#clarawrites<3

relief w/ budo masuta! martial arts club leader

budo wasnt a bad guy, honestly. at least that’s what he thought in his head—how he was viewed by others at school. the dark haired boy was always considered to be polite and raised with good manners, as well as having his own enthusiasms and such. though, maybe being too enthusiastic at times.

there was just one thing that made his stomach turn and twist.

he had always been very muscular—staying in shape, eating whatever protein packed shit to keep his gains, even if it tasted awful on his tongue and could barely swallow it. it was better than the guilt that ate up at him during school nights.

or school days. those were always the worst. the thoughts that lingered in the back of his mind as budo tried so hard in his science class to catch up—the flashes of the two parental figures that made him feel not enough some days or too much at times. times where he would just come home from school and his door, hiding in his room or simply not coming home until later in the buraza town night.

sometimes—just sometimes, budo found the martial arts club to be not enough to take his frustrations out as those days ended with him leaving your bedroom by climbing out of your window. it was only supposed to be once, maybe twice if he was feeling like shit, but eventually became a habit he couldn’t quit. some people were addicted to weed, others were addicted to cutting—

budo masuta found himself addicted to your body.

you both didn’t speak much when he found himself there, pulling your panties down and pushing his face between your legs like he was starving. he probably was, he hadn’t tasted anything this good in weeks. his tongue ran down your slit, up and down your wet cunt before going to circle your cute clit in a frenzy. he was in a dreamlike state, like an adrenaline rush that was better than martial arts itself. despite how much he snuck into your room, he always did something different to you.

the first time he snuck in—after you both agreed on letting him stay—he slowly kissed your lips, sucking on your bottom lip before his tongue met yours. and then it became faster, rushed even.

like he just wanted to feel something.

anything.

he made his way to your neck, kissing and licking—nibbling on it before his shaky hands pulled up your shirt. he struggled on unclipping your bra, causing you to laugh a bit. budo awkwardly smiled, yet he hoped you didn’t realize that it was just from how nervous he was. eventually though, he got it, revealing your bare tits. your nipples were already perked up, a nice shade of pink. you could see how his dark eyes widened slightly—not so much in amazement, but in a more subtle appreciating way.

he kneaded them with his hands, playing with the soft flesh as his thumb ran over your sensitive nipple. he noticed your body tense, how your back arch slightly—your mouth open just a bit. the raven started to tease, not in a cruel way—he was just curious. he kept squeezing your tits, thumbs flicking against the buds. his eyes fixated on the sight of your chest before seeing your face, his ears mesmerized by the harsher breaths you let out. budo started to kiss your chest, making his way to his relief as his mouth latched onto your nipple. the feeling made your body tense up, legs aching and your underwear soaking wet. he sucked, he licked at it—swirling his tongue over the pink bud that made you moan in response. he did this the whole time he was there.

after budo left, you wondered why he didn’t want anything done to himself. with a few more visits, you realized it was for him—that he found relief and pleasure in seeing your face when you came—your moans when he licked at your delicious tits, the view he got when stuffing your tight pussy with his huge cock, watching your tits bounce from the movement of his thrusts.

having you on his mind made him less stressed.

(\_/) dividers by —> @angeliicide

manipulated

the barn was your home—your soul.

you had always been your father’s daughter, helping your mother around the house and doing your chores on the farm to help your dad. they loved you dearly, so it wasn’t a shocker when they suggested about boys and whatnot.

‘ain’t travis a good man, ain’t he?’

or,

‘i talked to carter’s mother and she seems to really like you.’

but none of their suggestions seemed to work on you, so your parents had another plan to protect you. they set you up with the sheriff’s son. normally, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Officer Bowers’ son was a huge dick. Especially before he graduated. the kid was known for being a heartless, cold asshole. the only reason the older man was doing this was to get Henry off his lazy ass and marry a girl instead of just sleeping around and not doing anything. plus think of all the extra money he could spend on beer!

butch wanted his son out of the house. stat. so when you turned sixteen, your parents invited butch and henry to come over. farmer to farmer, i guess. and that’s when they revealed the news. you both were getting married. at first you thought it was a joke, but as you saw the scowl on henry’s face, you knew it wasn’t.

