#punching the fucking air and sobbing and throwing up

[sugawara--san]

me when kny siblings 😭

[prettiedup]

prettiest thing cont ❀˖°

pls do excuse any typos !

you would’ve stopped her, honestly. if it wasn’t for her moving at the speed of light and practically teleporting in front of him. you could only watch with wide eyes as your cousin, who’s just as short as you, lifts her hand and punches onyankopon right in his jaw.

a series of gasps escapes not only your throat but others also. you can’t tell if someone paused the music or if you just managed to tune the music out due to shock. your feet feel planted to the ground, you don’t know if you should hold back your cousin or check on him. your ears ring as she begins to swing her arms wildly.

“yo, zi, chill!” someone screams. instantly, people are trying to pull the two apart. more so, zinnia away from ony.

ony isn’t exactly fighting back if anything he’s trying to grab her wrists to detain her.

as the scene unfolded, you felt your chest tighten, and your breathing became short. the room seemed to spin around you, and the voices of your friends and strangers became distant echoes. panic surged through your veins like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its overwhelming grip.

there’s so much going on, you feel sick. the urge to throw up courses through your body.  

you clutch at your chest, trying to slow your racing heart, but it only seemed to beat faster. your thoughts spiral out of control, a mixture of fear and uncertainty. you struggle to make sense of what was happening, but the panic consumes you, clouding your mind with irrational thoughts.

then, in a moment of clarity, you recognize the familiar signs. this wasn't just nerves or stress—it was a full-blown panic attack. the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through your veins.

the panic was relentless, its grip tightening with each passing moment. tears stung your eyes as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of emotion.

“yo itty bitty’s trippin’!” someone screams. you feel woozy and uncertain on your feet. everyone is packed so tightly, there’s barely any room to just breathe. you struggle to make sense of anything.

everyone froze in their spots when a sudden series of three shots rung through the air. for a moment no one in the house moved until one girl let out a gruesome scream and bolted towards the front door. and like the domino effect, everyone began rushing towards exits. panic ignites like wildfire, spreading through the room in a frenzy of desperate flight. you couldn’t find zinnia or sasha, not even ony. your legs struggle to keep up with the rapid running and rushing. Panic ignites like wildfire, spreading through the room in a frenzy of desperate flight. you close your eyes and just move with the crowd. 

the night air gushes against your face the second you get outside. desperately, your lungs begin sucking in the much-needed air. you’re stumbling around, trying to find your cousin, a friend, an acquaintance, anything.

as you struggle to look around outside, you’re suddenly pushed onto the ground by a strong force. a deafening scream escapes your throat as you fall face first onto the ground. you instantly ball up into a ball and begin sobbing. you regret coming, you should’ve just told zinnia no and stood on that. your face is both burning and aching, you can’t think clearly, and you’re still trying to recover from a panic attack. you began pleading for any god that’s listening to you to give you the strength to get up and walk, but it feels impossible to do so.

you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass but suddenly you’re picked up into strong arms. you continue to squeeze your eyes shut, you refuse to open your eyes and accept that what was happening is your current reality. you try to fight out of the person’s arms, hitting whatever you can.

“chill, mama. ‘s me. it’s your ony.” instantly your eyes are snapping open and you’re looking at the familiar brown eyes you fell in love with. his chocolate brown eyes are laced with concern. “fuck, we needa go.” you can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself.

a heartfelt sob spews from deep in your chest. it’s so loud and powerful that it makes even ony stumble a bit.

he begins walking, he never once loosens his grip around your body. he speeds walk you to his car, looking behind his direction every other second. truthfully, he’s not worried about his own safety. he wishes someone would pull out a gun on him. it’s your safety he’s stressing about. even though he can try with all of his might to protect you, life is spontaneous, and he doesn’t know what could happen in the next few seconds.

he sets you down in the passenger seat, he would’ve usually made sure you were all the way strapped in your seatbelt but with the uncertainty that you were safe he just closes the door and makes a straight line to the driver’s side. he doesn’t waste time pulling his car away from the house, he speeds down the street, going way over the speed limit.

you’re still crying, with your face burning, you’re hesitant to look at yourself in the mirror. your shaky hand reaches for the mirror but ony quickly stops you by grabbing your hand and mixing his fingers with yours.

“stop. just chill. we’ll worry about that when we get to the crib.” he tells you. his voice is steady, and he hardly looks affected by being punched.

you look down at your entwined hands with widened eyes. it’s been days since you felt any sense of affection from him and it all feels foreign in a way. you don’t know if you want to push his hand off of yours or welcome it with relieved tears.

“jus’ keep breathin’ for me. ‘mma get you straight.” he promises.

you don’t say anything. you plop your head against the headrest. you feel utterly exhausted. along with exhaustion, you feel guilt. you know you’re safe with ony but you have no idea where sasha or zinnia is.

the realization knocks the wind out of your chest, and you perk up instantly.

“i don’t know where they are.” your voice is hoarse.

ony doesn’t need you to clarify who you’re talking about because he already knows. “they’re safe.” he tells you simply.

“how am i supposed to know that?” you snap back.

ony squints his eyes at your attitude. he doesn’t comment on it nor does he respond back to you. the two of you weren’t exactly on good terms and with what just happened he knows you’re talking with emotion and not logic.

even while snapping at him, you don’t let his hand go. if anything, you squeeze it a little tighter as you try to calm your nerves.

minutes later, he’s pulling up to his apartment complex.

“i wanna go home, not here.” you tell him stubbornly.

“your face is fucked up, you really wanna scare your momma by coming home all bloody?” he asks sarcastically. dropping your hand from his. “‘m not gonna touch you. i jus’ wanna make sure your mental is alright.” he tells you before turning his car off and opening the driver’s door.

he helps you out of his car. he makes sure you can actually walk and not stumble. he makes quick work of guiding you through the lobby and into the elevator. you two ignore the worried look the receptionist gives you two. while not knowing the backstory, it does look fucked up from an outside perspective. the two of you are deathly silent as you stand beside each other. there’s a look of irritation on your face while ony looks like he’s barely concealing his stress.

you’ve been to his apartment a plethora of times, so many times that you don’t wait for him to guide you to his doorstep. you walk in front of him, making sure to stomp your feet a little. you make it to his door before he does. you stand in front of it with your arms crossed, a look of impatience is etched onto your bruised face.

while you should be thanking him for picking you up instead of leaving you to die, memories of what he’s been doing and what he’s been putting you through flutter through your mind. days prior, you had daydreamed how you were gonna approach him and apologize, and hopefully get back onto good terms with the male. it all felt good in your head but as you stand beside him you can feel nothing but hate and resentment.

your face is on fire, it still hurts to even frown. you don’t even have to look at it to know it’s bruised. it takes everything in you to not cry again.

ony finally unlocks the door, he allows you to walk in first before following you in.

it’s almost robotic, the way you step out of your shoes and place them beside onyankopon’s expensive shoes. just like you have many times before. the two of you move through his apartment in silence, a hurtful but obvious factor that things aren’t the same. just three weeks ago you were here, laughing and joking with him. just three weeks ago, this apartment was your safe place whenever your parents got too overbearing, just three weeks ago your moans were ringing throughout the rooms as he brought you to mind-buzzing orgasms over and over. 

you let out a breath as memories begin hitting you like bricks. you shuffle into his living room, it looks exactly the same it did weeks ago. even down to the lego set you begged him to buy so that you two could build it together. you continue walking through the apartment, there’s no confidence in your steps like previously, only uncertainty. you walk into the bathroom and cut the lights on.

finally, you’re able to get a good look at your face. your heart skips in your chest as you observe the bruises. your entire left eye is swollen and irritated, there’s a bit of skin missing on the tip of your nose, and your lips are bruised with hues of blood still remaining. there’s some skin missing around your lips, and minor scratches littering your face in general. at the sight, you burst into tears. you took your appearance extremely serious and to see something so horrifying on your face一something everyone could see has you feeling sick.

it almost hurts to cry but you can’t stop the pity tears from escaping. what were you going to tell your parents? how could you manage walking out in public looking so bruised? you struggle to catch your breath as self deprecating thoughts flutter inside your head. you can’t stop looking at yourself. you’re almost struggling to accept that this is your face.

onyankopon rushes into the bathroom when he hears your wails. when he sees you looking at yourself he automatically sighs and reaches for you. he takes you into his arms and holds you against his chest. he lets out soft “shhs’” and “i knows’” in an attempt to calm you down. he knows you, he knows that you would have reacted this exact way the second he saw your face at the party. 

“i told you to chill, mama.” his voice, devoid of any anger. it carried a tone of genuine empathy rather than resentment. it holds a warmth that seemed to embrace rather than accuse. there was softness to his words.

you can’t respond to him due to how hard you’re crying. whatever he’s saying goes in one ear and out of the other. all you can think about is the current state of your face, and the events that took place before it.

“n-need to make sure zinnia ‘s okay.” you sniffle into his shirt.

“i need you to trust me when i tell you zinnia is safe, a’ight? i watched her with my own two eyes get somewhere safe, baby.” he reassures you.

“what about sasha?”

“she’s with connie.” he responds. he keeps his voice steady and every word he says is full of certainty.

you stay quiet at his responses. knowing that your girls are okay does take a little edge off of your shoulders. your mind feels less clouded and you can breathe just a bit better, now. 

he continues to hold you, not letting his grasp go. it feels good to have you in his arms again. it sucks because it’s under unfortunate circumstances, but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been needing this一needing you. there’s so much to discuss with you, so much to apologize about, so much to own up to. those things can wait, though. so much has happened to you and he somewhat suspects the adrenaline is still pumping through your veins just a bit.

he wants to fuss at you for coming to the party anyway, but he knows that it wasn’t your idea to come. you’re too much of an anxious person to suggest coming to a party. the likeliness of the two girls dragging you with them to the party is higher than you dragging them. he doesn’t even know if it’s his place to get on you for coming anymore. he hates knowing that you were in a circumstance that a stray bullet could have hit you, and not to mention your face connecting with the ground and bruising you. he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not he didn’t see the person that pushed you because he probably would have acted with emotion rather than logic at that very moment.

“let’s put somethin’ on your pretty face, mama.” he’s pulling you from his chest and guiding you to sit down on the toilet seat.

he washes his hands before squatting in front of you. the bathroom becomes silent besides your occasional sniffles. he softly rubs the cream on bruised spots on your face, you bite down on your lip as you examine his face. flawless mocha brown skin, his skin seemed to glow with an inner radiance, as if kissed by the sun itself. his fox shaped eyes, a mesmerizing shade of chocolate-like brown, held a depth that drew you in, they reflected a world of untold stories and hidden emotions. his full, pink lips, delicately glossed from the habitual swipe of his tongue. he looks like he was personally crafted, as if god took his time shaping and mapping every area of him. even just his natural resting face is fierce and attractive.

as his fingertips grazed delicately around your eye, a sudden involuntary twitch rippled through your body, a sharp intake of breath escaped your lips, along with a hiss of discomfort spilling into the air. he withdrew, his gaze flickering with concern as he studied your face intently. lines of worry furrowed his brow.

“can i continue?” he asks after a few seconds of waiting for the pained look to etch off of your face.

you nod your head and he resumes to softly apply it on your face. occasionally, you jolt or let out a soft when he touches a spot that’s still burning. once he finishes doing so, he drops his hand and just takes a moment to look at you. your eyes flutter as the two of you make eye contact. time seems to still as you two wait for the other to do something, anything.

nothing happens. he looks away a few seconds later, and stands up to walk out of the bathroom. he quickly comes back with a towel and two rags for you.

“‘mma set some clothes on you on the sink. they’ll be there before you get out.” he tells you as he turns on the shower head and adjusts it to the temperature that he knows you prefer. 

he’s quick to walk out again and you’d be lying if you said a pang in your chest didn’t come to you. usually, he would have undressed the both of you and coaxed you to get into the shower with him. but that's the past, and you have to remind yourself of that. 

you undress yourself and step into the shower. your eyes widen when you realize onyankopon kept all of your products inside of his shower. you blink back the tears and instead focus on washing yourself.

it’s a struggle to not think about everything that has happened to you so far. you have never felt so stressed in your life. with you and onyankopon going through an undeclared break up, zinnia punching him, you having a panic attack, and you getting pushed and bruised. you quite frankly feel you’re on the verge of going insane. it feels like bad things keep happening over and over, not giving you the time to recover from what happened previously before something else happens. 

you find yourself standing within the confines of the apartment you once envisioned as a sanctuary, now transformed into a box of discomfort and unease. the air feels heavy with unresolved tension, each corner of the room echoing with the weight of unspoken words. every familiar object seems to taunt you with its silent witness to the downfall in your relationship. everything feels different and awkward and it makes you want to scream and pull out your hair. you two keep skipping over the elephant in the room instead of being adults and just discussing what happened.

you lose time on how long you stay in the shower. you scrub your body until it burns. by the time you step out, the water is no longer as hot and your fingertips have wrinkled. just as he promised, there’s clothes sitting on the sink, waiting to be used. you dry yourself off and use the lotion that he keeps on the counter. 

once you’re clothed, you step out of the bathroom. you follow the sounds of shuffling and rummaging in the kitchen. ony is standing there, eating something out of a tupperware bowl. when he sees your figure coming closer to him, he looks up from his phone.

“you good?” he asks, observing your face for any signs of uncomfort. 

“yeah.” you nod your head as you come closer to the island top. “‘m thirsty.” you comment.

ony is quick to move from his spot and grab a glass cup. he fills it up with cold water before handing you the glass. he watches you as you practically drink it all with three gulps. “wan’ some more?” he asks, an amused smile finds its way on his lips. when you nod your head once more he fills it up and just watches you. 

you don’t finish it all like you did previously. you drink a good amount before you’re pushing the glass away. now that you're hydrated and less sweaty, it feels like you can actually think and make sense of things.

“what time is it?” you ask him.

onyankopon looks down at his screen, “12:27.” your eyes widened, you didn’t realize it had gotten so late so quickly. “you hungry?” he asks, gesturing towards his food.

“‘m okay. i wanna sleep.” you tell him. you stand there awkwardly, unsure of where to go. do you sleep on the couch? his bed? maybe he’ll even book you a room.

“i got my bed ready for you.” he goes back to eating his food.

you freeze up in your spot. you weren’t sure if you were ready to share a bed with him at the moment. too much has happened today, also you two are practically broken up. you suppose he could see the discomfort filling your body because he begins explaining his words.

“i’m sleepin’ on the couch.” he explains. “my door has a lock on it too if you feel the need to use it.”

you blink at him. once, twice, three times before you’re nodding your head at his words. “goodnight.” you say. you don’t walk away for a few seconds. you just stare at him, in total disbelief that this is how you’re treating each other now. you have so much to say as well as so much to ask. the words die quickly in your throat just as fast as they ignite.

the second your back touches the soft, black silk sheets that adorn his bed; you immediately relax. your shoulders slack and you can’t stop the little yawn from escaping your mouth.

you look over on his nightstand and you’re surprised to see your phone sitting there charging. you’re quick to pick it up. hundreds of notifications sit on your notification bar, you decide you’ll look deeper into those in the morning. you search for zinnia’s contact and when you finally find it, you press it.

the line rings for a few seconds, you assume she isn’t going to answer until it suddenly picks up.

“snookie.” she says the second it connects. you could hear the relief in her voice.

“it’s me.” you confirm. “you alright?”

“yeah. i just—i fuckin’ blacked out at that party.” she’s chuckling like it’s the most humorous thing in the world. “i bet his ass ain’t never been punched like that.”

you can’t stop the giggle from escaping your throat. zinnia has always been a wild card, especially when she thought with her emotions. that’s how she became known in your city, she was always fighting at one point in middle school and up until her junior year in high school. she had a bad habit of spazzing out whenever someone told her what to do, or when someone messed with someone she loved. while people outside of your family just saw her as a troubled instigator, you and your family knew she was an aggressive person, she’s just big on respect.

“i.. i kinda wish you didn’t punch him.” you admit. you could hear her smack her teeth through the phone. you’re sure she’s also rolling her eyes too. “i don’t want things to be bad blood between you and ony. you guys have known each other for years.”

“snookie, you’re my cousin. you’re basically lil sister. i would never put a nigga before you. and i know how the game goes, i won’t allow some random ass boy to play in your face.” she tells you. her voice is sincere. she wants so much for you. she knows you were sheltered and haven’t had much of a chance to actually spread your wings and fly without someone looking over you. she also knows how possessive ony get, it doesn’t take much to see that he has you wrapped around his finger. it bothers her in a sense. she’s afraid you’ll continue to fail to set boundaries and allow him to do as he pleases.

you bite down on your lip as you listen to her words. “i know. i just—” you’re cut off by her loudly sighing.

“just nothing. i punched that nigga in his shit and i’d do it again if i need to.”

you know how zinnia gets. instead of arguing with her or begging to change her mind, you just accept it. “i hear you.” is all you can say.

the two of you sit in silence for a few seconds. you can’t think of anything to say to keep the conversation going. after such a draining day, you just wanted to sleep for months. your mind goes back to your face, which is still aching a little. you should’ve just told zinnia no, you wished sasha didn’t call and wake up zinnia. if none of that would have happened, there wouldn’t be a wedge between zinnia and ony, and your face wouldn’t be bruised.

“where are you?” she asks.

you hesitate on your answer. she’s going to be pissed when you say your location, you can feel it. you stare at the wall ahead, trying to think of a coverup. when nothing comes to mind, you sigh in defeat.

“onyankopon’s house.” you admit. 

“girl.” she practically yells into the phone. “how the hell did you get with him? how-what.. girl. i’m about to come get you.” you could shuffling in the background and the faint sound of the mattress crinkling. 

“no! zinnia, no. your voice trembles with urgency, reverberating through the phone. “i’m safe. way safer with him than anywhere else right now.” you try to explain, your breath quickening as you search for the right words. The silence on the other end is heavy before she lets out a breath.

“bullshit. i knew something was up when i asked eren if he saw you. i fuckin’ knew it, he was too calm when he said you’re good.” she begins rambling on how she’s going to punch eren next and onyankopon again. 

“z, i was literally having a panic attack when he found me. he’s been patient and careful with me this whole time. it’s just one night and then i’m goin’ right back to my house.”

zinnia sighs as she stops in her tracks. she could hear the begging and sincerity in your voice and it crushes her.  you’re grown, she has to remind herself.

“alright. snooks. alright. just.. just stay safe, okay?” zinnia plops back down onto the bed.

“i will.” there was no one safer than ony. even if you guys were going through an unofficial breakup, you’re positive he still wouldn’t let anything happen to you. “where are you?” you ask when you faintly hear a voice in the background.

“eren’s.” she says quietly.

“and you’re mad at me?!” you exclaim with a laugh.

her and eren have been on and off for years now. most of the time their relationship ends because zinnia gets irritated or overwhelmed by eren and calls it quits. there little breakups barely last a week before they’re seeing each other again. this time’s no different.

“i think the line is breaking up. i-oops-bye!” she says before hanging up on you. i stare at your phone in shock, did she really hang up on you? you can’t do anything but laugh to yourself.

you decide to call sasha too, who answers on the first ring.

“about to get dick. i’m safe, are you safe?” she asks hurriedly. you could hear r&b music blaring in the background and the sound of connie’s singing.

“yeah, just was calling to make sure everything was alright.” you explain to her.

“more than alright. i’ll call you tomorrow, snooks. gotta go.” you usher her a quick bye before ending the call.

there’s no one to distract your thoughts, now. you’re forced to look around in the room you lost your virginity in, the room it felt like you were just in. memories of you and onyankopon stumbling through the door, his hands planted on your waist as he guided you to his bed. other times you two would be laughing while carrying a bag from your comfort fast food place. you’d be discussing the new episode of the tv show you two enjoyed watching together. you don’t even realize your eyes were watering until one of your tears ran down your cheek. you let out a huff as you wiped it away only to hiss in pain when you accidentally touch a bruised spot.

there’s no telling how long you lay in bed staring blankly at the walls and ceilings. your thoughts are so loud that you can’t even find it in you to get on your phone. there’s memories of him there too. thankfully, you doze off and the stress from today is something to worry about when you wake up.

₊˚⊹ ♡ ʚ🎀ɞ ♡ ⊹˚

“you sure you're straight?” onyankopon asks. his brown eyes take in your bruised face. even through all of the marks and bruises, you’re still so beautiful. he had made sure you were fed and that he put cream on your face before you two made the journey back to your house.

you stare out of the passenger window. your heart feels heavy, you’re worried that this will be the last time you two officially talk. even though you were so sad and mad at him, you love him. he’s your first everything, and everything he did felt genuine. it was hard to throw something so meaningful behind you. your bottom lip trembles as you try not to cry in front of him. 

“i’ll make it.” is all you say. you try to keep up your disdained front, but onyankopon sees through it. he always does.

“i put the cream in your purse.” he tells you. he had made sure to drop it in while you were finishing the breakfast he bought you. 

