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suguruplsr · 7 months

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All you know..

✰ ✰ ✰ “are we dating? are we fuckin’? are we best friends? are we something in between that?” — heartbeat , childish gambino

જ⁀➴ i fucking love this. idk what it is tho <3

,, fuckboy! suguru x fem!reader , situation-ship , toxic (both kinda) , reader is mentioned to hook up a bit (w/ boys n’ girls) , slight angst , smut , sex at a party , mirror sex , mean! suguru , degradation , choking , slapping , brat taming ? , idk i wrote this at 4 am

fuckboy! suguru who you met at some party your friend took you to, hosted by his best friend, gojo satoru. surprisingly enough, suguru was the exact opposite of satoru, sure he had the sexual appeal that he definitely used to his advantage, but he was more respectful and quiet. rather than hitting up on girls like his counterpart, the girls were lured to him with just looks alone. his dark eyes and low voice wrapping them tightly into his web until he’s asking them to get out of his bed at 6 am in the morning, needing to clean his room and air out the stench of sex.

— but he never told you to leave, in fact, he let you stay in bed while he cleaned, gathering up your clothes to wash them and leaving out some of his for you to put on when you woke up. suguru wondered if he was just pussy whipped or just too tired to deal with a person that early in the morning. but he was in fact whipped when he found you fixing up his bed after waking up. actually making small talk with him, something he wasn’t fond of, but after your conversation drifted off from the topic last night, he found himself talking with you for hours on his couch, eventually watching a movie and all.

fuckboy! suguru who you see more, from random calls of ‘needing him’ to late night drives to get ice cream. or smoking a thick blunt at 8 am while you two watch some rom-com you picked out. getting picked up straight after work to go to his house and get your feet rubbed, loved on with small praises murmured into your thighs. sometimes he’s taking you to the club or to fancy dinners. you like it, the diversity of being.. well, something, with him. which leads to what you don’t like, not having a name for what you two are.

— two months. it took you two months of good dick, soft moments, fun dates, and getting spoiled for you to question everything. you almost felt guilty, but you were too headstrong for that, you know any other girl in your place would never complain or demand an answer as to what relationship you two have formed. but you know that’s probably why he likes you, so stubborn and always knowing what you want. the first time it came to mind, you asked him straight up.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“suguru?” you finish cutting your steak, before answering his small “hm?” , “what are we?” your voice was probably softer then you wanted it to be, confidence faltering as he stayed silent. perhaps this wasn't the best time? well yea, no shit, you think. you two were at some well known restaurant downtown, both of you dressed up and eating delicious food that suguru was paying for. you didn’t know where his money came from, but you knew better than to press when he gave an indirect answer the first time you asked, guys like that usually do some shady shit. and you have enough experience to know to just accept you found a man with good money and go about your business.

“how about you just eat mama? we’ll talk later.” and later never came, just subject changes and avoidance that had you rethinking this whole thing you had with him. it’s not like he has eyes for other girls, obviously committed to this growing.. situationship.. you two have going on. he turns down girls in a heartbeat, and nearly yelled at satoru when he found out his best friend was giving out his number to shy admirers. he was very clear that he wanted you. just not clear enough. and it’s not like you’re looking for others, but you can’t help but just want something more, wanting to be in an actual relationship rather than walk on this thread of string that you could tip over at any moment.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

fuckboy! suguru that you have an argument with for the first time after 3 months of knowing each other. annoyed by your nonstop questioning that he’s been desperately trying to not answer. and he goes off, making it painfully clear that no matter what you two do, you guys aren’t even completely serious, meaning that those moments of vulnerability, kisses that were way more than just the ‘heat of the moment’, the drives to walmart at 2 am for snacks, everything that made you fall in love, was just nothing. and that he doesn’t owe you an explanation as to why it’s nothing, as to why those soft touches that explored your body in a language different from just sex, was nothing. the tiny shifts in your dynamic together was just nothing. there was never something, and you were just friends with benefits. nothing more.

— finding your answer, you decide that perhaps it was best to leave nothing and to find something. not talking to him for weeks and responding to those guys who ask for your number, which leads to very few that you see outside of your bed. maybe you were desensitized after him? only knowing the name of geto suguru, a taste on your lips that was oh so sour. yet a taste on your lips that never leaves, no one fills the lost warmth when they hold you, it’s not the same as his, they may be a good kisser, but it’s not the same as his, they could throw dick down good, but it wasn’t the same as his. you only knew geto suguru.

— and you fucking hate yourself for that. you hate that he suddenly appears outside your door after 5 weeks and 4 days since your argument. you hate that you let him in and fuck you in such an intimate way that it doesn’t feel like fucking, you hate that you swear up and down you’ll set it straight with him in the morning only to be greeted by his lazy smile, making you breakfast and apologizing for everything except for not giving you a simple answer. you hate that you let him walk back into your life so casually. and it happens, you ask after two weeks of ‘normalcy’, in which he doesn’t answer. and you try to make it clear you won’t be seeing him again. but it happens again, again, and again. because no one can love you in the way geto suguru does. and you only knew geto suguru.

fuckboy! suguru who makes you fall into a swirl of emotions you hate. 6 months. you don’t ask anymore. that cute guy at starbucks? you had three dates with him. the hot tattoo artist down the street? yea you two fucked after she finished her work on your back. the same one suguru kissed all over after it finished healing. gojo satoru? he’s been in your bed a few times. that makes you confident in knowing that suguru isn’t oblivious to the fact that you’ve been seeing others without a care in the world. but you also know he won’t do anything, because according to his logic, you two weren’t anything serious. so he has no right to judge you, no matter how well he treats you. it was nothing in his eyes right?

— maybe that’s why you have to try breaking his patience again, one last time. maybe he’ll finally cut you off and let you move on or he’ll give you an answer you can take and hold onto, without hesitation. you’re going to a halloween costume themed party, everyone in their typical final girl outfits, or wearing iconic outfits of killers you’ve all grown to know. you wear a skimpy killer nurse costume, painting fake blood in places that forces eyes to linger for too long. i mean, if it made geto suguru, of all people, to stop and give you a look that may have been a warning for you to keep your act together, then was it really a defective plan?

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“man, this mansion is fucking creepy.” your friend groans, taking in another sip of her ‘blood’ (wine), after you two walk over the creaking wood. you two were on the 2nd floor, watching the dancing that happened below you two. mainly coming up here after you two realized this is where mostly everyone looking for a quick fuck went to. but your friend only gave you a sigh when your eyes stayed on some broad guy at the end of the hall. “you serious about this? what about that guy you came here with?” she raised an eyebrow, nudging your side as you rolled your eyes.

“and he’s precisely why i’m doing this babe.” you grin, finishing off your drink and getting up once you see the familiar cloak of suguru’s classic ghost face costume from the corner of your eyes. he was finally taking the bait and coming up stairs. you only knew it was him from the gray glowing paint at the ends of it, something he did when he found out a lot of people were going to dress up as the famous killer. but you also knew from how his eyes stayed on you, they may be covered by the creepy mask, but the slow turn of his head from downstairs when he had first seen you walking up the stairs said enough.

you strut over to the guy with a ditzy smile, his eyes quickly finding themselves falling to your busty breasts as you rub a hand along his chest, making it ‘apparent’ to him that you wanted to take him to some random room and have him fuck your brains out. which wasn’t really the case to be honest. sure he had a good figure, but from his constant stuttering and nervous body language, you knew wasn’t your type. he was lost, definitely a virgin. maybe you’ll hit him up when he gets some experience under his belt? well, probably after you delete the one number that always stays pinned in your messages.

you almost have the poor guy falling for your slutty act when a gloved hand grips your wrist tightly, the masked figure pulling you away with no words. “suguru? fuck are you doing? hey—“ you tried playing dumb, almost tripping when he slams the door of some guest room and pins you to it harshly. you stay silent, almost holding your breath at the sounds of his heavy one, the white mocking mask staring at you eerily. “i tried to be patient with you.” suguru’s voice was filled with bitterness that made you scared for a moment, his hands moving your body. “i even tried to fucking ignore whatever stupid shit you got going on, since you wanna fuck everything that exists.” he sneers, gripping your throat and ignoring your whimper of his name, acrylic nails scratching his gloved hand, which he swats away. “i even let you get away with having my best friends dick down your throat.” he chuckles darkly, pulling you off the wall and pushing you to the bed, his hands letting go.

“wait— suguru i—“ you nearly choke on your words, your eyes watery as he keeps walking towards you, boots dangerously clacking against the wood floor as you fall to the bed, cornered. he pulls the mask up to his nose, strands of his bang showing and you can hear his words clearly, panties pooling in fear, “i want your ass naked and face in the fuckin’ sheets when i come back.” is all he says, you scramble after he closes the door, rolling off the two piece outfit and feeling humiliated at the sight of your cum stained panties.

but nothing is more embarrassing than the possibility of someone walking in, considering his orders weren’t for you to lock the door, or to even look in that direction. you were forced to wait, face deep in the blanket, scared of hearing that door opening and not hearing the dark tone of suguru’s voice. sure it had you aching in dread, but you’ll take whatever sick punishment suguru has for you than someone seeing you in such a state. did you really take it too far this time? but it’s not really your fault.. he’s the one pent up on you seeing other people when you two aren’t even dating.

fortunately, you’re smart enough to know not to even say any of that when you hear the door open, quickly slammed closed and locked. your hands grip the blanket tighter at the sound of his boots. those fucking boots, why do they have to be so loud? it feels like you’re about to be killed or somethin’..

and killed you were. your pussy at least..

“fuck are you cryin’ for huh? this what you do on the daily, nothin’ new right?” suguru chuckles with a hand wrapping around your neck, and pulling your teary ruined face back towards him. he was taking you from behind, cock filling you to the hilt and making you feel him even more as you leaned back to him. you weren’t sure how many times you came on him. time doesn’t even feel real anymore.. what were you even doing before this? it didn’t matter.

you try to talk, words mushing into gibberish as he tightens his grip, making a sound of disappointment before pushing your face back into the sheets, slapping your ass and fucking into your sloppy pussy with thrusts that had you thinking of nothing. only able to just take it, moaning loudly with dark spots forming in your vision, the music downstairs hopefully drowning you two out. suguru’s mask was long gone, most of his hair pulled into a ponytail with his bangs falling. he looked so hot when you two were getting ready, and he still does, your face twisted to the mirror across the room, your blurry eyes watching him put you in your place.

“you’re droolin’ princess, gonna leave a stain for satoru to see later.” suguru smiles, you weren’t even shy about how the thought turned you on, clenching around him so tightly it was almost hard for him to drag his cock through your walls. “oh you like thaaat. let him know this pussy’s mine kay? bet you want him to see you like this.. always slutting yourself out with everyone, only to keep comin’ back to me.” you knew that was an underline for something you never forget. no one’s as good as him. no one will ever fuck you as good as him. and no one will love you as good as him. no one gets to keep playing with your heart like he does, taking you home at 5 am and staying in your life like it was nothing. no one tastes like geto suguru.

that’s all you knew.

