#f 2k

[frewtart]

"we like girls!" ok.

[bu99erfly]

PERFECT BLUE (1997) HISS (2024) cr.

[hanasnx]

sugar daddy

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: posted this on my dc blog before i deleted the entire blog so i’m reposting it here WARNINGS: established relationship | daddy kink | size difference | impact play: ass smack.

Unsure of how you’d earned it, BRUCE WAYNE took you on a shopping trip. All day you’d been dragging him around, letting him pay for your bags upon bags of items with his shiny black card. You can’t help it, staring up at him with those doe eyes he knows so well, it brings a proud curl to his lips. He knows what’s earned, he can read it on your flirtatious body language. How you sway your hips in front of him, eyeing him over your shoulder with the tip of your fingernail wedged between your teeth. Nails he paid for.

“Happy?” he remarks, and you nod with a coy grin.

“Mhm.” you hum in affirmation. “Thanks, Daddy.” you emphasize the nickname, proving to him you’re doing this to mess with him. The thought process appears in his eyes, and a competitive allure blooms within them. To reward you for your behavior, his massive hand swings out to swat your little ass. You squeak, and scold him with a look of disbelief in his direction. He pays it no mind, paying for all of the product you picked out.

On the way out, he clasps your hand in his, nearly enveloping it. A breeze from the open door slips through your legs, and you realize how people must be able to see the red flash of your panties right now. You wiggle your hips as you tug the hemline of your little dress back down.

You feel a chastising squeeze to your hand. “Don’t fidget.”

“Can’t help it, Daddy, you rode my dress up.”

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere! Himbo! Werewolf! x Witch! Fem! Reader

TW: forced impregnation, mind control, gore, non-con, dubcon

Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

The deep woods is your home. The animals within it respect you and often help you. The sun's light even points out the trails to walk upon. Though, after the first full moon in January, the wolf moon, things started to change in the forest. Glowing eyes would be in the darkness near your cottage. The noises of animals that filled the forest suddenly began to disappear. Clumps of hair started to appear at your front door. But the most frightening part for you is the mutilated human bodies appearing in your woods.

They were bloody and torn like a wild animal had gotten to them. Hearts were missing from their chests. But, most importantly, there were letters carved into each victim's chest. Each letter slowly spells out your name. Luckily, the new chief of the village, Aaron Flor, believes you when you say you're not involved in these murders. But he did say he wanted to speak with you at sunset, which it now is.

"Y/N, are you here?" Aaron asks, knocking on your door.

"Coming!" You reply, turning off the stove and letting the lavender scent fill the room.

You open the door and see Aaron with a bouquet of roses.

"These are for you. I found these on a bush near your cottage," Aaron says, blushing a little.

"Aaron, that bush is mine. But I still appreciate your gift," You say, placing the flowers in a nearby vase.

"Oh, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. For the last couple of weeks, I've been changing. I've gotten stronger and dumber. And I can't stop thinking of you and your…perfect body."

"Aaron, sit down. You're practically sweating buckets."

You guide Aaron to your bed and lay him down on it. You go into the bathroom to make him a cold washcloth. You place it on his head, and he grabs your wrist. He easily pulls your whole body on top of him and wraps an arm around your waist.

"Aaron, what are you doing? You're a good, virtuous man," You say as Aaron's lips draw closer.

"Hehe…your lips are so plump and kissable," Aaron giggles, his hand rubbing your ass. "Mmn!"

Aaron's peck on the lips leaves you flustered, and he uses it as a chance to undo your hair bun.

"You don't need this bun when there's about to be a bun in your oven," Aaron coos, letting a stray finger go from your stomach to your crotch. "Let's get naked. We need to start working on our family together."

"What family?! Aaron, you're delusional and need to rest!" You yell, but it's too late. Aaron is already untying the back of your dress.

It drops to the floor, leaving your naked body vulnerable as Aaron begins to undress.

"Aaron, I know you're not yourself, but we should think about this. I'm sure you'll be much happier if we have a family after we're married like everyone expects of you."

"I can marry you after filling you up and making you mine."

The moonlight seeps into the room, and you hear his bones crack. You can only watch in horror as brown ears grow at the top of his head, his stature becomes bulkier, hairier, and taller, and his teeth resemble a wolf's. His clothes tear, and he walks towards you with his now bigger penis erect.

"A-Aaron, we can find a cure for you-"

Aaron slips a digit in your panties and slices them off. He gets on his knees and takes a deep whiff of your crotch.

"I can smell your ovulation. It's so intoxicating," Aaron swoons, his long licking your pussy.

"Ah-Aaron!" You moan, tightening your legs to close him off.

"It's ok, darling. I'll make this pleasurable and as comfortable as possible," Aaron replies.

Aaron throws you over his shoulder and carries you through the forest to a dark cave that smells of musk and sex. He puts you in a nest made of bloody clothes, shredded fur, and silk sheets. Aaron kisses your neck and gently spreads your legs. You worriedly glance at his big, veiny cock, and Aaron throws you onto his hairy chest. He holds your face on his right side and places a comforting hand on the back of your head.

"It's ok. My scent will make you calmer and more prepared to be my mate," Aaron comforts, making you smell his pheromones. "Just take deep breaths, and then you'll be ready."

Forced to breathe in his scent, you take a deep breath. Your body feels more relaxed, and your mind becomes a pup and mating-filled mess.

"Aaron, you smell so nice and…safe," You comment, your hips unconsciously grinding against his crotch. "Ooohh…"

"You want my pups, don't you?" Aaron asks, his hand going to your pussy and rubbing your clit.

"Oh, yes! I would love to be your mate! I want your seed! I want it!" You beg, looking into his canine-like eyes.

Aaron chuckles and places his dick inside you. You moan into his chest, making his cock twitch.

"Aaron, please! I want it so bad!" You plead, starting to ride his dick.

"I know, sweetie! I know!" Aaron responds, leaning forward and placing you in a mating press.

Aaron begins to thrust into you, and all you can do is moan for him like a good mate. Aaron pants like a dog, and soon enough, his thrusts start to get faster.

"Take it! Take it! Take it like a good bitch!" Aaron moans, his knot growing by the minute.

"Ah! Yes! Yes! I'm a good bitch! I'm your good bitch!" You coo, your eyes rolling into your forehead.

Aaron gently slaps your cheek and makes your eyes focus on him.

"Tongue out!" Aaron commands, sticking his tongue, expecting yours to touch his.

You stick your tongue out, and Aaron gives you a big, sloppy kiss as his balls empty into you. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm rocks your body. His hands grip around yours tighten, and you mentally tap out at the feeling of multiple strings of semen entering your pussy, ready to make you pregnant.