“thanks.” you basically whisper out. you should be screaming at him, you should be telling him you hate him, you should be disrespecting him just as much as he did you at the party. but none of those emotions could be forefront at the moment. you’re sad, scared, and confused. you truly don’t want to lose him but you couldn’t just pretend you didn’t see the video and accept the disrespect.

the two of you sit in silence. after what feels like an eternity, onyankopon lets out a long, weary sigh, breaking the awkward stillness that had settled between you. “i know i fucked up. ‘nd i know we need t’talk some shit out. i got some plays to make today, ‘nd ion wanna rush you t’talk to me if you don’t want to.” he’s careful with his words, he doesn’t want to say anything else that would upset you and make you hate him more. “when you’re ready, call or text me.” 

finally, you look over at him. your eyes connect with his instantly and the familiar butterfly feeling returns in your gut. “alright.” you mumble. you pick up your purse and then open the door. you close it and without looking back like you usually would, you walk to your front porch. you could feel his eyes on you as you walked. it took almost all of your willpower to not look back.

you busy yourself with searching in your purse for your house key. he doesn’t pull off until you’re all the way in your eyes and the door is closed behind you. you don’t know how to feel. your relationship could possibly reconcile on your terms. you didn’t know if you wanted to reconcile. you’ve heard zinnia mention many times that she goes to eren’s for closure before they break up permanently, but she never comes back actually single. is that what’s going to happen with you and onyankopon? you’re sure he’s more mature than eren, so what if he decides to end things.

you’re so stuck in your thoughts you don’t realize your mother is calling you until she’s directly in your face. you had meant to rush into your bedroom and show your parents your face hours later. you’re sure your newfound state will be the talk of the house for the rest of the day now. her eyes are wide as she takes in your bruises, without a word her hand grabs your jaw. she assesses how bad things are with sharp eyes. you hold your breath as you wait for her to begin her lecturing. 

“daughter.” she says as she drops her hand.

“hm?” you pretend you don’t notice her mood drop or the fact that you can practically feel the anger radiating off of her.

“before i trip the hell out, you’re an adult. and in a very adult manner, without beating around the bush, you’re going to tell me what the hell happened to your face.” she leaves no room for argument, every word spoken is stoic and firm.

“ma, can i tell you later?” you’re sighing with deflated shoulders. “i need to just be alone right now and think.” you try to explain yourself.

“this is why i’m so protective. i let you go out, and this is how you come back! have you seen your face? do you know you have to go out in public like that?!” 

“please, ma. not right now.” your voice cracks as you plead with her to relax. the last thing you feel like dealing with is her fretting. “i’ll tell you, i just need some time alone.” 

“did that damn boy put his hands on you?! tell me now so we can go to the police!” her accusation has your heart thumping a little faster in your chest.

you quickly grow defensive on onyankopon’s behalf. “he would never! i fell.” you tell her simply. you could tell from the way she rolled her eyes that she didn’t believe you which only irritated you further. 

“you think i haven’t heard that before? that’s what girls always say to protect their boyfriend’s. i refuse to allow you to see him if一”

“he didn’t hit me! i fell! i was at a party, a fight broke out, it escalated into something further, and everyone got scared and started pushing. no one hit me, i was pushed and fell face first.” you make sure to leave out the fact that it was zinnia who got into a fight. 

your mother’s sharp eyes eye you from head to toe. there’s a frown on her face that screams that she still doesn’t believe you. you feel the urge to cry, you were being truthful and telling her what happened from start to finish, and for her to not believe you made you want to scream.

“you’d tell me if he一no, anyone, put their hands on you. right?” her voice is calmer. you assume she’s trying to piece together your words.

“yes. you know i would. i know how crazy you and dad can get.” you try to slip in a joke to ease the tension that was brewing between the two of you. it seemed to work because a small smile cracked onto her lips as she nodded her head in agreement.

“mhm. everybody know we don’t play about our baby.” she chuckles. she gazes intently at your face for a few more seconds, her eyes searching yours as if looking for something unspoken. finally, she lets out a deep, weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly with the weight of unvoiced thoughts. “that’s how i know you’re my daughter. still pretty with scratches and shit on your face.”

you can’t stop the laugh from escaping past your lips. “i learned from the best.”

“your daddy’s upstairs. gone and show him you face so that he can get his shock out the way too.” she tells you.

you groan in annoyance at her words. “ma一”

“gone on.” she repeats firmer. 

with hesitant, slow steps you take your time walking up the stairs. you knew your father was going to absolutely lose his shit. and you’re more than positive that he’s going to overreact before you can explain to him what happened. the walk to their bedroom is too short for your liking. you knock twice before you put your hand on the knob and slowly open the door.

“hey babygir一what the hell?! go get the gun!” 

a heavy sigh escapes your lips as the realization hits you. you’re going to have to explain everything and soothe his worries, just as you did with your mother. the weight of the impending conversation settles on your shoulders, and you mentally brace yourself for the emotional rollercoaster ahead.

₊˚⊹ ♡ ʚ🎀ɞ ♡ ⊹˚

it’s been a week since you’ve talked to onyankopon. since the, you’ve been forcing yourself to go out more, regardless of what happened to your face. sasha and zinnia have doing wel on keeping you and your mind occupied. the three of you have been going on many nature walks, shopping trips, and road trips. it seems as if love was no longer in the air, as your two ‘sisters’ complained about their failing love life as well. 

you three were walking a popular trail in your city. the path was lined with a diverse array of vibrant plants, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze. every so often, a flash of color would catch your eye as various birds and delicate butterflies flew by. all three of you were wearing pink pilates workout sets that you begged them to wear with you. 

zinnia wiped off the sweat that formed on her forehead. “shit! it’s hot.” 

“i miss my man.” sasha pouts as she lets out a dramatic fake cry.

“bitch, don’t we all.” zinnia rebuttals. she takes a gulps out of her water bottle while sasha begins ranting about connie.

“i didn’t even do shit to him this time! i think he’s on his boy period or something.” sasha groans. 

“eren told me, i’m and i quote, ‘too crazy’.” zinnia’s lips tug into a frown “‘m not crazy, just sensual.” she defends herself.

“nah girl, you’re crazy. but eren is crazy too, so y’all are made for each other.” sasha tells zinnia.

“didn’t you chase connie down when you saw another girl in his car?”

you zone the two girls out. even though you’ve been going out more. it would be a lie to say you haven’t been missing ony, it’s gotten to the point where you find yourself tearing up a little and have to quickly mask it. you absolutely love spending time with your girls, the both of them together always make sure to make you laugh. but there were traits of ony that the two of them didn’t carry and couldn’t make you forget.

the urge to text him and possibly reconcile has been begging you to give in. you should hate him, you should absolutely despise him, but for some reason you don’t. you feel the urge to sit down with him, and simply ask him why. you had never done anything to disrespect him, ever, so why did he feel the need to disrespect you? 

your mind races with a whirlwind of thoughts, each one pulling you in a different direction. part of you craves the closure that a conversation might bring, the chance to understand his actions and perhaps find some peace. yet, there's an undeniable fear that talking to him could reopen old wounds, making it even harder to move on. you find yourself questioning everything—did you miss the signs, were there red flags you ignored, or was it all just a cruel twist of fate? the uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving you torn between the need for answers and the instinct to protect your heart from further pain.

“snookie.” zinnia’s voice calls you out of your thoughts. you slightly flinch and look over at her. “you talked to ony recently?” she asks curiously.

“uh, no. we haven’t spoken since he dropped me off last week.” you tell the two. “he told me to call or text him whenever i’m ready.” 

“are you ready?” sasha asks you. 

you think on your words. you find yourself at a loss of words which causes you to shrug your shoulders unsurely. “i-uhm.. i think i’m kinda ready.” you say hesitantly.

“don’t be in a rush to talk. let him be without your presence for a little.” sasha tells you.

“that’s the thing, we’ve been going without talking for a while. and honestly i miss him, so much, maybe too much.” memories of what he did at the party flashes through your mind which causes you to internally shudder. “i think i might talk to him soon.” you huff. 

the girls give each other a look before they give you any sort of vocal response. “you sure?” zinnia asks worrily. “i don’t want him to just sweet talk you and you instantly give in. we know you, snooks.”

you take in her words. what people don’t understand is that he’s your first everything. he holds a place in your heart that no person will ever compare to. regardless of if you end things with him or not, you’ll forever have love for him.

“i don’t know how it’s going to go, honestly. i’m just ready to talk to him and have a final answer.” 

“well, just know we support whatever you choose.” sasha tells you while giving you a genuine smile. 

 ₊˚⊹ ♡ ʚ🎀ɞ ♡ ⊹˚

the sound of partynextdoor's voice fills onyankopon's car. the smell of weed and a mixture of his strong cologne fills your smell. it's two merged smells that you've grown to miss. you feel strangely nervous to be around him, as if he wasn't just your boyfriend some weeks ago.

you're nervously typing in the three out of three group chat. you're updating the girls about every minor detail that happens. you were beginning to regret agreeing to meet up with him, you thought you would have been more confident and assured but just a lazy glance from his brown eyes had butterflies floating around inside your stomach.

you look down at the cupholder where his phone rests. that's what started it all. him leaving his phone and you taking it upon yourself to pick it up and go through it. you quickly learned your lesson, you probably will never touch anyone else's phone except yours for the rest of your life.

you wouldn't have had time to do it again, anyway. seconds later, onyankopon is approaching his car with both vanilla sundaes in his tattooed hands. he hands you yours before sitting down and making himself comfortable.

"thank you." the words leave your lips stiffly, lacking the warmth they once held. just weeks ago, you might have added a playful nickname, something intimate that rolled off your tongue with ease. now, the air between you feels thick with unspoken tension, making such casual familiarity feel out of place and awkward.

he mutters out a stilted “you’re welcome” before he’s putting his car in reverse and backing out of the parking lot.

he drives in silence, and you make no attempts to spark up a conversation. you have no clue of what to say to him first. occasionally, words bubble in your mouth and as you’re ready to vocalize them, you stop yourself. 

the drive isn’t particularly long. quicker than you expected, ony is pulling into a secluded spot that overlooks the river running through your city. the location is perfect, offering an unobstructed view of the sunset. the sky is awash with warm orange hues, casting a gentle glow over the water, the scene feels almost surreal, the calmness of the view displayed to you wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. it’s short lived when he puts his car into park and turns it off, only the music is running. your heart drops as you realize the inevitable is about to happen.

you focus intently on your sundae, trying to distract yourself. your stomach is doing flips, making it nearly impossible to swallow the sweet, creamy bites. each spoonful feels like an effort, the sugary treat almost too much to handle the turmoil inside you.

“how have you been?” his voice makes you flinch a little. you thought he was going to stay just as quiet as you.

“i’ve been good.” terse and short. you’re not even doing it on purpose, it’s just all you could provide. “how about you?” you add on to seem less rude.

he takes a spoonful of his ice cream before he responds to you. “life has been lifing.” he chuckles but it seems forced.

“oh.” is all you can provide. admittedly, hearing that he’s been going through things and not everything has been peaches and cream for him fulfills some insecure part in your brain.

“snookums.” the nickname he used to call you had your eyes suddenly watering. you pretend to not be affected by his words by inhaling a restricting amount of ice cream. “i’ve never felt like this about anyone, ever. i want us to work, forreal. i don’t think i can continue livin’ my life without you in it. you’re all pink ‘nd glittery ‘nd shit. you deadass walked into my life and brightened shit up. i love it. i love you.” ony finishes off his words with a heavy inhale. the sound of the water clashing against each other fills the silence as you try to collect your words.

tears continue to threaten to spill past your eyes as you stare out of the windshield window. you feel so overwhelmed, there were hundreds—millions of. things you wanted to say to him when you were mad but now that you’re calm and thinking, you have nothing to say. deep down, past your rapidly beating heart, you knew that you didn’t want your relationship to end. but it’s choosing between fighting for your relationship and accepting his wrongdoings or ending things now and keeping some sort of morals.

you don’t even realize tears are dripping down your face until ony’s fingers wipe under your eyes, catching a few stray tears. you turn your head to look at him, his chocolate eyes are only on you. there’s a restless look on his face. was no contact hurting him as much as it was hurting you? you honestly hoped it was.

your words die in your throat every time you try to form a sentence. you could only sniffle and rub at your eyes.

“w-why? just.. why? why’d.. you let her dance on you? why’d you go an-and embarrass me like that?” you barely manage to get everything out without bursting into tears. your voice is wobbly and cracked. you hate feeling like this.

“i was high ‘nd drunk as fuck. but that does not at all excuse my actions. i’m genuinely sorry for my actions and i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” his voice sounds sincere, and the way he's gazing at you, with his eyes practically begging for a second chance, makes it clear how much he means it.

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. the hurt still lingers, but so does the memory of the good times. now’s the time to be an adult, to communicate thoroughly, to set boundaries and not just go with whatever he says.

"what you did.. really hurt me.” you sigh out before continuing. “and it's going to take time to rebuild that trust. but i can see how sorry you are, a-and i want to believe that you can change. i need to know that this won't happen again." you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly. you look into his eyes, searching for the sincerity you hope is there.

“i swear on everything that this won’t happen ever again, i’ll deactivate what ever account, i’ll stop goin’ to parties, all of it. you matter more than any social media page or party, i’ll forever choose your love.” he tells you sincerely. his voice carries a blend of determination and vulnerability. timidly, he reaches for your left hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently lifts it. when you allow him to grasp it, he envelops your smaller hand in his larger, warmer grip, a gesture of his earnest plea for forgiveness.

 ₊˚⊹ ♡ ʚ🎀ɞ ♡ ⊹˚

“and yeah.. i took him back.” you finish recalling the events that took place to zinnia and sasha. the three of you are lounging on your bed, spiraled in different positions so that all three of you could fit. the two girls were hanging onto every word you said, nosily. “i know i’m stupid or naive but一” you’re cut off by zinnia talking over you.

“none of that, snookie. you’re young and in love. no one knows you better than you know him and if you want to give him another chance then so be it. don’t block yourself from love worrying about what everyone else is going to say or think.” your cousin’s words are firm and she’s looking directly into your face to let you know she’s serious. “it’s your first serious relationship, not everything’s gonna be perfect.”

“literally. have you seen how many times we went back to these damn men? we might not like them right now, but we do love them.” sasha backs up zinnia’s words.

“well, i wouldn’t say i love eren, but he’s real chill y’know? zinnia's voice trails off as both you and sasha exchange an unimpressed glance. sasha raises an eyebrow, and you stifle a sigh, knowing exactly where this conversation is heading. “what?! i’m serious!” ainnia insists, her tone defensive, but her attempt to convince you falls flat. “

your cousin’s a liar, maybe you shouldn’t listen to her advice.” sasha side eyes zinnia some more.

the girls begin bickering while you think back to onyankopon. he has been trying to do better and also get the relationship back to how things were before the argument. he’s constantly checking up on you, making sure you’re still applying cream to your fading bruises, and sending you money whenever you mention the slightest things. the awkwardness that manifests sometimes still lingers between the two of you, but you both try to work around it and adjust.

he’s been having an uproar of clients which means having to stay on the go constantly since he  also delivers. he still makes sure to find time to call you and talk about your day and plans. you feel like a giddy teenager having their first crush.  

“when’s the last time you and connie talked?” zinnia asks sasha.

“while i was driving over here. i had him on bluetooth, and asked him if he still hates me. he told me i ‘ruined his life’. like okay mr.dramatic.” sasha recounts while rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders. 

“he might be onto something.” zinnia comments.

“oh, please!” sasha responds defensively.

these two girls have made sure to keep you content and entertained this entire time. they’ve never judged you or made you feel left out and confused. and you’re so grateful for them. you don’t even realize you’re crying until their attention is placed onto you and they’re both gazing at you with confused curiosity. 

“snookie, what’s wrong?” sasha asks worrily. “is it cause i brought up connie? his vibe is negative right now but he’s not that bad of a person.” 

you huff out a laugh at her words. with the end of your shirt, you use it to dab at your eyes. “no it’s not that. i just一i’m so grateful to have you both. y’all have been so supportive and understanding. and i’m so thankful.” you finish off your words weakly. instead of successfully wiping at your tears you’ve only managed to multiply them.

“awe, snookie! you’re gonna make me cry!” zinnia exclaims while wiping at her eyes. “you’re our lil’ sister why wouldn’t we be here for you?” she sniffles.

“you mean the world to us. and you were going through an extremely vulnerable situation, of course we were going to make sure you stayed level headed.” sasha adds on, her voice filled with empathy and concern.

all three of you find yourselves caught in a chorus of sniffles, a harmony of shared vulnerability while comforting each other. the scene is both comical and beautiful. three women that have each other as a solid support system. all three of your personalities are polar but they still manage to successfully merge and create a beautiful sisterhood.

after the three of you calm down and go back to your usual selves, you decide to spark up the conversation again. “ony wants me to come over his crib tonight.” you tell them nervously. 

they both look up from their phones and look at you. zinnia has a look of hesitance while sasha has a smirk on her lips. 

“snookie’s trying t’get freaky!” sasha laughs. with a sly smile on your lips, you cover your face in embarrassment. she isn’t exactly wrong. it’s been a while. you went from getting some almost everyday, including multiple times a day, to none. late night when it was just you in your room, you get wandering thoughts and memories that are too extreme to ignore. 

“it would be nice.” you giggle shyly.

“don’t think you have to have sex with him, okay? just ‘cus y’all are together again doesn’t mean he needs to be inside you.” zinnia lectures. she really does just want the best for you, and she’s aware that you just want to go out and live. she doesn’t want to be sheltering like your parents, but she does want you to be safe.

“okay.” you nod your head. you’re aware that she just wants the best for you. 

“don’t end up having a mini ony.” sasha warns you.

 ₊˚⊹ ♡ ʚ🎀ɞ ♡ ⊹˚

“ohmygod!” you squeal. your legs are spread open with onyankopon’s broad figure in between them. everything about him is so big, including the fingers that are rubbing at your clit. “baby.” the word escapes from your mouth weakly as your hands clench at the messy covers.

onyankopon busies himself with kissing at your jaw, his full lips leave trails of wet kisses. you felt so full, if you concentrated enough it almost felt like he was going beyond the confines of your walls and into your stomach. 

“missed you, baby.” his tone is soft as he continues his trailing. the sound of his lips smacking against your skin and your body’s merging together to create a lustful harmony echo’s through his bedroom.

“missed you too.” you heave out. he’s taking his time to fuck you. his thrusts are articulated and rhythmic, he never skips a beat as he fills you up over and over again. the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass almost embarrasses you. 

your pussy’s a sputtering mess, gushes of your arousal continue to coat his dick every time he pushes his thick dick into your warm walls. the only time he’s ever fucked you so slow and sincerely is the night he took your virginity. there’s something about the slow pull of his hips that has you going crazy. he’s moving so slow but it’s enough to fill you up and have you muttering words of love.

“you missed getting fucked like this, baby? hm? missed the way i filled you up?” he moves to your ear to whisper sweet little praises. everything he’s muttering to you sounds good. he hasn’t fucked you to the point that you could feel yourself going dumb. instead, you feel an infinite amount of love for him, with the way he’s slowly moving and talking to you, is this what making love feels like? you wonder to yourself.

“yes, ony, missed it so much.” you moan.

“jus’ love you s’much.” ony mumbles to you. his tongue darts out to trace the shell of your ear. he’s going even slower it feels like. 

“faster, ony.” you whine. you were absolutely enjoying his slow languid thrusts but you were beginning to grow more needy. you wanted him to fuck you like he usually did. rough, unforgiving, and nasty. 

“y’asking or telling, baby?” he taunts. he stops his thrusting all together which draws another whine out of you, this time more frustrated than the other. 

“asking.” you’re pouting and grabbing at his shoulders. you look so small under him, it makes him want to be mean. he knows you can take it, you always do. 

ony moves back to your lips, he doesn’t rush to connect his lips with yours. instead, he lets his linger by yours while looking deeply into your eyes. even after talking and forgiving him, there’s so much left to be said. he knows it’ll take time to rebuild the trust you had in him and plans on making sure to never put you in a predicament like that again. slowly, he leans into you and presses his lips yours.

you get so caught up in the steamy kiss, you don’t realize he had begun to move his hips again. not until, he gives you a particularly hard thrust that has you pulling away from the kiss so that you could moan freely. 

he plows his dick into your aroused cunt causing soft mewls to escape from your mouth. you had begun biting down on your lip, he realizes. ony smacks his teeth and stops once again. wordlessly, he had leaned up and placed one of your legs on his shoulder.

a loud moan frees itself from you when he suddenly starts pounding your pussy. the rough, firm rhythm is back, just faster.

“‘m sorry.” he repeats to you. he’s letting out moans and huffs himself as he loses himself inside your tight, wet pussy. 

“mmm!” is all you can groan in response. your brain can’t handle words at the moment. your eyes zero in on where the two of you are connected. there’s a thick white coat around his dick and some splatters on his pubic hair.

