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haetrack · 8 months ago

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your fate, my karma

jung jaehyun x fem!reader

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: jaehyun realizes he’s in love with you. it’s fucked, especially because he rejected you once before. he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you. but he can’t help it, it’s like he was made to see and touch you. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold in his secret.

warnings: angst, little fluff, friends with benefits, pining, one sided love, confession, argument, smut (MDNI), desperate jaehyun, unprotected sex (pulling out), possessiveness and jealousy, dialogue heavy at some parts

heavily inspired by somethin’ stupid - frank sinatra

part three to the how it all goes series!

you're laid back onto his bed, heavy breaths fanned across your face. on top of you is jaehyun, cheeks dusted with pink as his fingers are still move inside of you. “stop already,” you huff out a laugh, “i might die if you make me cum one more time.”

he chuckles at your words and slowly pulls his fingers out of you, sucking obscenely on them just to annoy you. it works, and you cover your eyes to get the image out of your head. you don’t offer to help him out, and he doesn’t ask for any favors.

he’s not really sure how his friendship with you got to this point. if he could put it simply, you told him that you had feelings for him, asking if he felt the same way. he said that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he wasn’t ready to be so vulnerable in front of another person. he still wanted to be friends with you.

he remembers seeing sadness flash through your eyes, but you just smiled at him and accepted the answer that you got. in a way, jaehyun wished he could like you back, he hated the way he hurt you, but he just wasn’t ready. you were wary around him, trying to hide the hurt that he caused you. he couldn’t bear to see it, and hated how much you were hiding from him.

which is how he finds you next to him, curled up in his bed after he’s made you cum. he knows it probably wasn’t the best idea to propose, but he didn’t know how else he could keep you close. when he explains it to himself in his head, it sounds shitty, makes him feel a little fucked up. he tries to justify it, but really, all of this is a temporary fix to keep you close to him.

despite all the grey areas in his friendship with you, he’s certain about one thing: he really does like having you around. he’s chalked it up to his feelings just being from how long he’s known you, but he knows that there’s something else he doesn’t want to admit. because one, it’s fucked. two, he’s rejected you. three, he can’t like you.

he can’t like like you. he doesn’t even want to imagine thinking about the other word, but it plays at the back of his head sometimes. he hears it when you’re both out at a bar together, watching you drunkenly cling to his side. he hears it when you’re at his apartment after work. he hears it when your eyes look up at his when you drop to your knees.

he can hear it even now as you lay next to him, curled up into his side as your breaths even out. it doesn’t feel weird that he can feel your naked body against his, his best friend comfortably laid up next to him. is it so wrong of him to want this? you became more comfortable around him again after he had sex with you. he knows it’s just a temporary solution.

he can feel your breaths across his chest, your face nuzzling closer to him. he could move you away, could create a clearer boundary between the two of you. he feels a little selfish when he lets you stay there, deciding to wrap an arm around your shoulders as he pushes you closer. it’s not fair to either of you, he’s not your boyfriend, he shouldn’t be this close to you.

it’s quiet in his room, save for the sound of cars driving down the road and the occasional huff you let out in your sleep. he isn’t tired at all, too lost in his thoughts as he stares up at the ceiling, the warmth of your body taking up all his thoughts. if he could, he would go back in time and stop you from confessing. he would’ve done it himself in the future, he just needed a little more time.

he can’t blame you though. it’s his fault for rejecting you, it’s his fault for thinking that he could make something happen out of this. there’s a small part of his heart that believes that you could like him again. you wouldn’t come back to him for sex every night, right? but the more realistic part of him knows that it could mean anything.

which is why he can’t stop you coming to him when you’re needy. it’s not even just those times, but he doesn’t think he could ever willingly cut you off. he likes spending time with you, and above everything else, you’re his friend.

he just can’t help but wish it could be a little more than that.

you always ask jaehyun to come over if he has the time.

as you both have grown older, it feels like you both have lost more and more time. when you were both college students, it was easy to skip a few classes and go to parties each night. but now as adults, it’s hard to find time for each other. which is why you ask him to go do mundane tasks with you, like buying groceries or trying on clothes.

today it’s going over to eat with him.

before he rejected you, it felt special to be invited to do these kinds of things with him. out of all the people he could’ve asked, he chose you. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, no, jaehyun asking you to spend time with him meant nothing but him being friendly. it’s weird looking back at how much you wanted jaehyun to like you more than a friend.

as you make your way to his apartment, you realize how much time you spent just wishing for something to happen between you two. you wonder if it was something that was ever supposed to happen between you, or maybe if the timing just wasn’t right. you used to find yourself thinking about the what ifs after he had freshly rejected you. but now, you try to focus on what you have.

he’s just your friend, and you’re close to accepting that it’ll probably never be more than that.

when you make it to his apartment, you don’t see him right away. you call out his name, hearing his voice from his kitchen. when you head over, you’re expecting a nice meal laid out for the two of you to eat. instead, you’re greeted by jaehyun standing by the stove, a stupid smile on his face as he greets you.

“so, you invite me over to come and eat.”

he nods, smile growing wider, “yes.”

“but i’m not seeing any food.”

“that’s because you’re gonna help me.”

you stare at him. he starts moving towards you, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. he starts dragging you towards where he was standing. you start whining, “you don’t need my help. you’re a whole grown man who can cook whatever he wants.”

he laughs, “but i need you to be my other chef… what are they called?”

you roll your eyes, “a sous chef?”

“exactly,” he points at you, as if you just solidified his argument, “what if i forget something and i need your help?”

you pat his shoulder, “then you call me while i sit over on the couch.”

he’s about to give up, but he swears there’s a certain look in your eyes that ask him to keep going. that’s how it always feels with you, a certain push-and-pull that you both can’t let go of. your fingers twitch against his shoulder, almost giving you away. he moves to hold your hand, “how about you at least watch me on the side. i just wanna talk to you.”

you almost want to point out his pouty tone, want to laugh at how there’s a frown on his face. but you can’t. he looks a little too sincere, and you don’t want to think too hard about the feelings he doesn’t have for you. you sigh, eventually giving into his words. it’s always like this, jaehyun acting like he can’t go on without you. that’s what got you here in the first place.

he smiles when you approach him, so close that his arm is touching yours. it doesn’t matter how long or how many times he’s had sex with you, to have you close to him like this makes his heart soar.

it’s like this for the whole time you both cook. your hands lightly grazing his, the sweet smile you show him when he does good, the laugh you let out when he messes up. you take over some parts for him without him asking you to. he can’t help let his mind wander, thinking this is how it would be all the time if you two were dating.

he wouldn’t have to beg you to do something with him, you would do it on your own accord. he wouldn’t have to hold back how much he wants to kiss you, he could press as many kisses on your cheeks or lips. he could stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you forcibly kick him off of cooking duty.

instead, he’s standing in front of the food he’s making, probably overcooking it as you point and laugh at him. you even take out your phone to take a picture of him, laughing as you fiddle with your phone. he swats at you, grumbling, “if you posted that on instagram, i am definitely blocking you.”

“you know me so well. i tagged you and everything.”

he chooses not to respond, taking out plates from his cabinet for the both of you. he can see you standing next to him, waiting to plate your food. he quickly decides to plate it for you, trying to hide his pink cheeks as he pushes the plate towards you. when he’s plating his own, you speak up, “wow, what a gentleman!” he can hear the teasing tone you use, “you’re really setting the bar for all men, aren’t you, jaehyun?”

he decides to tease you back, “just trying to show you how much nicer i am than you are. you should post this on instagram, too.”

“nope, letting all my followers know how mean and horrible of a cook you are. i’m ruining your chances of getting with someone.”

he shakes his head in amusement, moving to one of the seats on his small dining table. you follow, sitting right across from him. he messes with his phone a bit before you can hear that it’s connected to his speakers. an unfamiliar tune starts playing as you watch jaehyun’s head bob along to the song.

this is how it always is, eating together, listening to his annoyingly good music taste, and enjoying each other’s presence. the food he cooked is surprisingly good, but you try to denounce it because you did help him along the way. it’s quiet between the two of you, nothing really too important to talk about.

jaehyun notices your fingers tapping along the table to the beat of the song. he smiles, “do you like it? the song?”

you pretend to think about it, “hm... well, it’s good.”

“you’re not gonna secretly shazam it under the table like last time?”

“that was literally a one time thing,” you huff, “i’ll just go and find someone with the exact same music taste as you.”

he smiles to himself, “you know there’s no one else like me.”

you think about his words for a bit. he probably didn’t mean for them to have a double meaning, but you can’t help but find one. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to find someone who could’ve made you as happy as jaehyun does. you wonder if you do ever find someone, if you’d be able to forget jaehyun.

you feel like you’ve become so intertwined in his life that everything might lead back to him.

you eventually nod along to his words, “yeah, there’s no one else like you.”

“you’re kinda an ass for not picking her up yourself.”

jaehyun huffs at johnny’s words. it’s not that he didn’t want to, but you had assured him that you would make it on time. when he brought up your safety, you said that it was taken care of already. jaehyun couldn’t help but wonder who or what could possibly be more safe than him, but he didn’t want to argue.

but now that you’re a little late, he can’t stop himself from worrying. johnny makes it worse, tearing into him, teasing him with every word. jaehyun hasn’t told him about his surfacing feelings for you, but johnny is notoriously nosy, probably knowing the exact day jaehyun thought that he started liking you.

johnny takes one more jab at him, “she would’ve liked you more if you’d been the one who brought her.”

jaehyun’s shoulder bumps into johnny’s, “she already does like me a lot, so there’s no need for all of that.”

johnny shrugs, letting out an if you say so as he sips on his drink. as much as jaehyun wants to deny it, he really wishes he could’ve at least given you a ride. he would’ve immediately ditched johnny if you asked, would’ve been right outside your doorstep as soon as you said you were ready. he wants to tell himself that that’s just what friends do, but there’s something he doesn’t want to admit.

his hands move to pull out his phone, scrolling through your messages from the past hours. he knows he’s made a mistake as soon as he feels johnny’s eyes looking at his screen from over his shoulder. jaehyun makes a jokingly shocked face at johnny to try to distract him, but johnny’s face mirrors his own.

johnny’s about to say something with a teasing smile on his face and jaehyun’s ready to stop him. instead, a ding comes from his phone, calling their attention. it’s a text from you, letting jaehyun know that you’re outside. he sends a text to you, his eyes moving to the entrance as he waits for you to walk in.

and there you are.

your eyes scan the room, looking for both him and johnny. jaehyun can feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of you, your face illuminated by the warm lights of the bar. he thinks you look pretty all the time, but now that he’s seeing you like this, he wants to keep it in his memory forever.

you quickly spot them, your face brightening up with a smile as you make your way towards them. you greet the two of them, johnny easily bringing you into a hug. when you turn to jaehyun, you expect the same, but his eyes stay on you for a moment too long. he notices your teasing smile, quickly clearing his throat before wrapping his arms around you.

johnny starts, “always so fashionably late.”

you laugh, “if i don’t come, who else is gonna be the funniest and sexiest person in our friend group?”

johnny moves to tuck an invisible strand of hair behind his ear, “i was holding that position just fine before you came.”

you slap his shoulder, a fit of laughter taking over you. jaehyun watches the two of you, quietly laughing at the side. he likes the dynamic the three of you have, always mentally thanking johnny for introducing you to him. he’d endure all of johnny’s teasing for years if it meant to have you laughing at his side.

it stays like this for a while. the three of you drinking together, laughing when johnny tries dragging you closer to the middle of the room to dance. jaehyun can feel his cheeks get hotter, pink from the alcohol and the not-so-visible adoration he holds for you. he tries to quiet his feelings, but when you lean into his side, your warm body pressing against his, he figures he can give up the act a little.

it’s at times like these where jaehyun realizes that he can see the you from before the rejection. it’s a bit selfish for him crave this side of you, the one where you don’t care how much you touch him or how you continue talking into his ear all night. he thinks that if you were both dating, he could lean over and press a kiss to your cheek, watching as you nuzzle into his side.

for now, all he can do is wrap his arm around yours as you both sway side to side. johnny went off to get another drink, promising to be back quickly. jaehyun has this little time to have you all to himself, listening to the loud chattering around him and the bass of the music loud in his ears. your eyes are closed, humming along to the song.

jaehyun could easily whisper into your ear about his feelings. you probably wouldn’t remember either way, but he knows it’s not right. it’s not like he’d want to do it this way, wanting to tell you honestly. but there’s a growing part inside his brain that’s begging him to do something about it. he has you so close now, so why can’t just say that he likes you?

the thoughts dissipate when johnny comes back, smile on his face with three more drinks in hand. johnny quickly notices how your arm is intertwined with jaehyun’s, and jaehyun can physically see the moment johnny comes up with a plan. jaehyun doesn’t bother moving from his spot, though, willing to sacrifice his humility just to have you by his side.

as if jaehyun wasn’t having thoughts of kissing or dating you, the conversation turns back to normal. the three of you chatting, exchanging work gossip and taking drinks from your cups. it’s like every night this happens, it’s a regular routine of talking and him having to fight back his more than friendly thoughts of his friend.

except this time, while johnny’s explaining how he thinks his boss might be having an affair, you cut him off. johnny jokingly scoffs, turning to where you’re looking at. you both squeal, johnny’s hands finding your shoulders, shaking them back and forth. you gasp, “that’s him, right?”

johnny matches your tone, “totally him! i could recognize him from anywhere!”

raising an eyebrow in your direction, jaehyun asks, “and who exactly are we talking about?”

you turn back at him, “that’s jungwoo, someone we knew from college!”

the name sounds familiar to jaehyun. there’s probably been a few times you talked about him during one semester. he’s not sure which one it could be, but there’s a memory of a faint smile on your face while talking about him. it sets a weird feeling in jaehyun’s stomach, and he realizes you look a little too excited at the sight of jungwoo.

jaehyun’s arm is still looped around yours, a small frown on his face, “does everyone and their moms know jungwoo now?”