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wosowritinnnggs11 · 1 month

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SMUT! 18+ MDNI

Ona x Reader ... Alexia x Reader

WARNING: Cheating, lying, lots of unfaithfulness, alcohol consumption, ALL PURELY FICTIONAL!, potentially shitty google translated spanish

Summary: Your relationship with Ona gets messy when you see her team-mate and more importantly your ex for the first time in 2 years. With no closure, pent-up frustration and a night of stolen glances, is your toxic relationship with Barca's captain really all in the past?

Tags: Exes, fingering, semi-public, mirror sex, bathroom sex, Top!Alexia x Bottom!Reader, possessiveness, begging, light degradation

You stared, dazed, at your disheveled reflection in the mirror. Cheeks still flushed, fucked out hair, puffed up lips and lustful eyes that gave it all away. With everything that had just transpired within these bathroom walls, betrayal and infidelity might as well be plastered on your forehead and oh my god if you were to walk out like this-

Fuck! Your legs were on the brink of giving out, knees trembling and doing little to support your current state. You hissed silently under your breath, gnawing at your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you silently rode the aftershocks of intoxicating pleasure that had you clawing at the sink minutes earlier. You stared at yourself again, her lingering touch still tormenting your being.

Ona would know. Everyone would know. This would be the death of you as you knew it... and that cocky little bitch would revel in it. Despite knowing damn well that she caused this, conquering you entirely and shamelessly in a tiny ass public restroom. She'd do more than relish in the idea of how easily your body complied and eagerly answered her touch. In fact. She wouldn't let you hear the end of it.

A smile crept on your lips at the thought and you had half a mind to hit your head against the sink for it.

"Fucking Putellas..." the words nearly a chuckle from your mouth.

You tried your best to compose yourself, letting the water run from the faucet as you focused on the cold sensation trickling down your hands. Just breathe. You could do this. You'd touch up your make up, comb out your hair, fix up this dress and don on your underwe-...Where the fuck...??? You tore yourself away from the sink, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The floor? No. The sink? No. Behind the door? No. The sudden realization sent your searches to a halt, launching at your bag and rummaging through it to find your phone.

Y/N: [ARE U SERIOUS!!??] - sent Do Not Answer- A. Putellas.: [Quien es este?] Y/N: [Alexia- I am not kidding. Bring them back! NOW!!] - sent

The text bubbles appeared, then ... nothing. She was mocking you.

Y/N: [NOW!!] Y/N: [please!] Do Not Answer- A. Putellas.: [Me encanta cuando suplicas ;)]

"No." Turning off your phone, you turned back to confront yourself in the mirror. "Do not go there. Do not give in."

"Act unaffected. That's all you have to do." you demanded, gaze fixated on your now slightly more presentable appearance. And as your subconscious triggered a replay of what had just happened, you bit down on your tongue hard enough to not let out a moan from the mere thought.

*** hours earlier...

The venue was littered with an array of Barcelona girls drowning in red and blue lighting as obnoxiously loud music and decor filtered into all areas of the room. Bodies pressed up against bodies, and even with drink in hand, you were barely drunk enough to find any of this remotely exciting. Entertaining that thought, you took another drawn out sip of your 3rd? 4th? Glass of champagne before tuning back into reality. No, the only thing keeping you sane was her. The way her smile reached to her eyes and the warmth of her giggle as she chatted with her teammates, fingers entwined in your own. You’d be lying if you said she wasn't the only reason you had even come tonight. As Ona's girlfriend of 2 years, she had invited you as her plus one to Barcelona's night out after winning the Champions League. Usually, you would find a way to make yourself conveniently unavailable.

The reason for that awful truth now met your eyes across the room. Alexia. You took your time in dissecting her appearance, having not laid eyes on her for years. At least in person. Her outfit consisted of a soft white silk top, covered by a dark suit jacket and paired with a matching set of black formal pants that accentuated her height, the shirt exposing just enough to highlight her toned figure. One thing about Alexia was that she knew how to dress and clearly tonight was no exception.

Much like you, she was stood beside some other barca girls. You could make out some familiar faces from the years past when your presence was frequent at these kinds of things. Seemingly becoming distracted from the conversation, Alexia's gaze was trained on yours, her cool eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary. They contained a hint of something unrecognizable. She seemed...almost sorry. Guilty? Remorseful? Nostalgic? Whatever it was, your psycho-analyzations got cut short, Alexia offering nothing but a simple head nod of acknowledgement before returning to her conversation. You let your mind drift to a place you hadn’t been or rather let yourself go to in the longest time. Your relationship. Your past. Your relationship of 2 years was a while and whilst you had started dating Ona shortly after her, so much of your situation with the Barcelona captain was...unresolved. All-consuming. Honestly, that was part of the appeal but it became unsustainable. So you went no contact after the split.

Which…was now difficult that Barcelona had won. Not only was this a feat in women's soccer itself but it was also Ona's first big trophy win with her childhood club, so you knew being here and supporting her achievements meant a lot. Champagne in the opposite hand, you slipped your arm around Ona's waist, pulling her in closer as you two made conversation with her fellow defenders. Her skin was soft under your hand and though you shot a smile in her direction, her attentions were fully drawn to her teammates. Even then, you couldn't help but focus on how familiar all of this felt. How weird it was to see all these people again. The same festivities. The same alcohol. Only a new girl to draw you back to the present. Soft skin under your palm rather than a firm hand against yours. A long dress instead of a shirtless jacket. Maybe it was something in your drink that made you reminiscent, drawing your eyes across to her once more.

Her eyes were quicker, already laid upon you and you could feel as your heart raced at the gesture. Alexia's gaze was now somewhat darkened by the blaring lights in the room as she sat on a lounge, legs slightly spread apart and posture relaxed as an... extremely beautiful redhead you did not recognise sat in her lap, leaning against her chest. Shit. Reluctantly, you watched as her eyes drifted away from yours, her mouth coming closer to the redhead's ear, whispering something so abundantly hilarious, it sent the other woman's head flying back with laughter. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar memory of those lips ghosting over your skin. In an attempt to flush away the sickly feeling in your stomach, you took another sip of champagne, ruminating in the burn as it travelled down your throat.

Jealousy? No. No this wasn't jealousy. It just kind of stinged to watch your ex so close to an attractive woman, that was all. Especially when this shit was happening directly in front of you. In fact, you were glad. Relieved even. This was just her round about way of showing you that she's moved on and, hey, at least it eased the awkward tension in the room. Even then, you watched as her eyes travelled down to where your hand met Ona, biting down on the inside of her cheek until they caught yours again. At that, she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor before taking another drawn-out sip of her drink, quick to replace the empty glass in her hand with another. You tried to return your attention to the people in front of you, brushing it off as a mere slip-up and attempting to ignore the way every nerve in your body was set alight at mere seconds of her observations.

By the end of the first hour, you caught sight of her again, leant up on the wall across the room, arms crossed over her chest and a full glass in hand, this time, with no redhead in sight. Your eyes searched the floor when you saw the other woman now talking to another Barcelona girl, getting awfully cozy. Alexia on the other hand was less than comfortable, evident in her tense shoulders and the way her tongue rested against her cheek. You laughed to yourself, recognising her obviously foul, drunk mood. Fucking classic. The second "la reina" didn't get her way, she acted exactly like a child throwing a fit. That thirst for control quite obviously made her a great captain but on the other hand a shit partner.

You tried your best to suppress the sense of smugness growing inside you , glad you were no longer the one dealing with any of it. Without realizing, you turned your head to Ona, still sat beside you. Nuzzling into the warmth of her neck, you stared up at her dotingly, ultimately relieved you were with someone who actually cared. Catching her attention, the defender turned her head towards you.

"Hey, you feeling okay? Wanna go home early?" her words were barely more than a whisper.

In response, you simply shook your head, not moving from the familiarity of her embrace. A warm grin was all she offered before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and unbeknownst to either of you, sparking a full - fledged war across the room.

As the night carried on, Alexia's lingering looks became longer. More careless, turning almost predatory. Initially you mistook the unfamiliarity in her eyes for anger but as she found you again, gaze steady, darkened and with no sign of shying away, you could not deny how painfully obvious that look was. That look was your entire history. Alexia had always released her frustration on her partners. Never abusively of course but instead through hours of endless domination. Relentlessness. Pushing you to the edge over and over until you broke. Making you beg for release. Doing anything and everything possible to get her back in that position of power. You knew it all too well. Suddenly the urge to hit yourself with a pound of bricks became increasingly apparent as you noticed how wet you were getting, the memories playing back in your mind. What the fuck was wrong with you.

Ona was right beside you. That fact in itself spoke volumes as you tried to think of the last time you had focused on anything other than Alexia this whole night, a burning shame entering your face, gladly concealed by the dim lighting. You and Alexia were long done. No, she had a girlfriend, a partner, someone. Whoever that redhead was to her. This wasn't and this couldn't be directed towards you.

And so you tried. You tried so hard to focus on anything else, digging your nails into the palm of your hands to try calm the thrumming ache growing inside your body. But her presence was fucking magnetic. You could tell the alcohol was getting to her by the way her eyes dragged down your body, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she bit her lower lip softly. They became mixed with something deeper. A need. An almost instinctual desire. And you could tell the alcohol was getting to you by how you kept meeting her looks. And how your body responded to her scrutiny, the ache in your core increasing by the second. You hated how you had to forcibly tear your eyes away. You could tell she was enjoying this, making you flustered. Frustrated. Squirming from mere eye contact. Like a pawn underneath her stupid fucking finger as your thread of honour broke by the second.

You needed to look away and more importantly you needed this to stop. But as your inhibitions became hazier and that feeling... Those eyes on you, waiting patiently.

Don't. Don't. Don't. Please don't. No. Don't.

Against all rationale and self restraint, for a millisecond, you locked eyes over your shoulder. Tilting her head, she simply offered a flash of teeth in response before turning away from you. You could have swore the room actually slowed as she rolled her shoulders and slid the jacket down her spine to reveal her back. You analyzed her tensing muscles. The tattoos that littered her skin. Fuck. Her back her back her back her back her back her back. You could barely form a sentence let alone a thought. If you hadn't been together for so long, she may have been able to feign innocence but you knew. She did this on purpose. Your mind replayed that image, seconds turning into minutes as her muscles tensed and flexed with every small movement of her arm, her soft hair falling so perfectly along her skin. What you'd to do be underneath all of that again. Turning back around, she looked at you over her shoulder with a shit eating grin and a small wink.

No. ha. No, fuck this. You shot up from your seat, excusing yourself to the bathroom as casually as you could muster and basically sprinting to the door. Every last part of you felt like it was on fire. Anger? Guilt? Frustration? Horniness? Beats you. As you looked up, Alexia was already on her feet, practically pacing across the room. Whatever remorse was present in her eyes moments ago had burned. Fuck everyone else in that room, to her? You might as well be cornered prey. Palms on the door handle you slammed open the bathroom, turning to shut it when...

