are many rumours about the Queen; rumours that paint her as the Devil straight from the Bible; cruel, vicious. Yet, you seemed to hold a certain grace, a softness. It seemed rather odd for you to mingle so closely with the likes of the Queen. You were a pleasant surprise for Sevika and getting a glimpse of you for the first time; was getting the wonderful news of protecting you.

“I request you to protect Lady Estelle’s heiress.” Sevika turned to see Angeliki looking over the ballroom with her steely blue eyes, she looked calm; her breathing was steady, her body looked lax. Sevika knew her boss well enough to understand that moments like these kept Angeliki on edge; her eyes would never stay at one place, she bristled just the smallest amount when a Lady or Duke approached her but most of all; her stature bristled when she saw you interact with another. Angeliki hated it here, yet she stayed for you. Angeliki swallowed thickly. “She is fragile, and I am worried I am not doing enough to protect her.”

Sevika just tipped her head in response, choosing not to say anything. Angeliki knew Sevika wasn’t one for reassuring words, and Angeliki understood that. In the short few years Sevika worked for the Queen; they both found a sense of respect for each other. They both had an unattainable strength and power, and maybe the ability of attracting sweet, pretty things.

You weren’t very shy when your mother introduced you to Sevika, you still felt the thrill of dancing, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. You were out of breath, but Sevika’s presence tore it out of you; like inhaling hot steam. Sevika was every bit of tall, dark and handsome. She had a presence that made your knees knock, and your eyes flutter. It felt like déjà vu, because you remembered the way you nearly tripped on the steps when you were first introduced to the Queen. It seemed as though you were naturally drawn to women that enjoyed exuding their power.

You weren’t ashamed to seduce Sevika, that same night in fact. Your heart and your core stuttered at the realisation that Sevika was to be your personal knight. You were ecstatic. Just like you were ecstatic to found out the Queen took a liking to you.

You just battered your eyes at her, as you gracefully leaned against the doorframe of your bedchambers. “Could you perhaps… help me with my corset? It’s terribly tight, and we-” You just let out a small, quiet laugh. You stared at Sevika from the corner of your eye, your gaze turning to one of doe-eyed innocence when Sevika caught your subtle stare. “It’s quite embarrassing, really. I told my dresser to not tighten it too much, but-”

Sevika just stared at you, her eyes boring into you soft figure, the way your back arched softly, just pushing the soft mountains of your breasts against the doorframe; she knew not to let her face contort to compliment her feelings, so she stared at you blankly as you rambled. She was admiring you, enjoying the way the corset hugged your curves beautifully, the small intricate beads that fell around the curve of your shoulders. Sevika liked looking at you, she realised. She just merely let the corner of her mouth curl, before she gestures dismissively for you to turn. Sevika caught wind of what you were doing, seeing as your corset strings were already halfway done.

Sevika let out a low chuckle, shaking her head before her fingers took a strong hold of your laces, not wasting another moment to push you into your bedchambers. If it weren’t for the strong hold Sevika had on your laces; you would have stumbled and fell but you could feel your stomach and chest pressing inwards as the corset tightened slightly from Sevika’s heavy tug on your strings. You could feel the cold touch of her metal fingers dragging along your thigh, the soft material of your skirt curling around her metal wrist, while her other hand – which oddly enough – was cold as well; shamelessly tucked themselves away into your undergarments, smirking when there already seemed to a puddle on her fingertips.

“Didn’t take a Lady to be such a whore.”

Your mother was adamant that you marry; you tried to protest but that seemed to speed up the process and before you could even catch your breath; you were already taken to a first meeting with your would-be husband. By the end of the week, Lady Estelle announced the news of your marriage to Angeliki. Nobody knew what the Queen wore on her face, she merely sat on her throne; barely sparing a glance at Lady Estelle before you felt your body straighten when Angeliki turned to you.

“This was your choice?” Angeliki spoke; her voice was steady and calm, but it echoed throughout the throne room. Sevika could see the guards straighten in alarm at the sound of her voice, fumbling to tighten their hold on their weapons or subtly straighten their uniform.  

No, not really. You nodded, dipping your head in a slight tilt. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

You were meant to marry your husband; but your eyes kept drifting to the dark figure looming in the corner of the church. Sevika was meant to be working, making sure to keep you safe on such an important day; but her dark eyes always found you; the tightly bound, pink flowers in your hand; the delicate veil as it fell around your face. You were sparkling, you would have been beaming; if not for the hideous truth that you never wanted this marriage. How could Sevika protect you from any danger when it was standing right next to you?

The church held the same air well; thick and potent, maybe it was the eerie silence that followed the end of the organ playing when you stepped on the altar, or it might have been the way Angeliki wouldn’t keep her steely glare off of Lady Estelle. Sevika could feel it from her post, the way her broad shoulders were drawn back, the muscles in her back tightening the more and more officiant rambled on. Sevika felt sorry for the Queen’s advisor; who in her small stature; did everything she could to avoid Angeliki and her cold gaze.

You felt it as well, the officiator may have been the one talking, but you could feel and hear the steady, eery breathing of the Queen behind you; for you it felt as though her body expanded and hunched, almost creating a looming shadow and presence over your smaller stature. Oh, what eery eyes you have.   

Sevika was also there at the night of your wedding, standing outside your bedchambers due diligently before any and all sense flew from her head, and not long after; it wasn’t your husband who consummated your marriage; it was her. You had quietly requested that you keep your husband out of your room, and Sevika obliged. She was admiring the way you gracefully undressed to your bridal negligee. It looked stunning on you; the soft fabric settled wonderfully on your curves. Sevika couldn’t keep her hands off you.