“he was funny in class and he bought me coffee once,” johnny hums.

you join in, “he is definitely funny and he did good when we worked on a project together.”

jaehyun pointedly glares at johnny when he speaks, but when you speak, he just holds you closer to him. he can see how johnny watches him, being reminded of how he looked like he was planning something earlier. jaehyun sees it now, johnny’s face darkening before he speaks, turning to speak to you, “i think you should go talk to him.”

jaehyun sends a pointed glare at him before looking at you, his eyes widening when he sees the shy smile on your face. you ask, “what if he doesn’t even recognize me?”

“why wouldn’t he? he always looked at you a certain way when you guys talked, he definitely remembers you.”

jaehyun wonders why no one told him more about this “jungwoo” and his apparent more-than-friendly feelings for you? if johnny knows, then does that mean the three of you hung out before without him? how much has jaehyun missed between you and jungwoo? jaehyun silently takes another sip of his drink, his eyes peering over his cup as he watches you get lost in your thoughts.

he thinks you might drop the conversation, but you breath out, “i’ll do it. i’ll go talk to him.”

jaehyun tries his best not to acknowledge the growing jealousy he can feel bubbling up in his throat. he has to bite back a remark that would probably make things worse for himself. he decides to let go of your arm, watching as you easily separate from him. johnny starts hyping you up, giving you encouraging words as jaehyun massages your shoulders.

although jaehyun wishes he could say don’t go over there or i’ll die, he decides to send you a thumbs up before you walk away. his throat burns, and as much as he wants to think it’s from the alcohol, it’s from seeing you walk away from him. you’re walking to someone that isn’t him, sharing your warmth that’s supposed to be jaehyun’s.

he realizes then and there that he shouldn’t be thinking that.

you’re pressed against jaehyun’s bed, his face burying into your neck as he leaves kisses across your skin. you had to tell him to not leave any marks when you feel his teeth nip at your skin, and you could’ve sworn you heard a huff come out of him when you did. he’s practically pinning you down, body barely hovering over yours.

there are days where he gets like this, too desperate to where he doesn’t realize he grips you a little tighter, his voice growing deeper, relieving all of his stress by making you both feel good. you can tell when he gets like this, a quick text of an you up? letting you know what he wants. you’ve grown to learn all his habits.

it does feel a little different today, though. he was quick to greet you, quick to bring you to bed to kiss you. there were no words of how work was hard for him or if he was stressed about something that happened. not that there’s anything wrong with him not saying, but there’s a certain desperation in his movements as his lips trail down your body.

you decide not to ask about it, not wanting to pressure him into talking about something he doesn’t want to talk about. you’re quick to forget about it when he presses a kiss onto your clothed clit. he calls your name, bringing your attention to the heavy gaze he gives you. he murmurs out, “gonna let me see this pretty pussy?”

you nod quickly, lifting your hips up so he can take off your panties. he moves to lay between your thighs, humming when he sees how you’re dripping for him. it’s embarrassing, trying to close your legs. you’re met with his hands keeping them apart, chuckling at the whine you let out.

“didn’t know you could be this wet for me. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think that you need me.”

you let out a small whimper when he traces a finger down your slit, “jaehyun, please, need you to- need you to do something!”

“tell me what you need, pretty. if you don’t tell me, how am i supposed to help?”

“need you, jaehyun! want your fingers, want you to touch me!”

“of course, that’s all i needed to hear.”

you can feel one of his fingers slide into you, your head falling back onto his pillow at the feeling. you clench around his digit, already begging for more, needing him to fill you up. he doesn’t tease you for being so desperate, quickly giving into your pleas as another finger slips inside you. you let out a cry when you feel his thumb circle around your clit.

“such a messy baby, dripping all over my fingers. needed me so bad, right?”

moans of his name tumble out of your lips when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that sends shocks down your spine. your hands are gripping onto the sheets, realizing just how fast you're about to cum. you’re sure he can feel you clench around his digits, especially when you manage to open your eyes and see him looking straight at you.

“gonna cum all over my fingers?”

“fuck, yes! please, wanna cum, need you to let me cum!”

his movements speed up at your words, “go ahead and show me how much you need it.”

you’re quick to fall apart, your orgasm crashing into you. your thighs shut around his hand that’s helping you ride out your orgasm. all you can hear are the sounds you make and the encouragement that jaehyun mumbles out to you. you’re too fucked out to realize that his clean hand intertwines with yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

before you can comment on it, he’s quick to pull away from you, hands moving to undo his pants. you move to try to do it for him, but he swats your hands away with a laugh. after letting you gawk at him for a bit, he takes his boxers off, a whine leaving you at the sight of his leaking cock. he tilts his head at you, “are you gonna let me fill your pretty pussy up?”

“please,” you moan. your legs move to wrap around his waist, bringing his hips flush to yours. his cock ruts against your cunt, still sensitive from your last orgasm. he shushes you when you let out a small gasp, one of his hands soothing the skin of your thigh. you let out a small cry when his tips rubs against your clit, the last of your patience running out.

you can tell it’s getting to him, too. his cheeks and ears are flushed, his eyebrows furrowed as he switches between watching your face and where he’s pressed against you. he bites back a groan when his tip catches at your entrance, trying hard not to push into you right then and there. he puts all his focus on you, “tell me that you want me to fill you up. tell me that you need me to fuck you.”

you whine, your head digging into the pillow. despite his flushed face, there’s a cocky look on his face as he stares down at you. you’re too desperate to try to fight back, losing the battle as you let out a whimper of his name. there’s almost a surprised look in his eyes as he sees you give up this easily, leaning down to give you a quick kiss to your collarbone.

“i know, baby, need you just as bad. gonna fuck you like you need it, okay?”

you whisper out a thank you as he moves to line himself up at your entrance. he slowly slides in, letting out a deep groan as he watches himself sink into you. he fights off his eyes from closing at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his length. you’re no better, writhing around in the sheets, whimpers of his name escaping you.

once he bottoms out, he lets out a grunt, “missed this pussy so much. so fucking warm, so tight, all for me.” you’re quick to agree, hands trying to reach at his shoulders to bring him closer to you. he gives in easily, huffing at how he can feel himself deeper inside you at the new position. he kisses the valley of your breasts, sucking lightly.

he starts off slow, teasing you as he thrusts into you, slow and deep. if you can listen past your own moans and whimpers, you can hear the quiet curses and sounds he lets out, trying to hide how much you’re affecting him. when your nails claw at his back, he breaks, “didn’t even mean to call you this late, i just needed you so bad.”

his words get to you, the fact that he wanted to call you because he was needy makes you clench around him. he can’t help but pick up the pace of his thrusts at the feeling, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. you don’t know what has him so worked up, but if he’s going to make you feel this good, you might have to figure it out.

you need just a little more, your hand trailing down your body to get to your clit. you moan in relief when your fingers circle your clit, clenching tightly around jaehyun’s length. it has his hips stuttering slightly, eyes making their way to your hand. he’s quick to push your hand away to replace it with his own, thumb making tight circles around the nub.

he move up to whisper into your ear, “only i can make you feel this good, right? i know you better than anyone else, even yourself.”

you shake your head at his words, but your hips roll up into his, trying to fit more of him inside you. he chuckles lowly at the sight, a small smile on his face as he watches you. he’s slamming into you now, any patience he had now gone as he nears the edge. he starts, “no? trust me, pretty. i know just how you like to be touched, how you liked to be fucked. i know you so well that i just know that you’re close to cumming.”

tears prick your eyes, because yes, you are close to cumming. you can’t help it, not when he’s fucking you like this. he’s not usually this talkative, choosing rather to focus on getting away from any stresses. but now, he’s letting you in on his thoughts, letting you know what could possibly be nagging at him. you’ll save it for another time.

you’re surrounded by all of him, chest touching his as his warm breath hits your neck. you used to wish for him to kiss you during moments like these, moments where you’re both so close, adrenaline too high. now, all you can do is whine out his name, begging for him to let you cum.

it’s easy for you to let go of any past emotions you had for him, but for jaehyun, he wishes he could kiss you. he wishes that you could want him again, wishes that he didn’t have to fuck you like this. this is what he wanted, though. he just didn’t think it would be this hard. he tries to ignore it by groaning into your ear, “gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock?”

“y-yes, please! you make me feel so good!”

“yeah? show me then, pretty girl. show me how i’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”

at the sound of his voice, you cum. your chest arches up into his, nails digging into his back as you let go. he’s moaning at the feeling, his hips stuttering as he tries to fuck into your tight pussy. he has to bite down onto your shoulder at the feeling, holding back just how bad he wants to cum inside you.

when you start whining, he’s quick to pull out of your heat, quickly jerking himself off to the sight of how fucked out you look. with a moan of your name, his cum shoots out over your stomach, his cheeks a pretty pink as he does.

it’s quiet in his room, save for the deep breaths you both let out. he’s just staring down at you, saving the image of you covered in his cum in his mind. you don’t mind, too tired to notice the slight adoration in his eyes as he stares. it is embarrassing though, covering your face with your arm as you tell him to move.

he blinks away his thoughts, chuckling at your embarrassment. he pats your thigh, moving away as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. he’s being careful with you, his movements slow as the towel moves around your body. there’s a soft look in his eyes, a lazy smile on his face as he indirectly touches you. he’s quick to throw the towel into his laundry basket, even quicker to join you in bed.

in a motion that almost seems too soft for the fact that he just fucked you into his sheets, he pulls your back into his chest. one of his hands makes it to your side, letting it sit there. his breaths are evening out, fanning across your shoulder that he nuzzles into. his touches are hesitant against your skin, almost as if he was debating on whether or not he could touch you like this.

you almost want to push his hand away or try to make some space between the two of you. friends should not be holding each other like this, friends should not be letting each other bask in the warmth of their bodies. friends shouldn’t even be having sex, not like this.

but you figure just this once, you’ll let yourself have this moment. it’s a bit selfish, getting to have jaehyun like this. you wished he’d hold you like this every single time. you think if he did, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from falling back in love with him. there’s no way for you to win when it comes to jaehyun.

as he presses a kiss and murmurs a goodnight into your shoulder, you make a promise to yourself: you won’t ever lose yourself over jaehyun again.

jaehyun realizes how little time he’s been spending with you recently.

he’s been hearing more about this jungwoo guy. you’ve told him can’t hang out, i’m with jungwoo right now or i’ll be hanging out with jungwoo later. you’ve been so busy catching up with jungwoo that jaehyun hasn’t had the time to talk to you. no more eating or shopping together, not when jungwoo’s around.

jaehyun doesn’t want to say he’s necessarily jealous of the relationship you two share, but can’t say it doesn’t sit right with him. jaehyun is still your friend after all, and he doesn’t like hearing you talk so much about him. during the small chances jaehyun gets to talk to you, you always slip in one mention about jungwoo.

what about jaehyun? what does jungwoo have that he doesn’t? he could totally treat and touch you better than jungwoo ever could. he practically does already. he can’t help but let these little thoughts enter his mind. if jungwoo’s in the way, how is jaehyun supposed to show you how much he likes you?

it’s one day that you’re both splayed across his couch, your legs resting over his as his thumb smoothes across the skin of your thigh when jungwoo is brought up again. out of the corner of his eye, he can see you smile and lightly laugh at your phone. jaehyun, being the nosy person that he is, can’t help but try to reach over to see what you’re laughing at.

you’re quick to push him away, chuckling at the sight of the small pout on his face. he tries again, and you decide it’s probably better just to sit beside him instead. you begrudgingly show him your phone, and he squints his eyes so he can read your screen better.

it’s quiet for a few moments before he hums at the texts between you and jungwoo. it’s a conversation funny enough to make you laugh. he tries not to roll his eyes at the cutesy way jungwoo texts, him being clearly interested in you. he doesn’t want to say anything about it though, doesn’t want you to know that jungwoo bothers him for reasons that he shouldn’t be thinking.