“gonna make it up t’you. i love you.” he promises with a desperate whine.

his finger goes back to fondling with your sensitive clit. your back arches up, which only gives a better view at your chest. “love you too—love you more.” you gasp out. 

that night, he makes love to you over and over until the two of you are extremely exhausted. he makes sure to apologize, to make promises he guarantees he’s going to fulfill, and to never hurt you like that ever again. 

taglist: @conniecherry @ikookiesword @briluvsmoney@shaleiishigh @undevidedattentionsblog @notbeforelong @chunkygirl07 @chericherilady8@romansssrevenge @ejdhsk @jeansspacegirl @imaniitheoneee @aiyaaayei @kenbentenn @prettypink-princesss @severenswife @kirayuki22 @cauqhtz @prettypinkpwrincess @undermypersuasion @onysmamas @whoareyouuuo @lowellsdomain @rosemary-222 @jamies-cumslut @okayiamkassandra @thatblckquietgirl2 @coriewrld @xoxo-shy @iloveoldermenn @jupittterrrrr @katsukis-lilbunnywhore @vayaonair @naj-ay444 @hidd3nbimbo @rintcrous

[carbonfiction]

Venom lends a tendril (hand?)

Eddies hips pump roughly into yours; his chest draped tight over your back. Not an inch of space between either of your bodies as your ass bounces back against him. A jumble of half muffled moans and mewls filling the air; eddies bicep cluched around your throat.

The lack of clear oxygen makes you dizzy and paired with the rate he fucks into you, breathless is far from the word.

"Taking it so well.. Our dearest girl.. So good for us" venoms voice coos out from above; the deep drawl a difference from the grunts Eddie makes behind you, his thrusts picking up and punching so deep that it makes your eyes roll.

"F-feels so good" you garble, pushing back against him harder, faster, chasing the simmering pleasure in your gut. Your eyes fluttering shut, an inky black tendril emerging from the back of Eddie's right shoulder. It slips down around you, contorting across your middle until it dips further; searching out the puffy flesh of your clit and flicking against it.

Pleasure burns through you as eddies hips begin to stutter; trying to hold off his own orgasm as venom pushes you into your own. "E-Eddie..vee- m' cumming, fuck!"

A choked sob fills the bedroom, tears slipping salty down your lips onto Eddie's bicep. Your sopping cunt convulsing around the length of him, body trembling in their grasp.

The feeling has Eddie pressing deep inside- until you can feel him against your cervix in a heavy prod, no longer thrusting but grinding desperately as he pants breathless into your ear.

Then, the same tendrils that had brought you to release also bring Eddie to his- what with the way they dip to swipe against his balls, seeking out that little spot behind them that has a broken noise rumbling from Eddie. Repeated expletives dropping from his mouth as he stills, cock pulsing ropes of hot cum into you with each pleasure ridden twitch of your cunt.

"Did so well for us sweet girl"

You hear venom praise again from besides you as you drop to your front, eddie pulling out with a hiss as he flops down himself; the mattress sounding disgruntled at the move.

"Love you. My boys" you murmer sleepily, Venoms inky face bobbing gently besides you with a wide, all tooth grin. Your eyes flicking from Eddie's to the white brightness of vee's, flicking a soft yet exhausted grin at them both, the tendrils slowly retreating home inside eddies naked form.

Something slightly different.. Is it anything?? Idk.. But i did have fun throwing it together?? Praying its not too ooc but lemme know whatcha think!! <3

[dolicekiss]

slight drabble ♡ about will fucking graham because im horny and he's the prettiest man i have ever seen and i think he'll fuck me good under stress

CW; noncon, dominant will, bratty reader, filthy unprotected sex, primal instincts, degrading, hair pulling.

Will Graham had enough on his plate, especially with the constant feeling of being a failure nipping at his core. He didn't need a bratty bitch like you to add more to that beautifully decorated plate, yet here you were. Using your tongue to spew out all sorts of petty things directed towards him.

At times Will would imagine himself grabbing you by your hair and slamming your face right down on the table. Bending you over and fucking some manners into your tight little cunt right there but then he'd inhale a breath of air and let it all go.

Too bad that wasn't going to happen today.

“You fuckin’ piss me off.” Will grunted, taking a step forward.

You smiled in victory. “Yeah? Telling me all that like I care.”

Will ran a hand over his face in frustration, hoping you'd stop. It wasn't like he didn't try to bite back his own quips but he simply couldn't. You were too tempting — he couldn't back out from putting you in your damn place.

“Did no one ever teach you basic manners, you impolite little girl? You're this close to getting it.” Will had taken another step while you stood besides the book shelf, coursing through the files.

Everyone knew Will Graham was a petty bitch but you, you were his fucking competition. They all knew it was either going to be you or him. You both couldn't survive together.

“I'm terrified.” You mocked, an ill mannered giggle slipping.

Something inside him snapped when he heard you let out that fucking sound of ultimate victory. Before you knew it, Will had slammed your head into the book shelf while his body pressed up against you. His hands tangled in your hair.

“What the fuck?" You gasped out, feeling pain blossom in the side of your head. Will didn't care anymore.

These were only the repercussions of your own actions. Will pulled you by your hair towards his wooden table and bent you over it, all while you struggled. Tiny fists punching at his hands.

“Let me go!” You whined, throwing kicks and punches everywhere but Will was stronger. He was rougher as he slammed your frame down on the table once more and held you in place with one singular hand. “Fucking asshole, let me go!”

His other reached to unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock. It took him a few seconds to pull up your tight knee length skirt and slide your panties aside to drive himself into your cunt. You cried out and Will groaned, feeling the wetness of your warm pussy drape him.

“So fucking tight and wet. Do you get wet by talking back to me?” Your tears profusely streamed down in rivulets but he didn't care. Instead he found himself to be enjoying your cries and pleas.

The same fucking bratty bitch who was now stuffed with his fat cock and crying from it.

Will pulled your face up by tugging on your hair, his other hand gripping your hip tightly. His hips snapped at a rough pace inside you and your cunt throbbed from the ache. Will’s cock had stretched your little cunt out like no other.

“Fucking slut. The whole of FBI should know how big of a whore they've hired.” He spat, the sound of his skin smacking against yours reverberating throughout the walls of his office. “Pathetic thing. That mouth runs a lot, doesn't it? How about you use it now, but for something better? How about sucking a cock, my cock once I'm done with your slutty little pussy.”

You could only sob, drool accumulating around your mouth as your mascara streamed down. Feeling his cock drill into your pussy was too much for you, especially when he hadn't even prepared you.

Will growled, his beautiful curls clinging to his forehead due to the perspiration. His blues swallowed by blown out pupils. A predator ravaging its prey. His cock throbbed from the sheer self control he had held onto in your presence.

But not anymore.

“Runnin’ that mouth around only tells me you wanted this. Christ, what a fucking cockslut you truly are.” Letting go of your hip and hair, Will reached over and shoved his fingers into your mouth.

Holding you from behind, he fucked you silly and you felt yourself choke a little from the way he was holding you. By shoving his fingers into your mouth. Saliva and drool covered his fingers but that was the least bit of Will’s concern.

He let out a laugh, feeling himself come near. “Yeah–fuck yeah. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum inside this greedy pussy and then I'll make you walk around with it inside you.”

You were all over the place. Hair strands sticking to your face, fingernails grazing against the wooden table. Scratching the material and your knuckles had gone completely white. This had thrown you off the edge. You disliked Will Graham’s sassy personality but this? You never expected this to happen.

“Oh—oh pretty whore. I'm close, I'm so fuckin’ close—” Will stuttered, letting out whines now as he felt your velvety walls clamp down on him. His balls were hot and ready to pump you full of his cum, so he did. Loads of white erupting inside you as Will’s breathless whines and growls filled up the room.

Your whimpers and cries were drowned down soon when he forcefully clamped his hand around your mouth. He couldn't have you moaning like a bitch in heat for the whole of the agency to hear. Especially when he'd taken you in such a primal, immoral manner.

When Will was done, he pulled his cock out of you and spread apart your ass cheeks with his thumbs. Watching as your gaping hole spurted out white, hot cum. Relishing in the sight of it.

As he stepped back from you and fixed his cock back into his pants, you lost balance due to your wobby legs and fell down to the floor. Will stared at you, broken and abused. Precisely done hair now a total mess with strands sticking out, black smeared around the eyes and spit surrounding your lips.

Tears had stained your flushed cheeks. Your soft cries expressing the assault you'd just faced by the hands of your colleague.

“Talk back to me next time if you wish to get your throat fucked too. Brain dead little whore.”

[orchid3a]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ jersey chaser⠀ 〳 ⠀ o.aiku ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) she's been a jersey chaser until she met him.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, jersey chaser!reader, slight bratty!reader, mentions of reader being an influencer, reader in her lori harvey phase iykyk, mentions of reader being a daughter of a famous soccer player, mentions of slutshaming, mentions of pubes, mentions of oliver being uncut, dom!oliver, oral (m.receiving), he humbles reader immediately, slight sports player crossover and up to reader's interpretation on who the volleyball player is lol, sleazeball oliver, dirty talk, degradation kink, degrading pet names (slut), slight praise kink, doggystyle position, possessive!oliver, adding breeding kink in here for @lawscorazon, does he make reader wear his jersey while they're doing the nasty....yes, could this be turned into a mini series..maybe, word count: 3.8k

YOU WERE ONE OF THE BIGGEST INFLUENCERS IN THE WORLD. With a growing following of over half a million and thousands of likes on every social media post you post. You were the daughter of a legendary soccer player (now coach). You've accomplished everything you wanted, thanks to your father's funds. You've got your makeup business that's been booming since you were a teenager. Now that you were young and living your life, you couldn't help but dip your toes in the dating pool of sports players. Collecting jersey numbers like they were the bright infinity stones Thanos collected in the Marvel movies.

You were young, so why settle down so soon. Why was it such an issue that you kept your options open? You couldn't help that you gravitated towards the sports players. From the basketball players in the NBA to one of MSBY Black Jackals players. You've sat courtside during so many games that you have lost count. However, now that you've taken a break from the dating pool and decided to be single for a couple of months—you are interested in getting a taste of your next prey.

And it just had to be him. Oliver Aiku.

You thought you could use the same charm as him during your father's charity ball that brought many soccer players (both old and new) together to auction off legendary and expensive things to help fund little league soccer teams worldwide. You bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously. You tried to impress him by being the highest bidder on an item you could care less for. The usual charms that would have had any other person eating from the palm of your hand were a complete fail.

Or so you thought.

You remembered the goosebumps that decorated your skin as you stood outside the luxury hotel where the charity event was being held. Mumbling to yourself how you were ready to go home—mop about being curved to your best friend and then do some retail therapy. That was until you heard his voice behind you.

"Leaving your own father's event so soon?" His head tilts slightly while he's shoving his hands in the pockets of his nicely tailored suit.

Even you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in the attire he had to wear tonight. You rubbed your arms, hoping it would help warm you up as you waited for your driver to pull around with the car.

"I've done my duties as his daughter. I showed up." Your shoulders shrug before you go back to doing what you were doing.

It wasn't anything you could say to him after you made a fool of yourself by attempting to flirt with him just to be met with a very cold, harsh steel door. You could feel his presence next to you as if he wasn't going to leave until you eventually got in the car.

"I've heard about you." Oliver's voice trails off, alluding to the things you already knew about yourself.

You already had to read about it in gossip magazines, so hearing it from a guy you had your eyes set on—wasn't new. Your eyes glance over at him, and you don't even notice how intensely he stares at you. You watched as he let his tongue glide across his lips—drinking in your looks for the evening. Instantly, the once coldness you felt due to the crisp nightly air went away from your body, radiating heat just by the way Oliver looked at you. The ball was no longer yours to guide like usual, he had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"Hm, nothing new. I'm a slut, and my father needs better control over me. I've heard about me too." You sighed while opening your clutch.

You were searching for nothing. Just to avoid having to meet those green and purple eyes of his. Those heterochromia eyes could put any woman in a trance. Similar to a snake charmer trying to guide a rattlesnake.

"Yeah, something along those lines and that you are a jersey chaser." His chuckle was low enough for you to hear him. "That's fuckin' hilarious."

"Hahaha, laugh it up." Sarcasm oozes from your tongue, and you realize that he is getting a rise out of his.

"So what do you do? Steal their jerseys after breaking their precious little heart so severely that they can't focus on their game?"

You finally turned to look at him. Swapping the weight of your body from one red bottom to the other. Your arms crossed over your chest before rolling your eyes, "If you didn't curve me, you would have found out, Mr. Aiku." You had seen your personal driver pull up in front of the hotel.

Your driver, whose known you since you were little, would rush to open your car door, but he immediately stopped his actions due to Oliver stopping you from opening the door yourself. The door to the black Benz truck slapped shut, and you couldn't help but eye Oliver questioningly. You hated the fact that the ball was no longer yours—he had full control, and you couldn't entirely read him to gain the ball back.

He inches closer, abruptly closing the gap between you two. He's holding a hotel room card between his index and middle finger—waving it in your face as if it's your father's credit card. "Then show me."

Your eyebrow raises at him, wondering when he changed his mind. However, you had no time to wonder when this was the perfect opportunity to regain control of the ball. Beat him at his own game. You told your driver that he could go home for the evening, considering that you planned to spend the whole night with Oliver. Your plush lip gloss-covered lips curve into a harmless smile before you turn towards the hotel entrance, dragging Oliver swiftly by the black tie he had around his neck.

You didn't care about the people in the lobby seeing you with him. That's the thing, you never cared about being caught out with another person because it wasn't their business. Your manicured finger jabbed at the elevator button, and as soon as the doors slid open, you waltzed inside with your head held up. As soon as the elevator closed with the two of you inside, it was as if a switch had gone off between you. You instantly let your lips crush upon each other, grasping each other bodies. Your leg hooked up his waist as your back was leaned against the elevator wall. Before you could mumble about people walking on the elevator as it was going up, your lips gasped apart, feeling his hands reach between your thighs.

Oliver nibbled on your lip, teasing, letting his tongue glide across it afterward before he pulled away as soon as the elevator opened on the floor you two were going to. You watched completely breathless as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off the elevator as if the two of you weren't so close to tearing each other clothes off right in the elevator. "Cocky bastard." You mumbled to yourself.

You followed behind eagerly, though just as he reached his hotel room. He unlocked the door, but before he opened it, he leaned against it and looked at you. "You know what you're getting yourself into, right?"

Your eyes roll at his words, "Of course, I'm not some timid little girl." You push your way into the hotel room.

You didn't waste time stripping from the elegant velvet gown you wore tonight. The hotel air sent a chill down your spine as you plopped down on the king-size bed. The warmth of the sheets hitting your bare skin caused you to close your eyes. You were completely basking in the scent of the hotel room. It smelled like Oliver if you focused hard enough. Just as you were about to complain about what was taking him so long, you could feel something getting thrown at you.

"Put this on." He mumbles as he walks around the hotel room, removing the attire he wore tonight.

You sat up, extending the clothing he had thrown at you. It was his jersey. "Why'd you want me to wear this?" You asked. You tugged the jersey over your head to put it on.

Oliver glances up from removing cufflinks that had his initials engraved in them. He looks you up and down from head to toe. From how your hair seemed to be in the perfect shape to how he could even get a peak of your ass with each movement you made with his jersey on. He understood why many sports players gravitated towards wanting to even get a date with you. You were stunning—absolutely breathtaking. However, Oliver wasn't like the others.

"You look good in it, don't you think? Better than wearing that volleyball play jersey." Oliver smirks as he closes the gap between you two.

Some buttons were undone on the crisp white button-down shirt he wore. His black slacks hung loosely around his waist, and his hair was now disheveled from his slender fingers combing through it.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, noticing that he was moving closer toward you. The ball still wasn't in your grasp. As soon as you willingly slide his jersey on your body to be entrapped by the scent of him from the piece of clothing, you no longer have the upper hand.

"Don't you think you'll be even prettier with my cock in your mouth?"

Your brain never got so stuck on a question. Primarily when you were known to dodge red-carpet report gossip questions. Your fingers toyed with the ends of the jersey, not sure what to say.

"I think you would look prettier. Mouth full of cock, drool dripping down, staining my jersey..." Oliver's voice trails off like a broken poem spoken during open mic night.

Your panties grew damp with each syllable that rolled off his tongue to the point where you were mentally cursing yourself for folding so quickly.

So much for attempting to gain control?

Before Oliver could say anything else, you're dropping to your knees without another word. Your eyes met with his as you're thirstily tugging the black slacks down his ankles. Your hand teasingly brushed against his bulge through his boxers. "What you waiting for, for me to shove it in your mouth?" His tone comes off as significantly condensing—as if he is growing impatient.

"Didn't know you were in a rush." You commented as you leaned forward on your knees, fingers grasping at the band of his black-colored Calvin Klein's.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Oliver's lips parted to spit out a sarcastic comment, but before he could give you the pleasure of that—you're pushing yourself closer on your knees to take him in your mouth. Instantly your hand grasped at the shaft of his cock that couldn't fit into his mouth, slowly stroking it teasingly as you pucker your lips to kiss the tip of his cock. Your lips began to stain with the taste of his precum that leaked through the slit of his tip, and you seemed to moan at the feeling of your mouth being stuffed. Your eyes shifted close to relinquish the sense of pleasuring Oliver.

With your teasing kitten licks, Oliver took it upon himself to buck his hips to feel more of your mouth. With each thrust forward, the tip of his cock tapped at the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Your drool begins to pool out your mouth messily, and Oliver's eyes glistened in amusement at the sight. His fingers toy with your curls before he pulls you off his cock with a seductive pop.

Your tear-filled eyes stared up at Oliver, completely breathless as you were attempting to enjoy being able to breathe once again. Oliver's lips curve into a devious smirk as he leans down to grab hold of your face, his callous hands squishing your cheeks together for your lips to pucker. He's leaning in as if he wants to kiss you, but he pulls away.

"If you ball your left hand in a fist, maybe, just maybe, you'll handle my cock in your mouth better." He teased before he tried again.

His cock once again took comfort in your mouth, and you're taking note of his tip this time. Your fist balled up while you inched forward. Slowly his cock disappears in your mouth bit by bit.

Your drool stained the jersey on your body with each brash thrust forward. Your eyeliner smudged down your heated cheeks as you looked up at Oliver through your teary eyes. Even though his thick cock was taking your breath bit by bit—your eyes still twinkled in admiration for the soccer player, and your panties grew damper.

"Give me one good suck; remember what I told you. 'kay?" His fingers grasp at your coils as if he was your hair stylist—ushering you forward some more to deepthroat him.

In just a quick second, you're willing to shove Oliver's cock back in your mouth until the tip of your nose is met with the coarseness of his pubic hair. His hand instantly pressed on the back of your head, entrapping you from escaping of the fiery feeling of your throat being used recklessly. As he told you, you breathed through your nose while your hand grasped his toned thighs. Your manicured nails dug into his flesh, but you knew he could care less about some nail marks on him when his cock was in your pretty mouth. Your eyes closed just in time for a single tear to drag down your cheeks before he let your head snap back so you could catch your breath. Similar to drinking your first cup of alcohol, your throat burns. The string of saliva connected between your plush bottom lip and his cock was quite a sight if you two were filming a porno.

Your knees ached from the carpet below your body as you watched Oliver finally kick his feet from the slacks around his ankles. He palmed his cock effortlessly to coat the remainder of your saliva on him.

"Get on the bed on all fours." He urges with proficiency in his tone.

"You want to be a jersey chaser, but you must earn the jersey first, princess."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You did what you were told too quickly; you wanted to question yourself if he had some spell cast on you. You not spitting out some snarky comment during comments weren't your thing. Perhaps his cock bruising the back of your throat put you in your place, but it was too soon to judge when his cock hadn't driven its way inside you.

With your butt up in the air, you quivered, feeling his callous fingertips trace alongside the curve of your spine. His thick cock resting in between your cheeks. Your hips bucked back just to feel some friction—your pussy twitching in anticipation of feeling Oliver's cock.

"Don't be so impatient. My dick isn't going anywhere." His fingertips teasingly trace his name on your spine.

You felt the pad of Oliver's thumb brushing against your pussy lips through your soaked panties. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip before you spoke, "Could you stop the teasing?"

Oliver ignored your question as he tugged the lace fabric down your thighs. As if you're a fragile doll, he's helping you out of your panties. "Now I see why you're so impatient," Oliver mumbles as he grabs hold of his cock, guiding it towards you.

The relaxed sigh that came from Oliver when his cock felt how wet you were was like music to your ears. Your body felt so hot, feeling him shove his cock inside you little by little. Not because he wanted you to get used to his size but to push you further to the edge to beg for more.

"Please." You whimpered out as your fingers intertwined with the sheets.

"That's what I wanted to hear." He leans over, placing the sloppiest kisses down your spine.

You felt so strange because, during your other hookups, you never felt like this. Your body never felt like it was going through a continuous fever by just a subtle task like pasting kisses on your spine covered with his jersey. Your pussy never fluttered around a man's cock in anticipation. Simply curious about how exactly the Oliver Aiku strokes were.

They started off slowly; perhaps he was getting used to your drooling cunt gripping around him like a tight glove. Then the pace quickened, and the grip on your waist tightened. He now had a pace that was pleasurable for both of you. It left you creaming and fluttering around his cock, making you feel like you were on top of the world. It made Oliver feel so pussy drunk that he saw stars. The adrenaline going through his veins at the moment felt similar to when he was doing what he does best on the field. His multi-colored hair began sticking to his forehead due to the sweat droplets dribbling down his forehead. His hands grasped at his jersey that you wore so perfectly—using the jersey to yank back on his cock like a toy yo-yo.