“You taste wonderful, My Lady.” You could hardly get a word out when Sevika shamelessly dove back in between your thighs; the tip of her large nose nudging against your swollen clit. You let out a quiet whimper; your thighs trembling in her large hands, when Sevika hummed; the sound so low; it heard and felt like a growl. “And you look absolutely stunning. Like a fairy.”

You tipped your head back, a low breathy moan slipping from your mouth; you squirmed when Sevika pressed herself further into you; the ravenous, needy shake of her head causing her hair to tickle your glittering thighs as another low grunt fell past her mouth. You didn’t hear it, you felt it; the sound vibrating through your core.    

Sevika’s eyes ran over your trembling form; soft and delicate. She could see the way your nipples perked through the thin material of your negligee; she loved watching the way the nightgown tightened and hugged your curves. You were sparkling; a soft sheen of sweat along your skin; the glitter of your makeup; dotted across your face. It certainly didn’t help that your nightgown was adorned with sequins and beads, it looked like a shining puddle around your body. You looked every bit of the beautiful bride you were, soft, angelic, twinkling. You were all hers. All of you. Sevika felt a rush of pride at that thought; you married a man, yet you were here; your body open for her.

“Your lousy fucking husband couldn’t do this, could he?” Sevika asks, her dark lips curled in a vicious smirk. Sevika rose up to her full height, the creases of her large palm running over the expanse of your thighs, her thick fingers tightening around the delicate curve of your ankle; her thumb absentmindedly caressing the divot on the heel of your foot. You were too much in a drunken, pleasured haze, you didn’t realise Sevika’s fingers sneaking toward your entrance. “Fuck you like this?”

“I hope you don’t keep using crude language during our most intimate moments,” you scolded, a gasped moan escaping your mouth when Sevika’s thick finger pushed past your ring of muscle, jolting at the delicious burn.

A shiver ran through your body when Sevika chuckled, the dark sound rumbling from her chest and vibrating through her powerful body. “Apologies, my Lady.” Sevika rumbles, sliding the length of her fingers along your inner walls, marvelling at the sight of your entrance greedily taking her thick, calloused digits. Sevika leaned forward to taste the soft skin of your nape, sucking gently; it was almost as if she could taste the sweetness from your perfume, settling on her tongue like a thin mist; you tasted like vanilla and raspberry.

You muffled in a moan, sucking in your bottom lip when Sevika’s mouth wrapped around your pebbled nipple, sucking harshly until spit ran down the crevice of your breasts and down Sevika’s chin. You cried out when her teeth pulled and nicked your nipple, letting it stretch before letting go with an audible pop.  You couldn’t help but flush when you felt the dark, heavy gaze from Sevika’s piercing eyes trace over the curves of your writhing body, a moan catching in your throat when her fingers picked up speed.

“Do you know how pretty you look? Laying like that? With you being so greedy, so greedy. You want more of my fingers, needy girl?” Sevika ground out, the dresser creaking dangerously under her thrusts. “My cock?” Sevika offered, her dark eyebrow arched before she smirked with a light scoff, seeing the way you slightly lifted your hips, a strangled sigh falling past your mouth. “Such a slut. Is that what you want? My cock filling your pussy and stretching you out?”

You cried out, your head falling backwards onto the mirror behind you. You could feel your nails almost break and peel as you clawed at the wood under you, the same way Sevika’s nails dug into your soft skin, keeping you to stay splayed out for her leisure. It was a delicious pain, it made your skin chill with pleasure, goosebumps trailing your skin. Your heart stuttered in your chest when you felt the familiar hold around your throat; Sevika easily guiding you to stand in front of her.

You felt and looked small against Sevika, you realised. You saw the way the rolls on your body almost wilted under Sevika’s wandering hands, your skin was tugged and pulled, the enticing curves of your breasts almost melting into Sevika’s metal palm, the thin barely-there negligee melted against your skin, before Sevika pulled off your body with a disgruntled mumble. Sevika seemed to enjoy it; the way your belly seemed to lift from the strength of her hand and fall with an inviting jiggle. For Sevika, it felt as though she was moulding putty in her hands, soft and inviting and so, so irresistible.

You gasped, your back arching as Sevika dove down; sucking your nipple into her hungry mouth, before trailing her mouth down the underside of your breast. Sevika was aching for a part of you, any part of you, grunting and groaning as she opened her mouth further around your breast. Sevika didn’t let go of your breast for a while, the large curve of her nose resting flush against the underside of your breast. Sevika’s skin was warm, and the tip of her nose was hard; digging into the doughy flesh and skimming across the soft skin.

Sevika’s hand was large as well, the palm heavy as it struck your core; her thick fingers eagerly and quickly finding its way through your folds and in your squelching cunt. It covered your cunt entirely; you could barely see the way your puffy lips wrapped around her fingers, and the way they rolled. Her prosthetic arm was much larger, the metal claws creeping around the curve of your belly before snatching up your disregarded breast, squeezing the tissue.

Sevika urgently ran her mouth up your arm, along the curve of your shoulder, over the pulse points on your neck, delivering half sent kisses on your skin as if she only had a few moments with you. “You are like ice cream. I’ve never fucked someone so soft,” Sevika whispered under your jaw, breathing your scent in deeply before wrapping her lips around your chin. “Look at the way you’re melting in my hands.”

