#it already kinda hurts. but he’s worth it i think

[asahehskafah]

every time I saw this post, I felt strange. It didn't feel like it applied to me, but I couldn't help pausing to stare out of the window for a moment.

It wasn't until last month that I realised it did.

A local transmasc had noticed me simply nodding along and saying 'same' when he was briefly summarising some of his trauma, instead of looking mildly to moderately shocked like everyone else at the meet-up. He pretty much cornered me in my DMs a while later when I was having a bad day and said 'hey do you wanna like. get into any of this?'

By that point I had already kinda figured out the deity identity stuff, but wasn't really that confident in owning it properly, nor had I figured out some of the more specific reasons why I felt it fit. He systematically deconstructed over 26 years worth of parental and societal trauma over a few days and it has made me realise how completely my internal structure is made up of nothing but a lattice barely-working beams that were never meant to be load-bearing, carefully constructed around a space of nothingness.

Lacking a sense of self is horrifying to me. My core is a void around which barely anything exists, except for a handful of preferences (I like specific times of stories, i dislike specific types of food, etc). I hadn't realised that I'd gone through so much of what I did until he literally ripped down the curtain shielding my introspection from going near that part of the room.

So seeing this post again, with the magnitude of mine own folly at last laid bare? It hurts. I am repressed. I've denied myself for nearly three decades. I've avoided doing anything to try to be myself because I've learnt from my past experiences that all it does is gets people hurt, and they hurt me back in the process. I feel like anything I'd do that would result in me taking up space endangers those around me, and thus endangers myself in response.

Making this account was a way for me to figure out what lays beneath the shell. I hesitate to even call it a mask, I don't think it's even vaguely reminiscent of humanity. I know it'll take time for me to find myself, but now that I'm aware of this wound at the centre of the world, it hurts so much to have to live with it.

I want to get through this. I need to live and survive and figure out what's on the other side of this barrier. I need to get out of my landlord(mother)'s house and cut her out of my life, have a space where I can actually figure out who I am and who I'm meant to be. But there's so much waiting involved while the 'affordable' housing company im on the waiting list for (and have been for over 6 months) does their thing, and I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

As I'm writing this, I'm AFK in FF14, listening to one of my favourite melancholy songs and sitting in a field of Elpis flowers, blooms meant to represent hope. The song is about the journey we've already walked, and how we've survived it. 'Unbroken promises we made so long ago. You're still here.' It makes me sob wretchedly to think about how I've survived this far, through the lens of this song. 'Always, night follows day. The sun will shine again. Walk on, never look back.'

I hope I can keep going.

i keep meeting transfems whose personalities are like, gaping wounds. girls who've been stomped on over and over until they start thinking they're uniquely evil and they deserve it. people shouldn't be allowed to treat us like this.

[cr2032powered]

Sorry for the img quality

I know anime mon's height and weight is. Not coherent with the games, and this isn't even the most egregious example of it (Cough larv.itar) but idk the idea of Fennel being surprisingly strong is funny to me.

[witherby]

Wait I kinda wanna see mousy’s blow up 🤭

You can absolutely see the blow up 😏

The Littlest Wayne: Boiling Point

The post that inspired this response is Here!

Masterlist is Here!

You can't remember what started the argument. An errant comment, some joke in poor taste, an accusatory question — it could have been anything. All you know is that you said something you felt was important, Damian ignored it, Tim dismissed it, and Dick acted like you hadn't said it to begin with, and now you're livid and don't want to finish your dinner.

"May I be excused," you say to Alfred, already pushing your chair back from the table before he can respond. Your grandfather gives you a concerned look, but nods.

"Shall I bring something up to you later, young master?" He asks. You don't know if you'll have any appetite by then, but you agree anyway to spare his feelings.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asks, frowning as you stand to leave. "I haven't seen you in a week, honey. Even if you're not hungry, can you sit a while?"

"Whose fault is that," you snap. The room gets real quiet after that, a mixture of surprise and incredulity painting your father's face.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not making you go anywhere, dad," you scowl, "if you missed me then you'd find the time to see me."

"Hold on. I don't think that's very fair," Hal speaks up, reaching for your hand. You pull it away from him. "Mouse —"

"It's fine," you say, "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of one. I'm well aware. It's fine. We'll spend time together some other day. Go stop a robbery or rescue some damsels or something."

"What's with the 'tude, Flitty?" Dick pipes up, standing to block the door. "Pump the brakes for a sec. Talk to us."

"Talk to you? What, so when you inevitably forget this conversation happened you can pretend we never had it to begin with?" You sneer at your brother, looking him up and down. "No thanks. I'm not interested in being gaslit today."

"Gaslit?" Dick balks, looking like you struck him. "I've never —"

"Let them go, Dick," Tim says, twirling a bite of pasta around his fork. "It's just hormones. They'll go back to normal by tomorrow."

"Oh, of course it's just hormones," you scoff, whirling around to point a finger at Tim. "If it's got a logical explanation it's not worth dwelling on. Isn't that right? I can't be upset because I'm just going through puberty! There's no way it's acceptable for me to be upset over anything! My feelings don't matter, so they should be swept under the rug, just like your parents did to you!"

Tim drops his fork in surprise. A bit of pasta sauce hits Damian's check, and he grabs his napkin with an irritated grumble.

"This is such nonsense," the boy mutters.

"Everything that doesn't interest you personally is nonsense," you hiss at your youngest brother. "God forbid someone try to share their love for a hobby that's outside of what you find enjoyable. If the Blood Son doesn't give it his seal of approval, it's not worth the effort! Honestly, I should feel grateful you've blessed us with your presence at all! Surely your inferior siblings are barely worth your invaluable time!"

Your heart's racing. All the little, irritating things about your family that's been piling up inside you are spilling out. Your anger turns the internal hurt into external jabs and low blows, the darkest part of you wanting them to feel just a fraction of your pain at how flippantly they treat you sometimes.

"Sorry, did that upset you, Dami? Aww, it's okay! Like Tim says, it's just an emotional response brought on by some underlying factor! It won't last so it's not worth devoting your time to! And if you're like Dicky, you can just wave it away and say it never happened, no matter what you show him to prove it did! Maybe if you hadn't had the time to make it to dinner and spent weeks or months rushing off to do something more important at the start, you wouldn't have to sit through this conversation at all! Hope that helps!"

A hand comes down on your shoulder, silencing your rant. You whip around to find Jason staring down at you with a heartbroken frown. He looks so genuinely upset that any remaining anger dissipates immediately.

"Mousey," he whispers, "stop. Take a breath."

He looks so blurry. You blink a couple times and realize your panting and crying. No one will look you directly in the eyes except for Alfred, who's visibly tired. There's pity in his eyes.

It stings. God. Everything stings. Your face flushes with color as you realize what you've said and done. You want the earth to open up and swallow you.

It doesn't have to be the earth.

Before anyone can protest, your shadow wraps around your ankles and drags you down, then dissipates.

"Mouse, don't —" Jason kneels on the floor, just a hair too slow. "Fuck."

[mylovingkiss]

. ݁ ˖ ⌗ 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 . . .ᐟ ´-

♯ . 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𓆩 ᰔᩚ 𓆪

# 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 : 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒇-𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏

𝜗𝜚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : hi! first post yay. i haven’t written anything in like years so hopefully this isn’t terrible.

【 𝐒𝐅𝐖. ⊹₊⋆ ✉️ ྀི 】

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ he flirts like it’s game.

early on, it’s all one-liners and teasing grins. it’s part of dante—says it’s just his charm. but the second you turn his words back on him? that same smile falters. he pretends to shrug it off. but they’ll be in his mind for hours.

⤷ gets annoyingly competitive over everything.

“you blinked first.” “i killed more demons.” “okay? but i like you more.” he’s doing anything and everything but actually focusing.

⤷ tends to do your voice when he’s upset.

“‘dante, don’t touch that, it might explode,’” he mimics, then presses it anyway. if it does explode, he admits he might let you talk him out of dumb decisions in the future.

⤷ tries to teach you how to use ebony & ivory.

but gets distracted half-way only to show off. “like this—watch—cool, right?” leading to him firing six times into the air and missing the point entirely.

⤷ also tries to look (even more) cool mid-fight just because you’re watching.

does an unnecessary backflip off a wall. makes eye contact. pulls out a vogue of different combos. slices a demon in half. was there a purpose? well, no. but he did say people like this kind of stuff.

⤷ absolutely bullshits instructions when you ask for help.

“put the glowy thing there.”

“that one?”

“no, the other glowy one.”

if something breaks, he’ll blame the puzzle.

⤷ loves making bets you can’t win.

“if i beat him first, you owe me 20.”

“and if i win?”

“doubt it. i still get 20.”

⤷ hides behind furniture to jump-scare you.

most of the time it backfires since he doesn’t plan ahead. he either ends up getting hurt or cussed out. but he swears it was worth it.

⤷ quiets down after every patch-up.

he stares at your hands like they worked miracles he’s not used to—i mean, he always shrugs off wounds. they heal up fast so why waste your time on them?

he thinks the little bandaids on his already-healed skin are useless, but that doesn’t really stop the warm feeling from creeping in his heart.

⤷ pretends not to care what music you like.

“what the hell even is this?” he says while nodding along. and the next hour, you’ll catch him humming the perfect tune under his breath.

⤷ always wants to show you something.

a shortcut. a secret door. a demon skull that looks kinda funky. “come, look at this,” he says like a kid dragging you across his dreamland.

⤷ gets distracted watching you talk.

dante misses half the story. nods along like he’s listening. if you catch it and scold him about it. he just rolls his eyes and reciprocates you to continue. “i stopped listening when you opened your mouth. but go on.”

⤷ acts unimpressed by compliments but gets weirdly clingy after.

“you’re seriously calling me handsome? tell me something i don’t know.” he says. but five minutes later, he’s glued beside you—hoping you’d let him hear another one.

⤷ gifts you… ‘things’ like it’s romantic.

“found this bone shard. it glows. thought you’d like it.” he says, holding it out like a bouquet. and smiles when you actually take it.

⤷ …sometimes he isn’t sure how to deal with certain things.

so he pretends it doesn’t affect him.

you catch him looking at the amulet daily or so. and he pockets it fast, like it burned him. he cleans his blades. lubricates his guns. and doesn’t necessarily tell you what happened with vergil that day.

but if you get lucky, you’ll hear him mention his brother every now and then. subtle things like, “man, vergil would’ve liked this.” without bringing much attention to it.

⤷ he does a lot to fill the silence.

mostly nonsense, and white noise. humming random tunes, rambling about a fight that happened weeks ago. to him it’s less about what he’s saying, and more about what he’s trying not to think.

⤷ lets you win arguments just to hear you talk—again.

you think you’ve outsmarted him. following up with more words laced with a sweet tone of victory.

he thinks it’s cute, everybody wins. hooray.

⤷ shows you how to use the jukebox.

“you gotta finesse it,” he claims, smacking the side way harder than necessary. and somehow the music starts? “see? works every time.”

⤷ swears sharing his favorite meals with you is the apogee of romance.

you say you’re not craving a strawberry sundae. he buys you one anyway. and watches you eat it like it’s the most important part of his day.

⤷ starts carrying twice the amount of things—one for him, one for you.

you never asked him for it. one day he just tossed you a spare ammo clip, bandages, and a pocketed drink. “don’t say i never give you anything.”

⤷ asks for a bite of your food then nearly eats the entire thing.

“that wasn’t just a bite,” you retort. “oh, so a guy can’t be hungry anymore.” he mumbles.

⤷ he starts saying ‘we’ more.

“we should stop by the shop.” “we could grab dinner after.” “we’ll figure it out.” you don’t even notice it until it finally clicks. “we should open the place soon, no?”

the sweetest part, is that he doesn’t realize he does that.

⤷ tries to cook you breakfast some days.

there’s a chance you wake up with him setting off the smoke alarms. but others, you arrive to the kitchen with a pretty appetizing plate—which makes you question how much hours and how many utensils had to be sacrificed for it.

⤷ names the shop’s mouse after you.

you ask why. and he simply responds with, “little fella’s loud. stubborn. kinda cute. and won’t leave me alone.” he grins. “remind you of anyone?”

⤷ draws you two on the shop’s walls with permanent marker.

it’s so unbelievably childish.

just two fugly stick figures holding hands. one’s significantly taller and more detailed just to feed his ego. but he does it because he knows it’ll shy a laugh out of you. and if you tell him to stop? dante simply hands you a marker. “i own this place. you want in or not?”

⤷ gets genuinely offended if you don’t laugh at his jokes.