The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other could be heard in the hotel room. You were sure Oliver didn't care for the guests residing in the neighboring hotel rooms. With each buck of his hip, it seems to have more aggression to it. Each thrust felt like he was attempting to express something.

Your whimpers and his hushed whines continued to intertwine with each other like a sultry tune. In such a pornographic position with your hip gripped so tightly that you were sure it was getting bruised—you adored hearing Oliver's moans. They were brash yet whiny. He was enjoying this just as much as you.

"Where does my pretty little slut want my cum, hm?" Oliver asked.

With each word that came out, he pushed his hips forward harshly to meet the plumpness of your handprint-stained ass cheeks. Your tears stained the sheets below your body as you let out muffled moans at Oliver's question—completely ignoring his question because you were so close to crumbling down yourself.

"Your back." His grip on your waist tightens as he bottoms down inside of you. Shoving his full weight upon you, completely entrapping you from running away from his harsh thrusts.

"Or maybe inside this pretty pussy of yours, hm? So many choices." He grunts out.

It became too inaudible for you to answer his question when the only feeling you could feel was the sensational feeling that sat at the pit of your stomach. Your thighs shook violently, feeling Oliver's pace only quicken. In a matter of seconds, you saw stars in your tear-filled eyes, and the only form of language you knew was Oliver's name while your cunt fluttered around his thick cock—just in time for him to finally decide where to cum at.

Despite the two of you hitting a high of pleasure—that didn't stop Oliver from filling you up with his cum. His hips sloppily push forward to ensure no droplets of his cum escape. Oliver released his grasp on your waist as he hesitantly pulled out, his cock coated with a ring of his cum.

When exhaustion finally hit you, your body felt like a fresh bowl of Jell-O. Your limbs felt like you did the same training your dad would put guys in his training camp through. Instantly, you're sitting up to grasp your gown on the ground—but Oliver stops you.

"I don't stay the night when this.." Your hand motions between the two of you. "Happens." You add.

"Now you do; you're too exhausted to even move."

"No, I'm not."

"Well, want to go another round?" Oliver grins down at you, and you glimpse up at him before letting your body drop back on the mattress below your body.

"You're insane, I'm going to sleep."

As you got comfortable on the king-size mattress, you heard Oliver chuckle and disappear into the bathroom. Before uttering any other snarky comment, you drifted off to sleep with Oliver on your mind.

The following morning, you woke up to the sun kissing your soft skin and the constant dinging of your cell phone. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stretched like an exhausted black cat before reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You pushed yourself up and grasped at the hotel sheets. The previous night was a vivid blur until you noticed the spot where Oliver was laying was empty. You woke up alone with the scent of Oliver engraving your skin and breakfast on the table in the corner. Your hand went to rub the sleep out of your eyes while scrolling through your countless social media notifications. You would have thought that you had flashed a stranger with the way your phone had been going off.

Your plan of silencing your phone and returning to continue your beauty rest was halted when you finally saw the post that had everyone in a frenzy. Oliver had tagged you in a picture wearing his jersey. You assumed he took the picture after you had dozed off after the amazing sex the two of you engaged in. The caption had your eye twitching in annoyance—but it reminded you that with Oliver, he'll always have the upper hand.

According to Oliver, you were no longer collecting jerseys.

— tags: @lawscorazon @eiflawriting @maydayaisha @sailewhoremoon @simpliheavenli @whore4mikey @gg-trini @saaturno @sirenh4ll @wh0reforlevi @m00nchildthings @foxthroats @cherrypussprincess @anahryal @orchid3a @hellshedevil @21-06-1996 @iluvgiveon99 @la-musaa @fairylibra @black-yn @smileyy-cakee @shamelesshoefairy @bubble4u @mimi321us @atesumu @kristvns @b-achiras @diorlov3er @dior-fawn @stunnababyyabyyy @sookisaurus @aizensballsweat @jellymantra33 @http-twyla @euixnaa @cactusmghao

[dameronology]

complex (logan)

summary: honestly i was just listening to complex by katie macleod and i started typing and this is what happened, it's only 800 words but hey-ho.

warnings: arguments, so much swearing, logan is kind of a dick

Your residual anger hung thick in the air like heat in the summer.

Your apartment was full of signs—little reminders of your argument, tiny clues to point to the hurt in your chest. The blankets on the sofa were still tangled from where Logan had slept there last night. There were two empty bottles of whisky beside a smashed plate on the coffee table, matched with angry claw marks where he'd made the wooden structure his victim. Most obviously, you and the man you loved stood on each end of the room and the argument, chests heaving from shouting and fists balled up with rage. 

"I fucking hate you," you declared.

"No, you don't," Logan deadpanned, "you hate me right now, but really, you love me."

"Don't," you paused, taking a deep breath, "don't tell me how to feel."

"But you're allowed to tell me how to feel, huh?" he challenged.

There was another strangled sigh in your mouth. You couldn't keep sighing. You needed to come up with something new. Yelling had never been your thing. Maybe Logan's, but not yours. He hadn't even yelled for this entire fight. There had been heated exchanges, sure, but even in his most frustrated moments, he hadn't dared raise his voice. He had that much self-control.

"I can't look at you," your eyes fell to the floor.

Logan let out a snort. "Can't look at me, huh? Can't look me in the eye?"

This whole thing had started because the furry fucking moron had said something stupid. Then, he'd made it even worse when you'd pointed it out. It was like Logan had brought himself a proverbial shovel and was rewarding himself by digging a hole. He was ten feet down, and he couldn't see anything, save if he looked up and saw you glancing down at him with bleary eyes in his self-sustained grave. You could have reached down your hand to help him out but it was too far.

"Fuck. You."

Your chest heaved as you shoved past him, shoulders hitting his with a thud. Logan had barely even processed what had happened before the bedroom door slammed in his face. The force caused a picture on the shelf beside it to fall, the glass smashing into three separate pieces. He leant down to pick it up, turning the frame over. It was a picture of you at Coney Island two years ago; the wind was blowing your hair back, faced pressed to Logan's as he scowled. They were sweeter times.

Logan glanced up at the ceiling - or the sky, whatever the closest thing is.

"Whoever the fuck is up, that's not fucking funny."

He stopped at the door.

To say his heart broke when he heard you crying on the other side would be an understatement. There was a lot of sounds that Logan hated; his ring tone, his alarm sound in the morning, Wade Wilson's voice...but above all, the sound of you crying felt like a punch to the throat. It was even worse for him to know that he was the one who caused it.

Logan didn't stop before he opened the door. He booted it, body crossing the room in seconds to meet you at the bed. You were curled up, hugging his pillow to your chest and crying into yours.

He fell to his knees beside you, warm hands pulling your arms away from your face and towards him instead. A pair of strong arms came to wrap around you and in seconds, you were pressed to his chest.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, "don't cry. Please don't cry. Punch me, slap me, fuckin' kill me if you want but please don't cry."

A little sob escaped your throat. "You're so frustrating."

"I know," Logan gave you a small smile, "christ, I know. And I am so fucking sorry."

He re-centred you on the bed, organising the pillows so that they were behind you. The mattress dipped beside you as he climbed under the covers, pulling you back into his side. You were still glaring at him, still refusing to throw you a ladder down his special grave.

"I let my anger get the best of me sometimes," Logan said, "maybe I don't shout at you or get angry the way I do at other people, but it...it manifests in more fucked up ways, I think. I like arguing. I love riling people up. I don't like doing that to you, though."

"You did, though."

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmured. "I'm trying my best. I know my best is absolute bullshit but...I am trying."

You tangled your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "I know. It's okay if you want to keep trying."

Logan softly smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[iamyoursonly]

Childhood Best Friend (16/07/2024)

turns out my bakugo obsession wasn’t over so i’m writing him to feed my delusions because I saw this one line on tumblr and I had to write a whole story about it; i wrote this at 2 AM so it’s not the most creative hehe but bear with me

1.5k words — unedited

The thought of having a childhood best friend that you can keep in contact with really drives me insane, not in a bad way though, because it’s the kind of friendship that I crave. I have no idea how much time both parties dedicate to each other to maintain a relationship for this long, and I might be jealous of some of my friends because they have this and mine isn’t as ideal as I hope it was.

“Katsu?” My five-year-old self say, “Would you marry me when we grow up?”

The crimson eyed boy looked at me, holding out that ring pop he’s been eating for a while now and basically finished, “If you’ll have me that is.”

According to his mom, I went around kindergarten holding his hand and calling him “my husband katsu” for a while, and he was always around to protect me when kids doubted what I said. He’d beat them up or threaten them with his explosions saying, “You’re all just jealous that you’re not her, but too bad she’s my wife now so piss off.”

I was always around him and he was always around me, we were literally stuck to the bone.

“Katsu, someone told me I was ugly is that true?” I cried in his arms for the first time when I was six, and he rubbed my head and let me cry it out.

“Whoever told you that must have no taste, you’re breathtaking.” He says.

“What does ‘breaktaking’ mean?” I say.

“Breathtaking. It means you’re so pretty you take someone’s breath away.” He smiles, “I’m also beating them up for putting this nonsense in your head. No one messes with my wife.”

“Don’t beat them up though, please?” I look at him, and his rubs my head and nod.

This all disappeared when I had to leave to move away because my parents found a better job. I held onto his hand and begged my parents to let me stay with him and his family, he also begged, claiming he doesn’t want to be apart from “his wife”.

“Don’t forget me, Katsu.” I start sobbing, “I really don’t want to leave.”

“Can’t you stay?” He asks, red staining his eyes because of the crying he has been doing.

“I can’t, they’re not letting me.” I hold his hand harder, “Promise we’ll meet again?”

“Let’s become heroes together. I’ll become number one and you’ll be alongside me.” He squeezes my hand back. “Let’s meet at UA.”

“Promise?” I ask.

“Promise.”

We pinky promised before my parents shoved me into the car and drove away.

“Hit harder, you’re not doing it right!” My coach screams at me. “Okay, take a break you’re not thinking.”

I sit on the ground, stripping off my boxing gear then throwing them to the ground, “Fuck.” How am I going to be good enough to catch up to him? He’s gifted, hardworking and talented. It’s not possible to be on the same level as him without training harder, and I’m not even hitting right…

“I’m done, let me do it again!” I say to my coach, who’s wiping the pads I’ve been hitting. She smiles and signals me to start. I throw I few punches at her, then a few kicks, and some more punches. “That’s the spirit, young lady!” She says as I throw more kicks at her.

“Good work today,” She pats my shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

I smile at her before packing my bags and leaving, stretching a bit before I take a taxi home to revise for tomorrow morning’s tests. I take out the small notebook I keep in my bag and start memorizing some main points from the book, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” I whisper.

I manage to get a taxi, I get in and sit down and continue studying. After a while, I look out of the window, slowly rolling down the glass after getting the driver’s permission. Feeling the night air against my face, I start to feel home sick. It’s been ten years since I left Japan, and I’ve been doing everything he would just so I can get in UA. And I miss him so much.

“Congratulations! You’re accepted into UA high school, we’re looking forward to seeing you on our first day!“

I scream at this news before telling my parents and they were overjoyed also. They willingly bought me plane tickets back to Japan and even called Katsuki’s family to have them take care of me for the mean time, in which they agreed to. And all I could think about that night was how happy he would be when he sees me again.

He was not happy, at least I don’t think he is. He has this scowl over his face and he’s gotten so tall and buff since ten years ago.

“You’re that loser girl I hung out with? I literally have no fuckin’ memory of you since you’re so fuckin’ insignificant to me.”

Wow. He’s definitely changed so much.

“Katsu, I kept my promise, I got into UA and now I’m back.” I say.

“So? What do you want me to say? Congrats? Yeah no shit, everyone craves validation when it comes to me.” He says, “Congrats loser, for making the bare minimum to get in like it’s fuckin’ challenging.”

Okay he’s just rude now, where was that sweet old Katsuki I missed. So I just rolled my eyes at him and went to their guest room to settle down. In which Mitsuki welcomed me with a whole party that Katsuki was not happy about.

New school year, new me. I wear my UA uniform, ready for a new school year with more fun and joy every year. Until some weird guy stopped me and Katsuki on our way to school.

“Hey girlie, you look so fine you should be called mine. Wanna go out with me?” He winks, and I cringed at him. Katsuki full on glared at him, looking pissed.

“She doesn’t wanna fuckin’ go out with you, why would she downgrade herself for a fucker like you?” Katsuki grabbed my hand and started leaving.

He told him off for me. He cares.

“Why are you even helping that whore?” That weirdo asked Katsuki, and he glared daggers into him.

“No one can say that to her when I’m around, say that again and you’ll lose your dick.” Katsuki threatens him again and wraps his arms around my waist.

He turns to me, his face so close to mine before he says, “Let’s go.”

Since when was his face so masculine and defined. He definitely had a big glow up because how could one be so breathtaking?

“Katsu.” I say, “What was that for? Thought you hated me.”

“Still do, but only I can degrade you.” He answers.

“Possessive much?” I joke, but I could feel his grip on my waist tighten. So I just shut up and walk with him.

When we got home that day, Mitsuki made us fried chicken and some extra spicy mapo tofu (katsu’s favourite).

“Remember when the two of you got married when you were five? Katsuki gave you his ring pop after you asked him if he’d marry you and he said something like ‘if you’ll have me’? Oh goodness I remember it like it was yesterday.” She chuckled with her husband as Katsuki and I stared at each other awkwardly.

“Shut up you old hag.” Katsuki says, his ears red, “I’m going back to my room.”

Before he leaves the table, he drags me with him and we enter his room before he locks the door.

“So,” He starts, “What now?”

I look at him, “You dragged me in, you tell me.”

“It’s nothing I just needed a break from them.” He shrugged, “It’s not like I’m fuckin’ embarrassed of us or anything.”

There was a moment of loud silence.

“Katsu,” I break the awkwardness, “Can we like start again?”

“Like what, pretend that you never left me?” He says, his tone sounded like he’s hurt.

“I didn’t want to, and you know it.” I look him in the eye, and he keeps the eye contact.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much and now you’re here,” He puts his head on my shoulder, basically whispering into my ear, “I hate how you’re my weak spot and how I can’t properly get over you even though we were basically children.”

“Katsuki, listen.” I hold his face and he’s so close to me I could feel his breath on my face.

“Yeah?” He looks at me, features softening.

“Be my boyfriend, Katsuki.” I murmured softly, “For real this time. I swear the only person I’ve loved is you.”

He laughed out loud, “Thought we were married all along, wifey.”

I hug him tight and he speaks, “Don’t leave me again okay?”

“Promise.” I chuckled, “Also you need to get me another ring, I might have left the ring pop with my family.”

“You silly bitch. You’re lucky I love you.” He gently smacks me.

“And I love you too.” I smile.

…“And now, I pronounce the two of you husband and wife.”

Maybe this childhood best friend thing that I had wasn’t that bad either, seeing how we have two children together right now makes me smile at our memories together as a child. My breathtaking childhood best friend and the pro hero Dynamight that I could call my husband until the end of time.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Angst with a happy ending, older Eddie, reader acting like a brat. Arguments then fluff. 18+, mdni.

🎀✨💞

Sex. Just sex. That's all you were to Eddie. Knowing it and accepting it was hard for you. So much so that you were in one hell of a mood.

And acting like a major brat. At first Eddie took it in his stride, maybe you were getting sick or you didn't sleep that good.

He usually had endless patience when it came to you. You had him wrapped around your little finger yet you didn't even know it. Not that Eddie would admit it but it was true.

Despite that your attitude was beginning to grate on him and he had enough.

Eddie loses patience. "What the fuck is wrong with you today? why are you so bitchy?" He's put up with your sullenness and attitude all day and he's tired of it.

"I'm fine" you snap, there's no way you could tell him what was really wrong. That you were completely in love with him and he only saw you as a fuck buddy.

Then that would be the end of your relationship and you didn't want it to end. You had grown attached to Eddie so quickly, you'd be heartbroken if your relationship ended.

"Obviously you're not fine if you've been in a mood all day. What the hell is wrong? Clearly I spoil you too fucking much because you're acting like a spoiled brat" tears pool in your eyes and you will them away.

"So now I'm just an annoyance to you?" You question him and he shakes his head, throwing his arms up in the air.

"I give up. You're twisting my words" you look away feeling your heart sink at his words. Maybe you should just tell him? Rip off the band aid or so to speak.

Unfortunately your mouth runs away with you before you can think about it. "You're the one who called me a brat" he rolls his eyes, folds his arms across his chest and gives you a dark look.

"Because you are! From the moment you woke up to now, all I've had is you bitching in my ear even when I asked you what is wrong, you don't answer"

Anxiety claws in your veins and you don't know what to say to salvage the situation. You shouldn't have been so moody, you know that but the argument had pretty much spiralled out of control.

"Well why don't I just leave then if I'm annoying you so much?" you snap and gather your clothes. He shrugs and his body language turns cold, colder then you've ever seen.

"Maybe you should" the tears flow freely at his tone and you kick yourself as you rush downstairs. You may have just ruined everything.

You were so scared that admitting your feelings to Eddie would mean you would lose him, and it was killing you keeping your feelings a secret.

Turns out that maybe you had just lost him anyway.

...

After the argument with Eddie you feel even worse and plan to cuddle in bed and shut off from the world just for a little bit.

Eddie had other plans. It isn't long before he's at your house, quietly letting himself in and making his way upstairs. He hated seeing you cry, it was like a punch to the gut and he was anxious to make it up to you.

He was also very keen to get to the root of the problem and why you were acting out so much today. Something was bothering you for you to act this way. He wanted to find out what it was.

Your quiet sobs reach him and it tears at his heart as he enters your room and finds you curled up on the bed. Hiding away.

Tenderly Eddie stokes your hair and you turn to face him. He wipes your tears away and sighs.

"You didn't have to come over so late. I know you're working early tomorrow" you murmur and he softens as he lays beside you.

"I'm my own boss. I make my own start time sweetheart. I had to see you. Couldn't sleep without my princess beside me could I?" He settles beside you and you smile.

"I'm sorry, I was bitchy. I didn't mean to be" he kisses your hair and nods accepting the apology.

"I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have yelled at you or called you a brat. Please tell me what's wrong? You're obviously anxious about something" you bite your lip and he waits for you to say.

"I'm scared" you whisper to him and he feels heartbroken at this. He never wants you to feel scared or that you can't talk to him, you can talk to him about anything.

"Princess, you can tell me anything. You never have to be scared of telling me anything" he holds you close and feels you relax. You still hide your face in his shoulder as you work up the courage to talk to him.

"I'm in love with you, I know you don't feel the same way but I just wanted you to know. It's killing me not saying anything"

Eddie is stunned. This is what got you so worked up, that you were in love with him? Did you think he'd reject you?

Jesus h Christ, did you not realise that he was so in love with you too? He'd never felt this way about anyone. It scared him how deep his feelings were but he has been planning to tell you for ages.

He just wanted it to be the right time and be romantic. Turns out he had waited too long and you were thinking he didn't love you.

That wouldn't do at all.

"I'm so in love with you. How can you not see that?" Eddie caresses your cheek and you feel all of your fears slip away. You snuggle into him and peer up with pure joy on your face.

"I love you too Eddie"

All of this angst and shit could have been avoided if you had both just spoken up sooner. Both of you make a vow that night to always communicate your feelings.

But first a lot of making up was required ;)

[lalunanymph]

sucker punch (m) — sae itoshi

in the pivotal moments leading up to the most significant fight of his career against his estranged younger brother, sae meets a girl who turns his entire world upside down

warnings:- underground fighter!sae, fem!reader, heiress!reader, reader is coded to be feminine (wears dresses, makeup, heels, etc), language, cursing, fights, mentions of blood, mentions of alcohol, mentions of injuries, mentions of food, sae's repressed emotions™, arranged marriages (not between reader and sae oof), heavy angst

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ masterlist ࿐ྂ

✯ chapter 5

“Miss Y/N, can I get you some lunch?” 

It was a miracle you could hear your assistant’s meek voice from behind the door, considering you were currently curled up underneath your desk with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“No,” you weakly called out when you realised she was waiting for your answer. “I’ll be f-fine. Please, clear out my lunch schedule and close the main door behind you.”

If she heard your voice wobbling, she didn’t comment on it. 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, and you heard the telltale click of the main office door closing. Your head thumped back against the lacquered wood, a sob greeting the still air underneath your desk. And another one. Then, you couldn’t hold back the flood. 

Your vision went blurry, tears dripping down your cheeks. Fixating on a piece of dust near your right thigh, you poured your heart out for a man who could’ve been yours in a different lifetime. Stuttered sobs and gasping wails slipped past your open mouth, your knees pressed to your chest offering what little support you needed to get you through this heartbreaking spell. 

You laced your fingers together, pressing them to your mouth to keep your cries from reaching the other end of the door, your engagement band searing your cheek. 

Life was never fair, wasn’t it? 

All you ever wanted was Itoshi Sae in his entirety. You could’ve lived with the prejudice, the gossip, and the snide remarks the upper class assholes in your life would throw your way. You could’ve lived without your father’s money if it meant you could wake up with him by your side. 