"Oh, darling, you have a cute little bulge from my cock," Aaron teases, running a hand around your stomach.

"Ah…ah…ahaha…" You moan, deliriously staring at Aaron.

"I might as well make sure your boobs are ready for our pups."

Aaron sucks your right nipple, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through your spine. The other boob is stimulated by his hand rubbing and pulling your nipple.

~~~~~ "Aaron! Aaron, what have we done?!" You scream, looking at your naked body next to his.

Aaron, now back to his senses but still werewolf-like, quickly calms you down with a kiss.

"I told you I'd take care of you. Now rest. Your body needs it."

"But, why are you a werewolf?"

"I got bit by a wolf in the French countryside a while back. But it doesn't matter now. What matters now is our pups."

You cum at the mention of your impregnation, and that's when you notice Aaron is still inside you.

"Now go to sleep unless you want to be fucked to sleep."

"Yes, my love."

[wistfulwatcher]

#pit girl identity confirmed #the only way mari would let misty get near the food #is if mari IS the food

[munson-blurbs]

Happy Saturday! If you’re still taking requests for the 2k celebration, could I request Eddie/mall/lingerie? And happy 2k followers, definitely well deserved!

It's the return of perv!best friend!Eddie, y'all. Hold on tight.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie, pet names, public sex (no one around tho), barely any foreplay because I'm lazy, friends to lovers

WC: 1.6k

--

Shopping with Eddie is like pulling teeth. First, you have to convince him to actually come to the mall with you. Then you have to continually bribe with treats from the food court just to keep him from driving off without you. Today, he’s snacking on a giant cinnamon pretzel from Auntie Anne’s and slurping on a root beer.

“Remind me why I need to be here again?” he whines as you compare two denim miniskirts that look identical to him, but apparently, you can spot a difference. He takes another bite of pretzel and sighs indignantly.

“Because,” you explain, exasperation evident in your tone, “I need a man’s opinion on what to wear for my date tonight, and you’re the closest thing I have.” You laugh as he playfully shoves you. “And I needed a ride, so…”

“So, basically, you’re just using me for my male gaze and my car, huh?” he asks, running a hand over a neatly folded pile of shirts on display.

“Pretty much.” you chirp, putting both skirts back on the rack. “Ugh, this is hopeless! I’m never gonna find something.” You blow out a big breath, puffing your cheeks. “One more store and then we can go home, I promise.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but dutifully follows behind you, taking the opportunity to check out the way your shorts perfectly hug your ass. He feels a twitch in his pants as your hips sway back and forth, and he wills himself to look away.

Unfortunately, in his pursuit to keep himself from popping a boner in the middle of the Starcourt Mall, his gaze lands on the entrance to a lingerie boutique. The mannequin out in front is adorned with a red lace teddy that leaves nothing to the imagination. His eyes dart back to you, and all he can think about is you wearing it. But not for your date with whatever schmuck you’re going out with tonight; no, Eddie wants you to wear it for him. In his bed, straddling his waist, grinding on his–

“Shit,” he mutters. He thinks his voice is low enough to keep you from hearing, but he cringes as you swivel around to see what the problem is, catching him trying to discreetly adjust himself over his jeans.

“You okay–oh,” you giggle, taking notice of his predicament. “Careful, Casanova; y’might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.” You put your forearm on his shoulder and rest your chin on top of it, making him tense up even more. “Who are you picturing in that? Chrissy Cunningham? Tammy Thompson?” Before he can answer, you press on. “Ooh, or maybe a supermodel, like Cindy Crawford or Iman? C’mon, who is it?”

“What if I was picturing you?” Eddie tries to play off his words teasingly, but the raw lust blowing out his pupils gives him away. 

Biting your lower lip, you can taste the gloss you’d applied earlier. Every time Eddie jokes with you like this, pretending he wants you, it kills you inside. “Do you think I should try it on?” You look at him innocently, batting your eyelashes as you call his bluff. “Y’know, for Kyle tonight?”

At the mention of your date’s name, Eddie shrugs your arm off of him. “No,” he growls, hooking a ringed finger through your belt loop, “want you to try it on for me.” There’s no hiding his hardness now, and you can feel his heart beating faster as he draws closer to you. He swallows thickly, waiting for your response. 

You’re too stunned to speak. Eddie has always been a flirt, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, but he’s your best friend. There’s no way he seriously wants to see you in lingerie, right?

“O-Okay,” you manage, turning towards the store. Eddie intertwines his pinky with yours as though ensuring he won’t lose sight of you. You find the teddy in your size and bring it into the dressing room. To Eddie’s dismay, you yank the velvet curtain closed. He tilts his head slightly, trying to find a gap wide enough to get a glimpse of you changing. He can just imagine you shimmying out of your clothes and into the sheer lingerie. 

Fuck it. 

Careful not to expose you to a customer passing by, Eddie slips into the room, resting his hands on your waist as you examine yourself in the mirror. The lace clings to your body, hugging your curves in all the right ways. You can feel his hard length pressed up against the back of your naked thigh. 

“Eddie,” you breathe out, trying to ignore the fluttering below your belly, “what are you doing?”

“Tell me something, princess,” he says, purposefully ignoring your question, “I pictured you putting this on, but who did you picture taking it off?” He waits for what seems like an eternity, silently praying that Kyle’s name doesn’t pass through your lips.

You turn to face him, letting his strong hands fall below the curve of your ass. “You, Eddie. Always you.” As soon as you give your answer, Eddie’s mouth crashes onto yours. He brings one palm to cup your cheek while he kisses you hungrily, moaning lightly with each flicker of his tongue against yours. He guides you to the wall, palming your breasts through the minimal covering.

Eddie nudges his knee between your thighs, brushing against your sensitive sex, and you moan involuntarily. “Oh, baby,” he coos, chuckling at your reaction to his touch, “so needy, aren’t we? I bet you’re already soaking wet. Almost pathetic how desperate you are f’me, huh?” You want to fire back with a witty retort about how he was the one who wanted you in lingerie; he barged into the dressing room while you were changing, but you can’t string words together to form a sentence. Instead, you nod dumbly, making him laugh again. “Don’t worry; I’ll tell you a little secret.” He nibbles at your earlobe before whispering, “This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about your sexy little body in one of these. Not even the first time today, actually.” 

With that, your fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it as deftly as you can, and tug his pants and boxers down his thighs. His throbbing cock thwacks against his torso, leaving a pre-cum stain on his shirt. He hisses at the sudden relief, using his own fluids as lube to pump himself. You start to get onto your knees, but he stops you.

“If you put your mouth on me, ‘m never gonna last,” he warns with a smirk. “That’ll be for next time, yeah?” The promise of a next time excites you even more, and you allow him to hoist you up against the wall, pushing aside the lace as he runs his cock along your slick folds. “Y’ready?” His eyes are wide; though he wants nothing more than to be inside you, but only if you want to. When you nod, his smile exposes his soft dimples. “Thas’ my girl.” 

