fulano

“Jesus Christ,” he pants. “I’ll tell you what, this pussy is worth losing my fucking sanity over. I’m happily kissing my common sense goodbye tonight, because I won’t see reason now. I’ll only be thinking in terms of fucking my little Meg. Fucking and fucking and fucking her!” he roars, spitting on me once, twice. “You’re my asylum now. And this cunt is tighter than any straitjacket they could put me in. God. God. Throw away the fucking key.”
― Jessa Kane , A One Woman Job

“My story was not a fairy tale of a cruel-hearted girl whose shoes danced her to death, or a kindhearted one who threw her red shoes into the river. This was not a story about a wicked queen made to wear iron heels, or a lovely, golden-haired girl in slippers of glass. This had been about a fever, a nightmare, a dance made into a curse.
It was about women turning their own fears into their sharpest blades.”
― Anna-Marie McLemore, Dark and Deepest Red

“Do not stare at me unless you are willing to see me.' ...'Look at me,” he says. “Look at this body. My body. Or stop looking. Deny it, and deny me.”
― Anna-Marie McLemore, Dark and Deepest Red

“He doesn’t move or speak, but he doesn’t need to. I know his desires by the pace of his breath and the tilt of his shoulders, by the shape of his jaw and the heat of his gaze. I know him, and in knowing him I love him, and in loving him I cannot do as he wishes.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Six Deaths of the Saint