“wow. tough crowd. see, if i was really loved, you would’ve laughed.“

⤷ keeps fixing things in the shop and blaming you for them being broken.

“why was the fridge making that sound?” “it was fine until you leaned on it. weird.”

⤷ doesn’t let you give out compliments just because.

kind words to someone else? he’ll just slide between you two. no biggie. “wow, i look great today too, by the way.”

⤷ sometimes, late at night, he starts to say something and stops halfway.

you know it’s just his struggles holding him back from comfort. but you like nudge his leg with yours. and in a way, it kind of encourages him to continue. to let out some of the softest words that have ever graced his lips.

⤷ never calls it ‘dating.’

just says, “you and me? we’re a thing. a moment. kind of a situation—but not together.” because he doesn’t want to curse it.

losing you? he might as well let hell break loose. even though he’s too scared to admit it. you know why he does it. and your patience means the universe to him.

⤷ he still doesn’t say ‘i love you’ at all. but when he insinuates it? it melts you.

every time you leave the shop, he walks you to the door, kisses your temple, and says some sappy a remark between, “i don’t know what i’d do without you, so try to come back.”

⤷ just know when a special day for you two comes. he’ll pretend to forget.

birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. it’s a weird guilty pleasure of his.

seeing you so sad but trying to play it off like you aren’t really bothered by him forgetting.

you’ll take him out to his favorite place, buy him deserts, and sugary drinks. slay demons together (it’s the peak of romance), but he still wouldn’t get the clue. or that’s what he wants you to believe.

just know though, that later in the day, half-way through your nap, you will be surrounded by all of your favorite things. a bag of take-out. little gifts and tokens of his gratitude. and a roaming rain of praises and kisses the minute he sees your eyes flutter wake from the slumber.

“hey, sweet thing. don’t tell me you thought i forgot—what? okay, ouch.“

“no, no. see—all of this, it’s for you. money out of my pocket by the way. don’t worry, take the rest of today off. i’ll take care of the calls—just, no. i’ll find a way to pay the bills later.”

it’s so cheesy, he probably saw it on one of those romance movies you forced him to watch. but he really tries to be a good boyfriend. you’re the first he’s ever really trusted. might as well struggle with his firsts everything with the one person that hasn’t scarred him with any judgement.

⤷ one thing about dante though, is that he would never make a promise he can’t keep.

he meant it. the day he told you no matter how much destiny would try to shake him off you. he wouldn’t leave. regardless of how messy the job, how far the trip, how long the silence. he shows up. every time. coming back to hold you in his arms like you might be the most precious thing of his life.

【 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖. ⊹₊⋆ ✉️ ྀི 】

° his touch starts loose.

dante likes to think he knows what he’s doing. he lives in the blur between pretending and becoming.

his fingers trace the inside of your thigh, caressing your skin so tenderly, all while he’s talking about something else entirely.

it’s not to tease you, or pretend this doesn’t affect him. it does.

but because he can’t control a single muscle in his body when it comes to you, he needs to keep a distraction for him to be able to be the one giving and not receiving.

° everything flusters dante the second it’s about him.

call him yours, praise him, tell him how good he makes you feel.

kiss his neck, straddle his waist, lock his fingers between yours. and he’ll twitch like you lit a fuse. it’s a bit embarrassing for him to see himself act like this. chest rising with each breath and hips stuttering with any endearment. but he’s too stubborn to tell you he liked it.

° he rushes the first time.

dante is trying to learn. he won’t admit he’s inexperienced. his pride wouldn’t take that hit.

but it’s obvious. give him one kiss and he’s already pulling on the string of your panties.

he’s careless, greedy, clumsy. yet never forces anything.

if he feels you pull away he might tease, but he would give you all the space to breathe and clear your mind. you’re important—this moment too. and he wouldn’t dare mess it up.

° tries to hold back noise.

his jaw tightens. lips parted like he’s about to pry—but it never comes. he’s stubborn like that. he won’t moan unless you pull it out of him. won’t even breathe heavy unless your hips grind up first.

but when it slips out? it’s ragged. like he’s ashamed he even felt that much.

° favorites when you’re on top.

seated pretty in his lap, panty lace pushed aside, his length haloed by a thin layer of release.

he’ll pretend he’s handing you control. says things like, “set the pace this time.”

but the way his hands cup your waist, or how he presses into your skin like he’s anchoring himself to you… it gives him away. he loves having you handle him.

° says things without meaning to.

it’s not planned. sometimes awkward. definitely not suave for a smooth-talker. it slips when his hips stutter inside.

things like—“fuck, you feel good,” or worse—“don’t stop.”

he never remembers saying it. gods—he swears you’re making things up. but he takes note of it and maybe will try to be more vocal in the future.

° foreplay!

dante is a bitch. he never just slips in. what’s the fun in that? he ruts. let’s his head wet with your slick. drags down along your nerves. pressing closer to taunt your entrance.

he’s mean when he knows he has the upper hand. and he gets cocky.

cocky until it’s warm, and sweet, and right there. then it’s just instinct.

° he thinks about it often.

he feels ashamed, so ashamed actually. seeing you do casual acts that near innocence, but not being able to clear his own mind from the sins that lure it.

a cloudy gaze after a kiss, licking whipped cream off of your lips, or crouching down to pick something up.

he gets hard just remembering it.

° might have a thing for dry humping.

not as prepping. as a thing.

he’s lazy. if he’s feeling moody though, it’s what he settles with. and it eventually just became a preference.

his hips rolling into yours while both of you are still fully veiled, cherry kisses and praises.

the way you grind back and catch his gasps between your lips, one hand fisting the sheets like he’s going to come just from the friction alone. he lives for it.

° get’s so turned on when you cover his mouth.

you don’t even get to scold him. just gently pressuring your palm over his lips when he’s getting too loud.

he kisses your hand while it’s there—just quick, ludicrous kisses. he knows you get shy, you love shutting him up, and that only makes him crave it more.

⤷ “i love you.”

he won’t say it. not out loud.

but the way he looks at you while he’s still inside. every bit of hectic lust fading away. threading his fingers through the soft curves of your body he already knows by memory.

it shows everything he refuses to voice.

he’ll brush your hair back, lean down to kiss your forehead before resting it against his own. dante has never felt this close to someone before. he tends to lose them before he can.

but there is not a corner in earth he wouldn’t exorcize from hell’s grasp just to keep you safe.

⎯ׅ⎯⎯⎯⎯۪⎯⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯⎯⎯ׅ⎯ׂ⎯⎯ׅ⎯⎯

© mylovingkiss. 2025 | feel free to request! but please don’t steal or translate any of my works! thank you ༝༚༝༚

[zriasstuff]

This is a kinda random request but how would the sytherin boys react when they see boxers in your room assuming it’s another guys when it’s actually yours. I wear boxers so i just randomly thought of this. 💗💗

This is actually fire, I gladly imagined how this situation would play out. Although some things go similarly, I tried to differentiate their reactions and actions a little bit. Enjoy this crack :)

Slytherin boys x reader

How come you’ve been in a relationship for some time already and they don’t know that you wear boxers ? God knows, maybe they’ve just had a rough day and all critical thinking tends to fly out the window. Jealousy and fear of losing you are hard emotions to control…

Theodore Nott:

when Theo sees them, he aggressively cups your face and pierces your soul with his hunter like eyes all of a sudden

“that’s one skinny bastard that you’re fucking behind my back, does he even have a dick?”, he refers to your own boxers, that are obviously a few sizes smaller

“Tell me, how come you’re such a slut that having me isn’t enough? you actually have to find yourself a side bitch?”

it took some time to recover from his harsh scolding, but soon enough your brain worked again and spat out the right words

Theo backs up in shock when hearing your explanation that made a lot of sense

As a returning favor he should get a scolding too for immediately jumping to conclusions and not communicating properly, but they’re all a bunch of hotheads anyway

It all turns into a funny anecdote though, which also serves as a reminder for him to trust his girl

Tom Riddle:

as soon as he sees them lying around somewhere his expression becomes stoic, brows furrowed just the tiniest bit and lips pursed

of course you noticed even the slightest change, so you reach for his hand to ask him what was wrong. you remember though that sometimes he just gets stressed because he has so much to think about

without properly getting to know the situation he would want to insult and intimidate you, he immediately fumes and threatens: “you are dead to me, and you are going to regret this”

his words and tone especially made you want to cry, you felt yourself curling up, standing beneath his tall frame, not even knowing what you did

he was not only mad at you, but also at himself for letting his guard down, which led to him being played like a fool. there was nothing more important that his self worth and dignity to him

still, you begged and whined for him to stay and when you finally understood that he saw “another guys” boxers on your floor, you actually scoffed and remained speechless for a while

although he was slightly paranoid that you might be lying to him, he saw how distressed you were when he wanted to break up, and that’s something you can’t fake (he still is very wary though, and has to pretend he didn’t just imagine ways to kill and torture “the other guy”)

Mattheo Riddle:

like his brother, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting him, only the other way around

especially with his abandonment issues too this makes him jump from zero to one hundred

but unlike Tom he actually wants to hear your side, to decide how he should handle this and scorned at you: “for fucks sake, you’ve been cheating on me? I don’t know if you thought I was never going to find out, but keeping his bloody boxers is just disgusting. You care to explain?!”

He even picks them up from your bed, and throws them into a corner, shooting them and you a disgusting look

You don’t appreciate his attitude at all, and if that boy knew that he just threw your own boxers, he’d be down on his knees

You can’t take this seriously and tell him “never seen a girl wear boxers?”, that made things so awkward, and Mattheo quickly apologizes, hopefully you’d forget about this…

Draco Malfoy:

His jealousy promptly get the better of him and he thinks about all the idiots that have tried hitting on you, or ever liked you, which one of them was it?

He couldn’t believe that anyone was worth jeopardizing your relationship, but apparently so

Grabbing you close to him, while pointing at the boxers, he growls “so whose are they huh? Carter? Lewis? You better tell me it’s not that stupid Potter”

While you’re talking, he is still so mad that isn’t even hearing everything that you’re saying, he physically couldn’t calm down when thinking about you jumping into bed with someone else

He would take the boxers too, observing at them closely, and then somewhat sneered “I didn’t know girls also wore boxers”

Draco wouldn’t necessarily be a fan, but came to the conclusion that what you wear under your clothes really wasn’t any of his business

At some point he also wants to see what you look like wearing them, and they actually looked kind of cool

Blaise Zabini:

just like all the others, his thoughts immediately jump to violence, for instance how to get the other guy admitted into the hospital wing

but something makes him stop and think—why wouldn’t you even bother to hide them somewhere? did you think he was so incredibly blind, or did you actually have nothing to hide?

Still his temper gets the best of him and accuses you of being “shameless” and asks if you were trying to insinuate that he “wasn’t good enough” because you’re wrong and he can fuck you better than anyone else

He always thought that everything was going well, so you being unsatisfied was really the last thing he expected

Fortunately everything gets resolved quite easily since you reassure him, and you even tease him about his jealousy

For the rest of the night, Blaise in fact proves that he can fuck you the best. That was the best apology for doubting you in the first place

Lorenzo Berkshire:

He gets extremely upset and has an outburst too, but with a hint of self consciousness, asking you how you could do this to him, when he’s always trying his best

Enzo also relies on guilt, wanting to make you feel like absolute shit, he says stuff like “i gave up being a player for you because I love- loved- you so much, but apparently you see me as nothing

You have to try your hardest to make him see how ridiculous he was being, and he demands you tell him how you would never cheat on him

Seeing you in your boxers for the first time also makes him smirk, you could really rock anything

[writeriguess]

AUUHGYUFJSGKUHIAJL I love your writing sm!! can I request maybe like Denki or bakugou with a reader who's super stressed with parents who like...always drag down her hopes? if not then it is totally fine!! thank you so much for reading!!!!!!! <33 keep up the great work xoxoxo /p <33

Explosive Comfort

You were curled up on the couch, phone pressed to your ear, Bakugou sitting nearby with his arms crossed, scrolling through his own phone. He wasn’t paying attention at first—not until he noticed how still you’d gone, your knuckles white where they gripped a throw pillow.

Then he started listening.

Your parents’ voices came through the speaker, cutting and cold.

“You always expect too much, and then you’re disappointed. We’ve told you before, haven’t we? Maybe if you were more realistic, you wouldn’t be so stressed all the time.”

Your heart sank, but you bit your tongue. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” your father interrupted. “That’s the problem. You keep thinking life is supposed to turn out a certain way, but it doesn’t. You’re wasting time on things that won’t get you anywhere.”