It was embarrassing that Sevika was right; you couldn’t help but buck your hips into Sevika’s hands, letting out a breathy huff when her fingers– for whatever reason – wouldn’t reach the fleshy sponge nestled deep below your belly button. Yes, your skin may as well be considered a sort of dough, or ice cream; the fat in your breasts pooled and sunk through the spaces of Sevika’s metal fingers and over the bones and structure of her cool forearm. Yes, Sevika was right. And, yes, you enjoyed the way Sevika took your body and mind, and completely fucked out any thought from you.  

“Bend over,” Sevika’s voice was gruff, desperate, and your gasp that followed was pathetic and rushed, because in a quick moment you found yourself arched over your makeup vanity. The soft globes of your breasts were moulded and shifted to press against the hardwood, and you could feel the way your belly stretched to rest on the surface without pulling your skin too much.       

You squirmed, the rough curves and joints of Sevika’s metal fingers scarping across the slopes of your ass, before you let out a hushed gasp when Sevika’s claws dug into your skin, enough to cause a shiver to run through you. “I saw the way you looked at the Queen today. Did you want her cock as well?”

You couldn’t answer, because Sevika’s pointed claws were trailing across your slit. Sevika laughed, her brows drawing in at the amount of slick that painted her bronze fingers, she had half the mind to fuck you with your mechanical hand, but that meant the chance of internal injuries. You felt the vanity creak a little under your weight when Sevika grabbed a fistful of your ass, the metal of her fingers just barely piercing the skin; she didn’t give you a chance to react before you felt the familiar round tip of Sevika’s cock pushing past the ring of muscle.

You tried to squirm, but jumped and gasped when Sevika’s fleshed palm struck your ass, the sound thundering through the otherwise quiet room. You felt the vanity creak again when Sevika pulled your ass apart, revealing your puffy, wet lips. Sevika hummed, low and throaty when she moved her hips slowly, ogling as your lips dragged across the silicone shaft. She could almost feel it, the way your pussy sucked her in, the way it pulsed and quivered as though you were going to cum.

You had nothing to hold onto, your nails scratched against the grooves of the wood, moaning against the dark, red surface and before you could comprehend; your hands flew out to catch the mirror. Sevika’s was always rough, but today – you gasped again, a strangled moan lodged deep within your throat; the silicone cock nestled so snugly, you had no way of escaping. Every roll of your hip, an arch of your back or the way you tried to squeeze your thighs; urged Sevika on more.

You squirmed again and Sevika cupped your waist tightly, using your writhing, pathetic body as leverage to slide into you deeper. The second time you squirmed, and you felt the beautiful, suffocating weight of Sevika’s hand on your back; though it did little to keep you still. The third time and her patience was waning; the wooden surface shook and almost splintered when Sevika smacked her palms against the vanity; from the corner of your tearful, hazy eyes, Sevika’s claws were cutting through the paint, soon enough the wood would start to chip away.      

You cried out, biting your lip in effort to keep your sounds muffled. Sevika didn’t bother to; huffs and grunts falling past her mouth over you. At this point the mirror was hitting the wall, and the legs were creaking, the drawers were threatening to open as they clanked and rattled. Were you about to fall? Maybe. Did you care? No. Definitely not. Your vision blurred and your thighs trembled from the onslaught of Sevika’s angry thrusts, and the pleasure that sizzled through you. “Vika-”  

“Stop talking. Going to fuck you until your legs give out.” Sevika rasped out, her hips slapping against your reddening ass. You were too far in your daze to realise that Sevika shifted, the vanity creaking with her change in position. You breathed out a low, pleasured laugh, blinking your eyes; feeling the familiar tightness around your throat. Sevika’s metal hand had warmed up at this point, so it didn’t startle you when she held you firmly under your jaw; somehow keeping your body arched and poised.

Plap. Plap. Plap. Plap.

Breathing was difficult now, your heart raced, and your pulse along your neck followed, thumping wildly. You groaned; the sound garbled, whiny and Sevika would have felt it vibrate through her hand, but her metal fingers were incapable of feeling anything. Sevika could hear it though, and see it; the way your eyes fluttered shut and the way your arousal seemed to drip down your thighs. Sevika seemed to go faster once she held you by your throat, the sound of squelching between your legs so loud.

It was humiliating that your orgasm came quickly; you hadn’t realised it until you felt some sort of dam breaking inside of you, causing you to writhe and pant, before you lifted yourself off the vanity, clawing blindly at Sevika’s thigh, feeling the muscles roll and tense as Sevika continued her thrusts. “Keep cumming on my cock. Fuck, you’re such a slut.” Sevika gritted out in your ear, her voice low and throaty, her hands were persistent, her fingers finding their way back to your hips, squeezing the skin, pulling and tugging almost off your bones. You cried out, your fingers clenching the edge of the vanity, your legs – which now were resting on the warm wooden surface – shuddered; goosebumps dusting your skin, and weirdly enough, the pleasure simmering slightly, creeping back up the more Sevika pummelled into you. “We’re going to do this again and you’re going to lay there and take it, you hear me?”

“I do not like your husband.” Angeliki states; her broad arm resting against the back of her chair. She was almost slouching; her legs spread out; the button of her shirt nearly popping and giving you an enticing view of the curves of her breasts. Table etiquette for her was long forgotten; as the Queen she had other pressing matters to stress over. You told her it was because people were far too intimidated to tell her off, but Angeliki believed it was because people were too tired to.

You just smiled sadly at her, buttering a small piece of bread. You delicately take a bite out of it; chewing slowly and swallowing it before you replied. “I don’t want you to feel bad, Your Grace. It’s the Council’s-”

“Yes. Who are they to tell me what I can and cannot do? They have no right.” Angeliki replies. “I will your end marriage. Believe me.” Angeliki’s nose twitches, as though she wanted to curl it in disgust, before her eyes drop to her small cup.