"No." you uttered. Alexia towered over you in the door frame, hands blockading you from exiting as she slowly walked in and shut the door behind you both. Locking it. That same fucking smirk still on her lips.

"Alexia. I am not playing along with whatever game you think this is." You were practically shaking from all the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Calmate. I'm just here to wash my hands." Taken aback by the ease of her voice, you stood away as she leant over the sink, back on full show. You tried to stop yourself but as your gaze scanned over her physique, you felt another rush of heat to your core. You saw as Alexia bit down the smile threatening to rise, catching your eye in the mirror. God, she was so hot infuriating when she got cocky.

"So, Ona huh?" She questioned, still looking down into the sink basin. The sudden mention of your girlfriend's name formed a pit in your stomach which you tried your best to calm.

You scoffed slightly, attempting to mask the sweat forming along your hands. "Like you care. Seemed pretty comfortable with that redhead all up on you."

She looked up at you in the mirror reflection, eyebrow raised in challenge. "You wish you were instead?" Your breath stopped. Why did it feel so wrong to say no.

"I'm joking." She looked back down and you felt your heart drop. Why did it drop? You watched intently as she turned off the tap and shook her hands dry, placing them against the edge of the sink. You watched the way her shoulders flexed, supporting her weight, her stature built to a tee.

"You always have been a social climber though." Her words came out as a slight chuckle, an almost amused expression playing out on her face in the mirror.

"What the fuck is that meant to mean." The forcefulness of your words surprised even you.

"You know, someone who has a reputation for trying to score whoever will get you the most attention."

"I know the definition of the word Alexia. Why are you doing this? What's with the sudden attention to my personal life." You kept looking at her in the mirror in an attempts to force her gaze back to yours but she didn't budge. God, you felt pathetic standing here, just admiring her stupid muscular build.

"Just expected you to be with someone a little less...soft. Can't really see a girl like her spitting in your mouth." The corners of her lips lifted, attempting to set you off in any way possible.

"Shut up."

Noticing your riled up reaction, she pressed harder. "No, no, I get it. You always had a thing for taller girls who... oh wait."

"Alexia-"

Her voice became slightly aggressive, a mocking tone now present in her words. "Sorry, you are actually with her cause she's so sweet right? Is that why your eyes have been on me the whole night instead of her."

You grabbed her arm steadily, turning her against the counter.

"Shut the fuck up." Your words contained a hint of a smile, becoming muffled as you pulled her face down to yours, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss. You moved your lips softly against hers, feeling 2 years of tension in your body slowly melt away.

She teared away from you almost immediately, staring at you with furrowed brows. "What the fuck are you doing? I'm with someone." Her words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, caught on how to even respond as you looked at her alarmed gaze. You were a mixture of mortified, confused and shocked at what the fuck you just pulled. More than that, you were still craving another taste of her.

"Shit. Fuck. Sorry I-"

A smug grin flashed across her face before she spoke again. "I'm kidding, I just love seeing you flustered."

At that she grabbed a fistful of your hair, causing you to let out a moan against her mouth as she pushed you roughly up against the tiled wall, deepening the kiss. Her strength was nothing if not attractive, her frame towering over you and keeping you cornered as she explored your mouth. Nothing about her was slow or careful. She threw caution to the wind, biting down on your bottom lip before forcing her tongue inside to brush against your own, making you whimper as her hand remained tight in your hair, forcing your neck back. You could taste the remainder of alcohol on her lips and it was intoxicating, her mouth savoring every part of you and leaving you breathless. She tasted so Hot. Sweet. Perfect. You dragged your hands across her broad shoulders before sliding them up to her neck, attempting to reel her in even closer. You felt her smile against your mouth at your desperation, clearly enjoying the way you so easily submitted to her. And you gladly did. You let her hold you like you were hers and hers only. You let her force her hips into yours, pinning you in place as she worked your mouth. You let her hands roam freely along your body, setting your skin on fire as she found your waist and settled against your ass, firmly gripping it in her hands. You tried to get a breath in but every attempt was only met with more intensity from Alexia, sliding her tongue against yours with a hunger that lingered along every inch of your body.

Finally pulling away to catch her breath, Alexia's eyes raced between your own and back to your lips, chest rising and falling. Tightening her grip in your hair, she angled your chin up further, allowing her to gain full access to your neck. Using her other hand to steady herself against the wall, she slowly lowered her head down, breath hot against your skin. Instead of saying anything she placed her lips against your neck, sending a wave of electricity through you as she began mixing the softness of her lips with the harsh marks she left on you, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. If tonight was any evidence, she was extremely territorial over what was hers, making sure to sink her teeth just enough to leave a bruise, the sharp spike of pain making you softly whimper, your hand still keeping her head steady against you. She moved her hands along your waist, trailing upwards to your ribs and coming back down, soaking in the feeling of you so helpless against her. Her touch was so familiar. The perfect mix of rough and right which left you only wanting more and nothing else. No one else. That thought caused your throat to dry. You swallowed before speaking through labored breaths, Alexias lips unrelenting from your skin.

"We shouldn't be doing this... we can't." The words didn't come out of you easily, everything about her was so...excruciatingly addicting. The way she tasted. The way she knew your body like the back of her hand. The way she looked up at you then.

"Yeah?" She spoke lowly against you. You felt another smile spread across her face as she ran her hands further down your thighs, before dragging her fingertips ever so slowly up the inside of your legs. You were definitely shaking. You felt every breath and inflection on your skin as she spoke again "Tell me to stop." Your head tilted back against the wall, head spinning and lips unable to even move. "Alexia-" is all you managed to breathe out.

"Hm?", she moved up to your jaw this time, her kisses more careless and passionate as she dragged her fingertips up more. Higher. Higher. Higher- You let out a pathetically loud whimper that you could tell she was more than satisfied with, evident in the small laugh she let out. Every slight touch of her fingers left your body annoyingly sensitive, the longing in your cunt only growing. Teasingly, she stopped right before the edge of your underwear, caressing your skin and moving her head to look at you as she waited for your response. "Tell. Me. To. Stop."

"No, Don't..." Your words were more of a sigh than anything else.

She lifted an eyebrow at you, moving her fingertips back down your thigh. You didn't even need her to speak to know what it meant. She wanted you to work for it. Beg to have her fingers inside you.

"Please...fuck...Don't Stop." Your words were breathy but you didn't care anymore. You were practically dripping and you needed her fingers, mouth, fucking anything to feel release.

"Good." She smirked again before guiding her fingers over your underwear that barely kept you decent, feeling as you soaked through the fabric.

"Fuck, you are drenched. This wet over a quick make out?"

"I've been like this the whole night." You met her eyes as you said that, staring up at her shamelessly.

She let out a soft groan at your words before running her hands underneath your underwear, feeling your warmth against her fingers. She looked back up at you, watching as your breathing became shallow, eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched together, before continuing to focus on her hands. She collected the wetness from your entrance before guiding her fingers back to trace painfully slow circles over your clit, alternating her pattern frequently enough to not give you any proper stimulation. Your breath and desperation only increased.

She leant into you again, biting down against your ear lobe, eliciting another whine. Her voice was low as she spoke. "It's been so long... you might have to remind you how you like to take it." Her fingers began to gradually circle faster around your clit, pressing down with just enough pressure to make your head spin. "Was it like this?" In response you could only move your hips down against her, attempting to increase the friction by any means possible. Noticing your actions, she simply pulled her hand away, causing you to let out a soft cry.

"Or... was it like this?" She rubbed a finger through your slick folds before pushing inside, curling it against your g-spot and slowly sliding back down your walls. The simple gesture of her fingers inside you caused your eyes to roll back in your head as you once again slumped back against the wall in frustration.

"Fuck, Alexia. Just do something." As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you had bit your tongue. Cautiously gazing up at her, her expression was what could only be described as amused though you were almost certain it was not sincere. She shook her head slightly in disbelief before putting on another shit eating grin.

"So brave..." Before you could even think to say anything she unceremoniously spun you back to the sink basin, keeping your back against her chest as her hands steadied you against it. You looked back at her over your shoulder, more confused than anything else.

"What are yo-"

She used her hand to angle your chin forcefully back to the mirror. "Shut up and grip the counter."

You did as you were told. Frankly, you were in no position to argue when you were ready to do just about anything to satisfy the building need inside you. You watched the mirror as Alexia hiked up your dress to your hips, exposing your underwear. Running her hands along your back, she moved the zipper fully down before tugging the hem of it upwards. "Off." She demanded next to your ear. You wasted no time pulling it over your head in one swoop and discarding it to the floor, a pink flush appearing in your cheeks as you remembered your decision earlier that day to not wear a bra for comfort purposes, regretting it more than anything as you watched how Alexia took her time to run her eyes up and down the length of your body in the reflection. When she caught your eye again, her smirk only grew at your flustered appearance, which if anything, only made you more flushed. Slowly she began to drag your underwear down your legs, gaze intent on watching just how wet you had gotten for her. Even the simple graze of her fingers down your legs felt like enough to make you explode. You stepped out of them awkwardly from your compromising position, feeling as the cold air hit you.

Her veined hands wrapped around the base of your neck, thumb acting to angle your head firmly back to the mirror. "Keep your eyes on mine yeah?" Her words were paired by her thumb softly caressing your jaw though her firm grip on your neck reminded you of her true intentions. You looked at your reflection then, namely the way your hair had lost any essence of normality thanks to Alexia's forcefulness, but also at how easily you had let yourself end up in this current position. You were on full display in front of her with nothing left to spare and she hadn't done anything but remove her jacket.

Suddenly, your scrutiny was interrupted by the feeling of her knee prying the back of your legs open as her other arm curved around the front of your stomach gliding further down. Her two fingertips ran against your folds, going lower to toy you with your entrance. Your hands gripped the counter tighter as you struggled to keep your eyes from folding over in pure bliss. You felt as your arousal pooled along her fingers.

"Don't get that shit on me." She met your eyes in the mirror as she warned and you knew better than to question her.

You could barely ruminate in the feeling before she slipped both digits in, causing your mouth to fall agape, eyes fixated on her as you let out a tortured gasp. Despite how ready you were, the lack of preparation you got was enough to make you clench around her. Slowly she pulled her fingers out before pumping into you again, making sure to toy with your g spot as she curled up inside you. She knew exactly how and where you wanted her, continuing to fuck you slowly, as she hit every single angle which made you arch your back into her chest. She moved her hand from your chin to caress the curve of your shoulders and down your chest, taking your left nipple in between her fingers before pinching it, sending a spike of pain through your nerves whilst simultaneously causing a flood of heat to your core. She continued to rub you between her fingers as her other hand moved in and out of you, painstakingly steady. As she curled into you again, you arched off her, which she quickly undid, forcing her arm back to push you back further onto her.