“he’s funny,” jaehyun muses, trying to stop the snarky remark he wants to say.

“way funnier than you,” you tease, watching him deflate back to his side of the couch.

“there’s been times where you’ve laughed at my jokes though, like laughed laughed.”

“i was either super drunk or bored out of my mind, so those don’t count.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes at you, deciding to ignore your words, choosing to believe that you think he’s the funniest man ever. he’s been finding himself having little competitions with jungwoo that only he’s a part of. jungwoo is funny? jaehyun is funnier. jungwoo is cute? jaehyun is cute, too, just give him a minute.

jaehyun tries to boil it down to the fact he’s always been competitive, but he knows it’s more than that. in his head, it doesn’t matter what jungwoo does better than jaehyun because right now, you're in his apartment, on his couch, deciding to spend meaningless time with him.

“what have you both been doing? i haven’t seen you at all this week.” he hates how his voice sounds, a little too clingy for his liking, but he hopes you don’t hear it.

“nothing, really. we’ve just been going out to eat or hanging out when we have the time.”

jaehyun figures you both somehow have all the time in the world in order to be hanging out this much. he makes his voice whiny before speaking, “i miss you, please don’t leave me forever.”

you laugh at the sound of his voice, pulling your legs away from him. “you’re acting like me spending time with jungwoo is gonna kill you.”

“what’s killing me is the fact i don’t get to see you that much anymore,” he grumbles.

he notices that you don’t respond right away, and when he goes to look at you, your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a certain look in your eyes. did he say too much? before he can start panicking, you turn towards him, “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“pretend like you miss me when we already spend a lot of time together. you literally called me up the other night.”

jaehyun lets out a breath, “sorry, but you’re still my friend. i do miss you, i’m jealous that jungwoo gets to see you that much.” although he says it jokingly, there’s definitely truth behind his words. it might not mean much to you, but the fact that jungwoo gets to see you in a way that only jaehyun feels like he deserves, it hurts him.

“i’m gonna tell jungwoo you’re being mean to him,” you huff.

“tell him then,” jaehyun slings an arm around your waist, “let him know that he needs to learn how to share.”

“first of all,” you slide his arm off of you, “don’t say it like that because you make it sound like i’m an object. two, i think you might need to learn how to share.”

he hums, “you were mine first.”

“i was never yours,” you grouch, “you made that clear when you rejected me.”

he can tell you’re joking, but he can feel his blood run cold at your words. it’s a reminder to him that the rejection is still clear in your mind, reminding him just how much he hurt you. it will always be a reminder of how he messed up what could've been a good relationship with you if he just had more time.

he can’t blame you for his own mistake. he can’t.

in the best way he can, he puts his hands together and grovels, “please, can you find it in your kind soul to forgive me?”

you scoff, rightfully so, before grabbing your phone to take a picture of him. you’re quiet for a few moments more, jaehyun knowing that you’re about to post the picture on your instagram story for everyone to see, including jungwoo. he doesn’t want to stop you, equal parts of wanting to show off how you’re hanging out with him and a little bit of embarrassment.

you set your phone down, placing your hands on top of his, “you can stop. now i kinda just feel bad for you. you do deserve it, though.”

jaehyun doesn’t move, staring at you with a certain look in his eyes. he can tell you right here, he thinks. he’s thought about what he’d say if he were to confess to you almost too much. he’s practiced his lines before, thinking up the perfect way he’d confess. it almost feels right to do it now, clearing his throat and-

your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from him. he grimaces when you show him the notification. what seems to be jungwoo’s account liking your story, the story that has jaehyun begging for your apology posted on it. you sigh dreamily, “told you he’s funny.”

“not funny when it’s jungwoo.”

“jaehyun!”

you find yourself drinking at jaehyun’s place again.

it’s a slow night, both of you had stressful days. you choose to stay in jaehyun’s kitchen, laughing at unfunny words and pouring more wine for each other as the night rolls on. you didn’t mean to stay over so late, but jaehyun practically begged you to spend some time with him. you were quick to say yes under the guise that all he wanted to do was be with his friend.

before the night went too deep, you texted jungwoo saying that you probably won’t be able to call him tonight. he responds quick, a have fun! and i hope you sleep well :) flashing on your screen. you smile warmly at the messages, but quickly notice jaehyun also staring at them. you push at his shoulders, whining over how he’s invading your privacy.

his cheeks are rosy from the wine, a sly smile on his face as he asks, “how am i not supposed to look when i see you smiling like that.”

“you’re supposed to be a good friend and support me in my times of need!”

he puts his hands up in defense, that annoying smile still looking back at you, “thank you for being so vulnerable around me. and who’s to say i don’t support you in your times of need?”

you hear the double meaning in his words, swatting him away, “hey! you’re actually so gross.”

he just chuckles at your words, enjoying how easily you get embarrassed at his teasing. it’s been happening more often, and jaehyun can’t help but piece together that it might be because of jungwoo. jaehyun feels that you might be slipping away right in front of him, and he can’t really do anything to stop it.

you aren’t completely unaware of jaehyun trying to get you to hang out with him. he’s been sending more texts recently, nothing really important being said. you’re not sure how obvious you’re being with jungwoo, but you’re sure that jaehyun has at least an inkling on how you feel about him. which leads you to believe that jaehyun might be a little jealous.

it was never your intention to make him jealous. that night when you first saw jungwoo again was all unplanned. you never thought you would end up talking to him, never thought you’d like the way he treated you. he was so sweet to you, always trying to take care of your every need when prompted.

it’s bad to compare, but you realize that jaehyun’s only being so nice to you now is because jungwoo’s being nice to you.

that’s not to say that jaehyun was never not nice to you, but you could tell that it’s a different kind of nice when it comes to him. the relationship you have with jaehyun now feels more like a bandaid to cover all of the bad things that have happened, no one bothering to address it. you don’t want to either way, no use in bringing up what shouldn’t be talked about.

even now, as you’re here with him in his kitchen, feeling the cold air from the open window drift in, there’s unspoken words between the two of you. you can hear the music playing from his speakers in the other room, the melody sticking in your head. it’s weird to think that you would’ve never gotten to see jaehyun like this if you didn’t stay with him.

it’s quiet for a few moments, apart from jaehyun humming along to the song that’s playing. it’s dark, his warm lights low as they cover the both of you. it’s nice like this, a little drunk and a little quiet; you don’t have to think about anything you don’t want to. you don’t think before you speak, “i do miss you, too, you know.”

“yeah?”

“you’re still someone i appreciate, even after everything.”

he doesn’t respond, and you think he’s taking in your words. you’re not sure why you didn’t specify ‘friend’ but you know he knows better than to have his hopes up anymore. you see that the tips of his ears are pink, the lazy smile on his face showing that he’s a bit tipsy too. he’s not looking at you, you’re not really sure what he’s thinking-

“i think… i think i love you.”

“what?”

his eyes immediately snap to yours, widening as he realizes what slipped out of his mouth. slightly panicking, he stands up, trying to backtrack, “no, i- look-”

“what did you say?”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it-”

“what does that even mean? you can’t just randomly say you love me and then take it back?”

he chooses not to answer right away, eyes darting all around as he tries to come up with an answer. he can fix this, he can help himself, it’s just… he doesn’t really want to. it’s almost selfish with how he feels a little relief with his confession. “since you’re asking,” he starts, “i… i like you. i’ve liked you for a while now.”

when he looks at you, the anger from before is still there. you’re biting down on your lip, hands balled at your sides as his words hit you. “jaehyun… do you know how wrong that is? since when? after you rejected me?”

“no, i- fine. yes, after i rejected you. i know it’s wrong and i know i shouldn’t but it clicked for me, even if it was a little late.”

“a little late? jaehyun, you’re telling me this after you know i’m talking to someone. you knew that there’d be a high chance that i wouldn’t feel the same. i know you’re not that dumb.”

“but that’s how you felt when you asked me out? even if there was a chance that i would say no to you, you still did it, right? that’s exactly how i feel, how bad would it be if i tried?”

a shocked laugh leaves you, “that isn’t fair! you’re not being fair! you’re not thinking about how i would feel knowing this!”

you think he knows that it’s not the same between you and him. you confessed because you genuinely thought you had a chance with him. jaehyun’s only confessing because you’re talking to jungwoo.

“i should’ve never let this happen! fuck, i knew if i kept talking to you, something bad would happen.”

he scoffs, wanting to call out your bluff. “i never forced you to come over and talk. you weren’t forced to come over and have sex with me. you could’ve stopped this at any time, but you kept coming back to me.”

you let out an exasperated sound, “we were friends, jaehyun. friends hang out and talk, that’s literally all we were doing.”

he snaps, “friends don’t fuck. friends don’t hold each other after sex. you can’t say that you didn’t feel anything between us. that’s the whole reason i called you for sex the other day, i needed you."

you can hear how loud your heart is pounding in your chest. your head hurts already, the faint song playing in the other room only adding to the pain. there’s nothing more that you want to do than just go home. you wish you could’ve been more clear, you wished you would’ve drawn a clearer line between the two of you. now you’re stuck like this.

you sigh out, mumbling into the quiet air, “if i had known that you were gonna be like this, i would’ve made sure to end whatever we had as soon as possible.”

“if you never met jungwoo, then this probably never would’ve happened. i could’ve asked you out the normal way, but you kind of forced me into drunkenly confessing to you.”

you send a glare straight at him, “do not assume how i would feel in any situation. the fact that you didn’t even want to tell me that you liked me says everything i need to know.”

“how was i supposed to tell the girl i rejected that i like her now?”

“exactly! don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

he shrugs, closing himself off before you can start up again. you know how he gets, pretending that none of this really matters to him. it’s childish, and you know he knows it. you don’t know what else to do. if he can’t sort himself out, there’s no reason for you to be here anymore.

you’re quick to get up and out of the kitchen. he doesn’t look at you at first, but as soon as he hears you pack your stuff into your bag and your car keys in hands, he follows right after you. there’s a startled look on his face, you can tell that he didn’t think you would leave him. you watch as he raises a hand to stop you, but quickly puts it down after some thought.

you let out a breath, “i’m leaving. you can decide if you want to pull yourself together and grow up if you wanna talk. if not, don’t even bother texting me.”

he doesn’t try to argue, watching as you walk out his door. he can’t feel anything, doesn’t really want to do anything other than lay in bed. he walks over to his bedroom, the sound of a familiar slow song getting louder as he walks closer. he makes it inside, pausing the song before laying down onto his back. it’s quiet again.

he just ruined everything.

for the first time in a while, your life feels kinda normal.

there’s not a lot for you to worry about if you ignore a few things. work is fine, your friends are celebrating your freedom, and jungwoo comforts you in every way possible. you realize that jungwoo might’ve been everything you’ve been looking for in a person. he stays close when you need him and gives you space when you ask.

you tell jungwoo that you’re happy to have him right now. you tell him that you’re sorry for acting a little weird recently (he quickly denies your claim). you don’t tell him exactly what happened with jaehyun, but you can assume he at least knows a little. he doesn’t try to pry it out of you, choosing not to remind you of something you don’t want to think of.

and you’re not thinking about it. you haven’t gotten any texts from jaehyun, so why should you care?

as much as you don’t want to admit it, it does feel weird not having jaehyun in your life. you didn’t realize how much you thought about him or how much time was dedicated to being with him. it didn’t seem to matter at first because you thought it was because you both were friends, but you realize he was kind of stringing you along.

there’s a lot of time you have to yourself now. you don’t have to worry about jaehyun calling you randomly throughout the day or one of his spontaneous meetups. you don’t have to think about his you up? texts during the late hours of the night. you don’t have to think about any hurt he’s caused you in the past. none of it will mean anything anymore.

until you get a call from johnny.

“hey, johnny. what’s up?”

he skips right past your greeting, “why doesn’t jaehyun want to hang out with you?”

you’re shocked for multiple reasons. one, of course, johnny already knows your business. two, how dare jaehyun say he doesn’t want to hang out with you. you scoff, “what exactly did he say?”