But, he had hurt you. He had thrown your love back into your face when you thought it was the only thing you possessed that was worth offering to him. 

Loving Sae was like a surrender. Which was an irony considering how you were always a fighter. It was an act of surrendering your flaws, your insecurities and defences right in his hands. 

You had played all of your cards to get him to love you. But, like an idiot, you had lost this gamble, with your heart as the spoils of war. 

You wanted to wrench your engagement ring off and toss it down the building. You had only agreed because you were tired of running towards love only for it to rebuke you. And your father looked so hopeful that you would say ‘yes’, you couldn’t possibly refuse him. 

You’re such a fucking pain, I wish you would just get the fuck out of my life. More tears rushed down your face. 

I wish I never met you. All you fucking do is meddle in my life and try to play an important part in it. Don’t you see? You are useless. I don’t need you to fight my battles. Stop fucking trying to butt your way into my problems. I only entertained your advances because we needed your money. I never wanted you in the first place. 

You pressed your fist right into your mouth to silence your wails. 

He hated you. Itoshi Sae hated you. But, why did he come back to you, then? 

I was scared. 

But, so were you. 

Loving someone outside of your station was not easy. You had a huge responsibility on your shoulders, expectations to live up to. Your father would disown you. The society you grew up in would shun you. You were scared, too. 

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t survive on this rollercoaster. 

Miyaki Maeda was a better prospect for you. He was smart, polite. 

(He didn’t hate you). 

He appreciated your efforts and genuinely seemed excited to marry you. There was someone right in front of you who valued you in your totality, not what you could offer him. 

Unlike Sae. 

You swiped your tears away, hearing your phone vibrate above your desk. Blindly reaching for it, your heart constricted when you saw the name on the screen. 

Silently, you wondered what would happen if you entertained his advances. Perhaps it would fill that void in your bruised ego, but still leave you hungry for more love. 

You couldn’t live on crumbs alone. You deserved a love willingly served to you on a platter.

Sae could never offer you his heart. He had chipped away at it the day he became The Prodigy. And like a fool, you had earnestly believed you could change his mind. Make him fall in love with you.

But, all that gave you was a broken heart and a wretched forlornness which disintegrated your soul like acid to metal. Your hopes in Itoshi Sae were gone.

His name stopped flashing across the screen, and then reappeared a few seconds later. 

With shaky fingers, you declined his call. For added measure, you blocked his contact off your phone. It felt like you had committed a great, seismic sin. 

The resounding silence had never been this loud.

Your entire world was crashing down, but somehow, nothing changed. The sun still filtered in through your yellowing blinds. The spot of dust by your thigh never moved despite your sobs stirring the air. The band around your finger wasn’t placed there by hands with calloused fingers and split knuckles.

Itoshi Sae’s love didn’t touch your outer world, and it hurts. It hurts to know that such a huge part of your devotion and love was given to a man who did not leave an indelible mark on you. There was no sign of his promise on your finger. No future growing inside your womb. It was like you opened your eyes one day and he never existed.

Was it your destiny to only fleetingly taste true love on your tongue and then never have it again for the rest of your life? 

You had no answer to that. 

So, you continued staring at the unmoving piece of dust, numbed by the neverending of your desolate inner world. 

It was enough heartbreak and heavy thoughts for the day. 

Alcohol has never been his best friend.

Unlike other fighters who loved getting drunk and knocking each other’s teeth out, Sae preferred matcha lattes over a whiskey on the rocks. This time, his preferences veered differently. Somehow, he found himself sitting on his own couch, staring at a water stain on his wall as he lifted the smeared glass to his lips. An old bottle of liquor which someone gifted him but he never opened was the victim to his loveless numbing. 

After the fiasco in your office, Sae had crawled back into his shell, never to be seen for three days. All 27 calls he left on your phone went unanswered, and it didn’t take a genius to know you had blocked him. 

He heard footsteps outside of his apartment, but they always faded away every time they got closer to his door. Sae had no motivation to see who it was. 

His couch was his cradle, the ceiling his watchful guardian. He barely had an appetite for food, and spent his days staring blankly at the walls, waiting for his phone to ring.

It never did. 

After the third day of his exile from the world, his stomach rumbled, and he decided to stand up and fix himself some instant ramen. It immediately took him back to the first unofficial date he had with you (he had never even taken you out on a real date), the savory broth bringing back memories of your sweet smile and chiming laugh. 

He remembered how the lights of the ramen shop highlighted your hair, illuminated your grin. Even amidst the greasy fumes and jostling crowd, you fit in like a glove; a seamless part of his world that he took for granted. 

The soup laid untouched, and he had curled himself back onto the couch. 

A few hours later, he woke up from a fitful doze, deciding his stagnant body needed to move. It would be late, but Oliver had given him a spare key for the gym.

When he got there, the last car had just pulled out of the parking lot. His auburn hair was hidden underneath a hoodie, his hands fists in his pockets. The moment he stepped back into the ring, he was assaulted by a heavy feeling of loss he couldn’t ignore. 

Sae couldn’t let his tears fall, not in such an open space. So, he strapped his gloves on and threw a few half-hearted punches onto the worn down sandbag. The room was spinning around the edges, but he pushed his body till failure; till sweat was running down his face, replacing his urge to sob. 

His stomach was churning heavily, a greasy, disgusting sensation he couldn’t quite name rising from the pits of his soul. 

He managed to close up the gym after an unfulfilling session, staggering out into the street. 

A couple of twinkles dotting the inky sky caught his attention. Sae stared up at the stars, a faraway look in his eye. I wish she was here with me. 

During this time, he would be home with you, cooking a hot meal or laying back on the couch as you both read a book together. But, here he was instead, sitting on the pavement outside the gym doors, knuckles throbbing and mind hazy with exhaustion. 

His stomach grumbled, and he reluctantly picked himself up from the sidewalk, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. Deciding to walk back to his apartment to get some steps in after days of being glued to his sofa, Sae made his way down the familiar streets, the closing doors of shops and opening ones of bars beckoning him to stay and savor the night.

No one would nag him for coming home past 8PM. No one would even care if he even came home or not. 

He dawdled along the streets, passing drunken groups of teenagers, avoiding giggling streams of women. His listless eyes scanned the different storefronts, lingering on one which caught his sights.

It was a wedding store, filled with poofy dresses lining the front windows. Stately mannequins were posed by the glass in the season’s latest lace and organza offerings, instantly attracting anyone’s attention. There was a slight movement in the store, and Sae squinted when he noticed the familiar sheen of someone’s hair.

His feet took him one step forward without his consent. And another. And another until he was standing right in front of the huge window undetected. 

Numbly, he watched as you crossed the store with the clerk behind you, arms raised, clad in a sleeveless sleek dress, white as the first snow. The look on your face was demure, eyes lowered. The older woman stopped in front of the gilded mirror to adjust your hem and you dropped your arms primly. Through the reflection, he watched your face spread out into a soft grin, a sweet laugh slipping past your blush-painted lips. 

An unknown cocktail of emotions filled his entire chest. Happiness at finally seeing you, disbelief at what you were wearing… and the crushing realization that came after. 

Oh. 

You weren’t here by coincidence. This wasn’t the universe’s providence in giving him a chance to see you again. It was a reality check that hurt harder than a slap.

Because you weren’t here for any random reason.

You were here to try on your wedding dress. 

Sae stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over a ditch. He righted himself in time to see your face breaking out in a sweet smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling. The man who would be your husband wasn’t here, and you were very well alone.

If he took one step forward… if he burst through the door…

He kept his eyes on you, rapt and unwavering. You looked healthier. Your cheeks were filled with color again, like they were always meant to be—not pale from fright. Those eyes he loved were brimming with warmth, not glossy with tears. 

The reality was you looked happier than he had ever seen you. 

Sae’s shoulders slumped forward, the same sickly feeling he experienced in the ring creeping up his throat. It was expelled in a shaky sob, and he bit on his lower lip to keep the trembles from spiraling out of his control (his measured, stoic, ever reliable control). 

But, the lingering agony wouldn’t let him go. It clawed straight into his soul, ripping whatever was left of his composure the more he drank in the sight of your body wrapped in that stunning white silk. 

She would make such a beautiful bride, the thought rang through his mind like a gunshot. 

The next one left him with a gaping wound wide enough to swallow his entire ego, bleeding through his consciousness like a dark stain. 

I wish I could see it for myself when she walks down the aisle. He swallowed thickly, heavily. 

I wish she was mine forever. 

Sae couldn’t help but press his palm to the shop’s glass window, wishing he was close enough to grab your hand (man enough to win you back). 

I wish I hadn’t fucked up and hurt the only person I love. 

Love. The word tasted bittersweet on his tongue. What did he know about love? 

Rin was right. He didn’t have a heart. 

You were right. 

He was heartless. 

The best thing he could do in this situation was take a step back. Sae already had you; he already had your days and nights—and what did he do? 

He crushed your hopes of ever loving him. 

Dropping his eyes to his split knuckles, he exhaled shakily. 

You hadn’t noticed him from the other end of the shop, chattering away obliviously. Sae took one step back, sinking into the shadows where he belonged. 

Not beside you in the light, but in a far, unreachable place. 

Like drawing the curtains close, the darkness crept over his eyes, clouding his once vulnerable features. He lifted those teal eyes towards you again, drinking in your sweet expression, memorizing it as the first face he had ever loved in this lifetime. 

In the silence and darkness of the night, he shot you a secret, sad smile, one which you would never see and he would never show anyone again. 

Taking one step back, he turned around and walked away, burying the future and past where it belonged—out of his reach. 

Maybe in another life, you would both be together. Maybe you would’ve worn that dress for him. Smiled just for him as you walked down the aisle. 

But, real life doesn’t work like the stories he read.

Boy meets girl, they fall in love, they fight and he loses her. 

Boy stands a street away, unable to tear his eyes from her. He watches the girl step into her new life, while he’s left behind in the lurch. 

She lives happily ever after. 

While he just lives. 

Normally, Sae would never follow Aiku on one of his drinking excursions, but today wasn’t a normal day. 

They’d just sign a new contract to build up a dormitory attached to the gym so younger fighters with no homes could stay under their roof. It was a bittersweet, almost nostalgic throwback to their lives before this sudden win, and Sae finds it appropriate it should happen two weeks after the mythical U20 vs. Blue Lock match. 

The other boys were causing mayhem as usual, Shidou terrorizing the dance floor while the rest of them heartily drank and lost themselves in the cheer of such an achievement.

It wasn’t everyday a man could see his dreams come true, and Sae took a second to savor it all, closing his eyes and inhaling the smoke.

“Oi. Stop dozing off and look after my drink. I’m gonna take a piss.”

Oliver’s grating voice over the music knocks Sae out from the moment, and he shoots the guy one quick, death glare. Not to be deterred, Aiku snorts, spinning on his heel and stalking to the men’s room, leaving Sae alone at the bar.

Out of habit, those quicksilver teal eyes scrutinize the dance floor and the establishment, sniffing for the first scent of danger.

Some boys were chugging beers, goading each other on to see who could drink the most. A few others congregated around the pool table, shooting sets and arguing over shoddy misses. Other than the riotous complaints and boyish thumps on broad backs, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Sae chuckles as their voices rise over the din and smoke; once a fighter, always a fighter.

The doors burst open and the air instantly changes. 

Every eye turns to the entrance, where a man clad in a suit walks in with two other men, the scent of wealth and entitlement radiating off them in waves. Sae frowns, slinking closer into the shadows to assess this face he’s seen before.

It hits him like lightning on a stormy night, stirring his soul: this is Maeda Miyaki. 

Outlandish as the idea was, he perks up; looks behind the men to see if you would be trailing after them.

As quickly as his hopes arose, it diminishes when he remembers this isn’t your scene anymore. You had passed on the baton of your father’s organization to your closest advisor on his encouragement, putting all of your focus into preparing for your wedding to Maeda-san.

Sae takes a good look at the guy. Your fiance is shorter than him, though his wide shoulders contribute to his stocky frame, giving him an imposing air. Maeda Miyaki has the uncanny ability to suck in the light of any room, and Sae scrutinizes him from head to toe, wondering what you saw in him; why you chose this man over him. 

Ignoring the ache in his chest which flares up at the thought of you, Sae settles against the wall, lifting the cold glass of beer to his lips.

“... asked me what lingerie to wear.”

Despite his best efforts at trying not to eavesdrop on the group of men who were seated just a few feet away from him, his ears pricked up at the bastard’s voracious laughter. 

“I told her not to worry—I’m g’na tear it all up, anyway.”

One of his lackeys, a hulking man who looks dumber than rocks, guffaws. “All that from an old woman? Why doesn't your wife just ask you?”

Miyaki snorts, shrugs and sticks a white cigarette between his teeth. “Fucking beats me. Daddy’s little girl’s scared of the big sharks.” He drags in a rich inhale, exhaling rings of smoke. “Little girl can’t even look me in the eye. Hope she isn’t this timid in bed.”

Lackey number two snickers. “I ‘eard from someone down the road—little missy had another UFC boytoy before daddy made her settle down.”

This intrigues Maeda, who scrunches his brow. Sae isn’t even pretending not to listen; he wants to know why this fuckwit has your name in his mouth and whether he should stand up and sock him in his smarmy face.

“Oh? Doesn’t surprise me. With how easy the family accepted my proposal. Had my hunch she was a cheap whore.”

One of those dimwits start to laugh, but abruptly stop when glass shatters on one of their heads, the man toppling to the floor. Maeda jerks up, looking around wildly, cigarette dropping to the sticky ground.

“What the—”

He doesn’t have the time to swear, not when another glass goes flying towards Lackey Two, taking out the meathead who crumples to the ground like a woman’s lacy thong. 

“Fuck,” Miyaki whirls around, and barely has time to flinch when a fist is thrown right into his face.

One precise punch, and he falls to the ground, too. 

Oliver returns back from his shit to find the dance floor swarming with men forming a ring. His stomach drops to his toes when he sees it's the exact same spot he had left Sae in just minutes ago. Pushing past the hulking bodies and ignoring the stench of alcohol burning his nose, he finds his friend engaged in a three-to-one fight, blood dripping down his bared teeth.

Swearing loudly, he breaks through the circle, hands raised and voice booming above the chants and hollers.

“Hold up! Hold up! Stop this!” 

He narrowly misses a punch to the face, side stepping. A flurry of red hair sweeps past, fists pummeling on a huge man whose entire right eye was swollen.

“Oi—Sae!” 

Someone tackles him to the ground, and he catches a fist to his sternum, locking the arm to the ground and kneeing the other man in the belly. The asshole howls, and he’s surprised to see a face from the news—Maeda Mikayki breathing hard over him. 

“I’ll kill you both!” 

More men join the fray. Someone drags Maeda off from him, and hustles him to his feet. He’s pushed past the crowd, almost stumbling on his tied laces. 

“Hands off!” he snarls, but the men in black drag him by the back of his hoodie, pushing open the door. 

Hard asphalt fills his mouth with blood and tar, and Oliver spits out the wad of blood, checking for any broken teeth with the tip of his tongue.

Grunts trail behind him, and he sees four more lumps ruthlessly disposed of out of the club, Sae and Maeda and his goons groaning and struggling to their feet.

Quickly, he grabs Sae by the back of his shirt, hauling him up to his feet and hurrying the asshole down a dimly lit alleyway.

“—this side!” One of the goons yells. 

Aiku presses them both flat against the wall, trying hard to breathe past his bloody nose.

Once the sound of boots pounds away, he sags onto the ground, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“I could’ve ended them.”

He gapes, staring up at the fucker who got him into this mess in the first place; Sae was livid, nostrils flared, blood freely dripping onto the front of his shirt. 

“They fucking spoke about my girl. No one talks about her like that.”

Aiku gets to his feet, easily towers over the other man and grips his shoulders, trying to stop himself from slamming this asshole face first into the dirty brick wall.

“You stupid ass,” he hisses, spit flying into the other man’s face. “That was Maeda, you fucking shit stain. He’s a big fish. Why’d the fuck you do this to us when we just got free from them? You could’ve destroyed all our plans!”

Equally as hot-headed, Sae pushes Aiku’s hands off him, trying to get him off his case.

“He made fun of my woman,” those stupid teal eyes were blazing with a terrifying rage. “No one talks shit about her—not even her fucking fiance.”

Oliver groans, slapping a hand to his forehead and dragging it through his scruffy hair. “Don’t tell me you tried to play a fucking white knight. You stupid piece of shit. He’s gonna bury us six feet under.”

“I’ll murk him if he tries,” Sae seethes. “I’ll wring him with my bare fists. No one—no fucking one—is allowed to speak about her that way.” 

Dragging in deep breaths, Oliver finally gets his head straight.

Sure, Maeda was a top dogs’ son, but that’s all he is—a fighting legacy. He doesn’t have a team; hasn’t even stepped foot in a ring before. Besides his wealth and connections, he’s a useless stain on his father’s conscience. A man like that would never approach a seasoned underground fighter without backup.

“Just in case, I’m gonna move our operations somewhere else so he doesn’t come after us. We gotta protect the other boys, Sae.”

The red fog clouding Sae’s mind cools over and he plants his hands onto his knees, breathing in deeply.

“No need. We outnumber them and we’re free from their shackles, Oli. They can’t touch us unless they want trouble. Besides,” Sae turns grim. “They were in our territory. Maeda crosses past Odaiba. They’re not supposed to be here unless they want a good beating.”

Sae’s words made sense. Oliver inhales in deeply, wishing he hadn’t kicked his nicotine addiction to the curb. He could do with a stick—or ten. This motherfucker was gonna age him five years older in the span of a single night.

“You better hope your girl is as sweet on you as you are on her." Dragging in a heaving breath, Oliver pierces him to the spot with one, shattering glare.

"Because she’s the only thing keeping Maeda from turning our guts inside out.”

The day was dull, floating past without any sort of stimulant which would make it interesting.

Sae was no longer needed to train and he made himself useful by observing the younger boys during their drills. Correcting their stance and their forms, he hummed, wiping a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Summer was upon them, and the days were growing warmer. 

It had been a month since his fight with Rin, and his injuries were healing nicely, minus of course, that night he jumped Maeda Miyaki. But, since the spat, he hasn’t heard a peep from the Miyaki boy, and it was probably in thanks to you. There was no need for Oliver to move the operations or keep a high alert in case someone burned his gym down; everything on the other side of the fighting world barely affected them.

She must’ve managed to calm him down. 

A part of him wondered what the fuck you saw in Maeda. He was pig-headed, disgusting and a fucking woman hater on top of it. Sae had half a mind to track you down and shake you till you came to your senses.

He had heard from the grapevine how that Maeda scumbag proposed to you. 

Word on the street was that he had sent you three engagement rings to choose from, packaged perfectly in neat velvet boxes. If you refused his proposal, he had asked for the rings to be given back with cash on delivery to save his troubles.

How terribly unromantic.

Sae wanted to pretend that he hadn't stopped in front of the local jewelry store every time he walked out to buy groceries, wondering which type of ring you chose; which one would be perfect for you. 

“Itoshi-san?” 

He was shaken out of his reverie by a young, nervous looking fighter entering the gym.

“Hmm?”

“You have a visitor,” he stumbled, catching Oliver’s attention. The other man was busy looking through his records when the young fighter’s words piqued his interest. 

Every man turned their eyes to the entrance, and Sae felt like someone had punched his gut.

There, standing with your hands clasped in front of you, looking like a goddess gracing unworthy mortals with her presence, you shone, blinding him. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you lifted your eyes and met his own. Your gaze widened, mouth falling imperceptibly open. 

Sae’s attention narrowed on you. He barely noticed the others; they melted to background noise and static when he drank in the sight of you. Someone clapped his shoulder, but he ignored them to drink you in. 

The simple cotton sundress you wore highlighted your curves, and your hair was neat and sleek. You looked as healthy as he remembered, and it sent a wave of both relief and regret when your vitality was shadowed by a flicker of fear passing your wide-eyed gaze. 

Oliver was the one who greeted you, breaking the sudden tension with his warm and welcoming words. 

You shook your head slightly, laughing at something he said. Sae watched, hungry and unabashed as you turned on your heel, walking with Oliver into his office. His feet moved forward before he could stop them, taking him into the enclosed space. 

Two pairs of eyes landed on him when he entered. 

Oliver shifted from one foot to another when you nor Sae uttered a word.

Eventually, he barked a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I forgot something in the pantry. Y/N, Sae will handle any concerns you have. I’ll be back.” 

He barely noticed his oldest friend walking out of the room, teal eyes latched unwaveringly on you. 

When the door closed, it felt like he could breathe yet was choking at the same time. 

You laced your hands together, staring at them. Sae swallowed heavily.

“Y/N—”

“Sae—”

The both of you stuttered into a fleeting silence, waiting for the other to go first. When you didn’t speak, he took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled, the words burning his lips. “I didn’t mean to hurt you that night. I was overwhelmed, and scared and it was no excuse for what I did. Please… forgive me?” 

Sae struggled to voice out his emotions, and he was sure he sounded like an idiot with his awkward words and even more exasperating countenance. But, you didn’t comment on his clumsy apology, hanging your head forward.