when you were seventeen, the wedding day came and you couldn’t have been more upset in your life. you’ve never acted so fake, but you put on a little smile while Henry got drunk. the whole time butch and your parents joked and laughed about you and henry, how you both looked so cute together and how you ‘fixed’ the dirty blond. '..you both better start on the children right now..I want a little grandson to spoil..’

you could still hear butch’s words, snickering at the thought of having a little grandson to run around his house. the thought made you cringe, making your stomach turn. henry didn’t seem all too pleased either—not from the thought of having a child with you, it was from the thought of his father spoiling some little brat instead of him when he was growing up.

the night was a blur, all you remembered was driving henry home into the house he now owned. the house he grew up in. the living room reeked of the smell of beer and cigarettes, matching the aesthetic of the pale, eerie yellow walls that were covered in officer bowers’ trophies—his taxidermy animals that he hunted and stuffed himself.It reminded of when you and your dad went hunting together when you were a kid, but something told you that henry’s dad went by himself.

the dirty blond’s words were slurred and all messed up, obviously drunk off his mind. the sweat dripped off of his forehead like little raindrops landing on bare, clean windows—the start of a rainy, cold day. ‘mmn..get off..’

he whined and groaned as you helped him get onto the couch. itwas hard and rough, way too uncomfortable for any normal person wanting to sit there. the old fabric had gone through a lot—considering the countless beer stains and spillage onto the poor, now ruined couch. you still remember what you said to him, your head reeling at the past memories that seemed like forever ago but had only been a few weeks.‘..i’m just trying to help…if you weren’t such a stubborn ass, maybe you wouldn’t have taken all those shots..’

you learned your place very quickly in the bowers home. your job was to not be such a horrible wife, which meant cooking, cleaning, and sometimes going out to get groceries and help on the farm. that was it. henry had always been keen on roles—he was the provider after all. the man of the house now. his mother was a housewife before she left him and his father, so his daddy’s rules were all he’s ever known. after his mother left, he was left to do the chores, picking up and doing her dirty work. maybe that’s why he was such a piece of shit, his daddy beating on him for doing the slightest thing wrong or how he was raised without a female figure in his life.

no, that wasn’t the reason.

you’ve met some of the sweetest people who have gone through that stuff. people who weren’t such pieces of shit. It had to be something else, right?

bowers had looked the same since highschool. he dressed the same, acted the same, and still had those cold, careless blue eyes that made his victims shiver every time they made eye contact with him.

his hair was even the same—his fingers would run into his dirty blond locks, still the same chin length mullet from the late eighties. you say that, but it was only four years ago. he still had his physique too, the abs you had seen countless times in you and his bedroom, without a care in the world or a want in your eyes. how bland. how selfish. some days, while henry trained to be a police officer—you would stare at the pictures on the bookshelves of your husband as a young boy. he seemed happier, more..pure. he didn’t have that coldness in his eyes or the usual grump to his face, he had a smile. a genuine smile.

what went wrong?

you didn’t seem to know.

one day, henry came home to dinner on the table, per usual and a stack of bills from the mailbox. he groaned as he opened them up, pulling his tie in the process. just great. ”..we’re gon’ have to stop using the hot water so much..” you heard him say, giving you a glare that still sent a shiver down your spine—even now after living with each other for two weeks. ”..takin’ too damn long in the shower, I might as well just barge in there and turn the water off..” henry said, groaning at all the money he was going to have to spend because of you.

you hesitated to even argue with him, you didn’t want to get another bruise or a slap across the face. or even just a scream, that still would’ve hurt too. "what’re we gonna do then..?” you muttered to him, staring at the white, flowery table cloth that covered the old wooden table. god, this had to be as old as butch. “..i’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. you’re going to wait to shower til’ I get home and I’ll take it with you..”

the words that came out of henry’s mouth didn’t shock you, always so cold and rough, his tone hinting with carelessness. you and your husband had seen each other naked before, sleeping together in the same bed but never showing any affection or sensuality. you didn’t care, you never wanted to be with this man. not like you had a choice anyway. you just shared the same bed and lived together. nothing more, nothing less.