"Alexia-" you whimpered, the movement of her fingers filling you again and again.

"Words." She bit back, gaze darkened.

"God, you feel so good." You didn't even recognise your voice, high-pitched and filled with a desperation that was embarrassingly obvious. You tried to grind down against her in order to quicken the pace, causing her palm to press against your clit with every move and sending your head backwards as you bared your neck.

"I know." Her voice was more breathy than before, though she tried hard to not show it. You could tell that watching you fuck yourself on nothing but her fingers was enough to stroke that massive ego of hers as well as stir a building need to ruin you.

It was when she began to thrust in and out of you with a devastating pace that you felt all semblance of composure slip. Your hands gripped the counter tighter as your knees shook from the sensation, barely holding onto your weight. Noticing your struggle, you watched as her arms flexed in the mirror, supporting your body and keeping you pressed against her. Your eyes opened to find her own in the mirror, glancing at you, half-lidded, gaze burning with lust and control. You watched the way her hair fell across her shoulder, the way her muscles tensed as she worked her hands, the way she smiled at you when you found her eyes again. A strangled, louder moan escaped your lips, the mix of her composure and the pace of her fingers sending you into complete overdrive.

She lent close to your ear, slowing her fingers a bit, forcing you to pay attention to her words.

"Unless you want your little girlfriend to hear how much you love my fingers in you, be fucking quiet." You gave her a soft nod, biting your lip as you met her stare in the mirror. You couldn't help but feel your heart drop at the mention of Ona. This was so wrong. But you couldn't deny how much you wanted this. Needed this. Needed her. Just tonight. So you let yourself drown in the feeling. You let yourself slip through the cracks as she lent back and moved inside you faster. And when she slipped a 3rd finger in, the line between pain and pleasure became so hazy, you could barely keep yourself up.

"Wait...Fuck," You tried to plead.

"Just take it." Her voice was low and demanding, using her spare hand to grip your waist. You bit down on your lip once more, trying to contain your cries. You tried your best to relax around her but against her harsh speed, it barely made a difference. A tear rolled down your cheek, vision clouding from sheer overstimulation but even then, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, exacerbated by her palm pressing harder on your clit, circling with about the same speed. Your mouth dropped open slightly but you managed to bite your tongue, silently taking every last part of her fingers.

She tapped your leg then with her spare hand. "Lift." You tried your best, limbs weak as you moved your knee up to the counter, feeling yourself open up even more. Using this new angle to her advantage, Alexia began moving into you harder, sending your head into a spin.

Just as she did a knock came from outside, the door knob rattling as the door started to shake in its place. Your head snapped to it, breath stilling. A few Spanish voices was all you could make out from the other side, nothing but a distant mumble. But Alexia didn’t stop. Instead, she simply kicked her leg out, slamming the door back into its locked position, her fingers refusing to cease as she spoke back. "Ocupada." The feeling of Alexia's teeth sinking into your shoulder blade sent your head flying back to the mirror as you cried out, the pain sharp, sending heat through your body.

"Watch..." She spoke against your skin, gripping your chin in her hands, this time unwavering as you drew towards your high. "Or I stop."

You were a fucking mess. Splayed out in a borderline pornographic way, your forehead had a slight sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your scalp as your face grew more than a little lewd, pupils blown out, mouth agape and lips still swollen from before. Your moans had reduced to nothing more than incoherent mumbles of yes and fuck, her occasional, low, spanish grunts filling your ears as she watched you break. You held her eyes in the mirror as you rocked your hips against her hand, chasing your high and watching as the smirk plastered on her face only grew as you became more and more wrecked. You would call it cock-drunk but all it took was her stupid fucking hands. You could feel the pressure in your core building with every move and you weren't sure whether you could hold out for much longer. Letting out a soft keen, you dropped most of your weight to her arms.

"I'm so fucking close" you mumbled.

"Yeah? You wanna come?" Her gaze was still steady on yours, magnetic and dominating.

"Mhm."

"Ya sabes qué hacer." The smile in her words more obvious now.

"Please...I-" your words were cut short by a moan as she curled her fingers against your walls. "Fuck. Please let me come." You managed.

"Mmm who gets you this fucking wet?" Her voice was so mocking and you couldn't care less.

The answer was simple. "You."

"¿Quién sabe cómo hacerte sentir tan bien?"

"You."

"Say my name." Her words trailed off into a strangled breath.

"Alexia. Please." You whimpered.

"Again." Her tone was harsher now, her eyes closed in ecstasy as she gripped you further back onto her, listening to the way you keened her name.

"Alexia..." You moaned slightly louder.

"Slut." Her words contained a hint of a chuckle as she grabbed your hair into a ponytail, forcing your neck back.

She pressed down harder and harder, moving at a destructive pace against you. You held her eyes as she curled against your g spot, searing pleasure throughout your heat and sending you over the edge. Hot, white ecstasy coursed through your body, your weight fully dependent on her arms as the throbbing in your cunt quickly turned into oversensitivity, You felt your eyes brim with tears, causing her to slow her hand and pull out of you, wiping her fingers on your thigh.

She barely gave you a second to come down from your high, spinning you around forcefully to face her. She looked deeply into your eyes, angling your head up as she moved closer to you. Wanting nothing more than to taste her soft lips after her brutality, your eyes fluttered closed. You waited desperately. When the lack of anything on your mouth became more apparent, you opened your eyes to find her still staring down at you, inches away, smirking as she ran her fingers on your jaw. Without another word Alexia turned on her heels and exited the bathroom door, leaving you here. Alone. And completely undone.

#woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona women #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso smut #woso #woso fic

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emismunch · 2 months

Text

whats hers is mine | abby anderson

tags: eighteen+, wlw, sexual content, gf’s roommate!abby, toxic!abby, cheating (don't go cheating on your partners this is for fantasy purposes babe), abby fr is menance in this.

an. yeah! i was horny so...this literally came out of my brain so smoothly. do i hate it? yes. but am i still going to post it nd fight my brain telling me not to? yeah! happy reading my h*rny pals.

abby being your girlfriend’s roommate who you harbor a slight attraction towards. it’s nothing big, you have this under control, or at least it’s what you tell yourself. she’s hot, gorgeous, so incredibly muscular it makes you see stars. it tears you apart thinking of all the ways her strength could make you submit to her will.

make you hers.

fuck. but you have a girlfriend.

it’s a reminder you have to repeat over in your mind anytime you catch yourself being too flirty with her, but then she gives it to you right back. now, every night you dream of her milky skin, stunning blues looking right at you, and those soft lips caressing every inch of your skin, leaving marks in their path as abby stakes her claim. yet, you wake up with your girlfriend’s arm around you with your chest feeling warm at the fantasy of someone else. you have to avoid abby before you do something completely idiotic.

yet, she’s the first one to make the first move.

abby knows you’ve been avoiding her like the plague, so when she’s presented with a perfect opportunity, the conflict at hand is met with absolutely no resistance.

“abby, you’ve blocked my car in. can you move yours?” you ask through the shut door. she gives you a soft yes and when you’re two seconds from walking downstairs to meet her in the driveway.

she opens the fucking bathroom door.

water drips down sunkissed freckled skin, glistening from the shower she obviously took. her blonde hair darker than usual, falling down her back. the smirk there is vile, begging you to look further than her blue eyes.

with the way abby is looking at you, there’s no fucking way she doesn’t want it. clearly, she’s more patient than most, waiting for you to drop the eye contact.

“well?” abby lifts her left eyebrows, cocking her head to the side as she waits for you to react, crumble, cry. you’re not sure what exactly she’s looking for. the confidence radiating from her is irritating just as it is enticing.

when you shake your head silently, repeatedly too, the tall blonde takes a one step forward, the pad of her thumb places pressure on your chin, guiding your gaze where she wants. happily, you comply.

jesus fucking christ, you’d fully believe she was made just for you if someone told you.

the auburn towel is secured around hips loosely, her toned abdomen on full display, her small breasts sit beautifully, nipples hardened from the cool air. it’s not fair how fucking perfect she looks. there’s not a damn thing you want more than to wrap your lips around her pink nipples and suck.

“now, are you going to stop pretending you don’t want to fuck me, baby?” abby taunts, her voice light and airy but it shoots right to your core.

“i-i, abby, this is wrong we shouldn’t be doing this. you need to get dressed.” you try to great some distance but abby pulls you towards her as you enter the bathroom with her, left arm shutting the door as she locks it.

“mhm, you’ve been dating for what? two months? don’t be stupid baby, think with that pretty pussy of yours. know she wants me and you do too, babygirl.” abby grabs your hand placing it on her towel, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

“you can take it off if you want. do you wanna see my pussy baby?”

shit.

your fingertip plays with the fibers, before you can process what you’re doing, it’s unraveling off her strong hips exposing more of her built physique for your greedy eyes. quads are flexing as you take her in, the muscle rippling as you feast on her.

you have never been so truly and royally fucked.

meticulously, she removes each piece of clothing you’re wearing as her lips attack your own. as if she’s been planning this moment since she laid eyes on you. she bends you over the sink, your pretty ass in the air for her and her fingers smooth over your delectable cunt, enjoying the inconsistent twitching your taut body provides.

“now, be a good girl for me and let me fuck my baby, yeah? ‘m gonna fuck you better than she ever would.”

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.

#what the fuck #took me longer to set up this post than to write it ...#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x masc reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #tlou x reader

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princessbrunette · 1 month

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Do you think you could ever do mean!jj punishing housewife!reader because he didn’t like that she called over their neighbour to fix something in their house while JJ was at work or smth

☆🍦➛💭*.♡

toxic!jj who spent a lil while in jail, married you when he got out and is now working to support you both — because that’s what he wanted from the start, to take care of you. what he doesn’t appreciate, is coming home to see another man walking out your front door, even having the audacity to give him a friendly little nod.

“hi jayj!” you greet when he appears in the kitchen, jaw agape and brow raised.

“uh, am i tripping or did a man just walk out of this house?” he’s tense and you eye him, slowing your movements as you wipe down the counter top.

“he lives three doors down…jared? the stove wasn’t working and i know he works with that kinda thing. asked him to take a look.” you explain and he leans on his hip, still silent like he’s waiting for more explanation. his tongue darts out to fiddle with the corner of his lip. “is that… a problem?” you furrow your eyebrows. he scoffs, whipping his hat off his head and starts to pace.

“i mean honestly yeah a little. why’re you lettin’ random dudes just walk up in here huh? you couldn’t have waited like — what, an hour for me to get home? you know how that looks, right? like…i’m not crazy?” he steps towards you and your face falls, hating when he got jealous like this.

“jay don’t be unreasonable. just wanted to be able to get it fixed as soon as possible so i could start cooking dinner. don’t you trust me?” he rounds the counter until he’s stood infront of you.