“I’m sorry, too,” you mumbled, and he opened his mouth, about to deflect your selflessness when you lifted your teary eyes to pin him to the spot. 

Sae was striding towards you before he could stop himself, and you didn’t resist when he swept you into his arms.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he whispered, thanking whatever shitty deity above that he could hold you again. “It’s me who was at fault. Don’t feel sorry.” 

“I’m engaged,” you mumbled into his shoulder, and he squeezed you tighter to him, willing the pain from your words to subside. 

“I know.”

“I didn’t choose this.” 

He pulled back slightly to look at you, curiosity heavy on the tip of his tongue. Your beautiful eyes were red-rimmed, and Sae believed he’s never seen you look this ethereal before.

“My father sort of forced us into this marriage,” you confessed, as if you were waiting for countless years to tell another soul this burdensome truth. 

Sae nodded, dumbfounded. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ears, unable to resist running the back of his bruised knuckles down your cheek. You craned yourself further into his touch, a sticky sigh of longing slipping past your defenseless lips. 

“It’s best if you don’t marry Miyaki-kun.” He was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. “He’s a piece of shit—”

“I know,” you took him by surprise, looking him right in the eye when you said, “I heard how you defended my honor in that bar. I… thank you.”

Sae grips your cheek a little harder, not wanting to hurt you, but also needing you to understand the depth of his concern for you.

“I would do it all over again. You don’t deserve anyone speaking like that about you.”

You fell silent for a single moment, pretty eyes lost in your thoughts. Sae wants to ask what’s troubling you, when the next question you exhale stuns him into a disquiet.

“Sae, I… I need to know…” You faltered and gathered your bravery to voice out this simple, yet vulnerable question:

“Do you love me?” 

Your glossy eyes were pinned onto him, watching his every expression. Sae felt like someone had reached inside his gut to twist and squeeze his heart. He buys some time to answer, darting his eyes to the ground and licking his lips.

“Y/N… you know we’re from different worlds…”

Your eyes widened, the heartache behind them breaking his own heart. “It shouldn’t matter, Sae. I have always seen you as my equal,” you persisted. 

Sae suddenly felt like a ton of spotlights were on him. His mind was blaring warning signs, and every fiber in his body was telling him to retreat. But, something held him firmly to the spot. Your depthless stare dug into his soul, waiting for his answer. Your cheek burns hotly in his palm. 

His tongue heavily relinquished his defenses. “You won’t be happy with me… I can’t give you three diamond rings like Miyaki-kun can. I’m a lesser man compared to him.” 

You grip onto his hand holding your cheek, keeping it there. “And do you think you don’t deserve to be loved because of this?” Your shock and agony seared through him as if it were his own. 

“Because it’s not true. I love you, Sae. I love you so much, I don’t care about status or money. I love you so much that if you tell me to go now and marry another man, I will. But, I need to know first—do you love me?”  

“I—” He lost his courage, taking one step back. The loss of your body heat against his felt like someone ripping the sun out of the fucking sky. He was cold all over, trembling from head to toe.

If he were a lesser, cowardly man, he would’ve tried to run by now.

“Itoshi Sae,” your voice kicked up an octave, and those tears broke free, spilling down your cheeks. “You’re a cruel, cruel man, you know that?”

He wants to reach out to you, wipe the tears away. His bloodless lips move, quietly asking, “Why would you say that?” filling the frigid abyss separating you two apart.

Your anguish becomes his own, searing through his chest.

“Because, you give me hope. And hope is a cruel thing if you don’t intend to make it come true.” Taking one step closer to him, your scent drowns him in waves of longing, and he wants nothing more than to inhale you until you’re one with his body. 

“If you don’t love me, you—you need to say it right to my face.” His sweet, brave girl. Sae wants to kiss you so badly, he can’t stop looking at your lips, then your lovely eyes—eyes which held an unquantifiable amount of love just for him. “You have to tell me that I am completely going to be separated from you—that you don’t love me like I love you.” 

There. It’s out in the open.

But, strangely, those three words coming from you don’t scare him.

It’s all the love in this world that he doesn’t deserve. 

“I’m a poor man...”

“Do you love me?” Your breathing hitched, tears leaking past the corners of your eyes. Your heart felt like it could tear in two from the look of pure despair on his face. “Please, Sae… please tell me if I am truly alone in this.” 

For a split second, neither of you spoke. The air was suppressed with tension; the entire office feeling too hot and yet cold.

The cracks of your disbelief melted into begrudging acceptance. Sae could count the stars dying in your eyes—how your hopes in him were diminishing as the embers of your devotion were flickered out by his perceived unreciprocated feelings.

He reached out for you, grazing the back of your hand with his fingers. Your skin was cold to the touch, your gaze growing even more colder.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, hanging your head forward. You took one step away from him. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Your voice broke on the last word, and Sae stood, rooted to the spot. Watching you leave him for the second time.

Before he could overthink it, he blurted the first thing that came into his mind. 

“I’m an orphan.” The weight of the world crushes his shoulders. He almost sobbed, as if that truth alone was enough to dissuade your love. 

“I ran away when I was eleven and left my brother behind. I pushed him away because I was so embarrassed of how I couldn’t take care of him—how much he starved under my care. I couldn’t protect him. I was useless. I don’t have an education. I’ve never… I’ve never lived in one place long enough to call it home. I am a coward. I—” his voice broke, and tore his gaze towards the ground before raising his eyes once more to meet yours, the anguish in those teal eyes breaking your heart. “I’m vile. I’ve hurt other men. I’ve hurt my own brother—”

“I don’t care!” 

You were fervent when you rushed towards him, standing chest-to-chest with a wounded man hellbent on pushing away everything good in his life. 

None of it mattered to you. Itoshi Sae was yours the second he entered your life and you wanted him forever. 

“You did the best you could with what you had, Sae. You were a child.” You had one hand on his arm, encouraging him to look at you—to witness your sincerity and vulnerability. “You were forced into this life and no one told you otherwise. You were exploited when you should’ve been protected. You don’t have to do everything on your own—you don’t have to be alone. I’m here. If you can’t protect Rin, I will help you protect him. If you feel afraid, I will be there to tell you it’s all okay. I’m here, Sae. You’re not alone anymore.” 

You faltered in your stance, heart on your sleeve and hope on your tongue when you asked him again, in a soft voice. 

“So, please. Don’t keep me in the dark anymore. Don’t push me away.” 

Sae could only stare at you with sick yearning in those beautiful teal eyes. You tasted his surrender, the cracks in his facade. Your touch on his cheek nearly made him moan in longing. 

Your breathy whisper hit him like the force of a thousand and one bricks—the question no more terrifying to him than a luminous ray of moonlight breaking across a serene lake. Finally opening his eyes to his own truth. 

“Sae.” Oh, how sweet it was to hear his name on your lips. His brimming teal eyes latched onto those plush, flesh-toned pillows, and then back again into your clear, determined and beautiful eyes. 

As if a huge weight was hurtling down his shoulders, he met you in the middle, gripping your face in his unyielding grip. 

He doubled forward, as if someone had punched him in the gut. You caught him, meeting his surrender halfway. 

And after twenty over years of repressing his heart, the dam finally broke. 

“I love you.”

He wept. “I love you with every fucking beat of my heart. From the moment you came into my life, looking so—so damn beautiful even in a fucking ramen shop, when you read my favorite book out to me. I’ve… I’ve never known—” he shuddered as if admitting his deepest secret. His wet, brilliant aquamarine eyes seemed to devour yours with unabashed yearning, love and fear.

“I’ve never known a home until I met you.”

Sae was sobbing, and so were you; huge relieved heaves which echoed around this dreary office. Your arms were an anchor around his taller frame, and you held him with such tenderness, Sae was sure he would disintegrate from such gentleness. 

You carded your fingers through his hair, kissing his neck, his collarbone, his cheek. Finally, you reached his lips, and Sae poured his entire longing into that single kiss, afraid that if he opened his eyes, you would disappear.

But, you never let him go. Your fingers twined his hair, holding him tight to you. Your kisses taste like heaven reincarnated, and Sae wondered how he went this long without it. 

The slot of your plush lips in between his yielded to a few inches apart, close enough that he could still breathe you in, but enough of a distance for a single, silvery strand of spit to connect both your lips together.

Sae broke it by pressing another kiss to your waiting mouth, melting into your embrace. Your touch was the sweetest balm, healing and restoring him after an eternity of endless horrors. 

“You were right,” he mumbled in a thick voice, hiding his face in your shoulder like a terrified boy unable to face the truth. “You were right about everything. How heartless I am. I’m a monster—”

“Ssh,” you touched your forehead to his and he wished he could nuzzle in your warmth for an eternity. “You’re not a monster, Sae. You don’t have to be forced in this life anymore. We can make it a better one—together.” 

Of all the love stories and sweet words he had devoured in his life, nothing could compare to the notion of ‘together’ with you. 

He would’ve pressed you to the desk and took you there and then, but someone clearing their throat by the doorway gave you both pause.

Oliver, red in the face, shot an apologetic smile. “Um… before you two get at it… I left my notebook here.” He scurried to grab it, whispering a not-so-quiet “nice, Sae!” at his best friend and running away before the other man could club him on the head.

His mood untouched by Oliver’s interruption, Sae picked up your left hand, studying the obnoxious diamond ring adorning your finger. “What kind of fucking asshole sends a woman three pops and not even know what she likes?” He tsked, and your heart skipped a beat when he tugged the offensive band off.

You wanted to scold him, but found yourself grinning widely instead. “Sae—”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, tossing that fuckwit’s band onto the desk. “And I’ll work my ass off to give you a home, baby—you know I will.” 

“And my dad?” You hummed, cupping his face in your hands, smiling softly and beautifully. “What will you say to him?” 

Sae was not a man for flowery words—or even any expressive words at all. But, he found them flowing effortlessly when it came to you, his entire heart offered to the woman who had put her name on it from the very first day. 

“I’ll tell him that I fell in love with his daughter and I want to marry her right this instant,” he twined his arms around your waist, drunk off your giddy grin. “And I’ll tell him that I don’t have much money, but I have grit, and I can make a home for her—for our family.”

More tears clouded your eyes. “Family?” 

He nodded, smiling softly. “You, me and a little squirt with my nose and your pretty eyes. Sounds perfect, hmm?”

The reality was scary; real life was filled with obstacles and challenges. But, with Sae beside you, you found that you could weather through any storm coming your way because he was the one meant to do it. 

You were his home and his dream.

He didn’t have to save love stories from the bin anymore—save his happy ending—because it was right here in his arms.

Boy meets girl, they fall in love; they lose one another, and boy discovers he can’t live without the girl for another second. 

Happy endings never followed a straight line; it ebbed and flowed like a river. But, no matter the twists and turns, fate would always find a way to bring what was meant to be back together again. 

And so, the boy and girl lived happily, imperfectly ever after. 

Forever.

THE END.

a/n. omggg i can't believe this is over frrrr 😭 when i started this series, i was honestly thinking of how fucked up it would be for rin and sae to actually fight each other (considering how they're always so close to beating each other up in canon hhshhd) and this idea kinda just went .... EVERYWHERE. i honestly enjoyed writing sae in this (peep the bridgerton ref at the end 👀) and im stoked to see what other ideas i can come up for him in the future because he's just SO fun to write for.

anyway, i hope you loved this little mini series, and don't forget to reblog and share your feedback as it keeps my little heart v happy and the creative juices going <3

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Spawn (MK 11) with a flighty darling—run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

🐍ֶָ֢ Spawn isn't surprised that you are absolutely terrified of him. Having a hellspawn stalk your New York apartment and refuse to leave you alone is one hell of a scare. Still, he refuses to acknowledge that he had a part in intertwining both of your fates. It wasn't exactly difficult. You are simply a human—a mortal.

A little magic here and there and stealing your soul from your body and infecting it with a part of him also helped.

🐍ֶָ֢ You were a perfect Earthrealmer. Despite your need to flee every time he materialized out of thin air. He almost never spoke. He was like a ghost. He'd drop off groceries or things that you had been wanting to buy for the longest time. He'd sit on the edge of your couch and watch movies with you. Although he'd mostly just stare at you. It's a bad habit of his, but he just can't stop it. Your aura is so irresistible. Still, you would hide behind your couch, under your bed, or run out of your apartment and not return for hours on end.

So he tried to amend this by being as non-threatening as possible. He'd try to make himself appear smaller. He'd move something gently to notify you right before he would appear. He kept nightmares out of your dreams. The bad energy and entities that were attracted by him were never allowed within your space.

🐍ֶָ֢ You tried using holy objects on him! From every religion, you tried something. Some objects would burn him more than others, but he was used to the suffering at this point. Spawn would pluck the object out of your hand and offer his instead. You'd start fearfully sobbing and praying to a deity, or deities. It was more of an inconvenience if anything. 

He's already pissed off enough gods in his lifetime. He doesn't need one stealing your soul back and keeping you from him.

🐍ֶָ֢ It doesn't help that his K7-Leetha, and by extension his cape, have taken a liking to you. Leetha reaches out to you often, taking a hold of you. He isn't the one doing it. It's the parasite willing his body to hold you. He feels the need to emphasize this since you don't believe him. It's one of the few times he has actually used his words.

He doesn't fear much, but he fears himself. He fears himself hurting the only person he loves.

That's so fucking cheesy, he knows. It's like the plot of some stupid, shitty paranormal romance book, like his ex read.

It terrifies him. His cape will wrap you up and snuggle into you, feeding off of your warmth and energy.

It makes you woozy and panicky, only fueling him.

🐍ֶָ֢ You try to attack him, and he lets you. He can't help but chuckle at your pathetic attempt. You're like a cornered animal attacking the person trying to help you. It didn't work any of the other times, so why would it work now?

He's truly okay with it.

If it makes you feel safe, then he'll take some gunshots, punches, knives, and anything else you throw at him.

🐍ֶָ֢ Spawn tries his best to be vulnerable with you so you aren't as skittish. He speaks a little of his backstory, trying to make his voice less deep and gritty so as not to intimidate you. He asks you to call him any name, any nickname, just not Albert or Spawn. Albert has long since died, and Spawn has been through far too much to be loveable. He's just whatever he is with you. He's okay with that.

🐍ֶָ֢ The most important part is to hide his grizzly murders from you. You know he is a hellspawn and has some horrible shit and some good things sprinkled along in there. Still, his slaughters for you are sacrificial in nature. They feed him and give his obsession life. It makes Leetha even more protective of you. You make Spawn happy. You make his systems all fuzzy and hormone-y. That's how Leetha would describe it.

He keeps this secret like his life depends on it. You're getting more used to him. Why make you scared of him again?

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Stevie Fic

This is a Stevie first meeting fic based on this amazing art and concept by @your-unfriendlyghost Like most of my stuff its not betaed. Enjoy!

*************

Evie really fucking wants to hit something.

It’s probably a bad idea considering hitting something-  well, someone-  is what got her here in the first place, but right now it feels like her options are fight or cry and she really doesn’t want to cry. 

The bench in the holding cell is cold under her bare legs, her skirt not long enough to properly cover them, but she can’t bring herself to care in the slightest, despite the fact she’s sharing the holding cell with two guys, one a drunk sleeping off a hangover in the corner, the other a tough looking greaser she vaguely recognizes from school, who’s flicking a lighter idly, clearly bored out of his mind. Her right hand is aching something awful, knuckles all split and bloody, but she clenches her fist tighter, letting the skin pull back, watches the small cuts reopen and the blood well up, filling the tiny cracks in the surrounding skin. It smarts something awful, but it’s kind of mesmerizing all the same. 

She focuses on the sharp sting, pretending the tears pricking her eyes are because of that instead of the fact that mom’s here talking to the police sergeant but she’s still never been further away. 

How did this even happen? A year ago her mother was her favourite person in the whole world. It was the two of them against the world, always had been, ever since dad died back when she was six. Mom never used to have a problem with how she dressed or did her hair, never used to care if she made lewd jokes or chewed with her mouth open because mom’s own manners were even worse and she liked them that way. A year ago if any man mom was seeing raised a hand to her mom would’ve punched him herself, fuck the consequences or the injuries, because she wasn’t ever gonna let a man know she was afraid of him, even if she was. A year ago if Evie had swung at someone for a good reason mom would’ve bailed her out and took her out for ice cream, smiled her crooked smile and told her she was right proud of her and her fighting spirit, made her promise to keep it close to her heart.

Now? Mom’s so different she might as well be a different person, and if this is the thanks Evie’s going to get for defending her, well, she can fucking fend for herself. If mom wants to simper and smile and bend over backwards for a man who treats her like dirt and Evie even worse she can fucking do it. If she wants to take his side and fuss over his broken nose while Evie’s stuck in this fucking cell then good riddance. But Evie’s never gonna throw a punch to defend her again, not ever. Hell, she might not even stick around the house. If mom’s gonna choose a man she met three months ago over the daughter she’s raised for the past sixteen years, why bother? Home hardly feels like home anymore anyway, what with Dean’s clothes in dad’s old dresser, and his presence sucking the air out of every room. Mom’s art supplies have been shoved into the closet to make room for Dean’s unemployment papers, and last week Evie got home from school to find he’d thrown out all her model airplanes. She’d sobbed- she’d been collecting them since she was six, and building the green one was the last thing she did with dad before he passed- but mom just told her to stop acting like such a child because they ‘were only toys anyway’ and went right back to cooking Dean dinner. As if she didn’t know those planes meant absolutely everything to her. As if she hadn’t scraped and saved to buy her one for her birthday every single year without fail. Like she didn’t even care.

A fresh wave of anger rushes through her at the memory, and the next thing Evie knows she’s on her feet, her fist connecting with the concrete wall. She feels more than she hears something in her hand crack, and the fresh wave of agony is definitely similar to when she broke her arm back in kindergarten, but she doesn’t even care. It feels good. She wants to hit something. She wants to hurt. She wants to throw punches the way her mother taught her in the hopes they will somehow help her forget said mother’s betrayal.

“Hey!” A cop with cropped brown hair raps on the cell door with his baton so hard the bars rattle, “knock it off!”

She glares at him for a second but drops back onto the bench. She tells herself it’s because she really does want to get out of here, preferably today, but deep down she knows it’s because the man’s cold eyes and the way he swings the baton make it clear he’d be all too happy to use it on her. 

“Crazy bitch,” she hears him mutter as he walks off,and she stiffens, suddenly wishing she’d spit on him while she had the chance. 

“What’d you expect?” A different voice answers, “These greasy chics are all the same. Wild as rabid dogs.”

A snicker. “And they dress just as poorly. My Adeline ever stepped outta the house wearing something like that she’d never be allowed back in.”

Their voices fade, getting reabsorbed into the racket of the precinct, but there words have already sunk into her skin, leaving cuts under her surface, making a home in the piece of her thats hates herself. She shivers a bit, hugging her jacket tighter around herself, and glowers at the linoleum floor, pointedly ignoring the prickling uncomfortable feeling of being watched. Between her outburst and the cop’s shouting it’s little wonder half the precinct is staring, but she refuses to give them the satisfaction of meeting any of their gazes. Besides, it’s not like she isn’t already used to being looked at like she’s a freak.

“--I mean?” Evie recognizes Dean’s voice easily, even over the din of the rest of the station, conspicuous due to its deep cadence and domineering tone, “that’s not normal behaviour, nice girls don’t do that. I really think I oughta press charges.”

Her head snaps up and she glares at him, snarling, despite the fact he’s pretending to ignore her. Even if he doesn’t see it, mom will, will know that Evie is nothing short of genuine in her hatred, that she regrets nothing. 

Besides, she knows the threat is an empty one anyway. Dean talks a good game but he knows better than to actually press charges for something like this. The cops hadn’t dragged Evieout for her side of the story yet and they’d been all too happy to put her in handcuffs- Dean’s ruined shirt and self righteous anger when he stormed in here had seen to that- but when she does get a chance to speak she’ll be all too happy to explain why she punched him in the first place, and that probably won’t go over too well with a judge.

Of course, mom could always lie for him, rendering her whole defense useless. But Evie’s trying not to think about that. Surely mom still loves her somewhere. Surely she won’t let her own daughter go to the cooler for a half baked crime even if she doesn’t. 

Right?

“It’s those friends of hers,” mom defends, letting out a trilling, fake laugh, smiling as placatingly as possible at Dean and the cop they’re sitting across from. Her eyes dart towards Evie's and away so fast she’s half convinced she imagined it, “they’re such terrible influences. She didn’t mean it.”

“She broke my nose.”

And I'd do it again, asshole, Evie thinks. Her hand is killing her, but if it wasn’t she’d have clenched her fist at the mere thought. That was the one upside of this whole situation: she’d finally been able to do what she’d been wanting to do for months. She’ll be dreaming of the satisfying crunch Dean’s nose had made when she deviated his septum for weeks. 

“She’s your daughter,” Dean continues, “Don’t you think she ought to be punished?”

“Of course I do,” mom simpers, cosying into Dean’s side, gazing up at him with such a sickeningly sweet look Evie wants to vomit,  “But don’t you think pressing charges is a little harsh? I mean, she’s never done anything like this before.”