My girl my girl my girl. The words swirl through your brain as Eddie pushes his mushroom tip into you. The stretch is a mixture of pleasure and pain, melting into only the former as he slowly ruts up into you, allowing you to take a bit more of him each time.

Eddie’s never had sex this good before. You dig your fingernails into his back as your pussy clenches around him; he feels himself growing even harder inside you. He grabs the plush of your ass as he quickens his pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groans, nearly whimpering as you tug on his hair. “Your body was meant for me, baby. Takin’ me so well, like you were made for my cock.” 

“I was m-made for you,” you echo, feeling your body tremble with delight. “Eddie, Eddie, oh, fuck, Eddie!” You lean your head back, exposing your throat and giving him the perfect angle to suck a bruise just above your collarbone.

Eddie chants your name, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves more hickeys. “Can’t hold back much longer,” he confesses, trailing his tongue over the fresh set of love bites, but he keeps the same rhythm that’s driving you wild. “Wanna get my princess off before I do, though.”

“K-Keep going until you c-cum, please,” you beg him, “just like that.” You bring your middle finger down to your clit, rubbing deliberate circles until you feel your orgasm wash over you. “Yes, Eddie. I’m cumming, cumming for you…feel s’good.”

Bucking his hips harder and chasing his release, Eddie is a panting mess. “Shit–gonna cum, gonna cum in-inside you, fuck.” His hot seed coats your walls as he cries out your name one last time. He gently pulls out of you, leaving cum dripping down your leg while you struggle to regain your balance.

“Looks like we ruined it,” he offers, motioning to the lingerie. There’s tears along the crotch where he roughly moved the fabric, and the mixture of your releases is starting to leave a stain. He tears off the price tag and crumples it, tossing it to the floor. “Put your clothes on over it, hmm? It’ll be our little secret.” He pauses, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Unless you wanna tell Kyle tonight?”

You shake your head. “No. No Kyle. Only you.” Honestly, you’d forgotten all about your date until Eddie just reminded you. “Gonna cancel so we can do…that again.” And hopefully again and again and again.

Eddie throws his arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, “now that I’ve got you, we’re not stopping until that little number is completely destroyed.”

--

[celestialprincesse]

𝟏. 𝐀 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞

Part One of Foreigner's God King Simon Riley X F! Faerie Reader

WC: 2k

Sunlight fractures through the leaves of age old oaks and ancient pines, dappling against your back, weaving through long strands of untamed hair to brush a kiss against your thinly clothed shoulders, spiders silk and gauze just barely fluttering on a phantom breeze stirred by the muted clopping of horse hooves on the forest floor. The mare beneath you holds tension in her withers, matching the unpleasant knotting of the muscle between your shoulder blades. She knows what’s coming just as well as you do. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt anxiety this way. It’s the kind of gnawing, unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach that comes only from venturing away from the safety of the trees and caves, brooks and hollow roots you call home. Your people call home. You force yourself to swallow down the fear - remind yourself that you’re doing this for them. Without this sacrifice, your sacrifice, the woods and forests which serve as sanctuary for your entire species, would be gone. The sick feeling in your stomach refuses to be soothed. 

In an attempt to calm yourself, to tear your mind away from the images you’ve conjured of what may await you on the forest edge, you focus intently on every slow stride of your companion. You draw your thoughts to counting every rhythmic movement of her shoulders, the way they gently jostle your hips as you follow each motion of hers with one of your own. A push and pull of a gentle tide. She and you melt into one being, acting and reacting in such effortless synchrony, such enviable elegance. An innate ability for which your kind are revered. 

Humans long lost touch with nature - shunned it in favor of such rapid growth, such vast power. They burned the trees to make room for their sprawling palaces, dug up the earth and all of her riches to build their roads, to grow their crops, never once wondering what she could provide had they simply respected her instead. Your people had never done such a thing, and for that, you’d been blessed. She’d provided you with everything you could ever have needed, and all you’d ever had to do was provide for her in turn. That balance, that equilibrium, is what humans have long since forgotten. Compromise, to them, is an impossible thing. To you and your kind, it’s an intrinsic part of life. 

At this moment, you feel that perhaps you know compromise better than any. 

The journey so far has been painstakingly long. On the one hand, it’s something you feel grateful for, that you’ve time to prepare yourself for the life that lies beyond the treeline. On the other, however, it’s excruciating. To ride through the forest, down the path away from the only life you’ve ever known, to mourn something you’ve not yet even lost. Every blazing orange dusk is another grain of sand dripping through the fingers of time, and every golden lighted dawn a death knell. You wonder if your sisters miss you the way you miss them. Your mother, too. Maybe they sit in quiet solitude, wondering what you’re doing at any given moment, or maybe they cry tears of frustration and anger at the fact that it could’ve been anyone else. Anyone but you. 

The days before had been spent in a resigned sort of mourning. You’d saved your tears for the first days of your voyage. 

You still so vividly remember sitting with your mother as she twisted up your hair, pinning it with flowers as she reminisced upon the girl taken by the last king. She’d been only as old as your youngest sister, Ophelia, when it had happened. Once every generation, every two, if you were at all lucky. You, unfortunately, were not. She’d spoken of how silent everything fell when the girl had been sent away - the strange, pained feeling that had settled over your people as they’d watched her go resigned into the trees. She’d never come back, of course, a fate that you too share. The small hope flickering like a fading ember at the bottom of your heart sings songs of longing. Such a foolish thing it is, holding out that perhaps the man who waits beyond the woods will love you, guide you to him with coaxing words and the gentlest of touches. You feel pathetic even thinking of it. 

You never had quite outgrown your childish fantasies of love, and in turn, had given the humans holed up behind their cold stone walls another innocent heart to break. 

When the sun shrinks back to nothing but a hazy golden glow, like that of a dying fire or burning star, you realize that more for your horse’s sake than your own, that it’s time to stop, to rest before you carry on with your journey. A day or two more and you’ll have reached the place where the canopy dwindles and the roots which cover the forest floor grow sparse, travel under the earth as though to hide from the human feet which march upon them. You hope for at least one more blissful sleep under the stars, moss under your head and night creatures watching your rest with vigilant, unseeing eyes. 

Settling aside the small pond where your horse bends at her withers to drink, you lay up against the gnarled stump of a fallen tree, which yields to accommodate your body, just one of the many perks of being so connected with nature. You’ve no need to set up a campsite when the forest welcomes and provides for you with such ease. It’s not easy to forget the fact that the forest probably recognises the way you’re feeling - sympathizes with your predicament.