“i don’t trust guys, okay — i know what they want. why’d you think this stranger was so eager to help you? i’on know it’s just like… you know you walk around lookin’ like that and yet you’re surprised dudes wanna be all up in it.” he lazily gestures towards you and you roll your eyes.

“he was polite and respectful.” you defend and he closes in on you.

“oh i’m sure he was, babe.” you feel your heart skip a beat at the way he’s looking at you. the toxicness wasn’t healthy and you knew it, but you couldn’t help the arousal that built each and every time he got jealous. because when he got jealous he got touchy and rough.

“are you gonna punish me?” you pout up at him through thick lashes and he grins maliciously.

“know me so well, don’t ’ya.” he starts to pull up the hem of your skirt that he already deemed too short to be wearing around another man. “would usually spank that ass but i think you’d enjoy it too much. think i’mma have to spank something else— make it too sore to think about bouncin’ it on another dudes dick.” his jaw clenches at his own words as he peels your panties down making you whimper. you knew better than to argue, so you simply wince as he bends you over the counter and kicks your legs wide apart. “all wet for nothin’. unless all this is for someone else?” he slides his rough fingers through your folds and you jolt.

“s’for you, papa. always for you.” you get teary eyed, hating when he doesn’t believe you.

“mmmmhm. well, it better be.” he warns before giving the puffy folds a smack making you wince.

“ow.” you squeak and he shakes his head.

“good.” he mumbles before going in for another pussy spank.

☆🍦➛💭*.♡

#anon #jj maybank prompt #mean!jj #toxic!jj

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kingtomura · 4 months

Text

Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off.

Bad idea.

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins.

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way.

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating.

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.”

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in.

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off.

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window.

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts.

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick.

Tap.

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination.

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work.

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here.

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you.

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear.

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse. “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up.

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment.

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist.

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn– the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.”

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver.

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again.

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away.

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room.

“Be quiet for me, yeah?”

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you.

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over–

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.”

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference.

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both.

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit.

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet.

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.”

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave.

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.”

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you.

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock.

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm.

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip.

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you. You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy.

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.”

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my works #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #mha tomura #shigaraki smut #fanfic #my hero academia

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erosastro · 7 months

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Astro Observations📍

🎈Okay let me know how you guys feel about this one, but I’ve noticed with Synastry, if say you have a cancer Venus and your partner has a Pisces Mars but they’re not enough to make the trine aspect, the effect is still felt just not to the same extent. So imo it’s still a good and significant thing but it might almost be felt not immediately or as strongly as the aspect itself?

🎈Everyone talks about how Virgo placements are always “clean” and “organised” but I really think it depends on how it’s aspected. For example my Virgo ascendant is square my Sun and square my Pluto and I’m messy as hell. Though I have to say there’s some things where it might seem messy but it’s organised chaos in way? lol

🎈I’ve noticed that one of the things that stand out the most in my relationships (romantic or otherwise) in people I get alone with, is Venus conjunct moon and Sun trine Moon. Those are always my best relationships where there’s mutual understanding and mutual respect.

🎈Moon conjunct Neptune tend be very psychic and intuitive people, especially if Neptune is well aspected to other personal aspects too.

🎈Aquarius placements can be very clingy and I don’t know if they realise this but once they’re comfortable with someone, they can be clingy and it can turn into them being like leeches too in some cases (I.e. will not let go at any cost and you have to pry them off). They also tend to stay in toxic situations longer than necessary at times especially if they have water placements in their chart too in their personal planets (for eg Aquarius Sun with a Pisces Venus)

🎈Let’s talk about Libra and Pisces placements and their avoidance of conflict at all costs. They’d rather push things under the rug than deal with it head on or tend to be “fence sitters” even when a situation calls for being firm in one side or the other. A lot of people think Gemini’s play devils advocate but in my experience, I’ve seen this mostly with Libra and Pisces placements.

🎈Saturn in 8th house in a natal chart is a really tough placement to have. These individuals experience a lot of loss in their lives from an early age and their transformations tend be very intense, more so than most other peoples. They also tend to have delayed sexual experiences but it can also be explosive.

🎈I am personally a fan of opposite connections (eg Taurus Moon x Scorpio Moon) in romantic and other connections. I think it’s the right amount of challenging but they also still have a lot in common. Of course there should also be other harmonious aspects in someone’s chart too but I personally love opposite aspects in synastry.

🎈I saw this on twitter and I was surprised that this person was dragged for it but there was a post about how air signs don’t work with water signs because air signs can’t be emotionally mature enough etc. all the usual stereotypes (don’t go on twitter astrology pages they’re full of it on another note) but someone pointed out the air signs are actually very in touch with their emotions as they rule the heart chakra and they were mocked for it and it made me realise people actually don’t know this?? Air signs rule the heart chakra guys believe it or not and they’re not as emotionally inept as people think they are 🤣

🎈I know 7th house overlays are considered one of the best because it’s the house that represents partnerships but people forget it also represents enemies, so it’s not unlikely you may not get along with some people who have 7th house overlays with (obviously check aspects as well).

🎈Okay has anyone noticed that Sun trine Sun can definitely get along really well but they can also really despise each other?? Like I’ve noticed this a lot and I can’t figure out why, like even if they have other placements that are favourable, for some reason the Sun trine Sun is what I’ve noticed as a pattern the most for people that clash.

🎈Prettiest/most good looking rising signs imo are Mercurial risings(gemini/virgo) and Cancer/Pisces risings. Idk there’s something ethereal about them👀shoutout to Libra risings too

🎈let me tell you something, one of the worst aspects you could have with someone(that I’ve experienced personally), whether romantic or friendship wise, it’s Mercury opposite/square Mercury. The communication is either really heated and you can’t get on the same page or non-existent and hard to come across. I don’t recommend it 🙃

🎈Favourite composite moon for friendships/siblings is Gemini/Leo. Favourite composite moon for romantic relationships is Taurus/Cancer or Libra and for parents/parental figures is Cancer/Virgo.

#astro notes #astrology #synastry #astro observations #synastry observations #astro placements #aquarius #libra #aries #Virgo #Gemini #zodiac signs #composite charts #composite chart #composite chart observations

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending.

It was always going to end this way.

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her?

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows.

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars.

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October.

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him.

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure.

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside.

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly.

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go.

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.”

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?”

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.”

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?”

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.”

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle.

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.”

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.”

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis.

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting.

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face.

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?”

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.”

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.”

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong.

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start.

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use.

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance.

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood.

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went.

That was only the first night.

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat.

“Come over.”

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense.

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door.

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you.

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night.

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you.

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring.

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch.

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.”

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.”

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him.

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him.

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception.

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough.

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem.

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year.

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake.

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys.

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie.

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out.

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it.

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by.

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear.

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again.

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure.

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby.

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same.

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?”

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his.

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.”

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.”

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows.

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night.

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner.

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid.

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.”

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson.

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside.

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature.

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you.

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be.

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie.

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes.

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?”

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness.

You shake your head.

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised.

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.”

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans.

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs.

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief.

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.”

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter.

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry.

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas.

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light.

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you.

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance.

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.”

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night.

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?”

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?”

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further.

“Funny,” you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.”

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet.

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him.

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss.

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement.

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months.

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him.

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?”

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town.

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were.

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours.

To feel like enough.

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register.

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat.

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner.

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name.

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do.

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.”

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own.

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?”

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up.

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?”

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected.

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them.

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again.

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy.

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about.

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt.

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes.

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind.

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out.

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?”

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames.

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.”

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up.

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.”

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.”

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling.

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself.

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least.

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring.

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing.

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?”

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to.

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?”

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it.

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson.

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful.

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides.

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.”

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay.

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with.

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose.

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him.

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would.

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised.

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected.

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged.

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you.

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room.

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough.

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you.

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side.

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known.

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had.

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover.

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.”

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs.

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.”

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously.

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you.

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder.

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days.

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known.

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard.

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon.

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to.

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?”

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room.

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze.

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter.

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step.

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas.

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all.

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill.

“It never does.”

Stay with me?

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

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#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #i could certainly be persuaded to write a part 2 :)

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soapoet · 7 months

Text

How they'll confess their feelings

requested by anon.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Hands to myself by Selena Gomez

This energy is very open and inviting. Your person is quite bold, and when they know what they want they show persistence, and adapt quickly to changing winds. They are not fazed by much and can weather any storm. They have a bit of a "won't take no for an answer" type of energy to them, but not the toxic kind. They may appear to you as somebody who doesn't take things seriously, or perhaps they are so direct in their affections and intentions you simply take it as something said in jest rather than the honest truth of their heart, something they'd say to just about anybody and therefore not for you to give much merit. They don't take themselves too seriously and have a very uplifting and lighthearted presence, which can so easily be assumed to go hand in hand with non-committal or even player tendencies. In reality, they simply enjoy keeping things light to assure those around them are having a good time and don't sweat the small things, which very well may stem from a childhood in which they served as a mediator or created distractions during rough times, aiming to always find silver lining to avoid dread and loss of hope in their loved ones. They are nurturing and protective by nature and do, in fact, know when to put their serious face on, and then they surprise all with their dependability and their ability to persevere, always coming out of things unscathed and even striving.

Their confession is direct, but places the ball in your court. They are good at marketing themselves and would make a great salesman by their persistence alone. They are confident, but not cocky, though they play on a little bit of arrogance for entertainment value. I'm hearing things such as "you're going to have to eat today anyway, so might as well get fancy with it", which holds that essence of boldness and persistence that I am picking up on so strongly. They show through actions what they have to offer, and whilst they will take a serious rejection, they're playfully pushy in this way where they don't expect anything other than the chance to treat you to a little something like a dinner and that way show you what they're made of. They certainly appreciate and enjoy a little game of cat and mouse to start with, so any initial reluctance from you that is less like rejection and more like a challenge for them to prove themselves to you is not only welcome but encouraged. They're somewhat traditional, but treat you like an equal. A major goal to them is to allow you to have a good time and not worry about things in their presence. There is a lot of laughter involved here as well, and you'll find yourself charmed by them effortlessly. It may be hard to actually pinpoint where exactly a confession occurred because their pursuit of you is ever-present from the start.

Additional details: new phone, swimming pools, wine, get togethers, stocks, business, airplanes, real estate, steak, gyms, football, wrestling, DJs, white sneakers, movie theatre, necklaces, bouquets, big family, cars/opening car doors, shopping, pranks, instagram, nail salons, entrepreneurship, beaches, pizza, Amazon, cruises, leisure, stand-up comedy, concerts, high-end brands, red, B/D/T/K/J, Libra/Gemini/Cancer/Leo.

02.