“And how are you going to do that, Your Grace?” You tried to keep your movements minimal, your back still ached, your throat burned slightly, your muscles felt tense and – to put it crudely – your pussy was still sore. You take another bite of your bread, swallowing and lightly grazing your neck, sending a quick glance to Sevika. You squirmed in your seat, wiping the corner of your mouth with your napkin. Angeliki’s stare had always been cold, calculating; it seemed as though she was analysing every bit of your soul and body, but today felt more meticulous. Maybe it was because you wore the guilt of warming the bed of your personal guard, or the fact that you didn’t warm hers last night.

“I suppose a shovel. People have told me I have a very heavy hand; one hit may be enough.”

You wait for her to monotonously tell you it was a joke, but the Queen seems too preoccupied with trying to use a dainty, demitasse spoon in her large fingers. “Your Grace. This may seem out of hand for what I am about to say, but you can’t kill my husband!” You exclaim in a hushed manner, sending a nervous smile to a castle worker who started to clear the table.

“Why not? He is a man.” Angeliki gives the spoon a look of contempt, before she reaches for a larger soup spoon. “All men are good for is to beat and fuck. You cannot do or will do neither to him. So, naturally he must go. Sevika agrees with me, no?”

You sneak a glance at Sevika; who is standing quietly by the wall; you wondered how she kept a straight face in this argument. Sevika merely tips her head; the corners of her mouth curled. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“See?” You don’t argue, knowing the Queen; it was like talking to a wall sometimes, tall, and stubborn. Angeliki carries on, taking a large gulp of her coffee, humming once. “Men are useless. They have horrid temperament, a fragile ego. They are pathetic, ingrates. Why do you think whoever works closely to me are women?”

You let a sigh, folding your hands in your lap. You can feel Sevika’s presence behind you; it was heavy and dark. It almost feels as though she’s closing in on your back. Like last night; when she fucked you in front of the mirror. “Surely, there must be another way.”

“Kidnapping? Your husband is small and dainty, so I can easily drag him or carry him over my shoulder.” Angeliki suggests, she turns to Sevika. “Kidnapping, no?”

Sevika tips her head again, this time her mouth curled further in amusement. “I suppose that is a better idea.”

Angeliki nods approvingly, a low grunt escaping her throat as she reaches up to flick back her short hair, only to find it in the same place by her ears; she didn’t try to fix it again. “I knew I did right by hiring you. A fine choice.”

You shake your head, leaning back on your chair. “You both are impossible. My husband is a Duke, he is in politics-”

“That is why he married into your family?” Angeliki asks, her confused gaze on the small crumpets, turning it over and over in her hands as if to make sure the crumpets were actually that small. Shaking her head as she reaches over to pile more on her plate. “He is not important enough, if he married you for a better title.”

You stay quiet, focusing on finishing the piece of bread that suddenly felt too thick and dry to travel down your throat, you held it between your fingers, squeezing the bread until it melded back into a dough. “I suppose…”

Angeliki hummed, nodding once at your agreement, she swallowed the last of her food, washing it down with a glass of water. “Stay close to me or Sevika for the ball tonight. Your husband has been skittish lately, I do not want you to get hurt.”

You didn’t normally listen when either the Queen or Sevika told you to do something, you liked to see the way their muscles would hunch at the realisation, or the way their eyebrows would draw in slightly. It was fun, and it always ended up with you satisfied one way or the other by the end of the night.

Yet, you were glad you listened today, the tension between your small circle was palpable. You felt it, it made your muscles tense, and your teeth grind. You didn’t give yourself the luxury at ogling at either women’s outfits. You only caught a glimpse of Angeliki’s golden and black suit and the intricate flower patterns on the bronze metal of Sevika’s uniform.

Angeliki drew her shoulders in when your husband approached your table, bowing deeply and dutifully to Angeliki; at that sight: Sevika straightened up, her hand tight around the hilt of her sword. You smiled lightly at him, forcing away the habit of squirming away from him when he leaned in for a performative, polite kiss on the cheek. He wouldn’t dare do anything more in Angeliki’s presence, or Sevika’s for that matter.

Your husband didn’t take a seat until Angeliki gestured toward the chair with a simple gaze toward it. Though the music was playing softly from the corner of the ballroom, it was quiet, you could hear the lazy, calm breathing of the Queen, and the pitiable, panicking breathing of your husband. Sevika shuffled behind you, a slight clearing of her throat as the bronze metal of her uniform clinked against each other. Quiet. Dead silence.

Your husband laughed, the sound rushed and garbled as he swallowed thickly, he waved down a waiter, his smile widening as the waiter closed in on their table, dutifully placing glasses of chilled water in front of each of them. You flickered your eyes to it, it was lemon water, judging by some curled rind sunk at the bottom and a lemon wedge hugging the lip of the glass. “U- ch-chilled lemon water, Your Majesty.”

You were right, but you raised a subtle eyebrow at your husband. He was acting skittish, his eyes kept darting to the glass and back up at Angeliki, he was barely sitting in his seat, his chest pressed so close to the table, you could see the tablecloth sag under his weight.

Angeliki’s gaze was as piercing as ever; the icy circles of her eyes trailing lazily across your husband’s form. She reaches for the glass, her fingers wrapping around it and lifting it slowly to her mouth. Angeliki hums, her stony orbs rising to meet the man across her, blinking once, twice before placing the glass back on the table.