‘..henry, I miss you baby..-‘

your voice replayed in henry’s head, the one that he hated with a passion had somehow now..aroused him. he watched as you crawled on top of him, having your hair up and your body just covered in see through fabric that henry could practically tear off. keep calm, henry. he's fine, he's fine.

then why is he acting like such a fool?

the dirty blond let out a loud sigh, his legs slightly trembling while he stared into those pretty little eyes of yours. his hands were rough compared to the skin of your waist, so calloused and dirty on your soft skin. it almost felt wrong to touch you like this. so impure, so unhealthy.

henry leaned his head back as soon as he felt your legs wrapped around his waist, the back of his head hitting against the soft, mushy pillows that he could only wish were your thighs. the dirty blond watched as your gentle touch unbuckled his belt, slowly but surely coming undone like a hard knot in one’s shoelaces. his blue hues caught you looking back at him, a stupid little grin across your pretty face—one that he didn’t seem to recognize. this was so unlike you. this was so unlike bowers. he had never, ever, wanted you like this before. he had no desire to. you both were just forced into marrying each other.

but now, the boy felt something different—something similar to the feeling of when he had his first kiss or the very few memories of his mother when he was a young boy. your touch affected him, sending shivers down his spine as he waited for you to pull down his jeans and boxers. such a needy little thing, ain’t he? and when you finally got to it, making henry wait like a damn cat before he felt the fabric slide down his legs..

he woke up.

the young man awoke in his bed, gasping for air like someone had just taken his breath away—or something. henry’s bare chest and legs were covered in a cold sweat, woken up from his deep slumber. it was just a normal night. there was nothing wrong with you, bowers. he looked over at you, sound asleep and facing the direction of him, unlike usual. your face buried in your pillow, all scrunched and gentle like. you almost looked..cute or pretty, whatever words guys used to compliment girls or something.

the image replayed in his mind like vinyl on a record player, repeating in an endless loop over and over in the back of his head. he was sure he memorized it by now. henry couldn’t even go back to sleep or lie down without thinking about his dream.

૮꒰ ིྀ ⍝ ⍝ ꒱ა ʚ ᧔ෆ᧓ ɞ ⊹˚˙

the young male couldn’t handle all the complaints and begging, and whatnot—especially from his in-laws. always waiting for you to just one day announce your pregnancy. such bullshit.

henry was finally done with it.

he was going to give them their wishes. after all, you did want kids, right? plus, bowers couldn’t really get the thought of you in his dream from the night before out of his head like that. so intimate, so alluring. the pure image kept him up at night, he had desires of course. He did the only logical thing he could do—get rid of your birth control. now he knew that sounded stupid, but it was all apart of his plan. henry wasn’t going to force himself on you, that would make him feel like his father all too much.

he was going to make you want him—to need him, yearn for him. the young man started with your medication, simply by just not reminding you to take it every day. and when you were almost out, he threw the rest away. just like that. you shrugged it off, thinking you were just out or just lost some—maybe you took some of your birth control on the wrong days or something? now obviously, doing just this wasn’t going to cut it.

bowers knew you had the same desires, acting like you didn’t find him attractive when he knew you did. you had to, who wouldn’t? so he started being a tad more nicer, day by day. he did what his father did best—manipulate. “..you look nice today..” he said to you with the same cold, rough tone as usual—hinting with no emotion. his blue hues glistened in the kitchen lighting, focused on your figure in your pink cooking apron. wait, why was he looking there?

“oh..thanks..” the dirty blond watched as your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, just like he had planned. he knew no matter how much you didn’t seem to like him, you would soon learn to him.

and if you didn’t, he would make you.

he knew women had needs—after all, he had seen it with his own mother. that’s why she left, or because she was almost beaten to death. the point was that henry knew that you would come begging for affection if he gave it to you, women like you were vulnerable.