Shufflemancy: There till the end by JERUB

Quite jittery, restless energy. Your person is overcome with emotions leading up to this occasion, and the various scenarios they play out in their head trying to find the correct when and where and how make their stomach churn like they're spinning around in a carousel. They want to be bold, but perhaps it would be too risky, so they play it cool, or at least try to, only to find that their approach may actually be much too vague for you to catch on. This person is usually quite open with their emotions and easy to read. To their near and dear they are an open book and they pride themselves in their own ability to read others. They always try to cheer up loved ones and strangers alike, even when they aren't certain what to say or do they try their best. This person always seems to get back on their feet when they're knocked down, and their inner strength may come as a surprise to some because they look rather harmless and have a very bright energy about them, like the sun that so easily could be overcast. It is often said that the brightest smiles are on the faces of those who have known the greatest sorrows, and that appears to ring true with your person. Their optimism is a tool developed for survival, and has gotten them far in life. They often wield this optimism for others too, selflessly rallying behind others and their goals and dreams, and serve as the number one supporter tirelessly and try to make sure nobody feels left out in the cold.

In their attempt to find the balance between delicate and bold, they may find themselves so overcome and frustrated that they simply blurt it out. For some, they may opt for something silly or lighthearted, that is still direct, but does not feel as scary to them. They could confess via a game of hangman, or even write one of those "do you like me? yes/no" notes of bygone playground days and bruised knees. They are endearing, and I see that you two have much in common. There's a strong foundation of friendship, too, which may be their source of unrest as they wish not to ruin what you have. They may very well end up going on a tangent, blabbering on about their feelings nervously to fill the silence so much they don't give you the chance to speak before you shush them and put them at ease with the knowledge that it is mutual and they have no reason to fret and fluster so badly.

Additional details: video games, tabletop games, converse, Fruits basket, Sailor moon, slurpees and milkshakes, youtube, mismatched socks, animals, lofi, indie, grocery stores, parks, band t-shirts, empty playgrounds, bubblegum, mints, cemeteries, mason jars, art, guitars, cotton candy, thrift shops, fishing, bicycles, plushies, scrunchies, friendship bracelets, rodents and birds, small towns, nuggies, venting, Pisces/Leo/Aquarius/Scorpio/Sagittarius,J/V/S/L/N.

03.

Shufflemancy: When we're old by Ieva Zasimauskaitė

Oh dear. This energy feels like a neat and tidy office with loose papers thrown about. What happened here, I could ask, but you did. You happened. This person seemed content in the daily routines, their feet planted on solid ground, until suddenly their foundations were tested by a hurricane. Sweeping in and changing everything, you turned their life upside down. At first they may have been frightened, worried that you will surely be a problem. They could at first wish to solve you like a puzzle, only to find no corner pieces because you are ever-expanding, a fairytale with no end but many twists and turns and many pages still unwritten. They are perplexed, but oh so fascinated. You awaken wonder and awe in them, as though you came in to show them a peek of what's beyond the veil, far away from their mundane, solved, scientific, factual, proven reality. You inspire them, yet your words and ways challenge everything they know. They go through rapid growth triggered by you, and a lot of it not for the faint of heart. They are a rock amidst storms, a lighthouse keeper assuring safe passage for ships at sea, and have never quite known the depths of the sea and the crashing waves that you call home.

If you are observant, which many of you certainly are, you may notice the battles that take place inside their head even when they remain so calm and collected on the outside, and know long before they tell you just how they really feel about you. For many of you, they may find the circumstances iffy, the timing poor and unfortunate, but their feelings are as real and true as they are overwhelming. They experience many sleepless nights, and may argue with themselves, a court case as both the prosecutor and the defendant, whilst you seem to be the judge and jury and hold the key to the inevitable verdict. They may very well need a green light from you, but they will confess their feelings candidly, likely in a place only semi private for the sake of your comfort, thinking you need escape routes as they're convinced what they read off of you is a trick of their own mind and false hope that what they feel is mutual. They are gentle and cautious, try their best not to overstep any real or perceived boundaries between you. Though they hide a romantic behind their exterior, your first talk about something more between you can at first feel like an interview, as they wish to cover their bases and make sure they wouldn't waste your time or you theirs by having different directions and goals in the long-term, because the long-term is what they want. This group is the most likely to see fast engagements and marriage and other such milestones due to this clarity early on.

Additional details: spirituality, churches, meditation, sleep hypnosis or lucid dreaming, tarot, astrology, weddings, moving, soda and energy drinks, nostalgia, piercings and/or tattoos, hiking, travelling, community, helping, third party or recent breakups, to-do lists and planners, glasses, stress, cooking, purple, blue, gyms and sports, metal, journaling, blogs, text messages, tech, Leo/Virgo/Capricorn/Cancer/Pisces, E/T/K/H/A/S.

04.

Shufflemancy: Die for you by The Weeknd

This is very potent energy in comparison to the other piles. It is heavy and deep, almost suffocating but closer to a weighted blanket rather than true smothering. This person feels everything quite deeply and never seems to know how to express themselves or where to even put all these emotions, as though they always find themselves in aisle three struggling to hold all their items and wish they had just grabbed a basket upon entry. Their feelings for you creep in slow and steady like a predator stalking its prey from the tall grass, and before they know it they are met with great fear of abandonment and worry you will be swept up by another, worried that even if you were theirs you could do better. They may very well have history of poor relationships which ended in their demise, leaving their heart broken and full of trust issues. You may not even be aware of their insecurity as they carry themselves with confidence and are at ease with their peers, mix and mingle so effortlessly and appear so carefree. They have a lot of passion and take their work and hobbies very seriously. Their dedication to the things that matter most to them is remarkable and they have tenacity to push onwards regardless of any odds stacked against them, though their energy mostly comes in spurts and they require time to recharge or recompose themselves after all their sudden leaps and efforts. They may confuse you, as their devotion to you as an ally burns so bright, yet they seem to not make any moves to indicate that there is more to it. Perhaps this person is confused too, because for many it is possible that they once chose to not pursue love seriously due to past experiences, yet your presence is so stable and safe they want to so badly take a leap of faith in your direction.

This clash of desire and fear is not easy for them, and they go through a long period of denial from which they constantly find themselves slipping, always saying or doing something more than what your dynamic would call for, acting out the role of a partner out of their ease in your presence, then stepping back and fighting the current that threatens to wash them downstream to unknown territory, only to once again be lulled into this comfort you provide. They catch themselves daydreaming of a proper commited relationship with you often, but just as often they shake their head and wave those thought bubbles away. Their eventual confession is just as tumultuous as the feelings that reside within them. It could occur as a result of a heated argument, or at a time they are convinced you will leave them or hurt them and they simply fail to stop their outburst. Most will put it in a kiss before they put it in words, and there may be a lot of stressful and overwhelming emotions happening all at once for both of you as this strange and quite frankly exhausting push and pull dance reaches ots climax and comes to an end. This revelation fortunately provides instant relief to all this torture as though a kiss and whispered promises serve as morphine.

Additional details: lighters, vinyls, mesh, velvet, Lana Del Rey, Phoebe Bridgers, parties, drinking, shattered glass, bruises and hickeys, astrology and numerology, college, fwb, jealousy, cats, red, d&d, mass effect, social media, tinder, birthdays, plushies and figurines, kdramas, taboo, letters, poetry, reels, LED lights, therapy, pastries, Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn/Virgo, F/B/A/G/D.

05.

Shufflemancy: How you get the girl by Taylor Swift

It may take some time for this person to outright say anything, because their energy is as slow as it is steady. They don't make hasty decisions, and like to take their time to perfect all that they do and say. Despite this meticulous energy, they are quite light and airy. They may be quite critical of themselves, and always strive to do their best and measure up to their own, sometimes near impossible, standards. They are strong and independent, yet may have grown up within a lot of instability, which lead them to solidify into a rock so that turbulent times would not shake them as it did in the past. They have a dominance about them that is neither threatening or demanding. They carry themselves well and do not step on any toes as they go about their life achieving every goal they set for themselves. They try to learn to relax and live a little, and find it easier to do in good company. Their circles may be small and close-knit, as though they wish to keep their life private and managable, quality over quantity. They are incredibly loyal, and though they are difficult to get to know and rarely let down their guard, once you're in, you're truly in, and they would move mountains for you just as they do for everyone they hold close.

They may lack experience or confidence in love, for some they poured all their energy into their studies, careers, hobbies, or other relationships like family and friends, and decided not to force love. With you they feel comfortable and safe and may go out of their way to allocate time to spend with you every day, and they diligently remain at your disposal for anything at all should you need them. The foundation of trust and support they lay down over the course of many months and seasons changed before they dare confess what cards they hold so close to their chest provides promise of longevity and purpose for your relationship. They may confide in their loved ones for advice and encouragement before they come forward. Sitting there shuffling notes, getting up and pacing and wracking their brains for just the right words to say, but in the end their confession is just as light as ever. You may have felt for a long time that the two of you were practically dating, though without the official stamp of exclusivity, and this is what they may allude to in their confession. Words untold always on the tip of their tongue come out gently, but with certainty and with a firm hand for you to grab and hold on to. This occurs in a comfortable routine environment, something safe and predictable. Nothing lavish, nothing big and bold, no fireworks and marching bands. Just amidst your usual day to day, making it somehow unexpected and expected all at once, as though it was inevitable, but still surprising. Their confession may leave you in tears of relief or joy or shock, or a concoction of them all, yet this new chapter feels like freshly baked bread and a good morning text. So simple and sweet and natural in this simple brand of perfection of theirs.

Additional details: classical music, working out, family, wingman, salad, selfcare, psychology, puppies, car problems, 20 questions, countryside, eyeshadow palettes, phone calls or voice memos, LDR, school, lace, divorce, trauma, literature, lgbt+, trains, movie nights, floral, anxiety, politics, medication, doctor's appointments, news, red lipstick, green and beige, nature, baking, giggles, Attack on titan, Leo/Taurus/Libra/Pisces, Y/J/A/E/W.

06.

Shufflemancy: Call my name by Priest

This person will need some encouragement. Some sort of signal that their plane will land safely and is cleared for approach. Their energy is like contained chaos. Their mind is everywhere all at once, yet they appear at peace, relaxed, and so calm on the outside. They aren't surprised by the butterflies in their stomach, but have a tendency to enjoy them while they last without acting upon their feelings. Typically they expect these butterflies to fly away eventually, but it seems with you they've made a permanent home making their heart flutter every day, far beyond the usual expiration date. This surprises them, and makes them a little uneasy. They so often keep to themselves and don't bother others with their feelings or their needs, that they find themselves at a loss when they try to find the right words. Which is peculiar, as they seem to have such a way with them under any other circumstance. Always knowing the right thing to say, providing heartfelt guidance and insight at the drop of a hat when somebody needs it, known by their kindred spirits as both wise and witty. Yet this eloquence becomes a lost artform when it comes to expressing themselves and their feelings, and they feel embarrassed by their tongue-tied stutters and inability to string together a coherent sentence. Perhaps in their youth the key to their survival lied in becoming invisible and minimising their needs and blurring their boundaries. Now they go with the flow of life and may sometimes feel like an intangible being amongst solid mortals with beating hearts that to them sound so loud they couldn't possibly speak loud enough to be heard.