Angeliki arose from her seat, her suit crinkling before she uses her large hands to smooth down the silk velvet fabric. “Follow me.” Angeliki didn’t wait for an answer, or a refusal as she steps down from the table, her large form stalking to the exit of the ballroom. Your husband’s eyes widened slightly, but he scrambled to his full height, smoothing down his own suit before rushing down the steps to follow Angeliki. Sevika followed closely behind, her bulky form closing in on your husband from behind. You stood up as well, your glossed lips slightly apart as you rushed after them. What was going on?

You caught up to them after a few moments, it would have been quicker if not for the sheer weight of your dress. You stood by the doorframe, feeling your body jolt at the chilly night air. You saw Angeliki shrug off her suit jacket; your breath hitching at the way her muscles rolled as she handed the jacket to Sevika. Sevika wasted no moment to douse you in it, ensuring it covered your cold chest and arms, before standing stoically by your side. It was quiet here as well, the only rustle of Angeliki’s sleeves rolling up her forearms and the nervous splutter from your husband.

“Men are always stupid,” Angeliki states simply, her large forearms tensing as she sought herself comfortable, her steps were quiet, heavy as they trailed to your husband. “Poison? In my drink? It seems as though you were arrogant as well, considering you thought I would accept a drink from you.” You tensed, a soft gasp falling from your mouth, when Angeliki snapped her hand forward; her thick, burly fingers seizing around the man’s jaw, squeezing tightly until his lips puckered and his cheeks filled out.

Your husband clawed at Angeliki’s hand, trying his hardest to pull her fingers away, but it only made her hold on, shaking his head as if to scold him. You jumped when he cried out, his eyes almost bulging out of his head as he shook and writhed in Angeliki’s grip, before your eyes snapped to Angeliki when a sickening crack echoed through, and a shrill, panicked cry from your husband.

Angeliki merely blinked, her eyes averting to each of his eyes before they fell to his throat, it was starting to get pink, veins protruding from his skin as he struggled. Your husband managed to carve a few scratches into Angeliki’s skin, and soon enough had grasped enough of her forearm to pull her away. You heart thundered and sunk in your chest when your husband lurched his head forward with a determined cry, suddenly finding courage and smiling lopsidedly in triumphant when Angeliki’s head snapped back, a trickle of blood running from her nose and down her lip.

Angeliki sniffed, her lips curling in a snarl before her head knocked forward in retaliation, once, twice; before spitting the red, almost gelatinous blood onto his face, sending a swift, heavy punch to his throat. Your husband cried out, falling back against the grass as he choked on his blood. Angeliki loomed over him, the muscles under her shirt tensing, letting the weight of her shoe and body press into his groin, pressing harder when your husband flinched. “Do not come near me again, lest I pull the skin from your pathetic body and force you to feed on it. Sevika.” Angeliki commanded, standing to her full height and walking toward you.

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide as they zeroed in on Angeliki, her height allowing her to tower over you. You let your eyes run over Angeliki, over her chest that rose and fell, over the way fabric squeezed along her broad shoulders, the deep, angry scratches on her rough forearm and hand, before your eyes snapped to Sevika. “She will not kill him. Merely warn him. He will do well to leave you alone as well.”

You wished you could see Sevika’s body under her uniform, you wanted to see the way her back rippled as she delivered punches toward your husband, the way her abs would tense. You felt foolish, gaping at the two women; you shouldn’t but you did. There was a tight coil in your lower belly, one that threatened to snap once Sevika rose to her full height, her armour clinking as she panted, before your eyes travelled back to Angeliki; who was already staring at you, before she nodded toward the ballroom, urging you forward.

Of course, you obeyed, especially if you were going to feel the prepotent presence of the women behind you.

[aithusarosekiller]

The black brothers are those siblings that talk shit behind each others' backs all the time to literally whoever will listen but the second someone else is picking on their sibling they are DONE for

Like I know a girl whose younger brother is awful and nobody likes him, she'll complain about him and call him dumb and embarrassing until her last breath but she once heard someone in our year was talking shit about him and had to have on call brought up bc she tried to start a physical fight with them bc he was her baby

That is Sirius black. 'My brother? He's a fucking idiot who needs to learn to think for himself for once, I swear he can't do anything without embarrassing himse- hang on, the FUCK did they say about him? Get your cowardly ass back here RIGHT NOW you lying little gossip'

Regulus is even more vicious about it bc he's younger, ofc he is, it's the rules (see: my little sister). He chooses instead of using physical violence or confrontation to spread the most diabolical rumours about whoever is involved. He tries to be subtle about it but sometimes (if they're talking) he'll talk to Sirius about it and it's just obvious he's mad and he's planning smth. He'll spend so long planting lies so they're almost impossible to disprove and he'll glare at them until they physically explode. He'll also deny it forever.

[bella-goths-wife]

Yandere Vs reaction to pet reader accidentally killing someone out of anger

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of drug use, SA mentions, Valentino, death, description of wounds, forced affection, forced father-daughter relationship, workplace bullying, grooming mentioned, guilt

You were used to your coworkers being assholes to you

You were a fellow working soul yet you were treated nicer and given many more privileges then them, of course they weren’t going to like you

Everyone referred to you as a lost puppy or as a pet

They didn’t even know your name, but know one really knew your name in fairness

They sneered when they saw you enter a room, and if the Vs weren’t accompanying you then they would get physical by tripping you or shoving you around

Angel dust does his best to defend you when he sees this happen, but angel rarely has time to think nevermind look after you

But the rumours were the parts that upset you the most, to here small parts of your life become exaggerated and spread around

They’d also dump their workload on you so you had to do even more stuff while also balancing three very obsessed bosses

But something pushed you over the edge today, something that angered you so much that your power spun out of control

You’d had a certain guy around the tower spread vicious rumours about you lately and you could always hear the whispers following you because of them

“I heard she killed her friends”

“I heard she was a whore who overdosed with her junkie boyfriend”

“I heard that she only gets good treatment because she’s fucking one of the bosses, or all of them by the looks of her”

Many misinformation or misunderstandings spread around by this man would end up being whispered near you

So one day when you were in voxs office alone and this guy walked in, you knew something bad was going to happen

He made a few smart ass comments about your rumoured past but you just rolled your eyes and ignored him

But he pushed it to far when he uttered the words “they really groomed you into their perfect little pet huh?”