“he said he was busy, but, like i know he’s not gonna be busy. and that obviously means that something is going on between you two.”

you want to scream into your phone’s microphone. jaehyun doesn’t deserve to set the boundary between you two. he was the one who messed it up in the first place, so why is he the one trying to put distance between you two? “johnny,” you start, “do you promise not to tell anyone about what i’m about to tell you? you can’t even tell jaehyun.”

he lets out a little shocked sound and you can imagine him sitting up straight. he whispers into the call, “what is it?”

“the other night, jaehyun told me he likes me. actually, in his own words, he said he thinks he loves me.”

he gasps loudly into the phone, “what? are you sure? like jaehyun said that? jaehyun?”

“exactly! it doesn’t even seem like something he’d do! he said it was because we were both drinking.”

“that doesn’t even matter,” johnny sighs, “you don’t go around saying that to your friend, especially not the friend you rejected before.”

“you get it! that’s literally what i told him! i need to sit down with you so we can discuss this.”

it’s quiet on the other side of the call, and by his silence, you can tell he’s planning something. it’s never good when he does, so you try to call out his name before he can think any more, but you’re too late.

“i think you should sit down with him to talk about what happened.”

you sarcastically laugh, “he hasn’t even texted me, there’s no way i’m talking to him first.”

“i didn’t say you should text him first, i’m just saying that you both should talk. you can’t just leave this off on bad terms.”

“and if i want to?”

“i know you don’t. plus, it feels like i’m a child whose parents are going through divorce, so you need to fix this.”

you whine into the phone, which causes johnny to laugh on the other end. he’s right, you don’t want this to end badly with jaehyun. even if you both decide to never talk again, you don’t want to have a strained relationship with him. after a few moments, you answer him, ��fine, but don’t have your hopes up because even i don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

“okay, perfect, because i already kinda convinced jaehyun to meet up with you.”

“johnny!”

he defends himself, “like i said, i’m basically seeing you guys go through a divorce. please bring my family back together.”

“whatever, do what you want to do.” johnny cheers from the other end of the call, quickly letting out an you won’t be disappointed! before he hangs up, not even letting you say goodbye. as much as you try to hide it, a part of you is happy at the thought of jaehyun wanting to work things out with you.

even if you don’t know what you want just yet, you’ll get yourself ready.

you realize you’re no longer happy when a few days later, jaehyun shows up to your front doorstep, a frown painted on his face.

you almost want to slam the door on him when he speaks. his voice is quiet, “why did you tell johnny you didn’t want to hang out with me?”

as soon as he stops talking, it all clicks in your head. johnny tricked you both. you’ll have to get mad at him later, but for right now, you have to deal with jaehyun who’s pretending he didn’t just ignore you for almost two weeks. you reluctantly let him in, watching as he walks in almost too normally.

no one bothers talking, no one trying to make the first move. you’re staring him down and he tries to ignore the hard stare you’re giving him. while you’re glaring at him, you can see how he looks more tired than usual. the faint lines under his eyes give it away, and when he does finally make eye contact with you, it’s soft, no anger behind his eyes.

you step back, breathing in before speaking, “let’s go talk in my room.”

he sends you a soft smile, not needing you to guide him to your room. he knows the whole layout by now, feeling more like he’s leading you to your own room. he opens the door for you, choosing to let you walk in first. it’s awkward when you have to motion for him to step in, watching him not really knowing what to do.

you move to sit on your bed, and he moves to sit at your desk. it’s not as awkward as it is tense. you don’t know what to say, you didn’t plan on him coming over. his eyes are darting across your room, his eyebrows furrowed as he presumably tries to start the conversation.

“how are you doing?”

you roll your eyes at the simple question, “i’ve been doing fine. i feel like my life’s been a lot calmer since that day.”

he leans forward in his seat, “really? i feel like i’ve lost ten years of my life.”

deserved, you think. you gather all your thoughts before speaking, “i think the days that i spent without thinking about you really changed how i feel. i realized just how much i was entangled in your life. it wasn’t good for me.”

he looks off to the side, taking in your words. you see the hurt that settles in his face, you see how it’s going to be burned into his memory. he smacks his lips, “i think for me it’s the opposite. i realized during this time without you really solidified my feelings. i can’t lie and say that my feelings have changed, because they haven’t.”

you feel anger bubbling up inside you, but you can’t do that today. you take a few breaths, calming yourself down as you focus on what you’re most curious about, “why did you start liking me?”

“i don’t even know. i know it’s shitty of me to realize how much you mean to me after i said no to your confession. i understand why you said no to me.”

“i’m sorry for getting mad so quickly. it was just so out of the blue, i never would’ve expected you to say that.”

you pat the spot on your bed next to you, calling his name softly. he slowly moves to your side, his eyes focused on his hands splayed across his knees. after all this time without you, he wishes he could hold your hand in his, even if he tried to play it off as a joke. it’s been too long without your touch. you took away the only thing that kept him close to you.

“can i ask something?”

he nods, putting all of his focus on you. it feels intense when he does, you haven’t had him this close in a long time. you clear your throat, “this wasn’t all because of jungwoo, right?”

he sighs, his jaw clenching as he thinks of the right words to say. he’s deep in thought, and you almost want to tell him to drop it all together. he decides to speak up, “honestly? seeing you both together kind of made me realize my feelings. i was losing you to him, and i really couldn’t handle it. i’m not trying to ruin whatever you have going on with him, i promise.”

you don’t know what else to say. so much of this could've been prevented if you kept an eye out for yourself. you also wouldn’t want to go back and change what you’ve done. you don’t regret ever being jaehyun’s friend, you don’t regret all the memories you’ve made with him.

“so, this… this is really over then?”

you shrug, “i would think so.”

it’s quiet for a few moments, the both of you letting the thought seep in. “this” has never been defined between the two of you, but you can assume it’s almost everything you do together. what you’re feeling now is close to how you felt when he first rejected you. what’s different now is that you can’t help but feel just a little relieved, ending something that probably should’ve never happened.

in another world, you think you would’ve reciprocated jaehyun’s feelings. it would’ve been easy, pieces easily falling into place as you both fall for each other. it’s almost as if it were supposed to be something that was natural. but jaehyun had given the time for you to move on, and you did. it was too late for him to realize his own feelings.

“we can still be friends if you can handle that.”

he laughs incredulously, “if i can handle that? i’m a grown man, thank you very much.”

“yeah? well i think if i were you, i wouldn’t be able to hold back my feelings,” you tease.

he grumbles, “too soon, you’re too mean.”

jaehyun watches a pretty smile adorn your face, and if it weren’t for the current circumstances, he would tell you how pretty you look. he keeps the thought to himself though, opting to ask, “how about one last drink together as friends who are a little more than friends?”

you hum, pretending to think about it. you watch worry wash over his face, and you do feel bad a little bit. “one more time, just for your sake. you look like you might start crying.”

he groans as you walk away to get some wine for the both of you. you’re by yourself for a few moments as you pour the drinks. you feel awkward in here by yourself, left with thoughts and memories of all the things you’ve done together. all the times you’ve had sex, all the times where he’s felt like your boyfriend, but none of it holds to him being your friend.

you don’t know if you can continue being friends with him.

it would be unfair to jungwoo. you haven’t told him the exact dynamics of how your friendship with jaehyun worked, but you can assume he knows most of it.

you return to the sight of jaehyun looking around your room. he’s been in here too many times to count, and yet seeing him here now, it’s weird. he feels out of place, he feels almost like a stranger in your own apartment. despite the history you have with him, it seemed to fall apart so easily as soon as conflict hit.

he thanks you quietly when you hand him the glass. you take a small sip of your drink, watching jaehyun do the same from the corner of your eye. after the drink, he chooses to speak, “so how are you and jungwoo?’

“that’s how you want to start our small talk?” you splutter out.

“i mean, can i not be interested in my friends' love life?”

well it’s hard when you were directly involved in it. you shrug, taking another small sip before speaking, “i’m… really happy that i’m talking to him. he takes care of me, he’s always asking how i’m doing. it’s nice being with him.”

you can tell jaehyun is trying not to let your words affect him, “are you both… officially dating yet?”

his words make you shy, your facing feeling hot at the idea of dating jungwoo. brushing off his words, you laugh, “no! not yet, at least. i think i’d say yes if he asked me out.”

he nods, his head hanging heavy, hand twirling the wine in his glass. you know what he’s thinking, you don’t need to ask him. you can’t be his, you won’t ever be his. you think that this was never supposed to work out, no matter how hard you tried or how much you think he could’ve loved you. he wasn’t meant for you.

“okay, one more thing.”

he nods, turning his attention back on you.

“did you really mean it back then, like, when you said that you weren’t ready for a relationship?”

“yes, i was scared. i think back then, even though i didn’t realize it, i also had feelings for you. but it was… it just wasn’t the right time for me. even though i liked spending so much time with you, there were things i wanted to figure out first.”

you cock your head to the side, “like?”

he hums in thought for a bit, trying to remember times from so long ago. thinking back, you remember how you felt old, you felt like you were already an adult. but he’s right, there were still things you didn’t know about yourself, and you wonder if dating jaehyun would’ve stopped you from figuring them out.

“i guess… mostly wanting to decide what i wanted to do with my life. now that i’ve somewhat settled, i feel more confident in what i want. even though it came at the worst time, i was so sure that i could see you in my future.”

the confession doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. you can relate to how he feels. for the longest time, you felt that you needed jaehyun in your life. it wasn’t until after he confessed to you that you saw that there’s more to your life than him. you’re thankful for all the time you’ve had with him, but there’s still so much more for you to do.

it’s like this for a few more hours, the sunset bleeding into the night time. you both have a few more drinks, jaehyun eventually turns on music playing on his phone. you feel a lot better now. you only want the best for jaehyun, and you think that this is the best for the both of you.

jaehyun has to leave at some point, one of the last buses back to his place coming soon. you don’t want him to go, you don’t want him to leave the comfort of your bedroom. there’s a small part of you that’s scared that you’ll never see him here again. you try to remind him that this is what you both need, clear, distinct boundaries.

you walk him to your door, “you’ll text me once you're at your apartment, right?”

he shuffles over, “yeah, i will. johnny will make sure i get there safe.”

you nod, opening the door for him. he walks out, watching you with an unsure look on his face. a part of you wants to let him in, wants to let him give you one last kiss. it’s wrong, your grip on your door getting tighter at the thought. he still has a strong pull on you, your hand wanting to reach for his.

it’s not meant to be.

“goodnight, jaehyun. i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“alright, goodnight. i… i’ll be here if you ever need me. i’ll wait.”

you smile, “i know. thank you, get back safe.”

he nods, waving you off before he walks away. you close the door, locking it behind you. it’s quiet now, no soft conversations, no laughing, just the sound of your feet pattering on the floor.

you don’t really feel like crying. you don’t feel like there’s something missing inside you. jaehyun used to be a big part of you, but as time went on, he took up less and less space.

there’s more important things to worry about than someone who couldn’t make time for you. you have time to figure things out now, you have time to figure out what you really want, whether that’s jungwoo or someone else.

you’ve never felt better.

as jaehyun scrolls through instagram, he sees a post from you. it’s been a while since he’s seen you in person, so he’ll take anything he can get. the first few photos are of you, and the next few are pictures of things he assumes you found pretty. the last photo is what makes him pause, a photo of what he can only assume is jungwoo holding your hand.

he checks the comments, some of your friends replying with different emojis, all to tease you with. they all seem to know about your budding relationship with jungwoo. jaehyun’s glad that it’s going well for the both of you. it’s what you deserve after what he put you through.

he hung out with you and johnny the other day. as much as everyone tried to be normal, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he changed the dynamics of your friendship. you and johnny were the same, easily laughing and joking around with each other. it’s not exactly awkward when you and jaehyun talk, but the air around you is certainly different.

it’s what should’ve happened, at the start of it all you both should’ve set rules. jaehyun realizes that he would’ve never gotten to see you in the ways he did. warm lights from his kitchen painting over your skin, or when the light from the moon would shine over your body while he holds you close. he wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

you were all he had, and losing you is something he will always regret. he knows that you’re doing good now, not just with jungwoo. he doesn’t want to come in and ruin what you’ve built up. it doesn’t matter how much he wants to hold you in his arms or kiss you, you’re better off without him.

he just wishes he had more time.

a/n: hey people... what did we think of this ending... jaehyun is my friend i do not hate him i like him... anyways i hoped u like this... it took longer than i thought it would but im glad its out HOORAYYY

taglist: @froggyforyoongi @the-universe-in-you-jjh @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @haechology @jaehyunful @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @diorcities @hrts4doie @ohmytyong @ecvm5236 @faeryus @riri4andy @rjtulips @missesgirl @shiorebirth @sugaringgcaramel @camomillie @ninicornposts @il02isa @sincerelyneo @perfumejamal @justhgiwo @lovingyoulovinme2 @babyriannie @eunseoksimp @jeonreal @mawnehkah @shoetaroshoe (thank u all omg 🫂❤️)

#nct smut #nct fic #nct 127 smut #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenarios

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nellasbookplanet · 10 months ago

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Book recs: black science fiction

As february and black history month nears its end, if you're a reader let's not forget to read and appreciate books by black authors the rest of the year as well! If you're a sci-fi fan like me, perhaps this list can help find some good books to sink your teeth into.