Their approach is careful, like a detective uncovering a crime clue by clue. They plant seeds and nurture them, hoping you will notice the tiny leaves which poke out from the dirt. They have perfected the art of dropping hints, and are looking for a signal that they are allowed and welcome to do and say more. Their pursuit of you can feel like a slowburn persuasion of you to say something first, like they're the puppeteer behind the scenes pulling strings in their favour so that confessing their secrets won't be so scary. You'll come to find the depth of their true feelings shocking. Once their walls come down and they show their vulnerability you will find them so sincere and sweet in their hopes and dreams for the two of you that you may find yourself teary-eyed. They come with the offer of dedication to waking up every day choosing to love you, actively, as a choice, keeping this promise like an oath. It's hard to pinpoint a confession here, as they weave a web, luring you in, coaxing it out of you first, or get close enough to the truth that there can be no doubt in either of you.

Additional details: childhood wounds, cereal, multiple tabs open, mobile games, distractions, true crime of haunted side of youtube/tiktok, horror movies, cold hands, dyed hair, Olivia Rodrigo, kpop, foxes, cats, blue birds, keys and keychains, beanies, venus flytrap, headphones, chips, broccoli, spicy food, books, wikipedia, reddit, ADD/ADHD, flannels, fairy lights, gaming setups, lightsabers, aviation, documentaries, persona games, nighttime, magic, netflix, Gemini/Cancer/Aquarius/Pisces/Sagittarius, K/P/V/Z/M.

#pac reading #energy reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #tarot reading #tarotblr #love reading #love pac #future spouse #soapy.post

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gh0stsp1d3r · 3 months

Note

toxic rafe who makes reader cry

𝒩ℴ𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾 𝓂ℯ𝒶𝓃𝓉

awww ): I obviously do not condone any of this irl, this is purely fiction!!

Warnings- toxic!rafe, name calling (slut), drugs, rafe is on drugs (so shocked aren’t we), mention of blood, overall, I am not responsible for whatever you read, Read at your own risk ⚠️

When Rafe was on a high- he wasn’t himself. He was usually more angry, doing and saying stupid shit without thinking. Usually, he wasn’t this rude to you.

You were at a party with him, you were just talking with your friends friend. Of course, Rafe had just taken a line of cocaine and stumbled upon you. Your friend was in the bathroom so you were left alone with the guy. Rafe stared from afar.

It was awkward until he made a joke about someone, making you crack a smile and laugh. You were feeling a little tipsy, having trouble balancing. He extended a hand out, asking if you’re okay and helping you balance again by grabbing onto your arm.

Rafes jaw tightened, grinding his teeth together slightly, biting his nails as he watched.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You gave him another smile, Rafe got closer to hear the conversation.

The man gave you a smile and nodded, taking his hand off you gently. You both made friendly conversation, asking him where in the area did he live and stuff like that.

But Rafe saw it as more. The music giving him a pounding headache, he mumbled something to himself and walked over to you.

Without looking at you or addressing you, his fist collided with the man’s face.

“Rafe! What the fuck?!”

Onlookers had watched you desperately attempt to pull him off the man as the two fought, Rafe was winning- his knuckles and face bloodied from the man.

Topper and Barry looked at each other, looking at Rafe and grabbing him by his arms and throwing him outside while you followed.

“Dude, the fuck was that?” Topper asked him, voice raised. He looked into his red, squinted eyes.

“I thought you were getting clean.” You mumbled as you stepped outside, heart shattering for him at hearing it.

“Well, I’m fucking not, okay? You’re not my fucking mom, let go.” He said, pulling his arm away from Toppers grip and walking away.

You followed after him, trying to talk him out of driving, knowing how he drove when he was high, you were likely to get into a crash or something.

“Let me drive,” you tried to say, attempting to grab the keys, your attempts in vain.

“No.” Was all he said, you looked back at Topper and Barry who tried to keep up, but Rafe was walking fast, a little fast for you.

They ran after him when he grabbed your arm roughly, practically dragging you into the car as you protested.

They peeled him off you, there could be sirens heard from afar. He tried to fight off the two holding him, shouting and yelling for them to let him go.

“Rafe. You’re going to make shit worse if you run away.” You told him in a quiet voice, gently grabbing his face and looking into his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, slut.” He spat out, looking into yours.

Those words hurt, a pang in your chest as you furrowed your eyebrows. Topper and Barry held him back as he talked.

“Don’t look at me confused. You’re fuckin’ parading yourself out for every guy to see, you’re no better than a fuckin’ prostitute. Why do you think I was gonna kill that guy?” He spoke, voice laced with venom.

“What?” Tears began to well in your eyes. You let go of his face.

“You’re. A. No. good. slut.” He said, almost in a teasing tone. “And i want you to fuckin’ go home, pack up all your shit.”

Your lip quivered as you looked at him. You both stood in silence for a little before you slapped him.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

It was then that he felt himself become more normal, as he realized he’d done something wrong. All the adrenaline and the drugs had made him blind.

“Wait, baby, I didn’t mean what I said-“ he quickly spoke as you walked away. Barry and Topper held him until you drove away, he saw you wiping your tears before you left.

He choked out a sob, Barry and Topper letting him go. He fell to his knees on the floor, feeling so vulnerable, he didn’t care that everyone else saw him. He just wanted you.

#rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #obx fanfiction

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mayullla · 10 months

Note

A little present event: fem reader 🦋 + yandere Al Haitham 🌺 🥺

Title: Learning to love

Character(s): Al Haitham (Genshin Impact) Summary: He offered a proposal, a trial of sorts to see if you and him were really a match. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, soulmates au, toxic relationship, manipulation

The continuation to: The Akasha's choosing [ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

You bit your lip when you saw Al Haitham waiting for you outside your small humble home again seated on one of the outdoor stools. "You are awake. I thought you would sleep a little more considering how tired you were last night from getting lost in the forest."

"Thank... thank you for finding me back then..." You looked down, it was because of him that you were able to find your way back home. But it was him that you were running away from that you winded up there. You know it was much, if anyone knew that someone was trying to avoid them this much to the point they would become lost... it would hurt the person. Yet you could not help yourself.

These feelings inside yourself felt like they were twisting your stomach yet you just can't push it down.

"Hmmm. Well, you don't have to worry about that though you should really consider other ways to avoid me."

You flinched at his words, feeling your heart rate speed up as you looked away guilty.

"I notice a long time ago that you were avoiding me, heading out so early in the morning when you usually stay in bed a little more in the past." Al Haitham looked at you from his book, waiting to see if you have something to say before continuing "I am guessing you are not really fond of this idea of soulmates. That you are acting like this? Personally, I think I would be much better if you were to say outright say that you hate me rather than run away constantly like this."

"I-I don't!"

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I really don't... I just don't think that uhh... you and me are meant for each other." You sighed finally admitting to why you have been acting like this for a long time. "That there might be a mistake in the Akasha... I just don't think we are compatible. I am sorry... I should have told you that sooner."

You glanced at Al Haithams face wondering how he would react before looking down again in guilt. You didn't know how to bring the subject up and had avoided it for the longest time. In all honestly you were intimidated by him.

"So you are saying that the Akasha had made a mistake?" Al Haitham asked closing his book. "Are you sure? I don't think most people if any would take too kindly to what you said especially the sages." You flinched again suddenly realizing what you were implying. That the akasha that was created by the past dendro archon, which was used by everyone in Sumeru had made a mistake. You wanted to take your words back, your face flustered as you tried to think of a way to recover from the situation.

Al Haitham watching you sighed, leaning back a little as he stared right at you. "I understand having doubts. Even I wanted to see for myself whether this was just some delusion someone in the academia made yet was accepted by those sages. Those who only rely on the akasha when it is also controlled by mere men are nothing but fools who can't think for themselves."

You found his words harsh but stayed silent.

"Hmmm, how about this. We shall do a little test between us to see if we are compatible or not." You looked at Al Haitham in surprise. What did he mean by that?

Al Haitham shook his head a little a small sigh escaped his lips, raising a hand a little as he started to explain. "While I too am not particularly fond of the idea myself, how about seeing for ourselves whether we are actually compatible or not and stop playing this cat-and-mouse chase that would only lead to nowhere."

"We can do a series of tests for an extended period of time. If we don't think we are compatible we can go our separate ways and forget all this happen. But if we do, we can continue on and see where this takes us."

Your eyes looked at him in surprise, but the more you thought about it the more it made... sense. You could see for yourself if the two of you were actually compatible with each other.

Agreeing to his proposal you could not help but feel a little determined but you could not help but wonder, "But what should we do first?" Much to your embarrassment you never really dated before too focused to take care of yourself and putting food on the table.

"Hmmm just do things that couples do. We could start by *not* avoiding each other and work away from there." You flinched a little at this personal attack, unable to look at him in the eyes again.

But you did see a small smile on his lips.

The two of you started slow, Al Haitham being patient with you as you tried to be less awkward with him on your side. You guys started first by going to the forest when you needed to go there to collect herbs, mushrooms, and berries. With him mainly there to protect you from monsters or eremites and treasure hoarders. Most of the time he was reading a book a little farther than you as you go about collecting.

He tried to offer help to you a bit, but still too awkward you declined telling him that he should instead rest while you do your work. Instead, you had to promise him that you would tell him if you need his help getting something that was too far of reach or dangerous.

A lot of your lunches were spent with him. You now purposefully pack up meals meant for two people rather than one. As you seat in the grass or under a tree or maybe at home when you worked on the small farm you had you would share your meals with Al Haitham. He would eat without saying much, but you did notice he would look a little annoyed when you brought soup and later made sure not to bring them too often. (Al Haitham also offered to pack or buy lunches every so often to be fair, and when you first time you tried his cooking you could not help but be surprised. It was good!)

You didn't go out in public much with him since both of you did not want the attention of others. And when you did most of the academia students would stare in shock unable to understand that the famed scribe had a partner while others cooed at how cute of a couple you guys were.

An old granny had called the two of you cute when you were out picking groceries with Al Haitham right beside you examining the vegetables as he too needed to stock some food in his own home. You were flustered at her words, wanting to deny that you were a couple but with a glance that Al Haitham gave you, no words came out of your mouth as you tried to smile.

You thanked the grandmother for her words.

Next were small touches and kisses, your face was never this hot till when Al Haitham told you to kiss him. You were embarrassed when he started grabbing your hand or placing a hand on your shoulder but you stifled all your complaints as you told yourself this was a trial and that it was fine. But you still could not help yourself but become nervous as you stare at his face after what he said.

Al Haitham was always patient with you, and if you didn't want to do this you were sure that he would be fine with it. But seeing that he was trying, you would feel guilty if you were to say no now.