As you drift off into a fitful sleep, under the comforting twinkle of the stars, A king is waking.  Behind the fortified stone walls of the palace, the revelry celebrating the lead up to King Simon’s wedding has lasted for days. To most, it’s an opportunity to celebrate. Their cold, reclusive king finally taking a wife. When the betrothal had been announced, the sigh of relief collectively exhaled by the nation had been palpable. He hadn’t wanted to do it - marry some wild forest thing and rut her full of little fat wailing babies. Johnny had been the unfortunate soul tasked with convincing him - reminding him that since Tommy passed, so did the soul heir to the Riley line. With enemies poised in the south, ready to exploit any weakness they could find, Simon hadn’t exactly had much choice. His being backed into a corner, however, hasn’t made him the most pleasant to deal with during the preamble to his rapidly inbound nuptials. For not only his sake, but also everyone else’s, he hopes that his bride-to-be is at least reasonably tame. With his luck? Highly doubtful.

His closest men had shared their theories and fantasies of some nymph-like creature, lovely and demure, happy to bend to Simon’s every whim, less wife, more well trained pet. Whilst he can appreciate a beautiful woman just as much as any man can, he keeps his expectations low - pleasant to be around and a decent conversationalist is enough for him. 

He’s tried to expel the thoughts of marriage from his mind for as long as possible. He’s far too busy to be distracted with silly fantasies of rose petal decorated aisles and which rings he’ll select for his betrothed. Keeping a kingdom running and the vulture-like men that are his enemies at bay is no mindless thing. Simon barely has time enough to sleep, let alone celebrate a wedding he doesn’t want, nor to take the day-long trek to the agreed meeting place to collect his new wife. To collect his new wife. Parade her on horseback like some exotic acquisition to be flaunted, to grow bored with when the novelty inevitably wears off. 

It’s impossible to ignore the way his knees creak as he rolls tiredly from his bed, the fathomless cold embedded in the very core of the flagstone floors seeping into his bare feet as he dresses himself. In spite of his status as King, Simon keeps his appearance reasonably simple, his tunics plain and armor scarcely decorated. Easier to dress. Simon Riley is a man of convenience, the bells and whistles of being monarch are nothing but a hindrance. 

The celebrations have thankfully quieted, all of his courtiers and castle residents undoubtedly tired, hungover and sore from the days of singing, dancing and drinking - days which he’s mostly spent holed away in his study, playing chess with wooden carved soldiers on battle maps, giving the occasional go-ahead to wedding planners and burying his nose in any literature on strategy he can find.  Today, unfortunately, his kingly duties outweigh his reclusiveness. He’ll only travel with Price to the meeting point - having originally wanted to go alone so as to make your initial meeting less intimidating, a point to which the head of his Kingsguard had made his disagreement abundantly clear. Yes, Price knows that Simon is fully capable of looking out for himself, but he sure as hell isn’t giving him any chance of proving that. He’s also desperate to get out of the castle and away from the mothers attempting to shove their daughters at his feet. So, with huffed complaints about the weather, and the threat of oncoming rain, signaled by the gritty gray clouds blotting out the starlight, the two men set off. Hooves beat thunderously across stone, dirt and grass as they make their way past the walls of the city, through the dwindling suburbs of thatched roofs and smoking chimneys and out into the vast plains of the countryside. The fresh air is a welcome reprieve from the smoke and burning metal of forges, the grassy hills and fields stretching for miles a refreshing break from the towering monoliths of stone that make up the palace. He can see why people would like it out here, away from the banal chatter of gossip and the unrelenting noise, left to grow stagnant within the confines of winding alleys or houses packed so closely together. Simon hasn’t even met you, and yet he already finds himself sympathizing for the adjustment you’ll have to make. 

You, meanwhile, feel surprisingly more grounded following your nap, having allowed both yourself and your horse to rest for a while before continuing your journey. The gnawing anxiety in your stomach is soothed by the handful of blackberries you’d found and snacked on as you continued through the slowly more sparse woodland, and although you’re still wallowing, at least you’re not wallowing on an empty stomach and no sleep. 

The sun slowly inches west behind the cloud cover, which quickly replaces the forest canopy you’ve always known, and tells you that in your mental absence, another day has nearly come and gone, and with that, the mileage covered which draws you closer to your inevitable fate. The birdsong has long since gone quiet, and there’s no longer movement indicative of life in the shrubbery. Just you, and the parapet on which you seem to endlessly walk. 

Until the forest seems to stop entirely. The trees halt their growth at some invisible boundary, wildflowers cease their spread with an unnatural abruptness and your stomach goes lurching. Like you’ve jumped from a cliff. You’ve jumped from a cliff, you’re about to hit the ground, and everything in you is screaming for time to stop, for fate to twist, for the inevitable to be somehow avoided. 

You could turn back. You could still turn back, and the forest would welcome you home with open arms. You could go home to your sisters, to your mother and the magic woven into everything you’ve ever known.

You could turn back - but in turning back, you’d only shatter the fragile peace forged so weakly between your own people, and those who’ve come to take you away. 

“Looks petrified.” Price observes from where he and Simon stand proud upon the hill, watching as a faerie on a white horse comes emerging tentatively from the treeline. You do, you poor, delicate thing, Simon thinks to himself as he, Price, and their imposing black friesians make their way to greet you. 

Happy Foreigner's God day to those who celebrate 1.8k and 2k are basically the same so pls enjoy the 1st chapter 💕

[bloodyknucklesforme]

No name (taking suggestions) for this yet but yeah @syoddeye got me into Nikolai so... here's this. It's way longer than I originally planned but here we are. There will be more at some point but my fingers were just itching to write this out rn so unedited as well...

cw: dark fic, dubcon/noncon, reader is being trafficked, human trafficking, cockwarming, body inspection, piv, Nikolai is evil but also kind i guess,

"Clothes off... all of them," A thick Russian accent said from the intercom. You looked up at the camera in the corner. He must of seen you hesitate, "I already paid. Don't waste my money."

It never got easier. It'd been almost a year now. As you dropped your coat to the floor your anger and shame hit the ceiling. You'd trusted your ex, he promised to help you when you lost your job, when you couldn't pay rent, when you needed to borrow money. You moved to London for better opportunities now you were in some stranger's house waiting to be used. You'd lost track of how deep in debt you were to him and his 'friends'. 10k? 20k? It made your stomach clench.

"Don't cry. You'll fuck up your makeup." is what those cunts back at the club would always say before you got in a car to a client's.

Marcus hammered it in that this was a very important client. Probably another criminal. A rich one at that. His house was more of a warehouse with an automatic front door.

"Turn around," he ordered when the last of your clothes hit the floor. Checking for a wire or weapons you guessed. Knowing you were being watched like this made your skin crawl but it was better than being groped immediately on entry.