Bleak dystopias, high tech space adventures, alien monsters, alternate dimensions, mash-ups of sci-fi and fantasy - this list features a little bit of everything for genre fiction fans!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor

Something massive and alien crashes into the ocean off the coast of Nigeria. Three people, a marine biologist, a rapper, and a soldier, find themselves at the center of this presence, attempting to shepherd an alien ambassador as chaos spreads in the city. A strange novel that mixes the supernatural with the alien, shifts between many different POVs, and gives a one of a kind look at a possible first contact.

Nubia: The Awakening (Nubia series) by Omar Epps & Clarence A. Hayes

Young adult. Three teens living in the slums of an enviromentally ravaged New York find that something powerful is awakening within them. They’re all children of refugees of Nubia, a utopian African island nation that sank as the climate worsened, and realize now that their parents have been hiding aspects of their heritage from them. But as they come into their own, someone seeks to use their abilities to his own ends, against their own people.

The Scourge Between Stars by Ness Brown

Novella. After having failed at establishing a new colony, starship Calypso fights to make it back to Earth. Acting captain Jacklyn Albright is already struggling against the threats of interstellar space and impending starvation when the ship throws her a new danger: something is hiding on the ship, picking off her crew one by one in bloody, gruesome ways. A quick, excellent read if you want some good Alien vibes.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Includes darker examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson*

Utterly unique in world-building, story, and prose, Midnight Robber follows young Tan-Tan and her father, inhabitants of the Carribean-colonized planet of Toussaint. When her father commits a terrible crime, he’s exiled to a parallel version of the same planet, home to strange aliens and other human exiles. Tan-Tan, not wanting to lose her father, follows with him. Trapped on this new planet, he becomes her worst nightmare. Enter this book with caution, as it contains graphic child sexual abuse.

Rosewater (The Wormwood trilogy) by Tade Thompson

In Nigeria lies Rosewater, a city bordering on a strange, alien biodome. Its motives are unknown, but it’s having an undeniable effect on the surrounding life. Kaaro, former criminal and current psychic agent for the government, is one of the people changed by it. When other psychics like him begin getting killed, Kaaro must take it upon himself to find out the truth about the biodome and its intentions.

Do You Dream of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh

Young adult. A century ago, an astronomer discovered a possibly Earth-like planet. Now, a team of veteran astronauts and carefully chosen teenagers are preparing to embark on a twenty-three year trip to get there. But space is dangerous, and the team has no one to rely on but each other if - or when - something goes wrong. An introspective slowburn of a story, this focuses more on character work than action.

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord

After the planet Sadira is left uninhabitable, its few survivors are forced to move to a new world. On Cygnus Beta, they work to rebuild their society alongside their distant relatives of the planet, while trying to preserve what remains of their culture. Focused less on hard science or action, The Best of All Possible Worlds is more about culture, romance and the ethics and practicalities of telepathy.

Mirage (Mirage duology) by Somaiya Daud

Young adult. Eighteen-year-old Amani lives on an isolated moon under the oppressive occupation of the Valthek empire. When Amani is abducted, she finds herself someplace wholly unexpected: the royal palace. As it turns out, she's nearly identical to the half-Valthek, and widely hated, princess Maram, who is in need of a body double. If Amani ever wants to make it back home or see her people freed from oppression, she will have to play her role as princess perfectly. While sci-fi, this one more has the vibe of a fantasy.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Where It Rains in Color by Denise Crittendon

The planet Swazembi is a utopia of color and beauty, the most beautiful of all its citizens being the Rare Indigo. Lileala was just named Rare Indigo, but her strict yet pampered life gets upended when her beautiful skin is struck by a mysterious sickness, leaving it covered in scars and scabs. Meanwhile, voices start to whisper in Lileala's mind, bringing to the surface a past long forgotten involving her entire society.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah*

In a near future America, inmates on death row or with life sentences in private prisons can choose to participate in death matches for entertainment. If they survive long enough - a rare case indeed - they regain their freedom. Among these prisoners are Loretta Thurwar and Hamara "Hurricane Staxxx" Stacker, partners behind the scenes and close to the deadline of a possible release - if only they can survive for long enough. As the game continues to be stacked against them and protests mount outside, two women fight for love, freedom, and their own humanity. Chain-Gang All-Stars is bleak and unflinching as well as genuinely hopeful in its portrayal of a dark but all to real possible future.

Parable of the Sower (Earthseed duology) by Octavia E. Butler*

In a bleak future, Lauren Olamina lives with her family in a gated community, one of few still safe places in a time of chaos. When her community falls, Lauren is forced on the run. As she makes her way toward possible safety, she picks up a following of other refugees, and sows the seeds of a new ideology which may one day be the saviour of mankind. Very bleak and scarily realistic, Parable of the Sower will make you both fear for mankind and regain your hope for humanity.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

War Girls (War Girls duology) by Tochi Onyebuchi

In an enviromentally fraught future, the Nigerian civil war has flared back up, utilizing cybernetics and mechs to enhance its soldiers. Two sisters, by bond if not by blood, are separated and end up on differing sides of the struggle. Brutal and dark, with themes of dehumanization of soldiers through cybernetics that turn them into weapons, and the effect and trauma this has on them.

The Space Between Worlds (The Space Between Worlds duology) by Micaiah Johnson

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s a catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying. As such she has a very special job in traveling to these worlds, hoping to keep her position long enough to gain citizenship in the walled-off Wiley City, away from the wastes where she grew up. But her job is dangerous, especially when she gets on the tracks of a secret that threatens the entire multiverse. Really cool worldbuilding and characters, also featuring a sapphic lead!

The Fifth Season (The Broken Eart trilogy) by N.K. Jemisin*

In a world regularly torn apart by natural disasters, a big one finally strikes and society as we know it falls, leaving people floundering to survive in a post apocalyptic world, its secrets and past to be slowly revealed. We get to follow a mother as she races through this world to find and save her missing daughter. While mostly fantasy in genre, this series does have some sci-fi flavor, and is genuinely some of the best books I've ever read, please read them.

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings*

In an alternate version of our present, the witch hunt never ended. Women are constantly watched and expected to marry young so their husbands can keep an eye on them. When she was fourteen, Josephine's mother disappeared, leveling suspicions at both mother and daughter of possible witchcraft. Now, nearly a decade and a half later, Jo, in trying to finally accept her missing mother as dead, decides to follow up on a set of seemingly nonsensical instructions left in her will. Features a bisexual lead!

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

The Summer Prince by Alaya Dawn Johnson*

Young adult. Young artist June Costa lives in Palmares Tres, a beautiful, matriarchal city relying heavily on tradition, one of which is the Summer King. The most recent Summer King is Enki, a bold boy and fellow artist. With him at her side, June seeks to finally find fame and recognition through her art, breaking through the generational divide of her home. But growing close to Enki is dangerous, because he, like all Summer Kings, is destined to die.

The Blood Trials (The Blood Gifted duology) by N.E. Davenport

After Ikenna's grandfather is assasinated, she is convinced that only a member of the Praetorian guard, elite soldiers, could’ve killed him. Seeking to uncover his killer, Ikenna enrolls in a dangerous trial to join the Praetorians which only a quarter of applicants survive. For Ikenna, the stakes are even higher, as she's hiding forbidden blood magic which could cost her her life. Mix of fantasy and sci-fi. While I didn’t super vibe with this one, I suspect fans of action packed romantasy will enjoy it.

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

1960s classic. Rydra Wong is a space captain, linguist and poet who is set on learning to understand Babel-17, a language which is humanity's only clue at the enemy in an interstaller war. But Babel-17 is more than just a language, and studying it may change Rydra forever.

Pet (Pet duology) by Akwaeke Emezi

Young adult novella. Jam lives in a utopian future that has been freed of monsters and the systems which created and upheld them. But then she meets Pet, a dangerous creature claiming to be hunting a monster still among them, prepared to stop at nothing to find them. While I personally found the word-building in Pet lacking, it deftly handles dark subjects of what makes a human a monster.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Lion's Blood by Steven Barnes

Alternate history in which Africans colonized South America while vikings colonized the North. The vikings sell abducted Celts and Franks as slaves to the South, one of which is eleven-years-old Irish boy Aidan O'Dere, who was just bought by a Southern plantation owner.

The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow

Young adult dystopia. Ellie lives in a future where humanity is under the control of the alien Ilori. All art is forbidden, but Ellie keeps a secret library; when one of her books disappears, she fears discovery and execution. M0Rr1S, born in a lab and raised to be emotionless, finds her library, and though he should deliver her for execution, he finds himself obsessed with human music. Together the two embark on a roadtrip which may save humanity.

Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

Lelah lives in future Botswana, but despite money and fame she finds herself in an unhappy marriage, her body controlled via microchip by her husband. After burying the body of an accidental hit and run, Lelah's life gets worse when the ghost of her victim returns to enact bloody vengeance.

Orleans by Sherri L. Smith

Young adult. Fen de la Guerre, living in a quarantined Gulf Coast left devestated by storms and sickness, is forced on the run with a newborn after her tribe is attacked. Hoping to get the child to safety, Fen seeks to get to the other side of the wall, she teams up with a scientist from the outside the quarantine zone.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

The Splinter in the Sky by Kemi Ashing-Giwa

Space opera. Enitan just wants to live a quiet life in the aftermath of a failed war of conquest, but when her lover is killed and her sister kidnapped, she's forced to leave her plans behind to save her sister.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The City We Became (Great Cities duology) by N.K. Jemisin, The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 4 months ago

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Teach Me How To Play Coach Miller

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Austin Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 3,275 Summary: You're home alone, relishing a lazy day when your hot neighbor knocks on your door. Seems his TV is out and he really wants to watch the Rangers game. You know nothing about baseball... maybe he can teach you a thing or two? Warnings: smut, porn with very little plot, age gap (reader's college aged, Joel's in his 30's), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v, riding, baseball terms, Joel's a filthy liar but it benefits all of us, mentions of voyeurism and masturbation, big balls Joel Miller in gray sweatpants, no use of y/n, not beta read.

Masterlist

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It’s another famous hot September afternoon in Texas. Too damn hot to do anything besides walk outside, roll your eyes at the sweltering temperature, turn around and walk back inside. The thick humidity and overbearing heat makes your skin slick and clothing stick in all the wrong places– or maybe the right places– it depends on who’s looking.

A ring of the doorbell interrupts your lazy day movie marathon. The house is yours for the weekend, your roommates are all gone for a festival and your coursework is all done, so naturally you’re laid on the couch taking a reprieve from the overbearing temperature.

Another ring.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumble.

You open the door, your knees buckling at your bad luck.

GOD DAMNIT. OF COURSE IT’S JOEL MILLER. *THE* JOEL MILLER. The hot DILF you and your roomies all lust after. The broad, golden skinned GOD of a man that you all argue over who’s going to get to bed one day.

“Joel? H-hey,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment over how you look. It’s 4 PM and you’re still wearing what you woke up in… an oversized Rangers shirt of your ex-boyfriend’s over a pair of lace boyshorts… it’s too freakin’ hot for actual clothes.

“Afternoon–uh–so my cable box just stopped working and it’s the clenching game for the playoffs,” he nervously huffs, putting a hand to the back of his neck. “I know it’s crazy to ask, but can I watch the game on your TV?” He lifts a six pack of beer enticingly, “I brought this as payment.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen in surprise. Joel Miller… on your couch? Yes! Joel Miller on your couch! You open the door wider and step aside to let him in. “Of course, make yourself at home.”

He walks into your house… this is a dream come true, he’s in GRAY SWEATPANTS and they hug his thick body perfectly.

You take a precursory look around your living room, silently thanking yourself for picking up the house yesterday. Now the hunk of a neighbor you’ve touched yourself to while watching him mow his lawn is closer to you than he’s ever been.