Your stomach churned, but you forced out, “It’s not a waste.”

Your mother sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not trying to hurt your feelings. We just don’t want you to get your hopes up when we know how things will turn out. You should focus on something more practical instead of chasing—whatever this is.”

Bakugou tensed beside you, his fingers tightening around his phone. His sharp red eyes flicked to your face, catching the way your lips trembled even though you weren’t crying. The way your shoulders curled inward like you were trying to make yourself smaller.

It pissed him off.

But then your father spoke again.

“You’re not special. Stop acting like you are.”

The phone was snatched from your grip before you even realized Bakugou had moved.

“Oi, you miserable bastards,” he growled, voice rough with unfiltered rage. “The hell kinda shit is that to say to your own kid?”

A pause.

“Excuse me?” your mother’s voice asked, suddenly wary.

“You fuckin’ heard me,” Bakugou snapped. “What kinda parents tear their kid down instead of buildin’ them up? You think you’re helpin’? You think you’re bein’ realistic?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Sounds more like you just don’t want her to do better than you ever did.”

“Who is this?” your father demanded, bristling.

“I’m the guy who actually gives a shit about her,” Bakugou snarled. “Unlike you, apparently.”

“Now listen here—”

“No, you listen!” Bakugou cut him off, voice crackling with fury. “She’s smart, she’s talented, and she’s got more heart than either of you could ever dream of having! And you sit there tellin’ her she’s not special? That she should just give up? Like she’s not worth anything?!”

You had never heard his voice so sharp, so raw.

“If you don’t wanna support her, fine,” he went on, seething. “But you don’t get to drag her down just ‘cause you gave up on your own damn dreams. She’s already stressed enough without you two tryin’ to rip out whatever confidence she’s got left.”

Your mother tried to stammer something, but Bakugou wasn’t done.

“She doesn’t need your bullshit doubts. She doesn’t need your negativity. And she sure as hell doesn’t need your permission to be somethin’ great.”

Silence.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, hands clenched together in your lap.

Then Bakugou exhaled sharply and spat, “She’s done listenin’ to you.” And with that, he ended the call.

The room was eerily quiet. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Bakugou ran a hand through his hair, still buzzing with anger. Then he turned to you, his expression softening—just a little.

“You okay?”

Your throat felt tight, but you nodded. You weren’t okay. Not really. But for the first time in a long time, someone had stood up for you. Someone had fought for you.

And that meant everything.

Bakugou clicked his tongue and ruffled your hair, his way of grounding you. “They don’t know shit. You hear me?”

You swallowed hard and nodded again, this time with a bit more strength.

“Good,” he muttered. “Now c’mere.”

You barely had a second to react before he was pulling you into his arms, holding you tight, safe, warm. And for once, the words that had always made you doubt yourself didn’t seem so loud anymore.

[leiawithtoomanyaddictions]

Caught in the Act (Kinda)

summary: peter and y/n stark are in a secret relationship. one night he sneaks into her room at the avengers tower after a patrol shift as spider-man. accidentally setting off the silent alarm making tony burst into her room to find them together, misunderstanding the situation…

warnings: kissing, nudity?, reader has powers (healing), stark!reader, pet names (baby)

You were curled up in bed wearing your favorite oversized Stark Industries tee and flannel pajama shorts, trying to focus on the novel in your lap when you heard the gentle thud of a landing on your balcony.

You didn’t even flinch. You knew that sound like your own heartbeat.

With a smile tugging at your lips, you padded to the window and opened it just wide enough for Peter to slip through. He stumbled inside, half-limping, his mask already off and his curls damp with sweat.

“Hey,” he whispered, breathless.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered back, helping him inside.

You spotted the way he was holding his side and frowned. “You’re hurt again.”

Peter winced as he tried to shrug off his suit. “I got thrown into a dumpster. Not my best moment.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for him. “Sit down. Let me see.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to—”

“Peter,” you warned, voice already soft with energy as your fingertips began to glow with the warm shimmer of your healing powers. “Shut up and sit.”

He obeyed with a smile, stripping down to his boxers so you could get a clear look at the forming bruise across his ribs. The moment your fingers touched his skin, the bruise pulsed with a dull light, and he hissed before sighing in relief.

“You’re getting better at that,” he murmured.

“You keep showing up broken,” you said. “I have a lot of practice.”

He grinned. ���Still worth it.”

Once you were satisfied with the healing—at least enough that he wouldn’t wake up groaning—you leaned over and kissed him. Soft. Familiar. Comforting.

It was one of those slow kisses, the kind that made your heart skip and forget the fact that you were sneaking around your genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist father. Peter’s arms circled around your waist as he leaned into you, gently pulling you back toward the bed.

“Can I stay?” he whispered against your lips.

“You’re already half-naked and in my bed. Might as well.”

He chuckled and pulled you onto his lap his arms circling your waist. Your hands crept up his neck playing with the curls that laid on the nape of his neck. Just as he was about to kiss you again—

You barely had time to register it before the door flew open.

“WHAT THE—ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!”

Tony Stark stormed into the room in a tank top, sleep pants, and sheer rage. His arc reactor pulsed brighter than usual—definitely not good.

Peter immediately stood up covering his growing boner with his hands. You fixed your shirt, eyes wide in pure shock.

Tony’s eyes locked onto Peter. Then to you. Then to Peter’s half naked body.

Then to your red swollen lips.

“What. The. FUCK.” he growled.

You walked towards him. “Dad, wait—it’s not what it looks like!”

“Really?” Tony snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like Bug-Boy is half-naked in my daughter’s bed!”

Peter raised both hands. “Mr. Stark, I swear—”

Tony pointed a finger at him. “Don’t Mr. Stark me! I gave you mentorship! I gave you tech! And this is how you repay me?!”

You stepped between them, glowing hands already pulsing slightly. “He was injured. I healed him. That’s why he’s here.”

“And the kissing? Was that part of the healing process too?!” Tony barked.

“Dad,” you said, forcing calm into your voice. “We’re together. We’ve been together. We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d freak out. Just like you are right now.”

Tony stared at you. Then at Peter. Then back at you.

“You think I’m freaking out now?” he scoffed, hands on his hips. “You’re my daughter. He’s like—a friendly neighborhood science nerd with a motor mouth. There are rules.”

“Sorry, sir.”

You exhaled and grabbed Tony’s shoulders. “We’re not being reckless. I know how to take care of myself. And Peter—he’s not just some guy. He’s my boyfriend. He’s been there for me when I was overwhelmed by my powers. He’s protected me. He loves me.”

Tony froze.

Peter froze.

You froze.

Tony blinked.

“You love her?”

Peter straightened like a soldier. “Yes, sir. I do.”

Tony sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “God, I miss the days when all I had to worry about was alien invasions.”

You let go of him after a squeeze on his shoulders. “We’re okay. Really.”

He stood there stiffly, then relented with a sigh. “Fine. You’re adults. Mostly.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“But if I ever catch you sneaking into this tower again after midnight, I’m taking away your suit. Both of yours!”

Peter nodded quickly. “Understood.”

Tony glanced at Peter’s boxers again and shook his head. “Next time, wear pants, for god’s sake.”

And with that, he turned and left, muttering, “Friday, remind me to reinforce the silent alarm with something that actually works.”

The door shut.

Peter let out the longest exhale of his life. Sitting down on your bed rubbing his eyes. “That… could’ve gone worse.”

You sat on the bed beside him, heart still racing. “Yeah. But now he knows.”

Peter smiled, laying down and pulling you close into his embrace. “I’d get yelled at by Tony Stark a hundred times if it meant I could still have this.”

You kissed him again. “Good. Because you might just have to.”

[edenunbuilt]

── ϧ𝑒 packing it up.ೃ࿔

℘ jj maybank x fem!kook!reader ৴ length: 0.6k ৴ time of posting: 9:48pm

summary: y/n holds jj through the night. it's kinda new for him

content: sfw ﾉ soft!jj ﾉ not proof read ﾉ kook reader

author's notes: see end for notes

jj never stayed the night. that was the rule.

no cuddling. no waking up in tangled sheets. no letting someone look at him like he was worth sticking around for.

and yet, here he was.

her room was nothing like the places he was used to crashing, he can accept that much as his gaze flickers over the delicate and antique furniture. it smelled like lavender and something sweeter, something distinctly her. soft, warm, untouched by the sharp edges of the world he knew. the kind of place that didn’t feel temporary.

he should’ve left hours ago. should’ve done what he always did—made some dumb joke, thrown on his shirt, and disappeared before the sun could catch him still wrapped up in her.

but he couldn’t.

not when she had looked at him like that.

she should’ve turned him away. when he showed up at her door, bloody and exhausted, she should’ve done the smart thing and shut him out. should’ve decided, right then and there, that his baggage wasn’t worth it.

instead, she just sighed—like she’d been expecting this. like she wasn’t surprised that he had nowhere else to go.

and then she pulled him inside.

she didn’t press him for details. didn’t flinch when he winced under her touch, just guided him to the bathroom and stood between his legs, dabbing at his split lip with careful fingers. she was so close. close enough that he could see the worry knitting her brows together, the softness in her eyes, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when he hissed at the sting.

jj should’ve made a joke—damn, princess, if you wanted to get me undressed, you could’ve just asked. something stupid to make her roll her eyes, to shake off whatever was shifting between them. but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have anything to say, the words catching in his throat. 

because she wasn’t looking at him with pity. or judgment. or regret.

she was looking at him like he was worth keeping.

and it hit him then, like a sucker punch to the gut.

somewhere along the way, he had stopped keeping his distance.

it hadn’t happened all at once. it had been in the little things—the moments he hadn’t realized mattered until it was too late.

like the first time he made her laugh, really laugh. the kind that made her throw her head back, eyes crinkling, completely unguarded. he remembered staring, thinking: shit, i want to hear that again.

or the night she found him at a party, already too many drinks deep and buzzing with the need to self-destruct. he’d made a move on her, fully expecting her to let him. she didn’t. just pulled his drink from his hand, wrinkled her nose, and told him he was embarrassing himself. then, instead of leaving, she hooked her pinky with his and told him to come sit.

she never gave him what he expected.

never pushed his buttons, never bit back when he tried to start something just to keep from feeling too much. she just let him be. let him breathe.

and that was new.

jj rolled onto his side, gaze settling on her, curled up next to him in the dim glow of her bedroom. her fingers twitched slightly where they rested against his ribs, like she was making sure he was still there.

he was.

and that was the problem.

because jj had spent his whole life running. keeping people at arm’s length, never staying long enough to make it hurt when he left. but now—god, now he wasn’t sure if he could leave at all.

he was in too deep.

and for the first time, he didn’t want to find his way out.

𐙚𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𐙚

author's notes: this is a fair warning that most of my works will most likely be kook!reader. i write to escape my not so glamourous life and if i wanted to daydream about being poor, i wouldn't write in the first place. anywayssss i do have an in-progress fic that involves an oc and i'm not sure if i'll just rewrite it to be self-insert or if i'll post it as is. all my drabbles come from snippets of said fic and would make much more sense if we started from the beginning lol. 

thank you for reading! © edenunbuilt 2025. all rights reserved — claims, copies, reposts or translations are not permitted. ˖⊹ ࣪  ౨ৎ˚₊

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hiii! I just read Mafia!Konig x introverted!Reader and it gave me this great idea! can you please do one where introvert!reader absolutely clings to konig since he is this big scary mafia guy so people are too afraid of him so don't try to talk to her out of fear of him.

as an introvert who absolutely does this i would greatly appreciate it!

Mafia!Konig is definitely your protector. It's how you two met, actually. You see, being an introvert is hard, but you manage to live just fine for a long time. Never a single problem, always moisturized and in your lane - it's just that your extraverted friends can sometimes be a bit of assholes who love pulling you out of your shell as you kick and scream. This is how you ended up squeezed between sweaty, dancing bodies at some expensive elite club that wasn't allowing regular stoners and instead opted for people who could afford cocaine and a minimal order of 300 euros per table. You don't think you ever drank something that was more than 15 Euro for something very bougie - but here you are, feeling uncomfortable. Awkward. Your friends left to flirt with some guys, and you would leave, but you haven't paid for your order yet, and you won't put it on someone else's tab. This is how you caught Konig's eye. A lamb to the slaughter, too innocent of a creature to simply ignore. He had to have you, press you in his arms and hope he'd be able to take you home without choking you and them threatening your poor body with his gun. He wanted something nice today, and protecting some awkward lady in the middle of her introverted breakdown is his one good deed for the year. You just wanted to go to some quiet place to recharge. Konig had already paid for a VIP room for the whole night, but now he just pushes you to it slightly, not caring that you're trying to stay near and find your friends. He says it's fine and he won't hurt you. You feel the outline of something metallic and sharp poking at your hip, so you decide to listen. Your dignity is not worth being stabbed, you think. He apologizes for being too harsh, and he looks a bit nervous. There is a mask hiding his face and you feel even more scared now - but he explains how he just wanted to make sure you're doing alright. He says he just wanted to help a pretty lady not be too overwhelmed with everything. He gives you something nice to drink and covers the tab for the entire table. He doesn't make you talk to him and instead allows you to examine his tattoos with poorly contained curiosity. He is nice for a dude who is definitely into some crime stuff. You just wished he didn't kidnap you later that night. It was kinda rude.