The front room was more of a safe room with steel walls and thick doors. No windows, just the camera, an intercom panel and a white gift box.

"New clothes in the box. Put them on."

It was a too small lacy bra and matching too small panties. A washed baby blue, all mesh so you were fully exposed. The door inside clicked. You went inside.

It was nice. Expensive but not tacky like other homes you've been too. The kind of furniture you'd seen in interior design magazines and auctions, solid wood things made by designers with names you could never properly pronounce. There were soviet era antiques scattered about as decor. The first floor was open with a kitchen and dining area to the side and the rest of the room being a living area. There were stairs to the side leading up to where you guessed was the bedroom.

"You're prettier than the photo." You jumped at the voice. He was so quiet you didn't notice him on the couch. He was big, obviously tall but muscular with wide shoulders. Dark hair slicked back with a widow's peak. Stubble covered the bottom part of an aged face. He wasn't old, older yes but whatever business he was in had aged him around the eyes.

He snapped his fingers and motioned for you to walk over. He had a cigar in the other hand.

"Good. You follow instructions. More than I can say for the last one Arno sent me." He motioned for you to spin around again, giving your ass a light spank and laughing when you yelped. "You fuck anyone else today?"

"No," you shook your head. He blew cigar smoke at you, watching the silver bisect around your middle.

"Good. I'd hate to waste more time cleaning you out. They never do a good job at that." He put his cigar in the ash tray beside him. "On your knees."

"What's your name?" He asked, making space between his legs for you. You answered softly, a lie. Never give them anything was what another girl told you. He held your chin between two fingers, moving your head around like a doll. "Open your mouth."

He leaned forward, looking inside you. A thumb hooked over your bottom row of teeth. It tasted like tobacco and sweat. You'd learned to hold back gags long ago.

"I don't like girls with rotten teeth." He ran a finger over your teeth, top and bottom, occasionally pressing on one. He frowned, "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you."

A lie, most likely. Men always said that before fucking you, like they could believe you were there willingly, like they didn't pick you out of a catalogue of girls. You clenched your fists in your lap and willed the fear out of your bones.

"I like girls who like you." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed your jaw shut. "I paid to have you all night. Make it worth it."

He leaned back, grabbing a remote and turning on the tv. A hockey game roared on the tv.

"Is there...uh...anything you want me to call you?"

He looked down at you, like he already forgot you were there.

"Sir, when you answer my questions. Kolya, when I fuck you." He undid his belt and spread his legs wider. You knew your job. He picked up his cigar again as you undid the zipper on his pants.

He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing down your hair.

"Just keep me warm for now. Don't want to miss anything."

You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. He was thick and uncut. Intimidating even half hard. He didn't push as you worked your throat open, slowly bobbing your head. Sometimes men would ply you with liquor, help you to relax a bit more. You wish he had. The mix of salts from precum and skin filled your senses. A hesitant hand moved to rest on his thigh for leverage. He didn't shake you off.

"Good job, Kotenok." He rubbed his knuckles across your cheek. He let you rest against his thigh, nose tickled by his dark pubes. Cigar smoke, the drone of the tv and the blood rushing around your head started to calm your nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

He thrusted lazily during every commercial break. Everything was in Russian so you couldn't follow the game beyond his angry or excited, more so angry, ad libs.

He finally sighed and turned off the tv. He tapped your cheek softly.

"Kotenok, I need you to make me feel better about my team losing."

He made you walk ahead of him, directing you towards his bedroom. His dark eyes dug into your spine.

His bedroom was dark. Wine colored walls with thick, velvet blackout curtains covering the windows. The bed was large with silk sheets and a down comforter.

You crawled onto the bed, swaying your hips as enticingly as you could manage. A hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed. You yelped as his hips hit your ass, cock bouncing against your cheeks.

"Remember what I told you, Kotenok?" He pulled your panties down, calloused hands scrapping against your thighs. "What to call me?"

"Kolya."

"Good girl." Two fingers felt around your entrance. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't wet enough, you knew that. You clung to the comforter, waiting for pain.

"I told you to stop shaking. I said I wouldn't hurt you." He rubbed a hand across your ass. He sounded annoyed. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the silk. It smelled clean and floral.

The snap of plastic and cold fingers prodding at your cunt.

"Shhh...I don't break the things I buy." He didn't admonish you for hiding your face as he scissored you open. "There we go, Kotenok."

He pushed in slowly, groaning loudly as you whimpered and fidgeted. Despite the preparation it was a stretch and burn. He held you down by your hips.

"Good girl," he purred with one last push. The head of his cock bumped against your crevix , causing you to clench in pain. It only spurred him to start thrusting roughly. Your face dragged against the sheets.

"Close your eyes and let it happen. Most of them don't last long anyways," a girl said to you early on. You didn't remember her name.

You forced out moans every time his hips smacked against your ass. Arching your back so he could think he was pleasuring you. There was a modicum of pleasure, chasing it was too much effort, especially with unreceptive partners.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand dipping between your thighs. He pinched your clit till you cried out.

"I don't like liars, Kotenok." He rubbed harsh circles till you moaned, shuddering hard. "Cum on my cock or shut up."

His other hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up. Your back rested against his chest. Still rubbing your clit, he hooked an arm under yours and rested it between your breasts while holding your chin and forcing you to look upwards. There was a mirror on the ceiling.

"Say my name," He barked.

"Kolya...please...Kolya. I..."

"Want to come on my cock? Beg me for it."

"Kolya please...please Kolya. I want to come. Please. Kolyaaaaa!"

You watched yourself as he forced you up to your peak, clenching around his cock. He laughed harshly and smacked your pussy. He held you up as your legs failed to hold you up any longer. You came hard, grabbing at his arms, manicured nails digging into his muscles.

He growled something in Russian before biting down on your shoulder. He filled you to the hilt, his cock twitching inside your still clenching pussy. His cum was a familiar warm. He let go and you fell face forward against the bed.

"Catch your breath. I still want my money's worth."

You lost count of how many times he fucked you. You were pliant and submissive, following his lead as he bent you into whatever position he wanted. He was more virile than you expected.

You woke up sore, dried cum and bite marks covering your body.

"You shower before you leave. Scrub well." He slapped your ass before shutting the door and locking it from the outside.

It was a large shower but more importantly the water was hot. Not warm but hot. You could have cum just from feeling the jets against your skin. The body wash was luxurious - sweet and woody. You scrubbed well. These kind of men didn't want their DNA wandering all over the place.

There was towel left for you but no clothes and your lingerie from last night was missing as well. He did leave a cup of tea for you on the bedside table.