You quickly stroll over to the coffee table, picking up the remote and handing it to him.

“Thanks for this, appreciate it sweetheart,” Joel says, sitting on the couch, taking up a whole cushion with his broad body.

Ohhhh, sweetheart. His eyes darken at the sight of your breath hitching, before his eyes gaze lowers to your bare legs.

“Yeah, o-of course,” you nod, feeling very underdressed with your handsome neighbor taking a seat on the couch you were just laid out on a few minutes ago. “I’ll go get an opener.”

Joel turns the game on and settles his back against the couch cushions, “Thanks sweetheart.”

The ceiling fan chains clang against one another, it only does this on high, it drives you crazy but the soft breeze it sends down is worth the annoyance. Your skin’s too overheated sitting only a couch cushion’s length away from Joel. Your foot nervously taps against the carpet while you try to focus on the book you’re reading. You’re overwhelmed by his presence, hearing his lips form around the beer bottle and taking a swig, the movement of his body against the couch cushions, the smell of wood and coffee he’s brought into the house. You sigh, turning your attention to the game, maybe today’s the day you’ll learn about America’s pastime.

“Why is it called a shortstop? Do they have to be short?” You ask putting your book down.

“No,” Joel chuckles, “s’just what the position is called.”

“Ah, and every team has one?”

“Yes,” he shakes his head, “what exactly do you know about this game, sweetheart?”

“Um, I know I like their tight pants.”

“Oh really?” Joel looks over at you, crooking his eyebrow up.

“Yep, and the guy throwing the ball is really tall and cute.”

“That’s called a pitcher sweetheart,” he shakes his head at your ignorance.

“And he throws to the…” your finger taps your cheek while you mock contemplation, “catcher?”

“That’s right,” he nods, his voice dropping an octave. “What else do you know?”

“I know there’s bases and home runs, adorable mascots and Cracker Jacks.”

“What bases?”

“Hmm. First base, second base, third base, and home.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “you’re a smart girl.”

“I know I am,” you smugly smile at him. “First base is kissing. Second base is above the waist, third base is bel—“

Joel’s laugh cuts you off. “Is that right? Seems you know all about baseball, you’ve… ‘played baseball’ before?”

“Mm,” you lean towards him, “I like playing baseball… I just haven’t in a few months… you know besides practicing with myself.”

He shakes his head, a devilish smirk lights his face as he angles his body towards you. “You practice a lot?”

“Yeah, especially when my hot neighbor is outside mowing his lawn and he gets all sweaty. My bedroom window looks right out on his lawn.” Joel’s eyes widen at the realization that you’re talking about him. “Sometimes he lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his brow, I get to see a peek of his stomach, it’s super hot.”

“Funny,” he puts his beer bottle down and licks his lips. “I have a hot neighbor too. I’ve, uh, ‘practiced’ before while thinking about how good she looks running in her tight shorts and tiny tank top.”

Your core begins to pulse at his words, desire lights inside your body. Joel Miller has noticed you *and* gets off to the thought of you?! And now, he’s on your couch, sending you a lascivious look. Let’s ball.

“Can I play?” you ask, head tilted with a smirk before scooting closer to him.

“Yeah?” his eyebrows crook up. “You want to play with an old man like me?”

You nod. “Put me in coach.”

“Batter up baby,” he growls, grabbing and lifting you to straddle his lap. You’re thankful for your measly lace panties, less layers between you and Joel’s dick. “You wanna show me first base?”

You gulp, pouty lips agape begging to be kissed by Joel Miller. “First base,” you nuzzle your nose against his, “is kissing.”

“Mm,” he nips at your bottom lip, “then kiss me, pretty girl.”

You pull away, angling your head to look at the TV. “But what about the game?”

“They’re losing by four,” he grabs your chin, turning your head back towards him. “Plus, I don’t think it’s possible to care about the game when a pretty girl like you is on my lap.”

Leaning forward, you plant a soft kiss and suck his plush bottom lip into your mouth. Your heart flutters inside your chest when his mouth opens inviting you to lick into it as he lifts the hem of your shirt.

You swipe his hand away, “Not at second base yet.”

“Fuck,” he pants. “Been wanting to see you since you moved in last year.”

His confession rolls through your body, sending waves of want through your limbs. You want to rock your hips against him, you want to feel your bare skin against his, you want to feel him inside you, but you also love the game you’re playing and it’s not just every day your hot neighbor comes over to watch a ballgame and winds up with his tongue in your mouth.

You deepen the kiss, moaning against his lips as your tongues collide and explore each other’s mouths. Raucous shouting of the announcers on the TV interrupts your makeout session.

“Mmph, will you look at that? Rangers just hit a grand slam ’n tied the game. You wanna celebrate now?” Joel grabs the hem of your shirt and angles his eyebrow up.

“Show me second base Joel.”

Your shirt is lifted and tossed aside, your nipples pebble under the cool fan air and Joel’s attention. He stares, eyes wide in astonishment as he takes your bare chest in.

“Second base is above the waist stuff,” you direct. His large, calloused hands mold around the weight of your flesh.

“Mm, knew you’d be soft,” he rasps in awe. His touch drives you crazy, just an hour ago, you were dozing off on the couch to Romy & Michelle’s High School Reunion, now Joel Miller is holding your tits in his hands. He rubs the tips of his thumbs back and forth across your nipples. “Can I use my mouth on you baby?” he asks, his gaze moving from your chest to your eyes pleadingly.

“God yes,” you pant, rising up to bring your chest to his mouth. He clasps his lips around your nipple, sucking and pulling, swirling his tongue around the peak before letting it go with a pop. Your back arches, your weight settling firmer against him when he nips his way across your chest, taking your other breast into his mouth and suckling. Your hands snake underneath his shirt and run across the plush of his stomach petting your hands across the smattering of hair across his belly.

Joel buries his face between your breasts, breathing you in and groaning against your skin, his hands grab your hips and push your body firmer against his half hard cock still clad in his sweatpants.

He’s fully dressed, your teensy pair of lace panties do very little to stop your cunt from dripping onto the light gray fabric of his sweatpants. Your hips begin to grind against the shape of him, begging for contact. He ruts his hips up to tap against your core pulling a moan from you.

He snickers teasingly, “We goin’ to third base already baby?”

You whimper a measly yes, rocking yourself harder against him. Fuck the pace of game, it’s going to be a quick one. You’re so needy for him, you can’t believe this is happening with Joel “hot dad” Miller. Your roommates are never going to believe you.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, bunching it up before he chucks it off and throws it across the couch. You lean back, eyes widening at the sight of him. Good LORD, he’s perfect. His skin glows in the late afternoon light beaming in from the front window. His shoulders and arms are toned from all of the manual labor you always watch him accomplish. Your hands roam his soft muscles, exploring the plains of his body. He’s the whole fucking package. He looks at you with a smug smirk while you take him in.

You want to taste him and see if he tastes like the sweat and sunlight. Your lips find his collarbone, licking and sucking, tasting the slight salt of the sweat the heat leaves on everybody’s skin on days like today. Delectable.

His throat groans against your tongue, he shivers underneath you, you’ve never wanted someone so badly before.

“Fuck me,” you plead against his skin, “please.”

“Not yet, not yet baby, we’re still at third, you’re still learning all about baseball. I need to enjoy a game as sweet as you,” he implores, sliding a hand between your legs and petting your soaked panties. “This all for me?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, licking your way up through his scratchy beard to his mouth.

You gasp against his lips when he slides a thick finger inside. He chuckles a deep breath against your mouth, “So fucking wet aren’t you pretty girl?”

Your only answer is a garbled moan and a clench around his second finger that stretches you.

His fingers languidly fuck you while his thumb teases soft circles against your clit, you’re writhing from his touch, breathing mews into the air. He licks into your mouth swallowing every shattered breath that escapes from your throat. So many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of this moment laying alone in your bed, gazing out the window at the Miller household. What would Joel Miller’s overworked hands and plush mouth feel like against your body? Well, now you know, and it feels even better than you could have ever imagined.

He licks his way down to your neck, asking “Can I taste you?” against your skin.

“Yes,” you cry out.

Joel lifts you with a grunt and lays you down against the couch cushions. He stands over you, running a hand across your body, mapping his way from your breasts down your stomach to the trim of your panties.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses, his eyes turning black as he pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to him. You spread your legs open encouraged by the possessiveness of his stare. He tosses your underwear behind him before settling on the couch between your legs with a deep growl. Your legs are lifted over his shoulders. “Fuck,” he sighs, planting a kiss against your thigh, “you’re so fucking hot. Let’s get to third base sweetheart.”

His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of you when he parts your folds with his tongue. Everything about Joel Miller is wide- his fingers, his shoulders, his chest. Right now, his wide tongue is driving you crazy as it swirls against your clit. He devours you, licking and laving all over your drooling pussy, drinking you down and savoring you like you’re his last meal. His eyes stay on your face the whole time, watching you fall apart against his mouth. Your fingers wrap around the dark waves of his hair pulling him in closer, hips undulating against his mouth getting yourself off on the feel of the bristle of his beard against your sensitive flesh. His tongue flattens and runs up and down the shape of you before he dips two fingers into your entrance and buries them knuckles deep. Your back curves at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your clit as your soaked walls clench around his thick fingers.

“Mm, close,” you whimper while your feet thud repeatedly against his strong back. He nods against your core, dark brown eyes still focused on your face. Your heart races at the way he watches you under his thick eyebrows creased in concentration. Of course Joel Miller is good at eating pussy, he’s a hard worker. You wail his name out when you orgasm against his mouth, your body tightens as you flood his fingers and throb for him. He kisses your swollen clit gently, letting a deep moan and chuckle out while you spasm underneath him.

Joel’s face glistens with you when he lifts his head up, “Welcome to third base.”

“You haven’t gotten here yet,” you arch an eyebrow and lick your parted lips, still panting for air.

He kisses each thigh with a loud smack before getting up.

He looms over your blissed out body on the couch and yanks down his pants and boxers, a gulp rolls down your throat at the sight of him. So fucking thick and engorged with a sweet drop of precum rolling down his shaft.

“Wow,” you gasp, rolling to your side to bring yourself eye level to his twitching cock. Your eyebrows rise in awe when he wraps his hand around himself and strokes.

“Yeah?” his voice smolders through you.

“I’ve thought about what you looked like naked, and now that I see it… wow.” You can’t believe the confession just left your mouth.

“Funny,” he collects a drop of precum on his fingertip and rubs it against your bottom lip,” I thought the same thing.”

Your tongue darts out to taste him, salty, bitter, so fucking manly. You want to taste more of him.

You bring your lips to the crown of his cock, kissing the tip and running your tongue along the length of his shaft. He gasps, leaning forward to rest his hands on the sofa back.

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s good,” he drawls when you suck him into your mouth engulfing the thick length of him in the wet heat of your mouth.

You cup the heft of his balls in your hand… thick cock, big balls, of course Joel Miller has big balls.

“You’re good at this sweetheart, really fucking good,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as you hollow them and suck him to the back of your throat.

Your eyes flutter up to watch Joel snarl down at you while his hips buck into your drooling mouth.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, or else we’re not going to get to homebase.”

Your pussy clenches at his words, begging to be filled like your mouth. It’s as if Joel can read your mind, his hand lands in between your thighs and begins petting your aching cunt.

“Feels like she needs to have my cock in her, doesn’t she?” he says, tapping his fingers against your entrance. “Think maybe we should get to homebase?”

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and lifts you off the couch into his arms, he’s so fucking strong.

He leaves a searing kiss on your lips before settling on the couch, still holding you close to him.

“You ready for homebase?” he asks, gazing into your eyes.

“Put me in coach, I’m ready to play,” you smile, giddy at the anticipation of getting fucked by Joel Miller.

“Go ahead sweetheart, fuck me,” his drawl drips in arousal as you slowly sink yourself down on him, gasping at the feel of his thick cock stretching you.

Your hips rock back and forth to adjust to the size of him spreading you open.

“Knew you’d feel so good sweetheart, knew it as soon as I saw you,” he says, peppering kisses across your face and neck. “So pretty, so soft, feels so fucking good.”

Joel Miller always seemed too intimidating, too closed off, too attractive to ever be interested in a neighbor much too young for him, and yet here he is ignoring the baseball game he wanted to watch, instead burying his cock into your pussy.

You ride him, your pace turning more frenzied and desperate the more he chants your name.

The ticks of the fan chains clanging against one another accompanies the sound of your pussy bouncing up and down on his dick. Hips meeting hips, skin hitting skin, breath gasping breath, chain knocking chain. Your fingers wrap around his curls pulling his head up to kiss you. Your breaths puff against his, you can’t hide the blissed out smile that lights up your whole face as he pounds into you.