[mama-qwerty]

Okay, so I'm still kinda organizing my thoughts regarding everything in the movie, but there was one scene I wanted to talk about.

Sonic 3 spoilers below the cut

So, after Shadow cleaned Tom's clock, and he was being wheeled into the ambulance, Maddie was following right next to him, obviously looking worried. But then she looked back at the boys.

When she climbed into the back of the ambulance, she looked at them again.

Her expression was so unreadable.

She didn't offer any encouraging words. Didn't tell them to kick Shadow's butt for what he did. Didn't tell them to be careful, or to take care of each other.

She just looked at them.

Was she thinking that they were more trouble than they were worth? Was she thinking Tom was hurt because of them? That none of this would have happened if they hadn't come into hers and Tom's lives?

This wasn't all fun and games. Her husband was severely injured, and it had all been because they'd taken in and helped these aliens.

She likely didn't know how to feel in that moment. She loved her husband, and was worried for him. But he wouldn't be in this situation if not for those three boys.

What were the boys thinking when she simply looked at them like that?

Sonic was dealing with a helluva lot of guilt, obviously. He'd already put them in danger twice before. And now Tom, the first person he'd ever spoken to and bonded with after Longclaw, was hurt. Badly. Because he wasn't fast enough, he couldn't keep him safe.

Tails was likely scared. Tom and Maddie had opened their home to him. Accepted him. And now Tom was hurt. Sonic was hurting. So he did what he always does--he tries to make Sonic feel better.

Knuckles stepped up to become the mature one, his stance and tone changed from earlier in the film. He stepped between Tails and Sonic, protecting his youngest brother, and trying to reason with Sonic about his feelings. And when the two looked ready to rumble, he's the one who backed off. He relinquished the Master Emerald, because he trusted Sonic to make the right choice when push came to shove.

That whole scene was so good, and Tika was so perfect in her non-expressive moment. I felt that was a very powerful moment, especially as the ambulance left the boys just standing there, looking lost, alone, and upset.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

[beasangel]

what they don’t know p1

⤷ joel miller x ditzy!reader

💭“Don’t listen to them. You’re the only good thing I got left.”

you didn’t know joel felt anything until the night he kissed you. Now you’re tangled in something real and raw, and the world around you doesn’t understand. joel doesn’t care. not when you’re already his.

part 2 joel masterlist main masterlist

a/n i put ditzy cuz it's not what i would see as a bimbo but my friend said that's what this is, so you'll have to make up your own mind

At first, you thought Joel Miller didn’t like you at all.

He was gruff. Distant. Always watching you with that look, half irritation, half exhaustion, as if your presence made his day harder. He never laughed at your, admittedly shitty, jokes. Barely responded when you smiled. Whenever you spoke, he’d cut you off with some muttered “You done?” or “Ain’t got time for this.”

And yet…

He always knew where you were.

Always checked that you had food in your bag, that your boots were laced properly, that you weren’t sneaking off somewhere dangerous. “You ain’t stupid, so stop acting like it,” he’d mutter when you wandered too far from the group. When you tripped on ice outside the Jackson fence line and scraped your knee, he didn’t say a word- just picked you up and carried you like it didn’t mean anything.

You didn’t think much of it. You thought maybe he looked out for you because no one else did.

People saw you as sweet, but silly. Naïve, they called it. Ditzy. You liked soft things and old songs and took too long at the market because you couldn’t decide between canned peaches or soup. They’d smile at you like you were a child. Not malicious, just dismissive.

So when Joel started paying attention, you assumed he was just another person who thought you couldn’t take care of yourself.

You didn’t know he watched you for another reason. You didn’t know he noticed how when it came to what you loved you spoke so eloquently. How when you came across injured animals you took time to calm it. And how other saw that and still treated you like you weren’t worth the air you breathed.

You didn’t know until he kissed you.

You’d just returned from a run, cold, tired, and frustrated. Someone had mocked you the whole way there and back, calling you “Joel’s little charity case.” Saying you probably got him to protect you by batting your eyelashes and letting him touch you.

You told Joel about it. Not expecting comfort, just needing to say it out loud.

He didn’t speak for a long time. Just stood in the doorway of the small house you'd been using, arms crossed, jaw tight. You could barely look at him, your throat hot with embarrassment.

“I ain’t protectin’ you 'cause I think you're weak,” he said finally, voice low. “I do it ‘cause I can’t stand the thought of somethin’ happening to you.”

You blinked up at him. “Joel...?”

He looked at you like he’d already said too much. Like he regretted it instantly. But then he stepped closer.

And kissed you. Hard and quiet and full of all the things he never knew how to say.

You didn’t sleep that night. Not really. You lay curled into his chest, warm beneath borrowed blankets, while your brain replayed everything over and over again.

People didn’t like it.

They already judged you for being young and soft in a place that demanded hard edges. But now they looked at Joel like he was the problem. Like he’d taken something that didn’t belong to him. They whispered louder now. Stared longer. Made comments when they thought you weren’t listening.

“Midlife crisis?”

“Guess he he is just that kinda man.”

“Wonder what she’s getting out of it.”

And Joel, he took it. Said nothing. Shoulders square, jaw locked, like he could carry it for both of you.

But the one that hurt worst was Ellie.

She was already angry with him, for what you not quite , and your presence only made it worse.

She’d look at you and smile thinly. Say things like: “Wow, Joel. Bet she reminds you of better days, huh?” Or to you: “He got you on a leash, or do you just follow him around ‘cause you don’t know better?”

She tried to play it off as teasing, but the hurt behind her words was too sharp to ignore. And Joel… Joel didn’t know how to fix any of it.

Sometimes you’d watch him watch her and you’d wonder if you made it worse. If being close to him meant everyone else had to fall away.

Still, Joel never left.

He kept showing up, kept holding you like you were something precious in a world full of rot. He’d tuck your scarf tighter around your throat when it snowed. Rub your hands between his when they got too cold. Sit behind you in bed with his legs bracketing yours and grumble about your bad posture while brushing your hair.

He called you things he’d never say in front of others.

“Sweetheart.”“My girl.”“Jesus, look at you.”

And sometimes, when he thought you were asleep, you’d feel his breath against your shoulder and hear him whisper: “Don’t listen to them. You’re the only good thing I got left.”

You still get looks. Still hear the whispers.

But every time Joel chooses you, soft, messy, too young you, it makes something bloom in your chest. Something fierce. Something real.

You might be ditzy. You might be too kind, too trusting, too whatever. But Joel sees you.

And even if the world never understands what you are to each other… You do.

-

part 2

[beamorgan]

Favourite Reads of the Year

I will not be ranking these, because that would hurt my heart. Buckle up folks, there are a lot of amazing books out there

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells

I know, I KNOW, I'm late to the party but omg this whole series is just as good as people say!!! I know I said I wouldn't be ranking, but if I was these would be fighting for the top spot. I have already relistened to all the audiobooks. I anticipate rereading them literally every year from now on. I would die for Murderbot, which it would think is a stupid thing for a human to do when there is a SecUnit right there. [adult, scifi]

Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett

Sequel to last year's fav Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries, this follows a bullheaded academic trying find the magical door that will let her faerie boyfriend back into his faerie kingdom. Chaos ensues in the Alps. It's fabulous, and the author's approach to using folklore is very similar to my own writing, which I love and also get imposter syndrome about. 10/10 recommend [adult, historical fantasy]

Model Home by Solomon Rivers

Would you like to be repeatedly punched in the gut? Look no further than this story of racism and child abuse in a Texas McMansion, with gorgeous prose and a genderqueer protagonist and the laundry list of content warnings you can expect with the genre. It hurt so good. [adult, contemporary gothic horror]

You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian

This love affair between a baseball play and a sports reporter was recced to me by the lovely @colubrina and boy was it worth the two-day binge it inspired! Romance can be very hit-or-miss for me, but this knocked it out of the park (please enjoy my pun). I didn't even have to know anything about baseball to love it! [adult, historical (1960s) romance]

The Locked Tomb Series by Tamsyn Muir

Another tumblr fav, FOR A REASON. Gideon is hilarious. Harrow is an absolute mess. Nona is BABY, my beloved. (Camilla and Palamedes have my whole entire heart). Also, the audiobook narrator is fantastic. In the words of the author, the buns are also fried chicken. [adult, sci fantasy]

Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian

This one is @elodieunderglass's fault. Historical buffoonery on boats. The main characters are ridiculous. The sailing jargon is incomprehensible. It's great. [adult, historical fiction]

All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung

This is a gorgeous memoir of an interracial adoptee trying to make contact with her birth family while pregnant with her own child. It grapples thoughtfully with reconnecting to a lost culture, the complexities of family history, and the social and legal barriers adoptees face to learning about themselves. [adult, memoir]

Death in the Spires by KJ Charles

I devour everything Charles writes, so I was EXCITED for this mystery. She made it very clear on social media "It's not a kissing book!!" (it's kinda still a kissing book). She wrote a stonking book, as usual, with an underdog protagonist revisiting the murder that happened during his toxic time at Oxford university. [adult, historical mystery]

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

My favourite literary fiction read of the year, this meditation on Iranian diaspora identity is written by a poet and you can tell. I would suck the prose up through a straw if I could. The protagonist is an addict and also quite suicidal. It was fun :) [adult, literary fiction]

She Who Became the Sun by Shelly Parker-Chan

and the sequel, He Who Drowned the World. I don't even know how to sell this, all I want to do is flail incoherently about how amazing it is. IT'S AMAZING. JUST READ IT. (wait I know: this satisfied the part of me that was obsessed with Mulan as a kid) [adult, historical fantasy]

A Little Trickery by Roseanna Pike

The voicey-est book I've ever read. I screenshot like every other page. It follows an orphaned girl trying to survive in Tudor England through various means, such as faking a miracle in the church where her gay best friend is priest. [adult, historical fiction]

At the End of the River Styx by Michelle Kulwiki

My friend wrote a book! It made me cry!!! They were delighted with this!!! Please give this to any teenager in your life who needs to see thoughtful representation of grief and depression and boys in love. [YA, contemporary fantasy]

[teapartyprincess4two]

Y/n and Matt get closer when it's just them 2 in the house, and i was thinking Fluff and Smut like a lot of Smut. Maybe Matt is a virgin but Y/n aint so she teaches him???

End of the World- M. Sturniolo

pairing: fem!reader x Matt

classification: Zombie Apocalypse AU, smut, fluff, angst/sad (kinda? Idk it’s a mix of everything)

inspiration: request^^

warnings: 18+, MDNI, set in modern day, use of y/n, literal sex, slight cursing, zombies & general apocalypse stuff (death, lnives, guns, killing, blood, hunger, dehydration, etc.), kinda long

summary: No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.

—

If anyone would’ve told you two years ago that you’d be huddled around the hood of a car, staring down at a worn out map, covered in blood, you would’ve called them crazy.

Two years ago your life was convenient. Now? Now life was simple, all you had to do was survive. All the things you wished would disappear; homework, bills, work, none of them mattered anymore. But they were easily replaced with an even greater burden, a zombie apocalypse and the end of the world.

Two years ago you wouldn’t have had even a spec of dirt under your fingernails, yet here you stand covered in blood that isn’t yours, weeks worth of dirt and grime, and sweat dripping down your forehead. Your hair is pulled back into a ponytail, exposing your shoulders to the harsh Texas heat and further working towards dehydrating you.

Two years ago you wouldn’t so much as hurt a fly. Now you wouldn’t think twice before pulling the trigger if it meant you had a chance at survival.

Two years ago you didn’t have to worry about where your next meal was coming from or if your bedroom was secure enough to sleep in. But the world has changed and so have you.

It’s been months since anyone in your group has had a good nights rest or a warm meal. All you’ve done is run from anything that threatens to harm you. Although you’ve all managed to set up a temporary moderately safe camp within the woods, it’s been difficult to stretch resources that are already scarce.