You shot him a glare as you questioned what he meant by that

He then went on a long rant about how it wasn’t fair that you got better treatment all because you were willing to throw away your dignity for their enjoyment

With every word he uttered about the luck you supposedly had caused rage to spark in your chest

The cherry on top was when he said “I wonder what your mother would think if she found out what a fucking whore you are and how she must have fucked you up real bad for you to have this little self respect”

One minute he’s standing over you and smirking at you, the next he’s crumpled on the floor covering his ears and screaming in agony

You couldn’t stop using your ability to create loud and excruciating noises directly in his ears, it’s like you’d been completely taken over by the anger you felt

You saw blood pouring out of his ears like a fountain and you couldn’t help but smile and increasing the volume, until he stopped moving except for a few twitches and you saw what looked like brain matter leak from his ears

You had killed him

You just stood in shock and stared at his body while processing this information that you’d killed a man in cold blood

And the Vs saw it all happen from the open door

Vox:

Vox almost felt like a proud dad as he watched you kill someone purposefully for the first time

He came up and patted you on the shoulder with a wide smile, as if you’d just passed some sort of test

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rambled on about how you could improve and what you did well, almost like a performance review for a singers night show

What had been a world changing and traumatic experience for you, was purely just entertainment for him

He couldn’t understand your shell shocked expression, you had killed this man while smiling so why were you overreacting so much

But he still walked you back to your room and cleaned the blood off of your body and sitting you on your bed

He went on a long rant about how you shouldn’t feel bad about your murder, he was provoking you and it was clearly all his fault

He said that he understood why you did what you did, and that he was proud of you for your decision

“I started out like you, but you’ll improve over time and get used to it” he had said with a wide grin “soon enough you’ll be just like me”

And the fact that you were seen as in any way comparable to Vox only sent a chill down your spine and doubled your guilt

After that day, you noticed people were much nicer to you and Vox only gave you a ‘told you so’ look

But since becoming aware of the harassment you were subjected to, he did give voxtech employees a strict warning and he broke a few bones to get his point across

He couldn’t have something like a little murder bring his favourite girl down, even if it did prepare you to become his heir one day

Velvette:

Velvette doesn’t really understand the big deal

Your in hell, you fraternise with murderers and worse on a daily basis

You live in a tower filled with the worst of the worst kind of criminals

So why are you overreacting so much over a little murder that could easily be sorted out

She does scold you slightly on doing your own dirty work and doing it on the expensive carpeting

She explained that if you really want someone dead then you should just tell one of them and they’d have their security deal with it

But she did express some pride for you efficient killing and you experiencing your first purposeful murder

She does nothing to comfort you at all, you should be over it already is her thought process

But she does kill more people around you in her own sick away to reassure you that murdering people is okay in her books, she only makes you want to peel your own skin off though because every sight of blood just makes you think about the fact you ended a man’s afterlife

She also makes an example of the man you killed to her employee, harass her pet and her pet will bite back

She makes a few more private examples or your bullies, but she’ll wait until the rumours of the event hits you before she explains

Valentino:

This entire situation is just a joke to this man

His little princesa bites as much as she can bark, and he’s meant to take that seriously?

He does much worse stuff then murder every day and you don’t see him she’ll shocked and crying on the floor do you?

He will actively crack jokes about one of the most traumatic things you’ve ever done in front of you

Every time he does and you get a guilty or shocked expression, he bursts out laughing at the ridiculousness of your reaction

But he would clean up the body for you

He’d either just dump it into the cannibal colonies or he’d just get his workers to get rid of it and clean up the office

But he’d definitely keep a body part of a piece of jewellery from your victims body to taunt you with when he’s bored

He also gave a few extremely rough video sessions to some of the people from him workers that contributed to your harassment

He can’t have his little musical toy become too tired to sing him a soothing tune to calm his ever present temper

Sorry this was so small, work exhausted me today :(

Tag list so far:

@buttercupfangirl @repostingmyfavs @lilyalone @the-faceless-bride

[houseofhyde]

⏤ another man, series masterlist.

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader

series synopsis. a wolf and a dragon. a queen and a prince. lady stark and aemond targaryen. a marriage should keep them apart. lust draws them together. when one agrees to tutor the other in the many ways of pleasure, a countdown towards their mutual downfall begins. ( each chapter features individual synopses. )

series warnings. canon divergence (the greens win the war), brother-in-law!aemond, stark!reader (though there is no mention of her skin tone, hair colour, etc...) no use of y/n, slow burn, mutual pining, forbidden love, infidelity, sexually inexperienced reader, emotionally stunted aemond, themes of infertility/pregnancy, aegon is a shit husband, angst, fluff, & lots of smut. ( each chapter features individual warnings. )

series wordcount. 52.7k (so far )

a word from hyde. this series features my own reimagining of events pre, during, and post the dance of the dragons, along with my own interpretations of the characters. if you yourself do not like the featured canon divergence or find my portrayal of aemond (or any other canon character) to be ooc, please kindly skip over this series. this series does not have a taglist.