You kept the towel wrapped around yourself as you walked back downstairs. He was sitting at the dining table, typing on a laptop, cup of tea still steaming and full.

"Come here, Kotenok." He tugged your towel till it fell to the floor. He tapped the inside of your thigh till you spread them. "Don't start shaking again."

You bit your lip. He spread you open with two fingers, tilting his head as he inspected you. You yelped when he forced a dry finger inside you, moving it around and dragging it against your walls.

"Good girl." He pulled his hand and away and got a money clip from his pocket. "I like you. I'll ask for you again."

He handed you five hundred pounds. You stared at Charles in disbelief. You'd been tipped before but never this much.

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I ask you a question?" He didn't look away from his computer.

"No...umm...Thank you, Kolya."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"If Arno takes that from you, tell me. That's your money. I paid him enough as is. Now go get dressed. Your car is here." He pointed back towards the front door.

You hurried off. For the first time more scared to leave than to stay.

[heartofjasmina]

Ahh jasminaaaa!! Congrats on 2k!!

Is it possible to get 🦄 + Mina? I don’t ask enough for the bnha girlies 🩷

Hi Neon!! Thanks for asking 🌸

Mina gasped into your mouth as you kissed her, the clearing where you two always meet mostly quiet in the early morning.

"Missed you human," she giggled as your hands ghosted over her curves, her pink hued hands doing the same.

"And I missed you, nymph." Your mouth ran dry every time you looked over her beautiful features, your heart burst with excitement with every teasing look of hers.

"Your nymph." She corrected, whining as your hands slid up her thighs, daring to touch the wetness between them.

"Always, always mine. I'm not letting you slip away from me." You breathed into her neck, and feeling her shiver made your own pussy clench with need.

"I'm not going anywhere." She promised, before desire overwhelmed you both.

[frewtart]

takeover

[bu99erfly]

花樣年華 / IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (2000) DIRECTED BY WONG KAR-WAI

[hanasnx]

moves.

MINORS DNI 18+

JAKE PERALTA can't believe his stroke of good luck. Of pure, unadulterated good luck. He had entered the crime scene with you mere moments ago and after a heated exchange of bouncing off of each other with observations— your voices gradually raising at the same level as you near the climax of the conversation— you'd given him the look. Focused eyes watching him through your brows, the curl of your parted lips, panting through them. How you assessed him, scanned his figure like he was edible, sharing a silent moment with him as you calculate exactly what you wanna do to him. Next thing he knew you were excusing you and him saying you'd be going out for coffee, when you'd pulled him into the nearest cleaning closet of the apartment complex that wasn't crawling with cops. Now he's balls deep inside you, clothes having hastily been moved aside to accommodate it.

"Jakey," you whine, dragging out the word. He loves it when you call him that. Gets him all hot and bothered, afraid he'd give you whatever you asked for when you invoke that pretty petname off those pretty lips. "you fuck me so good..."

His teeth bite hard into the skin past his lips, brows creased in concentration so as not to bust to early. It's a quickie, a fucking hot one, but he's still got manners. The sound of your voice has his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he's fucking you from the back, big hands on your hips to keep pulling you back onto his cock while you brace on the wall. A brief moan hums through his nose as he directs you closer to him, talking shit in your ear, "Do I fuck you good? Yeah? Yeah, baby? 'I fuck you good?" breathless, and dizzy with pleasure, he can't believe someone like you is this into him.

[coquelicoq]

obviously in homura matoba does natori a huge favor (though it also comes with perks for himself) but there's another way to look at it. if in miharu natori was offering to help matoba bear his burdens, it doesn't seem that matoba took him up on that. he sat on the bench of i hate my life and dissociated about it, because so much would have to be different for him to accept that offer in the way it was being offered. he would have to be different. but natori coming to him in the homura arc and saying i need you, now we're talking. other than when they first met and matoba said he was looking for people he can use, since he got to know natori what he's been saying is use me use me use me. but all natori has done is reject him, even when it clearly makes natori weaker and less able to meet his goals. as the clan leader matoba has so many people he can (and does) use. and the dynamic that he has with those people is not the one he wants with natori, nor the one natori was offering in miharu. but if natori uses him? that's different. that's a reciprocation of sorts, a bid for connection. that's natori reaching out and saying, i see you, i value you, we can be equals.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 5 - Preparations and impressive second impressions

Since I've accepted this train isn't apparently stopping, I promise at some point this week I'll try to learn how to format things so everything looks better~

Kyle attempted to pry the specifics of what happened in the prison from you on your way back to the estate, badgering you incessantly until you waved him off with the excuse that you needed a chance to sit down for a minute with a hot cup of tea and just breathe. Today had been filled with far more excitement for you than normal and you needed a break from it all to decompress after committing an act of thievery and lying through your teeth to break a man out of jail.

You slipped inside your father's old study upon your return and remained there for some minutes, scrawling out words only to crumple them up in frustration when they wouldn't come out right. Eventually you were satisfied with your task, handing off a few marked envelopes once finished to a passing servant to have them sent out through the post. With any luck the contents inside would assure that you wouldn't eventually end up in the same place you'd just come from for your deception.

Surprisingly Kyle did not bother you for the rest of the day, having parted ways at the bottom of the stairs to 'begin preparations' for this wild endeavor. You also suspected by how quickly he skittered away from you that part of it had something to do with the fact that it was a convenient way for your cousin to avoid bodily harm for failing to mention not only knowing the man you'd just met but also the explicit details of his 'extenuating circumstances' as well. He knew you most likely wouldn't have agreed to it just based off the latter, but after all was said and done it at least gave you some slight comfort to know the ruffian in question wasn't a complete unknown.

That being said, you weren't quite ready to acknowledge the idea that part of you was bitter at the fact Kyle hadn't felt like he could be honest with you either.

It took your cousin a few days to get everything in place for your departure, certain arrangements needing to be made regarding the procurement of supplies, travel tickets, and the handling of affairs here while you were gone. It hadn't really occurred to you just how much needed to be arranged for a plan like this - though to be fair this wasn't exactly your idea in the first place. You may have been the one to bring the artifact up in casual conversation, but he was the one dragging you along as always on this little adventure. Let him fuss over the details. Your area of expertise was within the city itself.

You also knew he would never say anything to you outloud, but you'd be surprised if he hadn't also left instructions for what to do should the worst happen and neither one of you returned. You might have lived a comfortably sheltered life up until this point, but that didn't mean you were naive enough to not realize the foolish dangers you were putting yourselves in either.