Food, water, clothing. These are all things that you wish you didn’t need. Why? Because leaving camp to retrieve them is dangerous. But, it’s been 2 days since your last run, and canned goods can only last so long, especially when there’s mouths to feed.

Chris uses his knife to point to an unmarked location on the map, “Nick and I will head south. I saw an old water tower in that direction when we passed through, maybe there’s a town nearby.” He uses the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead before returning it back to the map, tracing the blade up a road.

“Matt and Y/n, you two try looking in this area. We haven’t checked there yet and if we’re lucky it hasn’t been completely ransacked. You might find something…” Chris pauses, taking a look at the group of people not far behind. They’re chatting, all of them wearing exhausted expression and filthy clothes. “…something to get the group through the next couple of days. We can’t stay here anymore, place is crawling with infected.”

Chris became the leader of your group easily. He had a great way of talking to people, of showing them that even though the world was ending, the glass was still half full.

“You want us to split up?” Nick whisper shouts, a clear alarm evident in his tone. “Remember what happened last time? We lost a third of the group!” Nick flails his arms in desperation, almost like he’s willing Chris to realize the stupidity of his actions.

Nick was reasonable and smart, but too kind for his own good. If he wanted to, he could’ve become the leader of your group and done just as good of a job as Chris, but Nick was too empathic to take on that responsibility. He felt the needs of the group and often was led more by emotion than by reason or logic.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Chris bites back.

You stand next to Matt, watching the argument unfold. This was typical for Nick and Chris, but it stressed you out every time.

“If we had more people, we wouldn’t have to split up. But we’re low on supplies and can’t wait around for food to magically appear,” Chris says.

“If we hadn’t split up the first time, we’d have more people,” Nick snarks, storming away. Chris groans, running his hand through his hair. This was much more responsibility than he could handle, but as the youngest, strongest members of your group it was up to you all to pull the heaviest weight.

“We’ll be fine. Y/n and I are always careful,” Matt finally chimes in, placing a firm hand on Chris’s shoulder to ease any tension. “Besides, that part of town is pretty deep into the woods. I doubt any infected will be lurking and if they are, Y/n’s good with a gun and I’m fast.”

“I’m fast too,” you chuckle, knowing that Matt is trying to make light of a dark situation.

“True. I just gotta be faster,” he replies, sending you a cheeky wink. You laugh, earning a small round of laughter from Chris and Matt in return.

Chris visibly relaxes, grateful that at least one of his brothers isn’t giving him a hard time. But truth be told, Matt didn’t agree with Chris’s plan, he was just smart enough to keep it to himself. He knew that doubt created fear, and once fear infected you, you were as good as dead.

That’s what Matt was good at, being quiet. It came in handy on runs like this, especially because he was so quick on his feet. It’s your favorite characteristic of his, he’s a good listener, he’s observant, and you know that you’ll be safe as long as Matt is with you.

“Alright. Let’s head out, we’re gonna lose the light,” Chris instructs, jogging in the opposite direction of the camp to begin loading up a few trucks with guns and ammo.

“You two can take the car.”

Matt mulls the idea over. A car would be faster, but definitely much louder. Noise attracts anything looking for its next meal, especially the infected, and with only you to cover him he’s not sure he’s willing to take that risk.

“Nah. We’re walking. The town’s not too far, we’ll make it back by tomorrow morning the latest,” Matt replies, tossing a rifle in your direction. You’re quick to catch it and just as quick to respond, “Are you sure? A car would get us there and back before dinner.”

He understands your concern, but he can’t risk losing you, not after all the losses he’s already suffered. “Just trust me,” he murmurs, the look in his eyes being enough to calm your nerves.

“Whatever you have to do, Matt. Just come back,” Chris says, slamming the trunk shut.

—

Leaves and dry grass crunch under your feet with every step. It’s late summer and the Texas heat has managed to kill everything left alive that wasn’t infected.

You’ve been walking for two hours, only running into a few infected on the way, managing to take them out with nothing but your blade. Matt hates using guns, in fact you’ve only seen him use them on very rare and necessary occasions. You never understood his apprehension, I mean it’s the end of the world for Christ’s sake, but you’ve never questioned him.

“Heads up,” Matt whispers, nodding his head in the direction of a gas station.

You follow his gaze. It seemed like an easy place to loot. Apart from the few rotted corpses that roamed the exterior, only parked cars litter the parking lot, most of them still connected to the gas pumps.

“We’ll go in through the back. There’s got to be dry storage there,” Matt says, crouching and leading you towards the back of the building. You hum in response, readying yourself with your weapon and following closely behind.

Your scent must carry because as soon as you’re within 10 feet of the infected, their attention is drawn to you. Their arms are limp at their sides and their walk is more of a stagger, but it always manages to get your blood pumping.

“Hurry!” Matt whisper shouts, reaching behind him for your hand. Soon he’s pulling you into the building, shutting it securely behind you and bringing his pointer finger up to his lips to instruct you to keep quiet.

“I’ll go left. You go right,” you mouth, beginning to walk the aisles of the store while ensuring to keep your back to the wall. Matt nods, perusing the aisles as best he can while his life is in immediate danger.

Infected bite and claw at the glass windows, snarling as they watch you and Matt like prey. Sometimes you wondered what their life was like before they were bit, but the second one is close enough to harm you, all sympathy leaves and you don’t think twice before unloading the clip.

When you’re sure the building is secure you put your knife away and grab a shopping basket, securing it in the pit of your elbow as you load it with as many supplies as you can. Chips, jerky, candy, canned food, oil, rags, water, any and everything you two can carry is being thrown into these baskets.

“How are gonna get all of this back?” You ask Matt, noticing the even greater pile he’s accumulated. He scratches his head, taking a look around for something that’ll help lighten the load.

From the corner of his eye he spots a few duffel bags. Matt grabs a few and motions for you to begin packing them with as much as possible. “If they get too heavy I’ll carry them.”

“Bet you wish we had a car now,” you chuckle, neatly organizing the duffel bags.

“Not when those things are staring back at me,” Matt says, shuddering as he looks behind his shoulder to see the group of infected that have pooled at the entrance of the building.

—

You’re carrying two duffel bags full of supplies, one weighing on either one of your shoulders. Matt’s holding three, two rest on his shoulders and he’s carrying the other in his hand. He holds the straps so tight that his knuckles have managed to turn white.

The both of you are exhausted from the strength you’re using to carry this supplies back to your camp, from the long trek up-hill, and the energy you exerted to take out at least a dozen infected.

You stumble on a rock, the weight on your shoulders making it difficult for you to fix your footing. “Hey, you okay?” Matt asks, examining you with his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” you wheeze, hunching over and supporting yourself with your hands on your knees.

Matt’s tired too, of course he is, but it’s not like you two can set up camp in the middle of nowhere while surrounded by infected. He remembers seeing a few houses further up the road, it’s not a long walk and if you can make it, you’ll be able to rest there until morning.

“C’mon I think I saw a neighborhood, just push through a little longer. We’ll rest there for tonight and pick back up in the morning, okay?”

He waits for you to catch your breath, rubbing your back and comforting you, but never once letting his guard down in case something gets a jump on him.

You take a deep breath, straightening up and adjusting the duffel bag’s straps on your shoulders.

“Okay.”

—

The walk to the neighborhood was much longer than you thought, and you were starting to wonder if you were lost.

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

Matt looks at you from behind his shoulder, subtly rolling his eyes before averting his gaze forward again. “You wanna lead the way, princess?”

The nickname makes you chuckle, mostly because you knew Matt used it when his mood was starting to sour and that only ever happened when he was hungry or tired. By the looks of it, he was starting to become both.

A small town comes into view just as you’re about to reply. It looks like you’ve stumbled across the Main Street, and as packed as it is with abandoned businesses and stores, a residential home is nowhere to be seen. “Didn’t I tell you I saw a town,” Matt snarks, a hint of sass laced in his tone.

You hum. “No. You said you saw a neighborhood. There isn’t a house anywhere to be seen. We might as well season ourselves for the damn infected to eat.”

A twig snaps in the distance. Your voices, although relatively quiet, have already worked towards alerting the undead of your presence.

“Shut up,” Matt grits, pulling you close to his body. You know better than to argue, instead pressing your back against his and unsheathing your knife.

Snarling and growling echoes through the town, bouncing off the buildings and making it difficult for you to pinpoint exactly what direction they’re coming from. That doesn’t stop Matt though, instead he uses the hand that isn’t holding a knife to grab your arm.

“Stay close,” he mouths, so inaudible that you almost don’t catch it. You nod your head, taking a fleeting look at your surroundings before following Matt through a back alley between a cafe and a gym (or what used to be a cafe and a gym).

The alley is a dead end, fenced off at the end with nothing but hungry zombies reaching through the metal rods in attempt to grab you. The old you would’ve screamed and cried for help, but you’ve learned to suppress your fear in order to survive.

You take a firm hold of your knife, stabbing it into the head of as many infected as you can. Quiet grunts emit from you and Matt as you clear the path, watching undead body after body hit the ground. For a second you feel sad, but only for a second. You don’t have time for trivial things such as emotions anymore, especially not when a trail of flesh eating monsters follows closely behind.

“Through here. C’mon,” Matt ushers, opening a door that leads into a gym. Although it’s safer than being stranded outside, the brick walls can only protect you for so long. You do a quick sweep of the room, looking for anything useful while also ensuring there aren’t any hidden surprises.

Once you’re sure it’s safe, you motion for Matt to follow you with a head tilt. He locks the door behind him, barricading it with an old elliptical before following you into the next room.

You enter a changing room, lined with showers and lockers that were sure to have at least one fresh pair of clothes. You set the heavy bags you’ve been carrying down, sighing with relief as you stretch your shoulders. Matt does the same, joining you in rummaging through the lockers for a new, clean shirt.

A lot of the clothes is tucked away in backpacks, most of it being unflattering male clothing, but you weren’t big on fashion nowadays. “Here. Found this for you,” Matt says, tossing a white tank top your way. You hold it up in the light, “Cute. Thanks.”

You’re about to change your shirt, without any real warning for Matt, so he quickly looks away and fixes his gaze on the shower heads and tiled walls. His hands fiddled with an unopened bar of soap he found in one of the lockers. Matt doesn’t know why he grabbed it, it’s not like he had access to running water, but a man could dream.

“I wonder if the showers work,” he thinks out loud.

You stand behind him, wearing only your bra and underwear as you wonder the same thing. God knows you could both use a shower right now. “Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head in wonder.

“Only one way to find out,” you shrug, pushing past Matt and sauntering over to the knob. You twist it quickly, patiently waiting for even a single drop of water.

Nothing, just groaning pipes and a slap in the face for naivety.

“Guess they don’t,” you say, standing under the shower head and looking at Matt with a sad smile. He chuckles, and just as he’s about to give up too, hot water spurts out abruptly, hitting the back of your head and running down your spine.

“Holy shit that’s hot!” You gasp. In all the excitement, Matt forgets how inappropriate it would be to join you in the shower under regular circumstances, and throws his clothes off. You’ve somehow already managed to remove your remaining clothing and have started scrubbing at your skin with your bare hands, letting the water run down your face.

“Matt! Hurry before it runs out!” You say, waving your hand behind you blindly. He doesn’t skip a beat, joining you under the shower head and letting it relax his sore, aching muscles. The water draws an audible groan from his lips, bringing you back to reality. You were naked and taking a shower with Matt, someone who was a stranger to you before the end of the world.

Suddenly, he remembers the bar of soap still in his hands and he accidentally takes in your naked figure as he opens it. His dick immediately rises, a clear indicator that he’s enjoying the view.

“Turn around,” he instructs, running the soap under the water and lathering his hands up. You do as your told, immediately feeling his fingers tangle themselves in your hair as he massages your scalp. It wasn’t necessarily an in depth hair wash routine, but it would suffice for now.

Soon, you’re turning around and rinsing the soap from your hair before reaching for the bar and instructing Matt to do the same.

“Here lemme get you now.” You shuffle behind him, tip toeing to reach better. Although it was odd and unexpected, you were glad to be sharing this moment with Matt.

The rest of the shower is silent as you and Matt bask in the warm water that runs down your bruised and battered bodies. You try keeping your limbs to yourselves, save for the brief moments Matt’s erect member brushes against your thigh or butt, but it’s hard when there’s only one shower head. You want to say something, mostly because you’ve had a crush on Matt from the moment you met him and his group, but you don’t. This isn’t about pleasure, not in this world at least. It’s about survival and the second you forget that, you get hurt.