read on ao3. listen to the playlist.

i. another man’s feast. ( 3.5k )

chapter synopsis. aemond has only ever wanted to take care of you. too bad you’re married to his neglectful brother.

ii. another man’s comfort. ( 16.1k )

chapter synopsis. a wedding calls you north, your duty calls you to your husband, your heart calls you to aemond.

iii. another man’s pleasure. ( 13.6k )

chapter synopsis. a pregnancy, a nameday and a drunken evening make for a dangerous concoction between the one-eyed dragon and the royal wolf.

iv. another man’s pain. ( 19.4k )

chapter synopsis. a visit to dorne goes awry as an unexpected visitor arrives, tensions between in-laws come to ahead at last.

v. another man's legacy. ( coming septermber )

chapter synopsis. nothing goes to plan as prince aemond calls all forth with fire in their blood to dragonstone with promise of a grand announcement.

vi. another man’s jealousy. ( coming october )

chapter synopsis. a vicious rumour spreads through the court, forcing the prince to prove just how green he can be.

vii. another man's promise. ( coming november )

chapter synopsis. in the warmth of summer, hope blooms. but how long until it wilts?

viii. another man’s wrath. ( coming december )

chapter synopsis. a bloodied gown, a funeral pyre, a pile of ashes. in his wrath, her mercy prevails.

ix. another man’s view. ( coming january )

chapter synopsis. aegon confronts the sin of his kin.

x. another man’s love. ( coming february)

chapter synopsis. lady stark learns that, sometimes, to love is to lose.

xi. another man’s exile. ( coming march )

chapter synopsis. the time has come where even a dragon must flee.

xii. another man’s wife. ( coming april )

chapter synopsis. the song of wolf and dragon comes to an end.

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023, Day 7: “Can you hear me?”

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: angst, death mention, vicious rumours

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 750 || Approx reading time: 3 mins

"Can you hear me?"

Teaser: But days had passed, and the scholar didn’t wake. Life went on, and still there was no sign of her.

"The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve"

Nothing that was happening was real. That was the only explanation.

It was a dream, a nightmare. A figment of his overtired, overactive imagination as he struggled through his restless sleep. It was still the night of the wedding, and as he agonized over his decision—tell her you’re desperately in love with her—his wicked, treacherous brain had fabricated one of the most awful, outlandish worst-case scenarios it could conjure. He was tossing and turning in his bed right at that very moment, fitful slumber haunted by this monstrous dream.

Another explanation, he thought, less likely but still within the realm of possibility, was that he was ill. Very ill. Delirious, in fact. Food poisoning, perhaps? A vicious fever? He imagined himself in his sickbed, sweating and twitching, moaning as disease ravaged his body, incoherent ramblings on his lips, languishing in the grip of a savage fever dream.

The other idea he felt compelled to entertain: he was dead. He had never given much serious thought to what came after death, and he’d certainly not expected to find a punishment waiting for him there. Yet if he was dead, he must have done something truly heinous, because this was bordering on unbearable.

Being dead and suffering through some kind of purgatory was the least palatable option he’d come up with, yet the scholar half-hoped it was true. If he had died, the hell he was living through now was the false reality. It would eventually crumble into oblivion, blown away on the wind with his ashes, or buried in the ground with his decomposing corpse.

But days had passed, and the scholar didn’t wake. Life went on, and still there was no sign of her.

There was no sign of her, and no word from her, and each day closed with no answers and no relief.

Only questions. Only grief.

The search dwindled. Of course it did. How much time, how much money, how much energy should be devoted to one missing girl? A servant, no less? It wasn’t infinite.

By the fourth day, the endless chorus of her name, the refrain of “Where are you? Can you hear me?” was ended.

A runaway, it was decided. The most likely explanation. With no message, no body, no suspect…

Well, no suspect, save for one.

He knew what the rumours said, what vindictive whispers had been swirling through the court since the night she disappeared.

You know who was the last person to see her, right? The night of the wedding? The only one who truly knows what happened? That teacher. That strange boy, the one who used to tutor the prince. The odd, quiet one. He’s the one who did it.

She didn’t run away. She was murdered.

The scholar ignored them. He had to. He had to, or he was going to lose his senses completely.

He had to pretend he could not hear the hisses of disgust or see the accusing glares.

He had to convince his friends the rumours were wrong.

He had to find her.

The sun would set soon—a blood-read ball preparing to dip below the horizon and usher in the night. The last search party had long disbanded.

Not for him.

The castle had been searched, torn apart, a hundred times over, yielding nothing—not a lock of golden-brown hair, not a scrap of her spring-green dress, not a sprig of shimmering blossoms or even a single blue petal. No footprints, no blood trail.

The grounds…the same.

So he set off into town. It had also been searched, of course, at his insistence, and that of her friends—friends who now watched him with suspicion as if they could so easily be swayed to believe he might ever hurt her.

He shouted her name, and his was the only voice left, and it seemed unlikely that, somewhere in the dying, darkening city streets, she would be able to hear him calling for her at all.

Still, he went on.

His feet ached. His fingers went numb. His voice grew hoarse.

Still, she did not answer.

The moon was high when he finally stopped, casting a pale and eerie glow over the city’s cobblestoned paths. It shivered, precarious and distorted and unreal, in the glass-pane puddles that lined the streets. The scholar stood motionless, staring into the dark mouth of an alley, as if he could through sheer determination—sheer desperation—will a girl in a green dress to appear.