You looked at Al Haitham's face an eyebrow raised waiting before he asked if you do not want to do it. You shook your head telling him it was fine. He always reminded you that both sides needed to put in the effort, and you knew he did. So you must... it was just a small kiss really.

He waited for you, made no movements to take the lead in the kiss, and left you to do it as you took small hesitant steps toward him shyly. With Al Haitham sitting down you were forced to lean towards him as you close your eyes unable to stare to look into his face in such a close distance. You didn't see his reaction back then as you quickly kissed and then turned your back from him unable to look at him.

What was a small peck on the lips soon spiraled from there. Moving too fast you thought to yourself, as if whatever wall that you thought was there between you and him was never there from the start. But you thought that it was fine, that this was just a test to see if you were compatible. As you forced yourself to get used to the thankfully rare kisses that Al Haitham would make. But more often than not you were forced to sit on his lap or he would lie on yours as you both either nap, read a book, or finish an essay for his case.

There were some days he would stay at your place, stating that he was too "lazy" to go back home when he was tired and told you to think of this like another test. He didn't like it when you offered to sleep on the sofa scooping you and tossing you on the bed with a hand on your waist to prevent you from leaving the bed stating that this would be the most comfortable way to sleep at a single person bed, pulling you closer to him. You felt it was too intimate but didn't voice your thoughts when you heard his small snores already fallen deep asleep.

Whatever you tried to make space between you and him on the bed whenever he decided that he would stay for the night would quickly be gone as you would find him always holding you tight in his arms the moment you wake up almost like a stuffed toy that a kid liked.

You kept repeating to yourself that this was a trial if you were compatible and if things just did not work out that everything would just work out as you two separate unknown to you that Al Haitham was still awake looking down at your hair, his arms tightening around you.

To him, this was never a trial, but you were just too precious after all as he let you think as you please. He knew that you were never comfortable with his affections. But he knew you would get used to it. He would not let you go even if you didn't. You would get used to his touch, the idea of him by your side, he would make you get used to him and let him mold you to love him just as much that anxiety would drive you insane when he is not around.

He would never let you go.

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sneezypeasy · 2 months

Text

Why I Deliberately Avoided the "Colonizer" Argument in my Zutara Thesis - and Why I'll Continue to Avoid it Forever

This is a question that occasionally comes up under my Zutara video essay, because somehow in 2 hours worth of content I still didn't manage to address everything (lol.) But this argument specifically is one I made a point of avoiding entirely, and there are some slightly complicated reasons behind that. I figure I'll write them all out here.

From a surface-level perspective, Zuko's whole arc, his raison d'etre, is to be a de-colonizer. Zuko's redemption arc is kinda all about being a de-colonizer, and his redemption arc is probably like the most talked about plot point of ATLA, so from a basic media literacy standpoint, the whole argument is unsound in the first place, and on that basis alone I find it childish to even entertain as an argument worth engaging with, to be honest.

(At least one person in my comments pointed out that if any ship's "political implications" are problematic in some way, it really ought to be Maiko, as Mai herself is never shown or suggested to be a strong candidate for being a de-colonizing co-ruler alongside Zuko. If anything her attitudes towards lording over servants/underlings would make her… a less than suitable choice for this role, but I digress.)

But the reason I avoided rebutting this particular argument in my video goes deeper than that. From what I've observed of fandom discourse, I find that the colonizer argument is usually an attempt to smear the ship as "problematic" - i.e., this ship is an immoral dynamic, which would make it problematic to depict as canon (and by extension, if you ship it regardless, you're probably problematic yourself.)

And here is where I end up taking a stand that differentiates me from the more authoritarian sectors of fandom.

I'm not here to be the fandom morality police. When it comes to lit crit, I'm really just here to talk about good vs. bad writing. (And when I say "good", I mean structurally sound, thematically cohesive, etc; works that are well-written - I don't mean works that are morally virtuous. More on this in a minute.) So the whole colonizer angle isn't something I'm interested in discussing, for the same reason that I actually avoided discussing Katara "mothering" Aang or the "problematic" aspects of the Kataang ship (such as how he kissed her twice without her consent). My whole entire sections on "Kataang bad" or "Maiko bad" in my 2 hour video was specifically, "how are they written in a way that did a disservice to the story", and "how making them false leads would have created valuable meaning". I deliberately avoided making an argument that consisted purely of, "here's how Kataang/Maiko toxic and Zutara wholesome, hence Zutara superiority, the end".

Why am I not willing to be the fandom morality police? Two reasons:

I don't really have a refined take on these subjects anyway. Unless a piece of literature or art happens to touch on a particular issue that resonates with me personally, the moral value of art is something that doesn't usually spark my interest, so I rarely have much to say on it to begin with. On the whole "colonizer ship" subject specifically, other people who have more passion and knowledge than me on the topic can (and have) put their arguments into words far better than I ever could. I'm more than happy to defer to their take(s), because honestly, they can do these subjects justice in a way I can't. Passing the mic over to someone else is the most responsible thing I can do here, lol. But more importantly:

I reject the conflation of literary merit with moral virtue. It is my opinion that a good story well-told is not always, and does not have to be, a story free from moral vices/questionable themes. In my opinion, there are good problematic stories and bad "pure" stories and literally everything in between. To go one step further, I believe that there are ways that a romance can come off "icky", and then there are ways that it might actually be bad for the story, and meming/shitposting aside, the fact that these two things don't always neatly align is not only a truth I recognise about art but also one of those truths that makes art incredibly interesting to me! So on the one hand, I don't think it is either fair or accurate to conflate literary "goodness" with moral "goodness". On a more serious note, I not only find this type of conflation unfair/inaccurate, I also find it potentially dangerous - and this is why I am really critical of this mindset beyond just disagreeing with it factually. What I see is that people who espouse this rhetoric tend to encourage (or even personally engage in) wilful blindness one way or the other, because ultimately, viewing art through these lens ends up boxing all art into either "morally permissible" or "morally impermissible" categories, and shames anyone enjoying art in the "morally impermissible" box. Unfortunately, I see a lot of people responding to this by A) making excuses for art that they guiltily love despite its problematic elements and/or B) denying the value of any art that they are unable to defend as free from moral wickedness.

Now, I'm not saying that media shouldn't be critiqued on its moral virtue. I actually think morally critiquing art has its place, and assuming it's being done in good faith, it absolutely should be done, and probably even more often than it is now.

Because here's the truth: Sometimes, a story can be really good. Sometimes, you can have a genuinely amazing story with well developed characters and powerful themes that resonate deeply with anyone who reads it. Sometimes, a story can be all of these things - and still be problematic.*

(Or, sometimes a story can be all of those things, and still be written by a problematic author.)

That's why I say, when people conflate moral art with good art, they become blind to the possibility that the art they like being potentially immoral (or vice versa). If only "bad art" is immoral, how can the art that tells the story hitting all the right beats and with perfect rhythm and emotional depth, be ever problematic?

(And how can the art I love, be ever problematic?)

This is why I reject the idea that literary merit = moral virtue (or vice versa) - because I do care about holding art accountable. Even the art that is "good art". Actually, especially the art that is "good art". Especially the art that is well loved and respected and appreciated. The failure to distinguish literary critique from moral critique bothers me on a personal level because I think that conflating the two results in the detriment of both - the latter being the most concerning to me, actually.

So while I respect the inherent value of moral criticism, I'm really not a fan of any argument that presents moral criticism as equivalent to literary criticism, and I will call that out when I see it. And from what I've observed, a lot of the "but Zutara is a colonizer ship" tries to do exactly that, which is why I find it a dishonest and frankly harmful media analysis framework to begin with.

But even when it is done in good faith, moral criticism of art is also just something I personally am neither interested nor good at talking about, and I prefer to talk about the things that I am interested and good at talking about.

(And some people are genuinely good at tackling the moral side of things! I mean, I for one really enjoyed Lindsay Ellis's take on Rent contextualising it within the broader political landscape at the time to show how it's not the progressive queer story it might otherwise appear to be. Moral critique has value, and has its place, and there are definitely circumstances where it can lead to societal progress. Just because I'm not personally interested in addressing it doesn't mean nobody else can do it let alone that nobody else should do it, but also, just because it can and should be done, doesn't mean that it's the only "one true way" to approach lit crit by anyone ever. You know, sometimes... two things… can be true… at once?)

Anyway, if anyone reading this far has recognised that this is basically a variant of the proship vs. antiship debate, you're right, it is. And on that note, I'm just going to leave some links here. I've said about as much as I'm willing/able to say on this subject, but in case anyone is interested in delving deeper into the philosophy behind my convictions, including why I believe leftist authoritarian rhetoric is harmful, and why the whole "but it would be problematic in real life" is an anti-ship argument that doesn't always hold up to scrutiny, I highly recommend these posts/threads:

In general this blog is pretty solid; I agree with almost all of their takes - though they focus more specifically on fanfic/fanart than mainstream media, and I think quite a lot of their arguments are at least somewhat appropriate to extrapolate to mainstream media as well.

I also strongly recommend Bob Altemeyer's book "The Authoritarians" which the author, a verified giga chad, actually made free to download as a pdf, here. His work focuses primarily on right-wing authoritarians, but a lot of his research and conclusions are, you guessed it, applicable to left-wing authoritarians also.

And if you're an anti yourself, welp, you won't find support from me here. This is not an anti-ship safe space, sorrynotsorry 👆

In conclusion, honestly any "but Zutara is problematic" argument is one I'm likely to consider unsound to begin with, let alone the "Zutara is a colonizer ship" argument - but even if it wasn't, it's not something I'm interested in discussing, even if I recognise there are contexts where these discussions have value. I resent the idea that just because I have refined opinions on one aspect of a discussion means I must have (and be willing to preach) refined opinions on all aspects of said discussion. (I don't mean to sound reproachful here - actually the vast majority of the comments I get on my video/tumblr are really sweet and respectful, but I do get a handful of silly comments here and there and I'm at the point where I do feel like this is something worth saying.) Anyway, I'm quite happy to defer to other analysts who have the passion and knowledge to give complicated topics the justice they deserve. All I request is that care is taken not to conflate literary criticism with moral criticism to the detriment of both - and I think it's important to acknowledge when that is indeed happening. And respectfully, don't expect me to give my own take on the matter when other people are already willing and able to put their thoughts into words so much better than me. Peace ✌

*P.S. This works for real life too, by the way. There are people out there who are genuinely not only charming and likeable, but also generous, charitable and warm to the vast majority of the people they know. They may also be amazing at their work, and if they have a job that involves saving lives like firefighting or surgery or w.e, they may even be the reason dozens of people are still alive today. They may honestly do a lot of things you'd have to concede are "good" deeds.

They may be all of these things, and still be someone's abuser. 🙃

Two things can be true at once. It's important never to forget that.

#zutara discourse #the colonizer argument #anti anti zutara #text post #long post #anti maiko #anti mai #tagging just in case #anti purity culture #this is not an anti-ship safe space

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