Your body begins to tingle and quiver when his cock hits the gushy spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Joel grits against your neck biting and sucking, marking you with his mouth and owning you with his cock.

You scream a choked sob when your orgasm lights through you, your walls clutch Joel’s cock as you come undone. He grips you harder, pushing you into his chest and holding you as close as he can with his tense muscles as he lifts you and pulls out painting your pussy lips with his cum. You collapse against him, gasping for air against his sweaty skin, darting your tongue out to lick some of the sweet salt so you can always remember the taste of playing ball with Joel Miller.

“Can I tell you something?” Joel asks, his voice radiates through your ear resting against his chest.

“Hmm? Yeah,” you sigh.

“My TV still works,” he sheepishly says. You sit up at the shock of his words. “I just really wanted to watch the game with a pretty girl.” He sends you a sultry, guilty smirk that you cover with your lips.

___ Tagging people who showed interest in my WIP a couple weeks ago for this. Along with my camp coven friends who helped.

@luxurychristmaspudding, @sizzlingcloudmentality, @sawymredfox, @magpiepills, @yxtkiwiyxt

@beefrobeefcal, @ace-turned-confused, @yopossum, @mothandpidgeon, @bitchesuntitled

@maggiemayhemnj, @jennaispunk, @timelordfreya

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #tlou joel #tlou fanfic #joel x reader #joel tlou

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crookedteethed · 7 months ago

Text

TO be a star, you must burn | r.c.

Pairing: pornproducer!rafecameron x starlet!reader

Summary: For the price of fame, you give your body to porn producer, Rafe Cameron.

Warnings: 18+ smut ( p in v ), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names, Reader gets her body examined, fingering, cursing, Naive reader(?), filming sex, Rafe takes advantage of reader for the sake of "fame", Rafe's kinda a sleazeball/manipulative in this, hinted reader is a stripper

Word count: 2.2k

You feel a twinge of embarrassment as you make eye contact with the woman standing in the corner of the room. You recognize her as the one who spotted you at ValleyDolls Lounge, the woman who told you, "Rafe Cameron can make you a star," while handing you a business card with just a telephone number on it.

You notice the woman's lack of interest as Rafe's muscular hand gropes your plump left breast, and with his slender fingers, he pinches your nipple.

Your nipple pebbles at the exposure of his pinch, and you feel your body hairs prickle up at the exposure of the ceiling fan that spins over your head.

"You uh, you aren't a mother are you?" He asks, his hands now roaming down to your nether lips. You suck your teeth at the feeling of the cool breeze prickle your pussy as Rafe uses his thump to pull your left fold back.

"No, sir." You try to say with confidence, but ultimately, your voice comes out coaxed in a shaky fear.

"I can tell." Rafe mutters, face inching closer and closer to your cunt.

You resist the urge to close your legs consciously, but the option to do so has been prohibited, as Rafe's hand, the one not examining your pussy, holds a tight grip on your hitched knee.

For a second, you look up at the spiraling ceiling and let out a long sigh to calm your bustling nerves. Looking away from the ceiling fan, cerulean eyes beam at you in interest.

"You have a pretty pussy." Rafe boyishly smiles at you, now keeping his hands to himself.

You blush at his words as getting told you have a "Pretty Pussy" isn't something you're complimented on a daily, so naturally, you hide your blush behind the palm of your hand.

"Would you agree?" Rafe asks, now going into the black duffle bag beside his desk.

"Huh?"

"Do you think you have a pretty cunt." This time, Rafe restated with a tantalizing tone, telling you you had no choice but to agree, so you nodded.

"Good." Rafe smiles. "Not a lot of girls can say that, you're one of the lucky ones."

From the duffle bag, Rafe pulls out a chunky camera--the kind they shoot movies with. Hence, a smile began to form on your lips. From the sight of the camera and from Rafe calling you "Lucky."

The butterflies in your stomach went up the octave at the sight of the camera; this was going to be your big break.

Rafe calls to the woman in the corner: "Hey, Sarah, do me a favor and tell all the other girls waiting in the hall to come back tomorrow. I want to focus on Y/N today." He smirks.

And just as the woman--Sarah--goes to do so, while turning the doorknob of Rafe's office, Rafe tells her: "Oh, and don't bother me for the next hour or so, and let everyone else know that as well."

Though he'd been talking to Sarah, Rafe's eyes stayed on you the entire time, causing the butterflies to multiply.

When Sarah's gone, silence takes its course as Rafe sets up his camera, facing the lens to the plush white couch on the side of Rafe's office.

The silence makes you remember that you were wholly bare and how odd it had been, so you ask Rafe if you could put your clothes back on.

"Y'know, it's not normal for pretty women like you to be ashamed of her body."

As your eyebrows begin to curve in an upward pout, and you start to protest, Rafe tells you:

"It's really off-putting for a guy like me."

"W-what is that supposed to mean?" You question.

Rafe motions his head for you to take a seat on the couch, and you do so, hopping off the edge of his desk (where you were once getting examined on), bare feet plopping on the cold tiled ground of Rafe's office.

As you sit on the couch, Rafe stands behind the camera lens, half of his face covered by the camera.

"What I mean is: You being ashamed of being naked in front of me means you're not ready to be a star." Rafe says in a condescending tone.

"I'm am ready to be a star!" you protest. "I swear!"

You didn't tell Rafe that you could recite any type of monologue-- a soliloquy, dramatic, or operatic--but something told you this isn't what Rafe wanted to hear.

"Really?" He smirks. You nod your head as if you were a bobble head. "Prove it to me." Rafe says.

Right then, you notice the camera's red light blinks on and off, meaning he is now recording.

"You ever fucked on camera before?" Rafe asks you.

You hadn't before, so you shake your head 'no'.

"Have you ever fucked ever, before?" He then goes to asks.

You had yet to have a long list of guys like the girls you worked with at ValleyDolls lounge, something you always felt slightly embarrassed about.

You tell Rafe your body count: a whopping number of two.

And behind the camera, you can see Rafe beginning to smile.

"So you're not ran through." He mutters to himself, which you don't think was meant for your ears.

"I could tell your pussy was tight." He says snobbishly.

"Really? How so?" you naively ask Rafe, intrigued by his all-knowing of this without ever being inside you.

Rafe takes this opportunity to step from behind the camera and sit beside you on the couch.

"Open your legs for me," he tells you, and as you do so, Rafe praises you with a "Good Girl."

Without warning, Rafe takes his pointer and middle finger, lightly tracing it down the flesh of your stomach and to your core, where he goes to plunge them inside of your cunt, but as foreseen, you're too tight, and Rafe can only get one finger in.

"See, told you, you're too tight. I don't know how you're going to be able to take a dick inside of you."

Your cunt burns at Rafe's impeccable intrusion, and you feel yourself let out a little mewl as Rafe teases your core by curling his finger deep inside of you.

"Doesn't this feel good, Y/N?"

You shyly nod, something in your mind telling you that this isn't right, but fuck, why did Rafe's one finger have to feel so good? And why did knowing you were being filmed on camera turn you on so much?

Besides, this was for your dream of becoming a star, anyway.

"There you go, sweetheart. Now you're starting to relax." Rafe coos as the sound of your gushy cunt accompanies the noises of your little pants and moans.

"I'm going to add another finger." Rafe warns you.

And as said, Rafe plunges another finger in, simultaneously stretching you out for his dick and making you feel oh, so good.

Your gummy walls take on the shape of Rafe's thick, slender fingers as they pump in and out of you relentlessly—your muscles contract around him.

Unconsciously, you squirm and wiggle out of his grip, opening and closing your legs at Rafe's never-ending pleasurable assault.

He gets stern with you and pry your legs open, telling you to be a "good girl." and "let the camera see your pussy."

You open your legs a little wider, leaving more room for Rafe's fingers to sink deeper inside your cunt.

"m'feels so good, Rafe " You whine out.

"Really, sweetheart? It feels good?" Rafe says condescendingly, and you nod pathetically.

Gathering slick from your weeping pussy, Rafe uses your juices to circle your clit with his thump. The pad of his calloused thump brings a burning sensation widespread across your entire body.

"Y'know, Y/N." Rafe slowly says, fingers still pumping inside of you. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that you really want to be a star."

"I do--" you wince as Rafe pushes down on your pulsating little bundle of nerves.

"I don't know," he contemplates. I'm just still not sold." He fake thinks, "unless you can prove me otherwise..."

As if on cue, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Rafe manages to peek at his fingers, covered in your arousal, before looking down into your wide, doll-like eyes.

And if it weren't for the gritty smirk on his face or the way Rafe had slightly man spread his legs a little wider and placed his hand over his clothed, hardening cock, you wouldn't have understood what he was suggesting.

And as Rafe slowly leans you back onto the couch, he is still clothed, but his pants are pulled down just enough to release his pulsing dick; Rafe tells you as if it were scripted: "Don't be ashamed, sweetheart. How else do you think all the other women in Hollywood got their start?"

He's right, you tell yourself.

So you slowly nodded as Rafe placed a warm kiss on your dome. Right after, you feel him grab his length and align his reddening tip towards your sobbing, wet entrance.

It isn't long until you feel the slow-burning--the feeling of Rafe's fat cock penetrating inside of you deep; it prompted you to let out the prettiest moan Rafe had ever heard in his years as a pornographer.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, so you wrapped them around Rafe's body, bringing him closer to you, while Rafe's muscular hands placed themselves on your hips to hold you in place.

"Fu-ck.." Rafe drags, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Best fucking pussy ever."

God, it was like you were a fucking virgin again with how big Rafe's cock felt inside of you and the way your pussy tightly squeezed it as if your life depended on it.

A wave of pleasure washed over you as his thick shaft stretched and filled every inch of you. Your body tingled with excitement and anticipation, your senses heightened by the overwhelming sensation—a rush of desire coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless and craving more.

"More." You managed to choke out as Rafe's cock penetrated your core. Stomach fluttering at each intrusion.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment as pleasure radiated through every inch of your body. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge of blissful release.

Dark eyes stared at your twitching face. Rafe chuckles at you because "God, who knew you were such a cock slut, taking me so well in this little tight cunt of yours."

The lewd sounds of your passionate encounter heightened the intensity of the moment, fueling your desire and deepening your and Rafe's connection. Each moan, grunt, and slap of skin served as a powerful affirmation of your mutual pleasure, enveloping you both in a world of eroticism and ecstasy.

As your bodies moved in sync, your whispers of desire mingled with the intoxicating aroma of passion. "I've never felt anything like this before," you confessed, your voice filled with awe and longing, causing Rafe to let out a loud groan.

"Fuck, they're going to love you." Rafe grunts, making a smile grow on your lips. "Or maybe I'll keep you for myself." He says lowly. "Use you as my personal little fuck toy, wouldn't you like that sweetheart?"

Caught off guard, you blurted out, "I'm gonna cum," before Rafe drew closer. His face hovered just above yours, his hands moving to the back of your neck. Hot, eager breaths mingled as your lips nearly met.

At that moment, waves of pleasure surged through your body, overpowering your senses and causing your muscles to tremble uncontrollably.

The intensity of the experience left you in a state of euphoria. Still, the awareness of your surroundings brought a mix of embarrassment and excitement, forcing you to stifle your moans and contain the raw energy that had consumed you.

And like a domino effect, after you came, shortly after Rafe came, his muscles tightened, his back arching like a drawn bow, before he suddenly released, his head falling forward as he climaxed--his milky spunk painting your walls white.

He stayed inside you for a moment, breathless and dizzy; your eyelids fluttered as both of your minds went blank.

And after catching his breath, Rafe springs off of you.

"Put your clothes back on." he says sternly, demeanor seeming to change from when he was just praising you about how good your pussy is.

Suddenly, your demeanor shifted as you became overwhelmed by feelings of illness and self-disgust.

You slowly walk to your pile of clothes at the foot of Rafe's desk.

"Hurry up." Rafe rushes. "I don't have all day."

As you quickly put your clothes back on, from the side of your eye, you notice Rafe take a sticky note from his desk and scribble a few words with a black pen.

"Here," he tells you, just as you put on your clothes. "Be at this address by 7 a.m. sharp, no later. We can start your filming and make you a star." He winks.

And as you hesitantly take the sticky note, you think this isn't the type of star you want to be.

But, on the contrary...

As you exit Rafe's office, your mind drifts to the countless times you've fantasized about being in the spotlight and achieving fame. With this opportunity, your dream finally seems within reach - all thanks to Rafe Cameron.