Only the darkness stared back.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[corruptedcaps]

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

��So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

[sapphicpipedream]

one thing i love so much about jean is just how much he cares for people, even those who have hurt him to an extent. like he cares so much for kevin despite his resentment over kevin leaving him alone in the nest and “slitting his throat” on the way out. there’s that scene where jeremy makes a joke about kevin and jean immediately jumps to his defense, “he’s earned the right to be arrogant” and him telling lucas to stop speaking badly about kevin. even with zane who betrayed him in the worst possible way, jean still cared enough to try and prevent him from killing himself. he cares about the rest of the ravens despite all the torment they’ve put him through in the nest. even after they defaced his notebooks and postcards and precious magnets. even after their cruel letters and vicious rumours despite it all he still cares.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

could I request shy!reader with eddie where he is super protective over her during school? like he has NO problems telling people off if they make a comment to her/make her feel uncomfortable!

Eddie found you in the library, head bent, eyes a little unfocused as you scanned each line, pages fluttering in the quiet when you turned them. Mrs Scott was already frowning at him when he walked past the main desk, the librarian unused to seeing the boy between the stacks of books.

Eddie waved, smiling brightly as he tried to convince the woman he wasn’t here to cause trouble. He walked a little faster towards you, grinning when he realised you still hadn’t noticed him. So he laughed a little when you jumped at his touch, his face buried in your neck as he leaned over the back of your chair.

“Jesus, Eddie, you scared me,” you whispered, voice a hiss but you softened when you leaned back into him, his chest a solid warmth behind you.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, his hands squeezing at your shoulders. “Hi.”

You warmed under his gaze, those eyes shining at you, all fond and familiar. Putting your bookmark between the pages, you pushed the novel to the side, cheek to your shoulder so you could press a kiss to the top of Eddie’s hand, a surprising bout of affection from you considering you were in school, but Eddie took it without comment, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Why aren’t you at lunch, huh?” He sat down in the chair next to you, knees bumping and eyes concerned. “Been lookin’ for you.”

You shrugged, unwillingly to meet Eddie’s gaze cause he could read you like the story you’d just paused. “I’m not hungry,” you lied.

The boy frowned, picking up your hand to hold it in his, fingertips running over your knuckles, the dainty, gold rings on each finger, a pretty contrast to his own.

“You feelin’ okay? I can take you home, if you want.”

You melted into him at the sentiment, wanting nothing more than to skip the rest of your classes, wondering if you could convince Eddie to do the same and let you spend the day in his bed. You like the afternoons when it was quiet, the days that were lazy and long and you could stay against Eddie’s chest.

You shook your head, disappointed. “No, it’s okay! I’m fine,” you tried to convince yourself and him. “I have a calc test next period.”

Eddie didn’t seem to believe you. Well, he knew you had a calc test, he believed that part. Just not when you said you were fine. You looked small, tired, curled in on yourself as you thumbed the pages of your book. So the boy waited, one arm slung around the back of your chair now, his hand making trails up and down your spine and he kept going until you softened, shoulders coming down from where they sat at your ears, putty against him.

He was gentle when he asked, careful about it. “Sweetheart? Are those girls still bothering you? Jenny Deegan? And whatsherface, her friend— the one with the ponytail.”

You cringed, hating how Eddie knew. Bothering was an understatement, but at the age you were, the idea of being “bullied” seemed mortifying. Besides, you weren’t sure what these girls were doing could be classed as such. Girls were mean in a different way, vicious, nasty, unsatisfied until there were tears in your eyes.

There was no being pushed to the ground at lunchtime, no stupid signs pinned to your back or childish name calling. No, mean girls liked to give compliments to your face, superficial and mocking, hardly waiting to burst out laughing when you turned away, too embarrassed to respond properly.

They liked to spread rumours, write things on the bathroom wall and they liked to pout when you blinked back tears, scathing, patronising, cruel.

You sniffed, shoving your face back into your book. “What? No.”

A lie. It tasted bitter in your tongue.

Eddie frowned. “Babe, you gotta tell them to fuck off,” he said, voice kinder than his words. “Huh? I know you hate confrontation, but I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Your lip wobbled.

“Want me to scare them off?” Eddie pushed his nose to your cheek, whispering when Mrs Scott glared over in your direction. “I can get a bible or somethin’, come to school in black robes and start chanting at them, talk real loud about blood sacrifices, yeah?”

You snorted at the mental image your boyfriend painted, lips quirking upwards and Eddie beamed at the sight. “Like you have a bible,” you told him, your voice still soft, softer still when you turned to press your face to Eddie’s chest.

His arms came up around you, one hand curling into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I’d source one,” he shot back. “For you, I’d write out my own damn religion. Somethin’ scary enough that those bitches leave you alone.”

Normally you’d frown upon name calling, but there was something about Eddie’s sharp words that soothed the ache inside you. You kissed the skin above the collar of his T-shirt, eyes blinking back the tears Eddie made sure never fell.

“Yeah?” You asked weakly. God, you were tired.

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie agreed, a kiss pushed soft to your cheek in confirmation. “Ain’t no one making my girl cry.”

…

[reallyreallyreallytrying]

New year reaokutions 2023

- go back to calling pepsi "brad's drink". it's about time.

- round up a bunch of dogs and take them to the dump to introduce more apex predators to the area to keep populations (any) in check

- more glass bottom boat tours

- get most of my hernias poked back in

- come up with a LEGALLY AIRTIGHT way to libel the church of scientology

- obtain a generous benefactor

- address what ever personal defect i have that causes itching

- spread a vicious rumour about psychological abuse on the set of Matilda the musical

- track down a Samsung Galaxy 1 and find out what makes them so damn good by going back to the source

- investigate any suspicious deaths that i hear about

- more traps and snares. that's free meat