Kyle was a decorated war veteran and a man you could implicitly trust with your protection, his comrade just as fearsome if the stories weren't grossly overembellished. That didn't mean the three of you were invincible...

Still, what were the odds that the one person who could lead you to the lost City of the Dead just so happened to be him?

There were a handful of men that your cousin talked about often in years past, but MacTavish's name had come up in conversation far more frequently than the rest. Sure it was obvious that the two of them induced troublemaking tendencies within each other, but it wasn't all mischief and hijinks that he spoke of. There was an honest account of bravery in Kyle's recollections. For as uncouth as he made the man out to be at times, you couldn't deny having previously felt a sense of comfort when letters arrived home from distant battlefields of hard fought victories with John at his side. You'd trusted him enough to to look after your cousin back then.

But how well did Kyle really know this man now? It had been some years since the two of them would've served together, an awful long time for a person to change. How did he know that John was going to be the same soldier that once pushed him out of the way of enemy fire and took a bullet in the side meant for your cousin's heart? He obviously wasn't employed in his His Majesty's service anymore. Did he leave with a medal on his chest or was he dishonorably discharged? His previous incarceration suggested towards the latter, certainly not doing him any favors to earn your confidence in any case.

You were putting an awful lot of faith in this man. Let's just hope by the end of this that you wouldn't be proven wrong.

The servants helped you gather up your belongings the morning of your departure while your lady's maid got you situated, meeting your cousin at the car with a look that said he wasn't quite out of the dog house yet but that there were more pressing thoughts on your mind.

There was a nervous excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach; you'd never done anything like this before. All travels with your family in the past tended to only go between Cairo and London and only for special occasions. This would be the first place you've gone to that was wholly and completely unfamiliar. Uncharted territory in every sense of the word.

The pier was crowded but not overly so, full of bustling tourists and merchants hauling in their wares. You stuck close to Kyle, your arm looped through his as he guided you down the docks towards the boat he chartered for you upriver. You'd kept your eye out for your third companion, the pessimist in you doubting he would even show. Why risk his life on a foolhardy endeavor when he'd just been granted his freedom?

"You trust my judgement so little you think I'd employ a man to help us who I thought wasn't up to it?" Kyle grinned down at you, amusement clear in his tone as he guided you out of the way of a fisherman passing by.

"Well I don't know." You replied in gentle exasperation, sidestepping a shipment of barrels smelling pungently of oil. "You obviously have more experience with him than I do, but I'm just saying: have you even minutely considered the possibility that we're about to board a vessel headed to a place neither of us knows the destination of and the one man who does isn't on it?"

"Relax, dolly. MacTavish is good for his word. No need to go gettin' hysterical on me now."

How could he be so at ease about this when you're just trying not to jump out of your skin in anxiousness?

"I hardly think expressing concern for the well-being of our expedition warrants the term hysterical. Or have you forgotten the part where your blessed happy reunion took place with one of you two wearing shackles? He's a criminal, Kyle."

The look your cousin gave you at the implication was one of mild disappointment at your faithlessness. "He's no crook, dolly. And frankly you best be gettin' past that part if we're to spend the next few days with him. Can't go on this voyage without him whether you object to the man or not."

You resisted the urge to pout at the reminder in his words that you did in fact need John for this entire undertaking. It still wasn't fair how Kyle could make you feel like a petulant child even if you thought you were being perfectly reasonable. Didn't mean you weren't going to grumble about it though.

"Can he at least stay in the cargo hold with the horses? Would certainly fit right in with them considering his lack of personal hygiene and barbaric nature."

"Ye wouldn't happen ta be talkin' 'bout me there, would ya lass?"

A surprised squeak left your mouth at the sudden interruption of a voice chiming in behind you, spinning on your heel and almost losing your balance if not for a steadying hand belonging to your cousin on your shoulder. Your face burned from being caught off guard so gracelessly, raising your eyes to view the owner of such a familiar accent and–

Oh.

Oh my.

This was not the same man you met not two days past. This man was... was....

Good lord.

Gone was the ruffian you first spotted behind the bars of the prison courtyard. The sweat and grime had been washed away to reveal fresh tanned skin dressed in fitted khaki; the subtle spice of cologne a welcome change to your senses that had the peculiar effect of blanketing the edges of your mind with a thin layer of warm fuzzy haze. His once fluffy beard was shaved down to a dark layer of stubble showcasing an attractive jawline and expectant smirk.

His hair... you could safely say in all your years you'd never seen a man with hair shorn on the sides leaving a thick stripe down the middle. You hadn't spent much time back in the UK, but perhaps it was a style more common the further you went up north?

And why on god's green earth did such a style have to look so unusually pleasing on him? Bizarre to be sure, but oddly appropriate.

If it wasn't for the familiar sparkle in those vibrant ocean blue eyes of his you'd have been sure you were looking at a different man entirely. This was the MacTavish your cousin spoke so reverently of in days of yore?

"Dolly here was just saying she thinks you'd fit in better company with the livestock rather than up on deck with the rest of polite society."

If you had the ability to speak you would have admonished your cousin for throwing you under the carriage like that. Alas your brain was still trying to comprehend the vision in front of you so at odds with your previous perceptions.

"Was she now?" The sleeves of his jacket strained against his arms as he crossed them over his chest, raising his eyebrows in a manner that suggested interest rather than insult. "Ye think me a brute there, hen?"

Your clever mind could not devise a way to talk itself out of this scenario, having the decency to at least look embarrassed at being caught while averting your gaze to one of the buttons on his white dress shirt instead.

"I apologize for my discourteous assessment of you, Mr. MacTavish. You did not exactly garner the best of first impressions."

"Hmmm. Ah might be a bit of an animal, lass, but one who's been well trained at least."

His gaze flicked down below your waist, shaking his head at what he discovered.

"Garrick, mate. Lettin' a lady carry 'er own bags?" He clicked his tongue in playful chastisement, reaching down to relieve you of the heavy burden with his own rucksack tossed over his shoulder, warm calloused fingers brushing against yours as he transferred your luggage to his hold instead. You refused to acknowledge the way your heart flutters at the gesture.

You stand there in mild shock as John skirts past you and climbs the ramp leading up to the vessel, flashing his ticket at one of the crew members onboard before disappearing inside with a confident swagger.

Kyle delights in your stunned silence, leaning down into your space to gloat over your being caught so impossibly off guard. "Positively barbarous, isn't he dolly?"