“i’m so cold..” you mumbled to him while you both sat on the couch late at night, watching the whatever was on the television. normally, he would’ve just told you to be quiet or that it was too damn bad. he actually wanted to say that, but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

his blue, cold hues met yours. bowers’ expression lacked emotion—value. “you could always just get closer, y’know..?” he muttered, going back to watch the TV while your lips parted in slight surprise. he couldn’t be too nice because that’d be too easy.

it’d fuck up the plan!

you stared at him a little bit, just a little longer. you seemed confused but again, you shrugged it off, just like with the birth control. you went back to watching the old television before scooting a tad bit closer to henry, almost like you were taking little steps. cute. soon you were cuddling up next to him for warmth, acting like the dirty blond didn’t even notice, despite you trying to do it so nonchalantly. everything was going perfect.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ ㅤ𐂯ྀི༘ ₊

and there you were, sitting on the edge of the bed with that outfit he had seen in his dreams. the silk fabric that went down to just above your knees, the blue color that contrasted with the aesthetic of you and henry’s bed sheets. it was all too familiar.

“sorry, i..um..just wanted to surprise you..” you muttered to him, staring at the ground as your cheeks began to flush again, just like it had the other night. henry knew the plan would work but he didn’t expect you to be so eager when he got home from work today. he didn’t even say anything. that honestly worried you for a moment before he suddenly rushed towards you and started to smash your lips against his.

oh boy, you were in for it.

ignorance

purity was something megamo lost at a very young age, ripped away with prying hands. to his father, he was too hesitant—too scared to give it up and devote worship. he lies on his hands and knees but they shake—they move and stutter in failed devotion. he came through with his task with blood on his hands, yet is still shamed for not being enough. for hesitation. 

“blood runs thicker than water,” he says simply, showing no emotion as the poor boy holds his heart in his shaking hands. thump. thump. thump. it beats, soon to be crushed by the one holding it—young megamo himself. saikous don’t love—they fixate. 

now, with his head in the same hands, trying to focus on the school, he thinks of worship. he thinks of prayer. but not to god, oh no, to one of his angels. the light that shines in the halls with a skirt a little too short and lips a little too pink with gloss. a temptress in disguise, trying to seduce him with a stupid pouty and innocent look on your face. 

he swears he knows what you’re doing, acting oblivious about when he dress codes you. “oh, i’m sorry mr. president! i didn’t know. i can go change right now if you want me to!” you stutter and awkwardly talk to him, while he just gives you that look. typical. he doesn’t know why you upset him so much—your face, your pigtails, your cute appearance—your body. 

“it’s fine, just go and change,” the words are simple, seeming to be meaningless as you smile and leave. it’s outright deceiving as he watches you, too affected by your overall being as he grinds his teeth in his mouth. his thoughts are different than usual, more perverse and distracting—like he can’t focus on his main goal. he sits and sits in his chair, trying to get stuff done but his mind is heavy. his thoughts? overbearing. all he can think about is his little angel in such a short skirt today, acting dumb to get his attention. its frustrating! he knows you’re just trying to distract him, and it’s working! all he can think about is tearing the fabric off your body, piece by piece and revealing his desires. his wants. his needs. 

to loathe is not to love—and maybe, just maybe—this wasn’t love. love took the form of something else. love wasn’t selfish, nor obsession. it wasn’t for one person to give and never receive—nor was it something to fixate on. To focus on. to depend on. to live and breathe it every second of the day. megamo understood that you couldn’t receive too much of it, but you also couldn’t give too much of it away. maybe that’s why he was better without it at all.

saikous don’t love—they fixate. it didn’t take long for megamo to be reminded of that once he started to memorize your schedule. whether its gym class, science, lunch--he's there, acting like he's just supervising his precious school—but hes not. in reality, he’s paying attention to you—watching, listening, focusing. oh, how he hates stalkers but does the exact same thing they’re known for—being a total creep. did you know what he did late at night?..when it was dark n’ cold?..when the heat of want or need was too much?..when he felt like he was burning up n’ needed to get some stress off in bed..? the answer was no, you didn’t. of course you didn’t. nobody did—all they noticed was his even colder mood, bags under his eyes, and the fast scribbling he did before it went, splat! all over his paper from the pressure.