“Haven’t felt that clean in years,” Matt chuckles, shoving a shirt over his head. The shower seems to have brought his spirits up, providing both of you with a new surge of energy. Little things like running water meant so much more now, especially when you’re trudging through highly forested areas and fighting for you life on the daily.

As you’re about to reply, a loud bang echoes through the locker room, followed by the sound of shuffling in your direction. You’re putting your pants on, buckling them quickly as you try to keep quiet. Your eyes are wide in fear and anticipation, watching Matt for a signal on what to do next.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing the duffel bags from before and darting his eyes towards the exit. Your gun, which you hadn’t used at all today, rests in your hand. Matt holds his as well. He’s on guard, raising the weapon close to his face as he inspects the area.

You follow behind him trying to keep as quiet as possible, fully expecting him to shoot whatever lurks behind the wall. But, as you near the exit, you see it.

Tense shoulders relax, lowering your weapon and sheathing it back into your belt. A squirrel sits on the cement floor, grooming itself and chittering away. You want to approach it, maybe even pet it, but Matt stops you with a hand to your chest.

Unlike you, he’d inspected the entirety of the situation and didn’t let himself become distracted by the first cute animal that crossed his path. After recognizing that it was a squirrel, he wondered what could’ve lead it into the building in the first place, causing him to check the window it entered through. A reanimated corpse stood right outside the window, dragging its feet as it paced back and forth in search of the fluffy animal.

“Let’s go. We’re done here,” Matt ordered, pulling you back towards the exit. And just like that, you were off to find somewhere to sleep, leaving the fluffy animal to fend for itself.

“Bye little guy.”

—

“Forgot how quiet and boring the world is,” you huff, slumping down onto the worn out mattress. Whatever energy the shower provided you was now long gone. You and Matt walked for another hour before finding the initial neighborhood you were searching for. And, after that, you spent another hour finding the perfect house and clearing all its rooms.

“Quiet’s nice,” Matt replies with a soft groan, joining you on the mattress. It sinks with his weight, the coils creaking as he becomes comfortable.

“You’re just saying that cause you want me to shut up so you can fall asleep.” You kick your shoes off and unbuckle your belt, letting it fall to floor with a soft thud. A smile tugs at Matt’s lips. “Right now yes. But in general, quiet’s good. Means we’re safe,” he replies, toeing his own shoes off.

Matt shuts his eyes, fluffing the pillow under his head and willing himself to finally get a full nights rest. This house is safe. He secured all the rooms, barricaded the doors, and his weapon is on standby. He can finally rest and relax. But, of course, your mind begins to wander and when your mind wanders, your words follow. “Guess you’re right… But quiet also means you’re not learning anything about the people you care about.”

A deep breath causes Matt’s chest to rise and fall. He doesn’t understand why you’re trying to be all philosophical at the end of the world. Nonetheless, he responds, “I know you, Y/n. I know you’re strong, I know you’re a kind person, and I know you have my back. I also know you’re annoying, but I trust you and I learned all that from watching. Sometimes you just have to watch people. In quiet. Can we sleep now?” He turns onto his side facing away from you in hopes that you’ll drop the topic and fall asleep.

You stare at his back. “Those are all things you learned about me now. I was nothing like this back then.”

Matt takes another deep breath. It’s obvious you’re in the mood to talk, maybe because you finally feel safe enough to keep your voice anything above a whisper, so he decides just to give in and turn your monologue into actual dialogue.

“Back then?” He asks. Matt shuffles on the mattress, now staring at the ceiling as your eyes remain on him. “Yeah, before everything went to shit. Before the end of the stupid fucking world when the little things used to matter. You know, like first kisses and picking the perfect outfit for a date with a cute guy.”

Matt picks at his fingernails, listening to every word that escapes your lips. When you put it that way, he really didn’t know anything about you. “Okay, so tell me about yourself then. Pretend like we’re not in a strangers house, in a strangers room, on a strangers bed, and tell me all about Y/n… Before the ‘end of the stupid fucking world.’”

You chuckle, preparing yourself for the vulnerability you’re about to put on full display, but now that he’s put you on the spot it’s much harder than you thought.

“Okay so… you already know my name. Hmm. My favorite color is pink?”

Matt scoffs. “That’s the real you? C’mon, you can’t go on this whole tangent about how you were different before and then say THAT.”

“Fine fine.” You think for a second. “I was a waitress at a hotel bar. Mixing drinks was easy, the customers were nice, my coworkers made the job tolerable. Mostly only worked weekends because I was at school during the week… I went to UCLA. Go Bruins!,” you let out a breathy laugh, “My siblings were going to visit me that weekend, the weekend it all happened. They had planned the trip for a long time and finally were gonna make the drive.”

Your mind goes to a dark place, the only thing anchoring you being the hand that Matt places on yours. You clear your throat before continuing, “I had a small off campus apartment. Cleared the living room out and everything for them. Even deep cleaned.” Matt squeezes your hand.

“College was fun while it lasted. My parents worked really hard to send me off. They threw me a going away party and everything, even dressed up my dog as the school mascot,” a small pause as you recollect your thoughts, “I had a puppy named Pig. Well he wasn’t a puppy, more like an old fart, but the name suited him. Named him after my favorite animal and because he had the pinkest nose when he first adopted him.”

You feel yourself becoming increasingly sad as you reminisce on what once was. “You know what? Maybe quiet is nice,” you laugh solemnly, wiping the tears that are rolling down your face.

Matt offers you a warm smile, thinking of something, anything, to get you to smile again. But he can’t help it, he’s curious, and since you’re already on the topic he wants to pry further into your personal life. “What were you going to school for?”

“Engineering. I’m shit with numbers, but I was pretty undecided so my parents just chose for me. Brandon would help me a lot. He was really smart… really sweet… But enough about me, tell me about you. Who was Matt before all this?”

Matt ignores your question, instead posing one of his own. “Who’s Brandon? Was he your boyfriend?” He cringes slightly, both at his boldness and at his lack of awareness of your vulernable, emotional state, but his curiosity keeps getting the best of him.

You snort. “Brandon? God no. He was my best friend, sure, but I was definitely not his type. Plus, I never had time for anything serious. I made time for the fun stuff, but never the commitment.” Matt couldn’t hide the relief on his face even he tried. A relationship status meant nothing during a zombie apocalypse, yet he found himself relieved to know that your heart didn’t belong to another.

“I’m sure you had girls swarming you,” you continue jokingly, poking Matt’s sides with a teasing edge. He makes a noise, something between a groan and chuckle as he runs his hands down his face.

“I take that as a yes?”

He hums, remembering the short lived internet fame he shared with his triplet brothers before shit hit the fan. “Some would say that. If you consider subscribers and followers as swarming girls.”

You visibly cringe, “Oh God. Were you one of those thirst trappers? Bet you went to influencer parties and vlogged your morning routine.” Matt laughs loudly, a genuine laugh, one of the few you’ve heard from him since you met.

“Rent was due, okay?” He replies between laughter. Soon you’re both laughing, bodies clumsily bumping as you clutch your stomach and wipe away tears. Your bodies are impossibly close, closer than they should be on a queen sized mattress, and you only notice it once your laughter dies down.

Your eyes have locked with his and your noses even manage to graze. Neither of you make an effort to look away or even to apologize for invading the other’s space. Instead, you do the unthinkable, the one thing you didn’t allow yourself to even think about doing even when he was naked in front of you earlier. You kiss him. You lean forward and close the gap, moulding your lips onto his.

Matt doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate the kiss. His hands find a comfortable resting place on your upper thigh and lower back, using the little energy left in his body to pull you closer. One of your hands lays on his chest while the other gently weaves its way through his hair.

The kiss is sweet and innocent, and it could’ve been over by now, but because you’re both so touch starved you separate for air and dive right back in. You moan against his lips, caressing the side of his face your thumb before moving so you’re cradling his waist. Subconsciously, as if on instinct, you grind down onto him, wanting to feel and explore him further.

Matt wants to go further, and he knows you know it too, especially with the display he put on earlier in the shower, but he’s a virgin who’s afraid to disappoint. So, he pulls away from the kiss and holds your hips in place with strong hands.

“I— Give me a second,” he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut and gulping so hard his adam’s apple bobs up and down. Matt’s mind is racing, every possible outcome for this situation playing through his mind.

You sense his apprehension, plus it’s written all over his face. You never want to push his boundaries or make him uncomfortable. So, you do the only thing you can think to do. Quickly, you shuffle off of him and off the bed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought— today in the shower— I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch.”

You begin to gather your things, leaving Matt dumbstruck as he stares between you and his raging erection. If he didn’t speak up now, you were going to get the wrong idea and he’d miss his chance at a shot with you. Your face is red hot with embarrassment.

“Wait.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, gently pulling you back down onto the mattress.

Matt prepares himself for the vulnerability he’s about to display. He’s nervous, embarrassed, scared, and to top it off you’re the hottest girl he’s ever seen. And it’s not just because you’re the only one left either.

“I’m a virgin.”

Your eyes blow open in shock. “But earlier you said about the? I just thought?” He laughs at your inability to form a coherent sentence, but he gets the gist.

“It was hard to trust people when I was famous, especially girls. I never knew if they truly liked me or just wanted to have my name associated with them for the clout. But it’s different now, I know I can trust you. We took a shower together without making it weird after scavenging through old worn out clothes to find something slightly newer than what we had. You’re covered in the blood of monsters we killed to keep each other safe. You’re here with me when I have nothing permanent or safe to offer.” Matt pulls you back onto his lap, sitting up against the bed frame so your torsos are parallel.

“I should’ve said this a long time ago, but it’s hard to find the time when you’re fighting for your life on the daily… I care about you, Y/n. A lot. I’m not sure what to call it yet, but I care about you and I trust you. I trust you enough to do this.” You’re touched by his words, feeling their effect on your heartstrings and your throbbing core.

“I trust you too, Matt. So much more than you’ll ever know.” In that moment those words felt more real than an ‘i love you’ ever could. Matt leans forwards and kisses you, holding you by the neck. This kiss is different than the one from before, it’s needier and laced with lust.

His hands travel towards your tank top, tugging until he successfully untucks the fabric. You pull away from the kiss and lift your arms, allowing Matt to remove your shirt in one swift motion. The smile on his face as you slowly begin roaming your hands all over his body is genuine, filled with admiration, love and lust.

Your fingers beginning slipping his flannel over his shoulders, your mouth falling down to his broad shoulders to pepper kisses on the skin there. Soon, you’re both removing the rest of your clothes and Matt’s excitement has him flipping you over on the old, worn mattress. He gawks at the sight beneath him. You lay there completely exposed with only the soft moonlight that trickles in through the blinds to illuminate your body. Matt takes it all in, relishing in your beauty like it’s the last time, because in this world it very well might be.

A gentle hand trails from his stomach down to his penis, tracing the outside of his cock and watching intently at the way Matt’s eyes screw shut in concentration. It’s been so long since he’s touched himself and the sight of you alone is enough for him to combust, but he pulls himself together. You trace your thumb over the slit, coating his member with the natural lubrication that’s already spilling out before dragging his cock along your folds. Matt’s breath hitches at the new sensation, you already feel so warm and soft, he doesn’t know how he’s meant to last even one second once he’s actually inside you.

“We can stop if you want to.” Matt gulps, shaking his head feverishly. He doesn’t want this to stop, he’d never want this to stop, even if it hasn’t even really started yet. “No,” his voice is choked, “don’t stop.”

Your lip is caught between your teeth as you continue to guide the tip to your entrance, finally unwrapping your fingers from around him and instead wrapping your legs around his waist. Finally, Matt moves, sinking his cock into you slowly until he’s completely bottomed out. The initial feeling is euphoric, so euphoric in fact that his arms wobble as he tried to keep himself from collapsing on you. You love seeing him like this. A strong man who’d do anything to protect you, so weak and vulnerable from your touch.

His head finds the place where your neck and shoulder meet, forehead resting in the divot there as he slowly begins thrusting. Soft grunts and groans brush against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Praises fall from your own lips as his tip continues to kiss your cervix, egging him further in helping you reach your climax. But tonight was about him, as long as the man on top of you convulsed with pleasure you’d be happy.