The accompanying thwack on his chest and subsequent grunt of pain relieve some of the pent up tension you have as you follow along after your third companion, adding an unexpected variable to what should have been for all intents and purposes a relaxing boat ride up the Nile. The hard part would come once you reached the desired port and began the true struggle through the desert. For now, you just had to survive being in present company for a few days until you could turn your focus on the real challenge and prove yourself useful.

So why did you feel like you were in even more trouble now than when you began?

<< ✿ Previous ✿ << ✽ >> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

[wistfulwatcher]

#just a knight looking to her queen for approval

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie, diary, detention ^^

Oh, y'all are getting sick of Eddie fluff fics? Too bad, sorry xoxoxo 💚

Warnings: none, all fluff!

WC: 1.2k

--

“Goddamn Carver,” Eddie mutters to himself, slinging his backpack onto the desk and plopping into the attached chair. “Always running his goddamn mouth and then pulling the ‘But I have basketball practice’ excuse to get outta trouble.” He brings his voice up to a grating falsetto, mocking the jock’s whiny tone. “But does Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson get the same courtesy for his Hellfire campaigns? No, sir, he does not.”

“Wonderful monologue, Mr. Munson,” Mrs. O’Donnell says dryly, heels clacking as she walks through the open doorway. “Perhaps you’ll be a playwright in your next life.”

“Like one lifetime isn’t enough,” Eddie grumbles, low enough so his least favorite teacher can’t hear him. 

O’Donnell peers at him over her horn-rimmed glasses. “You know the drill better than I do, Mr. Munson,” she scoffs with a wry smile. “One hour. No talking, no music, no funny business. You may do homework if you’d like, though I don’t anticipate you choosing now to act like a star student.” 

Eddie slumps down into his seat. He’d already counted all the ceiling tiles last week when he ended up here after shoving Patrick for picking on Dustin Henderson. Guess I’ll start on the floor tiles now, he thinks grimly. 

He makes it to 28 before something catches his eye. In one of the baskets underneath a desk is a purple leather-bound notebook. The way it’s resting halfway out of the basket looks like it had fallen out of a backpack or accidentally left behind. It’s too fancy to only be used for school, and it piques his curiosity. 

“Uh, Mrs. Oh-Dee?” Eddie blurts out, shooting his hand up in the air. “Can I grab a textbook? I think I’m gonna take you up on that homework offer.”

The teacher rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she quips. “And for the last time, stop calling me that.”

But Eddie’s already scrambling to the seat, plucking the journal from its spot and shielding it with a history book. As soon as he opens the cover, his eyes widen. 

This diary belongs to is printed on the first page, with a name handwritten in neat cursive underneath. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes, earning a scowl from O’Donnell. This is your diary. 

Eddie doesn’t have too many classes with you; you’re in mostly honors courses, while he’s in his third senior year. But you do take health together, and he constantly finds himself stealing glances at you whenever he can. 

He knows he shouldn’t read any further; he can close the diary and turn it into the Lost and Found box. But Eddie Munson’s never been known for his impulse control, and before he knows it, he’s skimming the pages. 

Most of the entries don’t draw too much of his attention. There’s one from a few weeks ago about an argument you had with your best friend, but Eddie’s seen you two laughing together since then, so he assumes all’s well. A few days ago, you’d just written, “that history test was a bitch” accompanied by a frowning face. Eddie laughs quietly, knowing you’d probably aced it. 

It’s the entry after that where he finds what he’s looking for. 

Mr. Ellison paired me up with Eddie today! We had to work on an anti-smoking poster together, which was ironic, because he reeked of cigarettes. He asked me what I was doing this weekend, and I thought he was going to ask me out, but he didn’t. Guess he’s not into shy nerdy girls. Then again, who would be?

Eddie’s heart sinks into his stomach. If you only knew how much he wants to take you to dinner, hold hands across the table, maybe kiss you after splitting an ice cream sundae. He had planned on asking you out that day, only to wimp out at the last second. 

He hastily tears out the page and pulls out a number two pencil that’s sharpened down to a nub. In the margins next to your entry, he draws and arrow and writes:

He’s definitely into shy nerdy girls, but he didn’t think you’d be into loud metalheads. Meet me at my locker tomorrow before health?

He slips the diary into his bag, vowing to put the note in your locker after his prison sentence—erm, detention, is over. 

~

The next day, Eddie waits by his locker in between second and third periods. His heart pounds in his chest, and his stomach is doing that flip-flop thing it does before a gig. He relaxes a bit when he sees you walking towards him, note in hand. 

“Hey,” you say softly, holding up the sheet of paper. “Did you…”

Eddie laughs nervously. “Y-Yeah, that was me,” he admits. 

Your ears heat up, suddenly bashful. When you found the note, you’d assumed it was some prank by one of the jocks. The fact that it actually was Eddie gives you heart palpitations. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” you manage. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me till, y’know, I read it,” Eddie mumbles, hoping you’re not too angry about that. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “So, we’re just snooping through diaries now? A bit juvenile, dontcha think?” But your tone is light, despite the truthfulness of your statement. 

“It, um, wasn’t my finest moment,” Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he reaches into his bag, “which is why I wanted to show you this.” He pulls out a tattered composition book and hands it to you. “It’s not as cute as yours—oh, which I also have, heh.” He offers you your beloved purple journal. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, ensuring that it’s now safely stored in your own backpack before bringing your attention back to his notebook. “What’s this?”

Eddie bites his lower lip anxiously. “It’s my lyric book,” he explains sheepishly. “But not the one I show the guys. This has all my lovey-dovey songs in it. Y’know, shit they’d kick my ass for.” Another nervous chuckle. “They’re, um, they’re about you.”

“Me?!” you ask incredulously. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, letting his fingertips graze your hand. “Figured it was only fair, since I totally read your stuff.”

You flip through the pages, heart warming at the words etched on them. Lyrics like, her smile melts me like snow on my tongue/grow old together but we’ll always feel young make you giggle. “These are really good,” you muse. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Not too corny?”

“Oh, no,” you tease him, “they are extremely corny. But I’m a sucker for a good rhyme scheme, so…” You trail off as Eddie grins. 

“Maybe I could play them for you sometime? Like after school today?” He winces, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he thinks he does. 

You nod. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Eddie closes his locker and turns to you slowly, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes. “Actually, what do you say we ditch health and hang out at mine? I promise I’m a lot more interesting than whatever Ellison is going to lecture us about today.”

You peer around the hallway, making sure it’s clear of teachers before slipping your hand into Eddie’s larger, calloused one. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“That’s my girl.”

--