“Well you have to do something, Caroline, she’s out of control. Talking back, giving me attitude, not listening to you either-”

He keeps going but Evie tunes him out, done listening to his bitching, God knows she already hears enough of it at home. She hates that he’s here, that he lives with them, that he’s ruined every good thing in her life. She hates the way mom looks at him. 

Most of all she hates that she only swung at him once. 

The guy across from her with the lighter is still flicking it rhythmically, the clicking sound oddly sharp, distinguishable even over the overlapping conversations in the precinct itself, but its owner doesn’t seem so bored anymore. In fact, he keeps glancing over at her and then quickly looking away every time their eyes meet. She has half a mind to tell him he’s gonna waste all the gas in his lighter if he keeps it up, or maybe offer him a cigarette in exchange for a light, but she figures the boys in blue might decide to take some issue with that and she isn’t about to get a full pack of marlboros confiscated when she only just bought them.

“Fine!” Dean is suddenly looking right at her, voice rising above the precinct for real this time, “I won’t press charges this time, but I’m sure as hell not paying her bail. She can rot here as far as I’m concerned.”

The rage is a tidal wave bursting through a dam, all consuming and back full force before she can even blink

“Like you could pay it anyway, asshole!” Her unbroken hand is slamming into the bars and he should be grateful for it because it’s the only standing between him and Evie wringing his thick neck, “Last I checked you were a broke, unemployed loser spending my mom’s hard earned money because youre too much much of a fuck up to have a single cent to your own name!”

He sneers, cruelly, but doesn’t rise to the bait. She’ll catch it for sure next time she’s in the house, and he’ll probably find something of hers to break in the meantime, but for the moment he manages to hold himself together.

“Enjoy the holding cell Evelyn.”

“Seriously?” She turns to mom, half desperate, half pleading, knowing it won’t make a difference and hoping foolishly, childishly, that it will anyway, “You’re just going to let him leave me here?”

“Evie-”

“You’re my mom.” Her voice breaks.

Mom flinches, but she hides it well. Evie notices, because she knows her tells, knows the slight trick of her left eye is her way of hiding heartbreak, just like she knows mom never really got over losing dad as much as she always tried to convince herself she did, knows Dean saw the loneliness that festered in mom’s heart and twisted it to his advantage. She knows that mom is strong in some ways but not all of them and that a part of her has given up. She just hadn’t realized until now that the part of her that gave up had given up on Evie.

“I did it for you,” her voice is shaking, and Dean could be screaming and the precinct could be burning around them and it wouldn’t matter because all she can see right now is her mother’s apologetic brown eyes and the fact that she has let her down for the last time, “for you. Not for me. And this is the thanks I get?”

“I’m sorry,” mom whispers, shame twisting her features, “but- but you did a bad thing Evie, and-and we don’t really have the money for bail right now anyway. They’ll only hold you for a day or two anyway and then you can come home and we’ll figure this out, the three of us.”

“Come home?” She can’t help the scoff that forces its way out of her throat, “You think you can leave me here, after everything, and I’ll just come home like nothing happened?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Try me.”

“Dean’s right,” mom shakes herself and the glimpse of her true self is gone, replaced by the shell of a woman filled with Dean’s slimy thoughts, “you need a few days to cool down. You’re impossible to talk to right now.”

“Imagine how much more impossible to talk to I’ll be when I'm gone and your sack of human shit boyfriend won’t even let you try to find me!” Evie yells at her retreating back, “Huh? Huh, you fucking bitch! Fuck. You.” She punctuates the last two words with a weak rap against the bars, but as suddenly as her anger overtook her it has drained away, leaving nothing but misery in its wake.

The brown haired cop doesn’t have to rap on the bars this time to make her behave. She slinks back to the bench, a woman defeated. 

She doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing. In fact, she still might. It’s taking a lot of harsh blinking and biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling, but she refuses to crumple here, to be weak in front of a room full of men who have already seen her humiliated and powerless, men who have actively participated in making her that way. They will not get the victory of seeing her cry too. They won’t. 

“Here,” suddenly the boy with the lighter is next to her, holding out a stained, but soft looking rag. She must have stared at him a beat too long because he clears his throat awkwardly, cheeks reddening ever so slightly, “for your hand.”

“Oh,” she’d all but forgot about her split knuckles and probably broken ring finger, but when she looks down she can see that it’s started to swell something awful, which has in turn increased how much she’s bleeding, “thanks.”

She struggles to wrap the rag clumsily around her knuckles. Without meaning to she makes the mistake of accidentally twitching her broken finger and drops the rag with a hiss, instinctively cradling her hand closer to her chest.

“Here, let me- I mean- I can wrap your hand for you? If you want?” Lighter guy offers. He’s endearingly awkward, and, Evie has to admit, kind of cute, with his thick dark hair and glowing bronze skin. He looks about as rough as most guys from their side of town, intimidating with his leather jacket and seemingly instinctual scowl, but he doesn’t seem scary. Not really. Not when he’s this kind.

Wordlessly she holds out her hand and he takes her wrist with a gentleness that’s unprecedented from such large callused hands, clearly used to hard work, as he carefully threads the cloth over and around her knuckles, covering most of the cuts without tying anything too tightly.

She’s almost disappointed when he pulls away.

“You’re real good at that.”

“Yeah well,” he grins, suddenly roguish and Evie can see how he could be mean if he wanted to, “it’s not exactly my first time bandaging bruised knuckles. Might be my first time bandaging them on a girl though.”

“Oh yeah?” Despite her misery she can feel a smile tugging at the corner of her own lips.

He nods. “You oughta join a rumble sometime, looks like that right hook of yours does some real damage.”

“He deserved it!” Evie snaps. 

“Looked like it,” The boy agrees, holding up his hands in surrender. He’s quiet for a minute, then adds, “Sounded like it too.”

Something about the way he says it makes her pause.

“He was gonna hit my mom,” she admits, shivering at the memory of Dean’s rage and the way mom had tensed, hands flying up to shield her face. She’d said after, when Dean was still screaming and everything had gone to shit that he’d never done it before, but her reaction had told Evie otherwise. “He was standin’ over her and I could see him pulling back and in that moment it felt like my options were hit or be hit. So I punched him.”

“Tuff.”

Evie blinks. “Ya think?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I really do.”

Something in her chest relaxes at that, at not only his non judgemental assessment of her actions but his clear approval of them. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone on her side until now.

She looks at him, really looks at him. Aside from his thick hair and smooth skin, he’s got slightly crooked teeth and a strong nose. His eyes are angry, but righteously so, not cruelly so, and there is kindness hidden in the curve of his cheek and the calluses of his hands.

“You’re Steve, right? I’ve seen you around school before with that friend of yours. The blond one.”

“Sodapop, yeah,” He gives her an odd look, slightly pleased but clearly taken aback, “I gotta be honest, I’m not used to people knowing my name and not his.”

“Oh,” It’s her turn to blush, “well, I-I guess he never really made much of an impression on me.”

“Well since you seem to know my name, does that mean I made an impression on you?” 

“No,” her cheeks are burning and she doesn’t sound convincing, even to herself, but if she’d seen Steve Randle doing pull ups when she walked past the boys gym class once and made a point of learning his name, that’s no one's business but her own. It didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean anything before now. “Shut up.”

He laughs, and she should probably be annoyed because he’s definitely teasing her but it’s such a nice sound, carefree and inherently defiant, that it’s hard to do anything but enjoy it.

“Someone call for a jailbreak?” 

Before Steve can properly answer they’re interrupted.

Speak of the devil, Evie thinks, silently cursing Sodapop as he grins through the bars at Steve, flanked by an older boy wearing ascuffed letterman jacket and the brown haired cop from earlier. He couldn’t have waited to get here just a few minutes longer?

“Took you long enough,” Steve rises fluidly to his feet as the cop unlocks the cell, and nods at the other boy, “Hey superman. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Gotta be over 18 to bail someone out Steve-o,” Sodapop singsongs, before the older boy can get a word in, “an’ I figured you wouldn’t want me gettin’ mom or dad involved unless I had to.”

“Thanks man,” Steve pulls them each into one of those odd half hugs boys do, clapping the big one called Superman on the shoulder as he pulls away, “speaking of, any chance you’d be willing to sign for one more person? I’ll pay the bail, I just need your signature.”

He looks over his shoulder expectantly and Evie realizes with a start that he means bail for her.

“What? No! Steve you guys can’t- I don’t got the scratch to pay you back-”

“Well I ain’t about to leave you here by your lonesome all night, and it don’t seem like your mom’s fixing to come back anytime soon. Darry here won’t mind signin’ the papers since I’m vouchin’ for you.”

‘’Course not.” The older boy agrees.

Evie bites her lip, considering. She really, really doesn’t want to stay here, especially without Steve for company, but she also doesn’t have the funds to pay him back.

“I really can’t pay you back-”

“Listen, if you really wanna pay me back you could agree to go out on a date with me?“

“O-oh,” she smiles down at her feet, “I- yeah, I’d love to.”

“Really?”

He really shouldn’t sound so shocked. She’d basically been the one to admit to liking him, after all.

“Yeah. Really really.”

“I’m Evie by the way,” she tells him as she and Steve walk side by side out of the precinct, realizing she has yet to introduce herself, despite how long they’ve been talking.

“Oh,” Steve's grin is playful, “I know. I make a point of learning the names of pretty girls.”

“I guess I must’ve made an impression on you too, huh?”

He gently takes her non broken hand in his, twining their fingers together.

‘Yeah,” he agrees, “I guess so.”

[kittenofdoomage]

Off The Trail

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: Getting lost on a hike leads to a more intense kind of adventure.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Fae!Geralt x fem!reader

Word Count: 2858

Warnings: fairy circles, faun!Geralt, fae!Geralt, horns, otherworldly creatures, sex as payment (sort of?), smut (incl. Oral sex, fingering, size kink, Geralt’s massive package, prep, repeated orgasms, slight cockwarming), a tiny plot twist

You were absolutely lost. Somewhere along the way, you took a wrong turn, losing the hiking path you were following, too busy staring at the beautiful forest surrounding you to realize the marked path had become grass, then bushes. Now, there was no sign of the trail, and you couldn’t tell which way was which. Even your phone was no help, and was close to running out of battery, despite being charged that morning.

For a little while, you walked in circles, finally getting exhausted and stopping for a drink. You packed plenty of supplies, so you took a break, looking around at the cute little toadstools, listening to the bird song. When you were done, you got to your feet, intent on finding your way out, and you noticed that the toadstools actually formed a complete circle around you.

You shrugged, and started to walk. As you lifted your foot to step over the mushrooms, it connected with something, knocking you off balance and backwards onto your butt. Yelping at the sudden impact, you stared at the ring, unable to see anything. Getting to your feet, you tried again, holding your hands out as you moved forward but the same invisible barrier prevented you from leaving.

“What the fuck?” you exclaimed, punching at the air. Your knuckles connected painfully and you cried out, clutching your hand to your chest.

At a loss for what to do, you walked around the perimeter, following the line of mushrooms. The barrier appeared to be just before the circle, preventing you from damaging any of the fungi which could possibly have freed you. With a grunt, you returned to the center, sitting down and pulling out your phone. It beeped at you, warning of the low battery, and you held it up, fruitlessly trying to get a signal.

The phone promptly died, and you yelled, throwing it. It passed through the barrier, bouncing off of the mossy grass, now utterly out of reach. Your screeched ‘fuck’ disturbed a few birds in the nearby trees, and when you threw yourself backwards, you covered your face, sobbing out your frustration.

You weren’t an inexperienced hiker. People knew you were out on that particular trail, and you couldn’t have gotten too far from it. Someone would eventually find you, but it could be hours.

Night fell quicker than you expected. The temperature didn’t drop much, but you shivered still, sitting in the center of the circle, hugging your knees as the clouds parted and the moon shone brilliantly above you. In the midst of your despair, you looked up, staring in awe at the carpet of stars that shone, unimpeded by any unnatural light. You had never seen the stars so bright.

A chittering dragged your attention back to your predicament. Around you, bushes rustled, and you thought you could see things moving in the shadows. Your immediate concern had been food and water; now you were concerned about being eaten by something else. This park wasn’t supposed to have any large predators but just because they’d never been seen, didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

The tiny sounds became clearer as you listened, sounding more like excited little chatter rather than anything threatening. You squinted into the darkness, then got to your feet to get as close to the edge of the circle as you could, though it was pointless when you saw nothing. As you stared, the noises stopped, and an almost reverent silence fell over the forest. Even the wind stopped, and you held your breath as something started to emerge from the shadows.

He wasn’t quite a man. Instead of feet, he walked on cloven hooves, and thick black fur covered his lower half, a stark contrast to the long white hair on his head. Curling horns sprouted from either side of his head, twisting into points above his ears, and his eyes were pools of gold, glowing in the darkness. The moonlight shone on his pale, scarred skin, glinting off of a medallion at his throat, which appeared to be the only thing he was wearing. His handsome, ethereal face fixed on you as he grew closer, and his true size made your knees shake.

You swallowed, frozen on the spot. A hundred possibilities rushed through your mind; it could be an elaborate prank, or some sort of television show being filmed out here, or maybe you had hit your head and were currently hallucinating or dreaming. You contemplated every one, avoiding the most obvious of them all.

It was real.

The creature stalked towards you, nostrils flaring and lips twitching, and you still couldn’t move. He stopped at the edge of the circle, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you.

“You have trespassed, little one,” he murmured, close enough now to touch if he wasn’t on the other side of your invisible prison. His voice was rough yet well-spoken, inspiring butterflies in your stomach. “What do you offer as a recompense?”

Your mind scrambled, realizing quickly he wanted something as payment. There was very little in your pack besides food and spare clothing, tools, maybe a few dollars in your wallet, though you suspected he wouldn’t care for any of it. “Um, I -” You thrust your hands into your pockets, coming up with nothing as he looked on with amusement. “I don’t -”

“What is your name?” he asked softly, tilting his head to one side, almost studying you. You gave it in a whisper, staring up at him as he contemplated you. When he took a step forward, crossing the barrier, you scrambled back, uncertain of his intentions. “You may call me Geralt,” he said, head bowed as he pressed one hand to his broad chest.

Your voice was thick with nerves. “W-what are you?”

His lips curled into a smile, and he began to walk around you, smiling more when you followed in a slow turn, reluctant to turn your back on him. “Do humans not still tell stories of my kind? Sing songs of the folk of the forests?” Your eyes widened. “Fae folk?” he attempted again.

“I mean,” you fumbled, worried that you might accidentally insult him, “we have fairy tales, and books, that sort of thing. But… none of that’s real.” You trailed off as he stopped, a little closer than he had been. “Except you’re… very real.”

“Hmmm, so we are only stories,” he huffed with amusement. “It has been a long time since one of your kind strayed into our realm.”

“Your realm?” you whispered in surprise.

He gestured to the perfect circle of toadstools. “You stepped through the doorway,” he explained, “and I shall send you back. For a price.”

Once again, you faltered, unsure what you could offer. “I have some food, uh, money?”

His laughter at the suggestion was musical, and he stepped forward, forcing you to lift your chin to maintain eye contact. “I have no use for gold,” he drawled, “and no need for your food.”

“Well, um,” you stooped, scooping up your bag, “this is pretty much everything I have with me.” You opened it but he ignored you, keeping his gaze locked on your face, and you began to get the impression he didn’t want anything material from you. Your thighs clenched, and you felt sweat on your lower back, snaking down under the waistband of your leggings. “I don’t know what you want,” you whispered.

His large hand closed around yours, prying the bag from your grip before he tossed it across the circle. “Only a taste,” he purred, licking his lips. “You may decide if you want more.”

You barely had a second to process what was happening when he pulled you close, bending to press his lips to yours. His fingers were warm against your cheek, and he tasted like fruit, though you were immediately preoccupied by your body’s swift reaction to his touch. He was at least two feet taller than you, prompting you to push up on your toes to kiss him back.

“Do you agree to the exchange?” he asked, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

Maybe you were crazy but you suddenly couldn’t think of anything you’d want more. You nodded, managing only a squeak of consent before he was pushing you down onto the ground, long fingers tugging at the waistband of your leggings. An abrupt realization of what was about to happen made you yelp when he had your clothing down around your knees. Your boots stopped him for only a second, and you could only gasp when your naked lower half was assaulted by the cool air.

“It has been a long time since I had a human,” he rumbled, spreading your thighs wide. “And you smell so very sweet.”

The first touch of his tongue against your cunt made your eyes roll back, and a shuddering moan escaped from your lips. Geralt nuzzled into you, exploring you at leisure, easily finding the right spots to make you whimper as your arousal increased. Even the tip of his horns brushing against your inner thighs was arousing, and when you reached down to touch one, he grunted into you, chuckling when you wrapped your fingers around the thick base.

His tongue pressed into you, fucking into your slick channel as you moaned and writhed, held in place by one huge hand. It wasn’t enough stimulation to cum, but it was enough to make your veins buzz with pleasure, and you stared up at the starry sky as you bathed in his touch. Eventually, he withdrew, dragging his tongue up to your clit, making you mewl pitifully when he suckled at it. His free hand brushed against your ass, two fingers suddenly pressing into the dripping hole he’d abandoned, and you cried out as he penetrated you, working you into a frenzy within seconds.

With one hand on his horns and the other twisted in the moss, you came hard, crying out over and over. Geralt didn’t stop, lapping up what you had to offer until you went slack; he chuckled as he got to his knees, sucking at his fingers. “Very very sweet,” he murmured, reaching out to tease your clutching hole again.

“Is that -” You couldn’t breathe properly, and your heart was racing. “Is that it?”

“The choice is yours,” he replied smoothly. “I am satisfied with my taste but if you wish to offer a higher payment -”

“I -” This day literally couldn’t get any weirder, you thought, shaking your head to try and clear the fog from your orgasm, what’s the harm in finishing what I started?

He narrowed his eyes with a knowing smile, almost like he was sensing your internal monologue. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked firmly, one huge warm hand on your thigh.

“Yes,” you whined, reaching for him. He grinned, catching your hand as he loomed over you on all fours, and you felt it for the first time. It extended from a furry sheath, human in shape though far far larger in both length and girth. “That won’t - it won’t fit -”

He seemed to find that funny, taking hold of your hand to wrap your fingers around the mammoth erection prodding at your belly. “It will,” he promised. “I will not hurt you.”

Two fingers pushed inside you again and you mewled, arching underneath him. His cock throbbed in your hand, dribbling precum onto your stomach as he rutted into your hold. You still weren’t sure of his confidence in your ability to handle such a beast, but your curiosity had taken you too far for you to back out now.

He added a third finger, stretching your cunt around the intrusion. You gasped, squeezing at his cock, and he growled, withdrawing his hand to tear at your clothing. It wasn’t the cold that made you shiver when you were finally nude underneath him, but the sheer hunger in his golden eyes. Pulling your hand away from his cock, he leaned back, stuffing your pussy with his fingers again.

“I want to hear you scream again,” he grunted, sliding his thumb over your clit. You nodded listlessly, helpless to his desire, barely even fighting against the wave of ecstasy that made your head swim and your limbs feel like jelly. His fingers kept moving, thrusting deeper and deeper, thumb pressing into your clit with harder circles each time; you had no hope against the bliss he conjured, and granted him exactly what he wanted.

As he loomed over you, he coaxed your trembling legs up and apart. You felt the weight of his cock against your cunt, cooing lightly when he rubbed the thick tip through your folds, gathering up your wetness before he stopped, hitching at your entrance, only threatening to breach. Your breath caught in your throat, and he reached out, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Look at me,” he murmured huskily, rocking his hips forward. “Show me how you fall apart when I’m inside you.”

There was no pain as he split you open, working inch after inch into your tight cunt. You cried out at the sensation, pinned by his weight, at his mercy until he was finally sheathed deep, throbbing and hot inside you. His heavy balls rested against your ass, and you groaned, clenching around him. He answered with an equally heady noise, releasing your throat to crush his mouth against yours again. The kiss was short, yet dizzying, and he granted you no time to adjust before he was leaning back on his haunches, dragging your ass onto his furry thighs and driving his cock deeper into your ruined cunt.

Moonlight bathed your naked skin with an eerie glow as he fucked into you, every stroke harder than the last, until you couldn’t think for the almost delirious state of arousal he had you in. He pawed at your breasts, teasing your nipples into hardened peaks, alternating between the two as you dug your fingers into the grass in an effort to ground yourself. It didn’t work, and you couldn’t stop your own cries of ecstasy as he possessed you entirely.

He withdrew, easily flipping you onto your stomach before he was straddling your thighs, pushing his cock back into you. You squeaked at the added pressure, and your eyes rolled as he started to slam into a certain singular spot that made you see stars. Your cries became silent, overcome by his grunts and growls, and you felt like he was growing impossibly large inside you, a warning for what was to come.

“I’m going to fill you up,” he growled, grasping at your hip to hold you in place, making it clear that he wasn’t going to let you get away. You clawed at the ground, lifting your shoulders only to find yourself pinned by his other hand. The restraint, coupled with his still-strong thrusts, awakening something primal and needy inside you, and you stopped fighting, lifting your ass to accept his seed. The submission seemed to tip him over the edge, and he roared, sinking in to the root to ride out his climax right against your cervix. Every pulse of his orgasm unwittingly dragged you through another too, and you collapsed, whimpering into the dirt as he remained buried inside you.