Matt’s hips snap against yours, picking up the pace as he chases his orgasm. It’s so close, right on the edge, and from the way he sounds and feels you’re close too. “Keep going, Matt. Don’t stop,” you moan, pulling him in closer with your legs around his waist. Matt whimpers your name, sucking and biting on the skin of your neck harder with each passing thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, words choppy and interrupted by pants and moans. All you can do is whimper in return, snaking a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. As soon as your fingers touch the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body goes into overdrive. Your legs are shaking, pussy fluttering around his cock as you grip his shoulders and moan his name. The feeling of your walls pushing and pulling around him, mixed with the way you chant his name, pushes Matt over the edge. His hips tremble slightly as he spills his load inside of you, his inexperience making it to where he’s unable to pull out before the wave of pleasure washed over his body.

Your bodies remain intertwined for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath. Matt reluctantly pulls out of you, relishing in the way your body chases after him. The mattress dips as he slumps into the spot next to you.

“Thank you.”

You turn to face Matt, a confused look on your face. You’re not sure where this will lead your relationship, but you never expected a thank you after sex, nor had you ever received one.

“Thank you?” You chuckle, curious to where the conversation was heading.

He hums. “Yeah, for not letting me die a virgin.” You can’t help the snort that follows.

“Well in that case, I guess you’re welcome. No one deserves to die a virgin, not even at the end of the world.”

Matt smiles again, a sight you’ll never grow tired of. He leans in for a kiss, pulling you close and keeping you there. The kiss is sloppy, mostly because you’re both exhausted from the days events, but neither of you dare pull away. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring or if there will even be a tomorrow, all you know is that this moment right here is real and you’d like to enjoy it for as long as possible.

“Get some rest, we have a long trip tomorrow.”

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Thank you so much for this request my sweet anon. I’m currently rewatching (binging) TWD and needed to get some zombie apocalypse type story out of my system, so I hope you don’t mind that I used that idea on your request. Also, I know you requested for the reader to teach Matt and I didn’t include really any of that here. I focused on the whole Virgin!Matt aspect of it all. Hope you all enjoy, sorry for not writing a lot recently :P I’m deep in the trenches of Daryl Dixon fanfiction right now so if u need me, that’s where you’ll find me (if u can’t already tell by my reblogs lolol)

ps, I didn’t go to UCLA so if that’s not the mascot don’t kill me. A quick google search told me that much

luv u all xxx

- L.A.M.B 💗👼🏻

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[cup1dluvhss]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚 jim gets into a fight with roy and defends you during the basketball game after roy slaps your ass in front of everyone, and one thing leads to another..

| warnings: assault, fluff, kinda smutty?

| taking requests!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

you held the handrails as you stepped down the staircase into the warehouse, pam at your side as you moved hastily due to the heels on your feet. you regretted not wearing those pink flats you had bought yourself over the weekend.

michael had decided out of nowhere that it’d be fun to hold a basketball game with the office versus the warehouse, but you could tell by the way everyone hesitantly agreed that no one wanted to be here on a monday morning. i mean, anything was better than working, though.

‘so who are you rooting for?’ pam asked you, brushing some of her curls behind her ear as she stepped down the remaining steps of the staircase.

‘oh, the office. jim told me i better be shouting words of encouragement the whole game or else.’ you said, giving her a smile which quickly faded when you saw the look on her face.

‘no. no, pam. it’s nothing. please don’t do this again.’ you moaned as you followed her down to what had been marked as the sidelines, the court all ready and set up.

‘i just don’t know why the two of you haven’t just gotten together already. it’s obvious you both like each other.’ pam said, shrugging her shoulders.

‘shut up, he’s coming!’ you squeaked as your eyes met with jim’s as he walked toward you, roy at his side.

‘hey. sorry you have to watch this. i know you’d much rather be upstairs playing games on your computer.’ jim said as he came within closer proximity of you, his words leaving you letting out breathy giggles, an action which triggered pam to zone out of her conversation with roy and look at you.

‘don’t worry about it halpert. it’ll all be worth it if you win, though.’ you said, titling your head playfully at him.

the action caused his eyes to linger on you a little longer than they should have, his gaze fixated on the adorable look on your pretty face.

‘well, i’ll do the best i can for you. by the way, that only applies if your screaming for me the whole time.’ jim said, a smirk playing at his lips.

before you could respond, michael’s voice boomed loudly across the warehouse, signalling it was time for the teams to gather.

‘good luck. don’t get hurt.’ you said, reaching forward and patting his arm encouragingly. you could feel pam’s gaze burning into the side of your face.

jim was about to say something, that was before roy had turned to face you away from pam.

‘hey, y/n. if i win, can i get a minute alone with you?’ he said, a loud laugh erupting from him the second the words spilled from his mouth.

to say you were disgusted was an understatement, and when you turned to look for help from pam, she was staring at the floor with glossy eyes.

jim however, had clenched fits and knuckles that were going white. he was mad. anyone who ever spoke about you like that in front of him would for sure know not to do it again by the time he was finished with them.

‘hey man, do you mind?’ jim said sternly, turning his body toward roy, practically shielding him from getting to you. god, you loved when he got like this. this wasn’t the first time roy or anyone from the warehouse had hit on you.

‘why don’t you mind your own business, halpert? if the lady has a problem with it why doesn’t she tell me herself?’ he said, turning to look at you with an expectant look, a ‘hm?’ sound coming from his mouth before he walked off to join his team at the center of the court.

jim looked as if he were about to explode, his demeanour darkening considerably after roy had left, his eyes staring daggers into the back of his head.

without thinking, you grabbed his face and pulled it back to look at you, your eyes fixated on his.

‘don’t worry about him. in fact, make him pay for it on the court. yeah?’ you said to him, you hand slowly sliding off of his face and down his chest, before resuming its previous position back at your side.

‘what do you want me to do to him?’ he said, leaning forward slightly so that he was out of earshot of pam. even though roy was being an asshole, he knew she wouldn’t want to hear of any plans to physically hurt her fiancée.

‘whatever you want. anything.’ you said softly, looking up at him with your big eyes.

‘anything i want? you are playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.’ he said, his words practically making your knees buckle, your cheeks going blood red at the nickname.

‘just don’t kill him, okay?’ you said, smiling at him as he nodded and turned away, leaving to join his team in the center of the court.

you turned to pam, hoping that she wasn’t angry or mad at you. yes, it wasn’t your fault roy had hit on you, but you could still imagine that she wouldn’t be too keen on talking to you.

‘pam, i’m sorry.’ you said, stepping closer to your colleague, a reassuring arm finding its way on her shoulder.

‘that’s not your fault, y/n. just wish he’d say that stuff to me.’ she mumbled, leaning her head against your shoulder. roy could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve pam.

the blowing of a whistle suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts, and you found your eyes fixated on jim the moment the ball went into the air. you hated sports, but right now, you could make an exception.

a few minutes had gone by of non stop scoring on the warehouses behalf, and you were still wondering what exactly jim was planning to do to get roy back. the moment that you had conjured that thought, roy’s elbow was swinging into jim’s nose.

‘what the fuck?’ you said, taking a few steps forward out of shock. no whistle had been blown to indicate that anything roy had done was out of line.

almost instantly, the excuses came flooding out of his mouth, a smug look on his face which you knew was bound to make jim want to punch him. and he didn’t punch him, but he did shove him.

roy had squared up on jim afterward, and a flood of empty threats spilled out of his mouth. michael thankfully called for half time, because you were sure that roy was going to end up dead if they were to continue arguing.

jim walked in your direction with a pissed off look on his face, sweat coating his forehead as he reached forward and grabbed the bottle of water you had held out for him to take. as he drank, you then realised he had never looked hotter.

he had blood on his face from the elbow in the nose he had received from roy, and his hair was disheveled almost perfectly that it seemed unnatural. it took you an embarrassingly long amount of time to realise you were staring.

‘is your nose okay?’ you asked, breaking the silence as he handed the water back to you.

‘don’t worry about it, y/n.’ he said bluntly, brushing his hair away from his face as he avoided your gaze.

‘hey, come on. don’t get mad over roy. he’s an idiot, and you’re way smarter and better looking anyway.’ you said, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth. oh boy.

‘oh yeah?’ jim said, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the flustered expression on your face.

although, before you could make any attempt to respond, you felt a slapping sensation on a certain part of your body and an all familiar laugh come from behind you.

there was no point in making any attempt to stop jim from tackling roy to the ground, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop him. but there was no harm in trying.

‘jim, come on stop!’ you said, trying to grab onto his arms as he threw punch after punch on roy’s face, some of the guys from the warehouse now gathering around in attempt to pull jim off of roy.

michael had begun to chant ‘fight’, but was quickly silenced by a stern look from pam while she was trying to grab roy away from jim.

once jim had finally been pulled away by a total of four guys, he stormed out of the warehouse and back in the direction of the office, and it didn’t take you long to run right after him.

‘jim, slow down!’ you called after him as you followed in his footsteps back into the office, finding him standing next to your desk with his head in his hands.

‘hey.’ you said softly, walking up to him and pulling his hands away from his face, an expression on his face that you had not yet seen before.

‘god, y/n. i don’t think i’ve ever been more angry in my life.’ he said, his gaze avoiding yours as you found your face flushing slightly.

‘well, thanks. i shouldn’t be encouraging this behaviour but in this case i will. i appreciate what you did for me.’ you said, your tone genuine as he finally let his eyes meet yours. all of a sudden, he started laughing. and you did too.

‘he’s pathetic.’ he said, shaking his head and releasing another laugh before silence fell between the two of you, and both of your eyes interlocked.

you cleared your throat, walking toward his desk while playing with your fingers. you were nervous to be in a room alone with him. you weren’t sure if this had ever happened before.

‘y/n.’ jim said, following after you and standing in front of you, your back to his desk as you racked your brain for something to say.

you turned around, picking up a pen on his desk, before examining it closer. god, you were hopeless.

‘you know, i heard the factory where they make these isn’t far from here.’ you said, feeling his presence closer behind you. you were nervous to turn around.

‘y/n.’ he repeated, this time more desperately. you felt your heart rate quicken as you turned around, and the second you did, his hands were on either side of your face and his lips were meeting yours hungrily.

‘jim.’ you breathed in between each moment your mouths weren’t connected, a soft hum coming from him telling you he was in no place to stop.

your lips moved together like a rhythm, his tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, soft moans emitting from you as one of his hands fell down to your thigh, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

his other hand fell down from your neck and both slipped around the back of your legs, lifting you onto his desk effortlessly. a few things on his desk fell of and clattered on the floor, but he was too focused on you to care.

his lips fell from yours to your neck, his mouth working against your skin almost as if he’d memorised all the right spots to kiss. his tongue brushed against your skin and teeth nipped your neck, and you were sure there would be marks by the time he was done with you.

you moaned loudly, not being able to help yourself from biting back the noises you were so desperate to make.

‘hey, as much as i love hearing those pretty noises, i don’t want anyone else to hear them except for me, yeah? think you can be quieter?’ he muttered to you, his head dropping back down to your neck, resuming the same pattern he was before.

you nodded profusely, not wanting him to stop anytime soon.

‘let me hear you say it.’ he said against your skin, his fingers digging into your thighs.

‘i’ll be quiet, i promise.’ you practically moaned out, your hand going to the back of his neck to pull his hair as a way to relieve the tension in your body.

‘good girl.’ he said, his words alone making you want to moan even louder then you had before.

‘you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this, do you?’ he questioned, his hands gripping your thighs and lifting the tight pencil skirt you wore further and further upward.

‘jim, i really don’t wanna do this in the office.’ you said, placing your hands on top of his to prevent him from going any further.

‘good point.’ he said, giving your neck one last kiss before pulling away from you, letting you slip off his desk and readjust your clothes.

he watched you as you did so, and couldn’t help but stare. god, you were so perfect. he didn’t know how he’d lasted this long without touching you the way he’d done a minute before.

‘we should probably go back down there. and i presume you do wanna see me slap the shit out of roy, right?’ you said with a smug look on your face, your smile widening the minute you saw jim’s eyes immediately lighting up.

‘oh you wouldn’t.’ he said, his gaze fixated on you to see if there was any sign you weren’t going to do what you said you were.

‘wanna bet?’ you said, turning your back to him and walking back toward the direction of the warehouse, giggling to yourself at the sound of jim’s gasp and his footsteps close behind yours.

[munsster]

rockstar standards

A/N: PLS PLS PLS DROP SUGGESTIONS FOR HOCKEY STEVE/EDDIE im having a total brainfart but i need to break into the hockey au game bc i love it 😻 (gif creds: @cuntyarmand)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, 90s AU

Summary: Corroded Coffin starts to gain some traction, and you can't help feeling stranded. 1.5k words

Warnings: minor angst/hurt comfort, fluff, pining, pet names (bug, sweetheart, sweets, baby), jealousy, undressed cuddling,

You watch him parade around the stage every Friday night. Sometimes he's playing the home stage, other times he books random amphitheaters and dive bars. But today, he's drenched in purple light on the outskirts of Chicago. It's by far the biggest venue Corroded Coffin has played. You sit by the pop up bar, but bodies are packed like sardines in this place. It's hot and loud, but it's worth it to see him so elated.