the student council members go quiet—words don’t come out but they speak with their silence. it’s different. it’s too quiet. They don’t know what’s going on, and neither does megamo himself to be honest.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ㅤ♡ྀི ₊. ཐི༏ཋྀ

he watched as you ran outside for gym class—your form almost perfect, yet flawed at the same time. like there was something missing to make you run more efficiently. megamo wondered why he was so infatuated with you as the lighter haired boy saw you mess up while baking in the cooking club, a childish mistake if you will. and as you blurted out the wrong answer in math class so confidently, he looked away from you, very conflicted with his emotions.

how could you be so stupid and ignorant, and childish—which was why he liked you so much. he liked the way you giggled awkwardly after getting the answer wrong. he liked the way you failed at getting a simple recipe right. he liked the way you ran and complained about it as you got your form wrong. someone so dumb wasn’t worth megamo’s time, but they were worth being used.

fingers intertwined as his desk shook, loud gasps and slight mumbles being made in the student council room, one of the few days where the meeting was cancelled due to reasons unknown. the lighter haired boy found relaxation as his fat cock hit every right spot in your soaking wet pussy. megamo wasn’t used to feeling so good as he pushed his dick in and out of you—letting out stutters and praises, stuff he never would have done.

"oohhhh, fuucckkkk..m..mmmn.." the whine made your lip quiver, the noise going straight to your pussy. you never expected the student council president to say stuff like this, but no one did either. his fingers went slowly down to your clit, pressing down on it enough, rubbing in circles to stimulate you.. "..ahhhn..-"

"f..felt good, yeahhh..?" he didnt need to ask. he already knew from how you sounded as he was hitting it from the back, using your hole while he played with your pretty pink bundle of nerves.

you can request anyone but i would prefer the rivals, raibaru, budo, taro, ayano/ayato! as well as da delinquents, student council, and bullies! ໒(≧ᗜ≦)ྀི১

i mostly write fem!reader x male rivals, but i do fem!reader x female rivals, fem!reader x delinquents, fem!reader x fem/male student council aswell!! as for 1980’s mode, its da same! I mostly do nsfw, but not for hanako yamada, or any minors! ૮(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ྀིა ♡

just angst ! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

atelophobia

the fear of imperfection. the fear of never being good enough.

the word 'perfect' was something in itself. it looked clean, put together—a random seven letter word that made people flattered when being described as such. to some, it was a compliment—something nice to say to someone. To others, it was an expectation, the bare minimum. to all, it was something people strived to be, even if everyone had their flaws. 'no one's perfect,' was a saying you'd hear from a normal person. normal. 

but nobody really wanted to be normal, right? he couldn't process it, thinking of himself so highly for so long. highly wasn't the right word for it. it didnt fit, he could make it try, stretching out the fabric—tearing stitch after stitch, the thing he had worked so hard on. no matter how hard he tried, it couldn't. he didn't think of himself to be 'highly'—he wanted to be highly. he pushed himself to be the best of the best, but it was never enough—it’d never compare to the expectation.

reality would never compare.

but he still tried, even if the constant pressure of being extraordinary left his body sore—his head aching, muscles tensed. the experience left a bitter taste in his mouth, not like a weird after taste or the nagging feeling of a temporary sore throat—it was an overwhelming taste of guilt. of sadness. of doubt. of disappointment—the constant fear he’ll be second place for the rest of his life. soon, the competition just left him tripping off the pedestal, getting upset over simple mistakes and causing newer, more bigger ones.

after all, a normal person can only take so much. because that’s all they’ll ever be. normal. average. second place.

absolutely!!! I frickin’ luv dis idea n’ hav been wanting to work on it for a bit now. I luv how megamo is perceived n’ how his character is portrayed by the fans and in the male rivals video!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

WHAT IFFF

henry was in that timeline instead of the 80s??

and the reader being matty’s older sister…

I JUST KNOW IT’S ANGSTY

OKI SO I HAVENT WATCHED IT YET IVE BEEN MEANING TO BUT LIKE IVE BEEN BUSY

IM SO GONNA DO DIS THO OMG ID LUV TO WRITE ABT HIM IN DAT TIMELINE