You had nothing left. Your breathing slowed as Geralt rested above you, eventually rolling with you until you were laying on your side, still filled to the brim with his consistently hard cock. It was strangely comforting, and you dozed off, warming him as he nestled around your smaller frame.

The sky began to change from black to pinks and oranges as the sun rose, reflecting off of puffy white clouds that slowly materialized. You stirred, stretching out naked on the grass, feeling the heavy bulk of the faun behind you. He lifted his head, nuzzling at your shoulder before looking over towards the trees. “I should return you to your own kind,” he mumbled, one hand sliding over your belly, still swollen with him. “I shall think of you often, little one.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. Smiling, you opened them to tell him that maybe you would come back, or maybe even that you didn’t have to go, but when you opened them again, you were back in your clothes, and the toadstools were gone. Someone was calling your name in the distance, and you scrambled for your backpack and your forgotten phone, glancing around to see if Geralt had stayed or -

You were alone. There was no sign to say he’d ever been there, nothing to show for your night together except for the delicious ache between your legs. Even now, the memory was beginning to fade, leaving behind a sort of grief for something that never could have been. You sighed, dropping your shoulders, and then you began to walk in the direction of the rangers calling your name.

From the trees, Geralt watched, smiling to himself. You would figure it out eventually, and then you’d come back to him. He just had to wait.

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

[0asisbliss]

Darling why run?

Pt.2

Parings: Yandere!Chrollo x Cubby fem!Reader

TW: Kidnap, mentions of torture, other dark shit.

A/N: Sorry for any spelling errors. Pt.3 since you guys asked for this first.

You sat there in silence trying to concentrate on the door. Waiting for it to open. You needed to get out. The rusted old chains on your leg felt itchy, and you could no longer feel the weight of them because of how tight they were. The beating image of your friend still stuck in your head. It was horrifying. Your face still hasn’t changed. That same nonchalant expression that you had when she was asking you to put her out of her misery.

You play her screams over and over again in your head. Your head. It’s beginning to hurt. Though you try to ignore the pain. The door still hasn’t opened. You estimate it’s been two days since Chrollo left you to rot in the of the home you once loved so much. Chrollo had it all why would he throw it away like that? To ruin your life? Traumatize you? Did he no longer love you? Maybe, just maybe this all a little sick game to Chrollo. He probably found joy in your suffering.

You stopped looking at the door and stared at your legs. Could you still even walk? You were in pain, and you were really hungry.

You heard a creaking sound come from the door. It must have opened. Chrollo came into room with a plate of food and a glass of water.

The fucking nerve.

“Get. The. Hell. Out.” You muttered quietly, but harsh enough for him to hear. You were tired of being quiet you hated being down here, you hated being chained, and you even hated him.

“Darling, maybe you should eat hm?”

Chrollo sat the plate beside your hand. Even in your hungry state you refused the food from him to demonstrate your hatred and sorrow. You looked at it, and threw it on the ground. The glass plate shattering, and food plastering the floor.

Tears started to well at your eyes as you began to cry. Your sobs turned into screams. Chrollo sat beside you and rubbed circles on your lower back.

“There, there my darling it’ll be okay.”

You started to punch at his chest and you even slapped him. This was just your first week in this confinement so Chrollo didn’t get too mad at your behavior.

“Fuck you. I hate you, you crazy motherfuc-.”

Chrollo cut you off by slamming into your lips you didn’t kiss him back instead you bit into his bottom lip hard.

Chrollo didn’t hesitate to push you off of him when he pulled away blood dripped down from his lip as he looked at you in shock. Why the hell would you bite him? You didn’t do this before.

Chrollo backed away, and got off the bed.

“Alright since you failed to eat dinner how about I come back at a later time. Maybe when you have finally got yourself together.

You finally had enough two fucking whole days of bullshit, and pure torture, and he gives you this smart mouth bullshit?

“Y’know what Chrollo fuck you. I’ve been stuck in this filthy fucking basement for two fucking days. And you have the nerve to come and act like you’ve done nothing to me? Rot in hell.”

Chrollo stared at you with no emotion in his expression. Almost like he was starting you down, sizing you up. Why did he find delight in your present state? This is the most emotion you given to him in days. He wants more of it. He could even sense aura coming from you. It was sharp almost like the pressure of the air got lower, and the atmosphere got heavy. Then all of a sudden it stops. Maybe you were no longer angry?

He needs to feel this sensation again. Hell if he has to bring another one of your friends in here for Feitan to torture just for him to see this happen again he will. Maybe he’ll go deeper next time and bring your mother? He never liked that hag anyway.

“Darling be careful what you wish for, and for what you wish on people. For it could double fall back on you.” Chrollo shut the door behind him.

You watched him walk out the door and you huddled back into a ball on your bed and sobbed silently to yourself.

In your once shared bedroom Chrollo was planning. You showed such a strong emotion. He felt your aura without you even trying to show it off. Who knew you could bring your ability to life without even hesitating. He had to get you to feel that emotion again. He needed to feel your aura on his skin again. Though he didn’t show it he wanted to take you right there when you were yelling and crying at him. It made him feel close to being utterly happy?

You didn’t know a thing. All you felt was rage in that moment know all you can feel if restraint. You acknowledged that Chrollo showed no fear to you and that you wouldn’t win against him or even have him give you your freedom.

It was like all of a sudden the world outside was some fantasy realm you wanted to escape too. Maybe to escape your reality. There was no hiding from it, but maybe you could run if you were fast enough. It would take guts and an extra set of balls to even test Chrollo’s patience.

Though he had a lot. Everyone had their limits maybe you could used that to you advantage, and stretch his patience. Although the consequences might be hectic you had no other choice. You didn’t want to rot in this basement for the rest of your life. You had to get out. No matter what it took. No matter who dies. You needed to get away from him.

Chrollo knew your mindset more than you think so you had to be swift. Chrollo was already imagining the things you would probably do to escape. He was mentally and physically prepared. There was only one way out in his case. That was death. Even though that won’t happen to you anytime soon.

He has to train your brain, and get you to feel something again for him to conjure your nen out of the depths of your soul, so he can take it. It would be perfect, amazing almost. You’re giving him what he needs to be even more successful in his “career” that is enough to show him you love him.

And after all of that you can finally settle down and bear his children. Maybe two? A boy and a girl, or a pair of twins should do. Just the slightest smile appeared on Chrollo’s face thinking about it. Y’know what? That reminds him he needs a journal to write all of this stuff down. He couldn’t wait to feel your aura, and see the expression on your face when he finally gets to explain all of this to you.

[ihavenolife346]

❥☆My Girl☆❥

Pairing: Lars Ulrich and F!reader

Warnings: Swearing and arguing

Summary: James and Lars got into one of their arguments and James finally hit Lars’s breaking point.

James and Lars couldn’t even remember what they were arguing about this time, somehow it got to the topic of Y/N, Lars’s girlfriend and James’s best friend. But everyone could tell it got heated fast. They were in each others faces, they were screaming at one another, Kirk and Jason were amazed neither one of them had punch the other yet.

“Well at least I actually give a shit about Y/N unlike you, her fucking boyfriend!!!” James yelled, watching Lars’s eyes go from angry, to incredibly pissed off.

“The Fock do you mean by that James?!” Lars threw his hand in the air.

“You say you love her, but you fucking don’t! You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself! You put her through way too much to actually love her!!” James didn’t even know why he was saying that, his anger was getting the best of him.

The second James spoke, Lars wasn’t angry anymore, he felt himself break at James’s words. Did you think he didn’t love you? Did you think he made you deal with to much to actually love you? Lars felt like he was about to cry, he just stood there staring blankly at James. “Fock you man…” Lars mumbled out, turning around to leave the room without another word.

“Not fucking cool man.” Lars had heard Kirk begin to scold James as he hurried out of the building.

Lars knew he was as asshole sometimes, but whenever he was an asshole to you, he always apologized, he never did mean to he a dick, he was typically just having a bad day, you seemed to know that. Lars knew it was late, probably close to midnight, he knew you would be asleep by now, but he needed to get home. He needed 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

Lars felt like the short drive home took years, yet he managed to keep himself together as he walked into yours and his shared home. He tried his best too stay as quite as he could, not wanting to wake you. Taking off his shoes, Lars noticed how much he had been shaking. He had no idea how he kept himself together.

Walking into the bedroom, Lars was met with your sleeping figure. The sight of you being so peaceful made him feel somewhat relaxed. Lars smiled slightly when he saw you were in one of his shirts. Pulling off his own shirt and socks, Lars had quickly changed into a pair of shorts before crawling into bed with you. Lars was trying his absolute best not to wake you, knowing you could be a light sleeper, but his efforts failed. The second he was under the blanket, you had been pushing your head under his arm, curling yourself next to his with your head on his chest.

“Hi baby.” Y/N mumbled, throwing her arm over Lars’s waist, cuddling into his side. Lars had immediately wrapped his arm around the girl, he felt himself break down that very moment.

“H-hi sweetheart.” Lars stuttered out, holding back a sob, not wanting to bother the girl with his problems. Lars couldn’t help but think if you thought he didn’t love you. Hell, he loved you more than he loved anything in the world.

Y/N was immediately able to tell something was wrong. Lifting her head up slightly from his chest, Y/N was not fully awake, “what’s wrong?” Y/N muttered, seeing that Lars was about to break.

Lars finally let himself go, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Y/N heard his sobs as she unwrapped herself from Lars, turning to face him fully.

“I-I” Lars couldn’t even get a fully sentence out, burying his face in his hands.

Y/N knew that he didn’t want to talk about it right now, she knew he couldn’t, so instead Y/N laid herself against the pillows and headboard, offering her comfort for Lars. Lars had practically threw himself into her arms, breaking down crying.

Y/N had wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair, mumbling nothing but sweet words to him until he was ready to talk. They laid there together, 12:45 in the morning until Lars was ready to talk. He was gripping Y/N’s waist like he thought she was just going to disappear, he was holding onto her like a life line. Y/N knew he didn’t get like this much unless something was said in an argument that really hurt, or someone had passed. The last time she saw him like this was when Cliff died.

When Lars had finally pulled himself together he decided to talk. “He said I didn’t love you.” Lars didn’t dare listen his grip on the girl, burying his head in her chest.

“What was that baby?” Y/N asked again, not minding his grip even when she knew that would probably bruise in the morning.

“He said I didn’t love you.” Lars mumbled once again, not moving an inch.

“What?” Y/N didn’t even need to know anything else to know that he was talking about James.

“He said I don’t give a shit about anyone but myself. He said I made you deal with to much shit for me to actually love you.” Lars felt tears build up again.

Y/N just sat there listening, running her fingers up and down his back, providing as much comfort as she could.

“Y-you know I Love you right?” Lars finally picked his head up, looking Y/N dead in the eyes who had already been staring down at him.

“I know you do baby. I know you love me. And I love you too, with all my heart. James doesn’t know shit. He doesn’t know how we work, how we love each other. Don’t listen to him, I know you love me, and I love you.” Y/N placed a passionate kiss on Lars’s lips, feeling him visibly relax at her words.

“I love you, so much.” Lars placed his head back onto her chest.

“I love you too Lars. Go to sleep, you deserve it.” Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, offering the man sleep. Y/N knew her back would hurt in the morning because she was basically sitting upright, but that was the least of her concerns, her focus was Lars right now.

Y/N felt his grip on her slightly loosen, she felt his breathing even out, and finally she heard soft snores. Y/N placed once last kiss on his head before she had decided to go back to sleep herself. She had made a mental note to either slap James or yell at him next time she saw him.

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 12

12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight 

cw physical whump/injury, captive whumpee, intimate whumper, suggestive, mention of starvation, emeto, beating, choking 

“You want me to do what?” 

“Hit me,” Whumper said with a smirk. “Go on, I know you want to.” 

Whumpee shivered, remembering the last time they had tried to fight back against Whumper. Their stomach turned at the memory of how easily Whumper had gotten them under control—beaten them senseless until Whumpee was a crying, shaking mess. And that had been back when Whumper had first taken them. When Whumpee still had their strength, mentally and physically. They couldn’t imagine how much worse they’d fair now in a fight against their captor. 

“What are you waiting for?” Whumper asked, closing the space between them. They looked down at Whumpee with amusement. “Ah...are you scared of what I’ll do to you, honey?” 

“Please, I don’t...” Whumpee tried to step away, but their back hit the wall behind them. “I can’t. I don’t want to.” 

Whumper nodded in mock sympathy. “I know you don’t.” They grabbed one of Whumpee’s wrists and held it up roughly. “Look how frail you’ve gotten, darling. I doubt you could even hit me very hard...” 

When they blinked, the tears began to spill from Whumpee’s eyes. “P-Please, don’t make me do this, you know I—” 

Whumper silenced them with a kiss, their other hand grabbing onto Whumpee’s hair and holding them in place as they squirmed. Pulling back, Whumper said, “I know. You’re scared of trying to take me in a fight. But don’t forget what happens when you disobey me. I promise, it will be much worse than a beating.” 

Whumpee’s breath caught on a sob, and Whumper took a step back. They towered over Whumpee, tall and muscular, with strong arms that could easily break them. Whumpee felt dizzy, hands trembling where they clenched into fists at their sides. 

“Come on,” Whumper said with a laugh. “Let’s see what you’ve got. If you impress me, maybe I'll try not to make you bleed.” 

Whumpee had to stand on their tiptoes in order to reach Whumper. They hissed in pain when their fist landed wrong, barely drawing a reaction from Whumper but leaving their knuckles sore. They didn’t know how to fight, they didn’t know how to throw a punch, but that didn’t matter. Whumper didn’t want a fair fight—they wanted to humiliate Whumpee, and they wanted an excuse to hurt them back. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Whumper taunted as their captive cradled their hand against their chest. “Aw, now don’t give me those pathetic eyes, honey. You look absolutely miserable.” 

“Please...” Whumpee tried again. But that word was as far as they got before Whumper’s fist connected with their face hard enough to knock them back into the wall. Whumpee groaned in pain, trying to stay on their feet. 

Whumper grabbed their wrists and pinned them above Whumpee’s head, able to hold both in one hand. “Have I not been feeding you enough? Seems like you’ve gotten thinner since the last time we did this. Weaker.” Their other hand curled around Whumpee’s throat, strong fingers cutting off their air with ease. “Yeah, look at that. You used to be able to struggle more.” 

They were right. Whumpee thrashed against their hold, but it didn’t do any good at all. Whumper had broken them down so much they didn’t have the strength to fight back. The hand on their neck pulled Whumpee forward before slamming them back into the wall. Whumpee’s vision blacked out when their head hit the concrete, and their lungs burned with each gasping breath as they crumpled to the ground. 

“Fucking pathetic.” Whumper said it almost fondly, kicking Whumpee in the stomach. “I won’t lie, I’ve missed this. You’ve been so good for me lately, I haven’t had much reason to hurt you. I forgot how fun it is.” 

Whumpee made a soft noise of pain, struggling to push themself up onto their hands and knees. They were aided by the hand tangling in their hair and yanking them up the rest of the way. “N-no more,” they begged, voice barely audible. “I can’t...” 

Whumper chuckled. “But I’m enjoying this so much, honey. Unless you can think of another way to entertain me?” 

Whumpee nodded desperately, which made their head spin. Fingers grasped at Whumper’s thighs because they couldn’t get the words out, chest tight and voice choked with sobs. 

“Hm,” Whumper hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t usually give it up that easy. Must really be feeling it, huh?” 

Another boot to the stomach made Whumpee double over, shoulders heaving as they puked. 

Whumper took a step back and watched them with amusement. “Poor little thing,” they cooed. Whumpee was shaking, arms curled around themself protectively. “I don’t think I'll ever get tired of you.” 

taglist: @morning-star-whump ((if you want to be added lmk!))

[amomentsescape]

What if Stu Didn't Kill Anyone?

Stu Macher x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) finds herself losing the love of her life more times than one.

Warnings: Foul language, angst, pregnancy

Word Count: 1,138

A/N: This is a more in-depth version of @stu-machers-girl 's request. You can find the shorter version here. I hope you enjoy!

"This wasn't what we fucking agreed on!" Stu shouted.

Billy simply shrugged. "Change of plans."

He attempted to step closer to (Y/N), but he was immediately blocked by the taller boy.

"You kill Sidney. That's it. My girl's got nothing to do with this!"

(Y/N) instinctively wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling the rising tension build even more.

Kill?

She didn't know what the fuck was going on. How did a day full of excitement and news to share turn into this?

"She's just another mouth to keep shut. We can't trust her," Billy spat.

The boys were slowly getting closer and closer to one another, and without even thinking, she jumped in between them.

"Stop!" she screamed. She didn't want Stu to get hurt.

However, he immediately pushed her back behind him, not trusting what Billy could do in that moment.

"This is your damn plan. Do what you want, but (Y/N) and I are leaving."

Stu grabbed her hand and began to pull her to the exit, only for Billy to take this opportunity to pounce.

Stu fell to the floor as Billy began to throw punch after punch at him, his anger being felt through each blow.

(Y/N) screamed and kicked her foot up in the air, her shoe colliding with Billy's nose.

He rolled over and groaned, red liquid beginning to spill all over his clothes and the carpet.

(Y/N) ran over to the boy and kept kicking him, the fear of losing Stu clouding her better judgment.

However, that short moment was all it took for her world to be turned upside down.

Sidney had gotten out of her bindings, and she sprinted towards the TV before the other girl even had a chance to notice.

(Y/N) finally broke out of her angered frenzy when she heard the loud smashing sound of glass breaking and the sizzling of electricity crackling.

Her heart stopped in that moment, her eyes glossing over at seeing her love motionless under the weight of a broken TV.

Her throat burned as the screaming began, hot tears leaving messy trails down her cheeks.

She began running towards Sidney, her body colliding with the girl's as they both tumbled to the floor.

(Y/N) began to scratch, punch, hit, anything she could think of to cause as much damage as possible. She never thought she could be any more angry than she was at Billy just moments before, but now she understood that things could always get worse.

Sidney found a moment of clarity where she raised her fist and punched the other girl in the nose as hard as she could.

This dazed (Y/N) for a moment, just enough time for Sidney to push her over and run out the exit, wanting to get as far away from this house as possible.

(Y/N)'s sobs began to increase as she drug herself over to Stu's lifeless body. She threw herself on top of him as she continued to scream and cry, not knowing what else to do.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to arrive however, and they had to physically restrain (Y/N) away from Stu so they could take a look at his body.

(Y/N)'s voice continued to yell, but no sound was coming out anymore. Her voice had been broken by the sound.

---

It had been three weeks since the incident, and (Y/N) couldn't find herself in better spirits.

Stu had survived.

By some fucking miracle, he had managed to live. His face was still swollen, his skull was healing from its fracture, but he was alive. And he was happy.

(Y/N) had finally told him the good news that she was wanting to share with him that fateful night.

She was expecting.

Stu's face had broken out into a huge, but painful, grin. If he hadn't been in so much pain, he would have jumped up and swung the girl in his arms, planting her face with hundreds of kisses.

Stu had always wanted a family. And this desire only increased once he met (Y/N). She was the one for him, and the idea of them raising their own flesh and blood up together made his heart warm.

They could finally have the life they always wanted.

But happiness doesn't last forever.

Now that Stu was able to be released, the law decided to step in and take their chance.

The police came in later that day and arrested him. Stu was being charged for several counts of murder.

Billy had been killed after his attempt to leave the house that night. And with Sidney still being alive, it only made sense that she would turn in the killer's best friend.

Stu hadn't killed anyone though. He knew about Billy and his desires, but he didn't step into the Ghostface persona with him.

He couldn't risk that. Not after falling in love.

But it's not like the police cared. The community wanted justice, and he was their best opportunity at getting it.

(Y/N) screamed and sobbed through a broken voice, realizing that she had once again lost him. And this time, it might be for good.

---

She went to every court hearing. Every single chance she had at talking to Stu through that stupid dirty glass, she did it.

There was no way she would ever leave his side. He was innocent. She argued and fought for his innocence over and over again to the point that she risked putting herself in jail.

But she knew she had to think of their child. She wasn't going to lose them too. So she tried her best to be patient, but every day was filled with pure fear.

During the final verdict, (Y/N)'s heart was going a mile a minute. She felt sick to her stomach as she awaited the judge's next words with bated breath.

Guilty.

Stu's eyes immediately met hers at this, those same eyes immediately began to water as he realized that this was it for him, for them.

His child was going to grow up without a father. His true love was going to always be out of reach, his body forever being separated from her's by metal bars.

Part of him wished that TV would've just killed him that night. Then he wouldn't have had to go through this pain.

(Y/N) was screaming and crying at him, the guards pulling Stu up from his seat and taking him away.

She tried to rush up to him, but strong hands pulled her back as she collapsed to the floor.

"I'LL WAIT FOR YOU!" she yelled. "I'LL WAIT FOREVER IF I HAVE TO!"

She clutched her stomach as the door finally shut.

He was gone.