Even through his streaky eyeliner, you can tell he's adoring the attention of the pit. You can see their red fingernails and shiny tank tops and free flowing hair. You never thought Eddie would be the kinda thing you were attracted to. You also know he's not the kinda guy to be attracted to something like you. You know guys like Eddie usually go for the Pam Andersons and Courtney Loves. The Party girls. Not the ones who have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than watch a romcom alone.

That Sunday, Eddie pulls onto your street. It's late and he has a ringing headache. He couldn't think of anything better to do after touching down in Hawkins again. You'd headed home the night before, and it made his gut wrench knowing he wouldn't get to see you the rest of the weekend.

Your door creaks open, and he's smiling on the other side. He's already leaning against your doorway with the bouquet he bought earlier from the woman selling them on the corner.

"Missed you, bug," he huffs, "Can I come in?"

You step aside without another word, and he hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack like always. Something feels off when he sits on the couch to find you're on the complete opposite side from him. Usually, you're not shy about cuddling up beside him to watch a movie or share snacks or just talk.

He frowns and scoots closer, leaning in to grab at your ankle playfully. You kick his hand away, brow set hard above your lethal glare.

"Sweetheart," he huffs, tilting his head in confusion, "What's going on? Where's my cuddlebug?"

"I dunno, somewhere in Hollywood?"

His eyes nearly pop out of his head at that. You're his favorite girl and you know that. So why're you grilling him now.

"Tell me what's goin' on. What did I miss?"

And you look serious, too. This isn't some running joke he missed out on while he was away. He's not sure who bruised your confidence, but he's sure he'd like to have a few words with them. He hates the way your lip wobbles and your eyes avoid him cause it gives you away. That's how he knows you're heartbroken.

"Eddie," you whine, swiping a hasty tear from your cheek. "I just don't know why you keep me around when you could have any of those girls at your bon vivant gigs."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean, bug?" He barks it out on accident, sitting back on his haunches with a scowl. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm gettin’ rid of you."

"Eddie, please... you're gonna make it big and get shipped off to Tinseltown, and I'll still be here, teddy. Probably being someone's lonely, suburban housewife. It's what I'm made for, and that's not what you want."

"You're wrong."

"And maybe you should go," you whisper, choking back a sob and standing from the couch.

"No, sweets, you're wrong," he says, standing and striding over to you, "You've got me wrong, and you've got you wrong."

You cross your arms over your chest and finally look him in the eye.

"'S that so?"

"Yeah," he tuts. And he has the most charming, most dastardly smile you've ever seen, flashing his canines like a gentle killer. "'Cause I'm gonna take you with me."

"Teddy."

"Nope, I'm takin' you with me wherever I go, and there's nothin' you can say to change my mind. Even if you hate my music forever, fine, I'll fix you up in a nice five star anywhere we go. You can sit and watch all the movies you like. You'll be nobody's housewife, baby, 'cause I'm keepin' you."

You roll your eyes, batting away tears when he grabs your hand to pull you back to the couch.

"And what if I said that's not what I want?" you suggest, testing his rockstar resolve with your big, wet eyes and stubborn quips.

"Then I'll give you somethin' else. Anything else. But you're mine no matter what." If only you knew how proud it made him to call you his girl. To know you support him even if you don't love his genre.  "Now, would you come closer? You're killin' me."

You obey with a frigid pout, letting him drape your thighs over his and brush his ring clad paws over your cheeks, down your neck.

"But what about your groupies and the pretty girls at the bars or in the front row?"

"What about 'em?" he says, just barely shaking his head, "I'll have somethin' way better waiting for me."

You chuckle. "You're crazy."

He cocks a brow. "Old news."

When he notices how close you've gotten, he smiles. Your manicured nails graze over his chest with the only light washing over you from the dimly lit kitchen. He can't resist his palm curling behind your neck, pulling you close for a sweet kiss.

"Where d'you keep your vases?" he mumbles, remembering the tulips resting on the little table.

"Kitchen. Above the fridge," you say with your fingers already slotting between his to pull him towards the warm light. He loves you like this: sickly sweet and tender, holding him all gentle in your hot pulse. You go to reach for a painted ceramic vase, but he wraps his arm around you and turns you away.

"Ah ah ah, drop it, sweetheart. That’s my job," he says against your temple, holding the lip of the vase and patting your ass. He takes the bouquet from your grasp and sets both on the counter by the sink. You hand him a pair of scissors and he carefully snips the stems jagged, filling the vase with water.

His stomach flips when you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp your hands at his belt. He sets the prepared arrangement aside and turns in your embrace.

"All done," he says wickedly, palming your face with his wet hands. You jump back with a squeal, pelting a dish rag at this chest.

"Use a towel, you slob!"

He chuckles and wipes his hands on his shirt, tossing the towel over his shoulder and leering at you like he's starved.

"Come here," he mumbles. You go a little shy under his gaze, dropping your head and shuffling towards his presence. He catches you by the hips, dipping down to catch your mouth in a prying kiss. You grin against him and he groans, tugging you tight against his body.

"Always love how soft you are, baby. Surprises me every time." He shakes his wild mane and purses his lips for you to kiss this time.

"Where d'you want the flowers?" he says.

"Bedroom?"

His eyes light up involuntarily, and he grabs the vase, bounding off towards your room gleefully. You jog to catch up with him, and when you enter the threshold, he's expertly positioning the vase next to a stack of books on your dresser.

"Much cleaner than mine," he says, gesturing around the room, "You keep it nice in here."

You shrug. "Could be cleaner."

"You can never see mine," he teases, knowing full well you already have. He slings his arms low on your hips, adoring you in the blue light of dusk. "Can I undress you?"

You bow your head and whisper, "teddy..."

"Not like that. Just wanna hold you."

You kiss his slanted mouth sweetly, nodding.

He reaches for the edge of your soft cotton dress, pulling it up and over your head. He whistles low upon seeing your undergarments, whipping his shirt off and onto the floor somwhere. You giggle, helping him with his belt buckle. He traces your temple with his lips leaving kisses along the way. He steps out of his jeans and lets you lead him around the bed.

His curls sprawl out against your pillows, and he welcomes you into his side with a lazy smile. Your reach to touch his waist and softly feel over the scar below his ribs.

"Little tender, bug," he hisses. You bat your eyes up at him scared, pulling your hand away.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, please," he whispers, cradling your wrist, his eyes locked with yours. He draws the hair away from your neck, replacing it with his fingers to dance down along your spine. You’re warmer than he’s ever felt before and thankful for it. His hands are cold, but he doesn’t have to worry about it for very long when you bring each fingertip to your lips for a kiss.

“You’re my girl, alright? Always,” he whispers and you nod, “always.”

masterlist

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (7)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, violence, Walker hate, fluff, mentions of being cruel to animals (no description), idiots in love

How to cure a grump (6)

How to cure a grump masterlist

Walking next to Bucky, you try not to show your irritation. He insisted on driving to town to go figure skating with you. You don’t know why yet.

“That’s a nice little town,” he says while looking around the area. “So, this Walker guy was your fiancé?”

“Can you just not?” You huff. The first moment he gets you alone, Bucky must hit you where it still hurts. “I get it. You had to play nice guy all day, and now you want to do what. Tell me Walker could do better than me?”

“What?”

“I already know that, okay,” you sniff. “He knows it too. No wonder he left me for my former best friend. There’s no need to make me feel even worse. I lost my fiancé, my best friend, and my business not so long ago. Now I lost my job and had no other choice than to admit I didn’t make it in the big bad town.”

“Whoa, doll!” Bucky shows his palms and shakes his head. “I didn’t speak about the asshole to tell you he could do better. I wanted to tell you that you can do so much better. He’s a piece of shit, and his face is ugly.”

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore. He’s in the past.” You wipe your eyes with your gloved hand. “Whatever you want to do tonight, you’re free to do it. I can just tell my mom we got into a fight or something.”

“Hey,” Bucky huffs. “Your mom loves me. And who’s going to hate on Walker if I’m not around?” Bucky grins because he made you laugh. “You know, according to rumors, a new guy in town spread, he’s got a tiny dick too.”

“Let me guess.” You furrow your brows. “It was a guy dressed in all black and with a cocky attitude. You know, the kind of man having it all. Minus manners.”

“Right when I thought we were getting along better,” Bucky laughs before he suddenly wraps one arm around your shoulders. “Play along.” He kisses your cheek and murmurs your ex-fiancé’s name.

“This must be fate,” John says while watching Bucky kiss your cheek. He squares his jaw as you instinctively lean into Bucky’s embrace. “How are the odds?”

“Not very high. Only if you are stalking your ex-fiancee and her new boyfriend,” Bucky laughs, but his voice sounds not amused at all. “If you’d excuse us now, we have better people to meet.”

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Walker accuses. He steps closer to you and Bucky, sizing your former boss up. “Your polished shoes and neatly styled hair don’t make you the better man, buddy.”

Bucky’s features darken before he says, “I’m not your buddy. You are the one not getting the hint. Y/N and I wanted to have a moment alone as a pair. But no. You had to come over and act as if you were not the man cheating on her with her best friend. You’re not even close to being a man.”

“Bucky, don’t,” you whisper. “He’s not worth it. Let’s just go and continue our conversation from earlier. I meant it.”

It’s no use. Bucky is unstoppable if someone pisses him off.

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” He laughs in Walker’s face. “A little boy who threw away the best thing ever happening to him. A beautiful, smart, sweet, and damn sexy woman.”

“Only because she lets you fuck her doesn’t mean you’re better than me!” Walker won’t give in. Not when people stop skating to watch your way, nor when his girlfriend tries to stop him.

“That’s exactly what it means,” you finally found your voice. “He’s a better man in any way. He loves me better. He’s doing business better. He’s fucking me better. And his dick is out of this world.”

“You vicious bitch!” Walker steps toward you and Bucky, eyes trained on Bucky’s arm around your shoulders. He can’t take another scratch to his already bruised ego.

“Says the man with a tiny dick.” You wiggle your pinkie in front of Walker’s face. “I can’t believe I let you poke me with that thing.”

Walker huffs and puffs. He’s about to slap your face, but Bucky is quick to step in front of you. Your former boss takes the slap like a champ. He laughs before slamming his right fist into Walker’s face.

Your ex-fiancé stumbles backward. He staggers as he touches his bruised chin. “If you want to at least walk away with what’s left of your ego, leave and never dare to even look my girl’s way.” Bucky takes one step toward Walker.

“Bucky,” you whisper and tug at his arm. “Let’s just go. I think he got the message. Walker was never the smartest.”

“You’re lucky the lady doesn’t want me to beat you into a pulp,” Bucky growls before turning around to wrap his arm around your shoulders. He guides you away from Walker and into the next side street.

“What has gotten into you?” You mutter. “What if that idiot sues you, huh? Did you think about it before punching him for me?”

Bucky grins.

“What is so funny? You’ve got a fucking ton of money. If he hires a lawyer, he could ruin your reputation and—” You can’t end your speech. Bucky presses you against the brick wall behind you to kiss you again, almost desperate to taste you.

Your hands are in his hair, and his arms wrap around your waistline. He moans against you, close to losing himself in the kiss, as a loud meow stops you from doing something stupid.

“What was that?” You pant, your lips tingling from the kiss.

“I—I don’t know,” he says and steps away. Bucky runs his fingers through his strands, messing his neatly styled hair up. “I just…I…”

“I mean the noise, idiot,” you are quick to reply. There’s another meow, catching your attention.

“I heard that too,” Bucky licks his lips. Again, he doesn’t know what came over him. All the fighting over you with Walker turned him into a caveman.

“There!” You say as the meowing gets louder. "I think it's coming out of the dumpster!"

You try to open the dumpster, but Bucky is faster. He opens the dumpster and looks inside. “What the—” He curses as he fishes something out of it. “What kind of person throws a kitten into a dumpster?”

“Oh my…” You coo, seeing the tiny white kitten in Bucky’s hands. “Give the little one to me.”

“No.” Bucky opens his coat to press the kitten to his warm chest. “Who did this to you?” He looks at the tiny creature looking up at him and smiles. “You’re safe now. No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

Watching Bucky talk to the cat, you wonder again. How can he be the same man firing you not days ago?

Part 8

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