#crookedteethed #fem reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #fanfiction #drew starkey #outer banks fanfic #outerbanks moodboard #rafe outer banks #pornproducer! rafe x starlet! reader #dark! rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x reader #the obx

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chocolatespacemuffins · 2 years ago

Photo

Front Yard Nashville Large southwest screened-in front porch photo with decking and a roof extension

#animal hide area rug #screened porch addition #tv mount over fireplace #wood slat ceiling #frond leaf ceiling fan #cow hide floor rug

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niki-phoria · 6 months ago

Text

⋆｡°✩ I COULDN'T BE MORE IN LOVE

small gestures of affection with itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, and kamo choso

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), some of these don't really fit the prompt but whatever lol, cw for mentions of blood/injuries in megumi and choso's, inspired by this prompt list by @euthymiaaa not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from the 1975 - i couldn't be more in love

“yuuji,” your voice cuts through the chaos swirling throughout ITADORI YUUJI’S mind effortlessly. he freezes, swiftly turning on his heel to face you. you softly smile as you take a step closer to him, gesturing to the mess of fabric messily woven into itself. “do you need some help?”

“yeah,” yuuji nods, tugging at his tie until it falls flat against his chest once again. “some help would be nice.”

taking the fabric into your hands, you weave the ends together to form a small knot near the center of yuuji’s chest. carefully, you slide it upwards until it sits snugly at the center of yuuji’s neck. “you’ve never had to wear a suit before, have you?”

“i’m sorry,” he nervously chuckles. he unconsciously raises a hand, absentmindedly brushing a hand through the little hairs near the nape of his neck. “i’ve never had a reason to dress up before.”

you simply chuckle in response, reaching up and attempting to smooth away the wrinkles in the fabric. your fingertips trace the edges, hiding away any loose threads or imperfections from the tailoring. “it’s alright. i don’t mind.”

you reach upwards, caressing his cheek with your thumb. your fingertips brush against the edges of the small curse marks beneath his eyes, making yuuji smile brightly. “you look really nice, yuuji.”

a light flush spreads across his face, tinting his face a deep pink. he smiles softly, replying, “but not as good as you.”

“you’re awake.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI softly groans, squinting up at the ceiling above as the blurriness slowly begins to clear from his vision. he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before the ringing in his ears dissipates, leaving only the quiet hum from a nearby fan to fill the silence.

the first thing megumi notices is your eyes. if he didn’t know any better, he would have missed the eyebags that he could’ve sworn weren’t there this morning and the slight nervous shake in your hands when you reach over to pass him a bottle of water. guilt settles into the pit of his stomach before he can will it away. “what happened?”

“a curse hit you into a wall. ieiri said it was a severe concussion.” megumi nods. reaching up, he carefully brushes a hand against the bandages wrapped tightly around his forehead. he can still vaguely taste the blood that filled his mouth after the injury. “don’t worry. i took care of the curse.”

“thank you.” he sighs, carefully pushing his body to sit upwards. “i’m sorry i worried you.”

megumi’s breath catches in his throat when you reach over, taking his hands into your own. blood rushes to his cheeks, spreading an embarrassingly obvious flush across his features. butterflies swarm throughout his stomach in waves as your fingertips trace along the fresh bruises staining his pale skin before you settle for intertwining your hands together. “i’m just glad you’re safe,” you smile, sealing your promise with a soft squeeze.

GOJO SATORU awakens to the sight of sunlight threatening to break through the closed blinds. rays of light illuminate your bedroom, casting a golden glow across your features. he groans as he rolls onto his side, stretching out his tired limbs beneath the covers.

your quiet chuckle from beside him breaks him out of his trance. satoru blinks the sleepiness away from his eyes as he shifts, moving to face in your direction. stray strands of white hair frame his sharp features. your gaze the jagged edges of the few scars that litter his bare chest, admiring the aspects that make him human.

without the usual blindfold covering his face, your gaze rises to meet satoru’s. his eyes are the colour of the ocean. the shine like gemstones - brilliant and blue. you reach upwards, carefully carding your hand through his bangs. the strands are soft against your skin as you weave them in between your fingertips; he sighs as your nails gently massage against his scalp. “good morning, satoru.”

under the safety of your comforter, satoru allows the weight of the world to slip off of his shoulders. he smiles softly, shuffling across the sheets to entangle your bodies together. his hands skim the hem of his stolen t-shirt; his fingertips threaten to slip beneath the fabric to ghost against your bare skin. he leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss against your cheek as he wraps his arms around you. “morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

KAMO CHOSO can feel the gentle burn of ice against his fingertips as he carefully holds the ice pack against your face. hues of purple and green bloom against your cheek, staining your skin with the temporary consequences of being too headstrong in a fight. dark, worried eyes meet your own when he looks up. “for what?”

you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, anxiously chewing on the flesh until choso takes your hand into his own. he unconsciously rubs his thumb against your knuckles, tracing the scars decorating your skin - a gentle reminder to relax before your teeth cause a new wound. “being stubborn. dragging you into the fight. not waiting for backup.”

choso’s lips quirk into a slight frown. “i’m not upset at you,” he begins. you flinch slightly when he adjusts the angle of the ice pack until it presses against a fresh area of the bruise. the shake in his hands is unmistakable when he brushes his fingertips against the edge of your jaw. “it… worries me,” he mumbles. his gaze has fallen, now staring at the bandages woven tightly around your bicep. his anxiety had provided enough positive energy to prevent any serious injuries, but you still needed stitches after he dragged you into the safety of shoko’s office. “when you’re reckless. your body isn’t as easy to heal as mine is.”

“i’m sorry i worried you.” you reach up, pulling choso’s hand away from your face. “i’ll be more careful next time.” you toss the ice pack to the side; choso’s cheeks flush when you press a feather-light kiss against his knuckles. “thank you.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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gravid-transluna · 1 month ago

Text

Commission for @birthedstars, I adored this prompt!

Melanie, a popular cosplayer, has been keeping pregnancy a secret from social media and her fans. It's con season and she is currently at the final one before she is due to give birth along with her non-cosplaying friend Lea. As she's taking photos with her fans, she feels a trickle in her pants and a pain stronger than any she's had before hit her belly. It's a week before she's due; panicked and struggling to keep her composure, Melanie has to rely on Lea to shoo away people begging for photos and conversation. Melanie doesn't want an audience for this, but as each contraction passes it becomes less likely. Lea either needs to get her out of the convention center or find a secluded spot for her friend. If she doesn't, this baby is going to come out in a room filled with hundreds…

Cons, Cosplay and Crowning

words: 3158

content: clothing birth, inconvenient birth, birth denial, fpreg

Melanie had told herself that this would be her last convention before the baby arrived. Giga-con was one of the largest cons in the country. Packed from floor to ceiling with fans, cosplayers, collectors, artists, photographers; lines out the door, every booth crowded, a sea of vibrant anime-hair… It was a sight to behold, and something Melanie had no intention of missing, pregnancy or not. She had quite a few fans as well. Enough to have a pretty constant stream of attention focused on the booth where she sold autographs and photos and voice recordings.

A minor detail: her fans didn’t know that she was nine months pregnant, due in a week. Her baby bump had remained small throughout her pregnancy, allowing her to hide it fairly well, relying on cosplays involving belts or flowy skirts and dresses. Her various social media accounts mentioned nothing about a coming baby, only her next convention dates and wig ratings.

“You’re seriously doing Zero Two for your last con before the baby?” Lea, her friend, had asked Melanie. This character, a mech pilot, wore a skintight suit.

“It’ll be okay,” Melanie said, patting the tight curve of her abdomen. It was smooth, and only nude it was obvious that there was a stretch to her skin that could only be from a swollen womb. “People notice the cosplay, not the person behind it. Besides! This is the biggest con we’ve ever done. I want to do something that’ll steal the show!”

Lea sighed. “Just don’t be walking around too much. And let me know if I need to yell at some fans. I know you’re too nice for that.”

Melanie had smiled. “What would I do without you?”

“Whatever. Here,” walking over to Melanie, who was busy struggling with her suit in the mirror. “Let me zip you up.”

This was a week ago. The night before the con she’d been experiencing Braxton Hicks, small irregular spasms in her back and belly. When she woke up in the hotel, padding to the full-length mirror in the bathroom, she couldn’t help but gasp. Her belly had dropped overnight, the head of her baby nestled deep in her hips now. When she placed her hand under the taut surface, she could feel the weight, low. As she watched the mirror, the muscles around her womb clamped in a fiery band. She winced, doubling over.

Is this… a contraction?

“Mmn,” she moaned quietly under her breath, cupping her small bump. Lea yawned and rolled over in bed. Sleepily she lifted her head. “Mel? You okay?”

“Um.” Melanie straightened as her belly relaxed. “I’m not sure, but I think I just had a contraction.”

“Jesus, Mel!” Lea was awake now, trotting over to the bathroom. “Wow, your belly. It looks lower. Should we head to the hospital?”

“No!” Melanie shook her head. “No way. We dropped so much on these tickets, they’re non-refundable, you know. Besides, that was my first contraction. Labor can take days.”

Lea hesitated. “Are you sure you’re even gonna fit into that suit now? It was a challenge before your belly looked like, well, that.”

“It’s a stretchy material,” Melanie assured her, and sure enough, it fit—barely.

They waited in line at the center and got checked in, and by the time they set up the booth, Melanie had been enduring constant regular contractions. They wrung her womb, squeezed the breath from her lungs. The baby’s head was ramming against her cervix with nearly unbearable force, and soon she couldn’t keep sitting at their booth, gritting her teeth behind a smile for her fans, hand trembling as she signed autograph after autograph. She was getting nervous now. The convention closed at eight, and it was barely two. She and Lea hadn’t even had a snack yet. All she could think about was the baby in her belly, the movements, even more forceful as her belly shrank and squeezed her restless child on all sides. No, she had to stand and pace. The pressure was too bad to be sitting, it felt almost as if she was seated on a bowling ball, lodged between her legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lea knit her brows. Sweat beaded on Melanie’s forehead and her cheeks were red with exertion, but she could blame those things on an overheated scalp and too much powdered blush.

“Fine!” Melanie chirped, a little out of breath. “Just feeling very, very pregnant.”

Lea looked apprehensive. “Not long now.”

“Long enough,” Melanie said. “Hey, let’s walk around for a bit.” She painstakingly climbed to her feet as Lea assisted. Standing, the pressure was so much worse, and she had to resist a low groan.

“We’ll be back later,” Lea told the people lingering around the booth. “Hey—c’mon people, give her some space.”

Already overwhelmed with the sensations in her body, the pain and pressure and urgency she’d been ignoring for so long, fighting her way through the press of bodies was downright dizzying. She was sorely regretting the body suit now. She was streaming sweat, blinking it out of her eyes, and yet the suit didn’t permit the slightest bit of room or air, practically boiling her alive. The hot pleather irritated the skin of her stomach, taut and sensitive, broiling with her impatient baby. Worse, the pleather rubbing against her tender, pregnancy-swollen nipples sent shivers coursing down her spine. The stimulation wasn’t exactly slowing her labor.

Lea, her knight in shining armor, led her through the crowds to the nearest restroom. Suddenly their path was interrupted by a troupe of Mandalorian cosplayers, and one of them passed between Lea and Melanie, breaking their grip. Suddenly, Melanie was alone and couldn’t spot Lea anywhere, couldn’t even spot the restrooms anymore.

A contraction was coming on, a strong one. The pressure was nearly buckling her legs. “Oh no….” Melanie said under her breath.

Then her body clenched violently. A low mooing noise was drawn from her throat, nearly unrecognizable from her usual pitch. The constant murmur of the crowd was enough to drown her sounds out, but she could scarcely believe they were coming from her in the first place. Teased pink strands of hair fell into her face, disguising her strained features. All people noticed was a Zero Two standing strangely wide-legged in the aisle, with an odd curve to her midsection.

The pressure surged and Melanie gasped. Instinctively she widened her stance even more. The pain clasped her, then suddenly— a release.

“Oh, god,” Melanie moaned as fluids trickled down the seams of her body suit. The contraction faded, leaving her thoughts racing. Those are my waters. Shit! Shit!

“Mel! There you are!” Lea’s face appeared from the crowd. Melanie looked at her, clasping her round bump, and Lea noticed her stricken expression.

“What is it?” She leaned in and cupped Melanie’s cheek. “Hey, what happened? Who do I need to kill?”

“No,” Melanie said breathlessly, closing her eyes under Lea’s touch. “I think—I think my water just broke.”

Lea’s eyes widened but before she could say anything they were interrupted.

“Excuse me?” A younger teenager brandishing an iPhone. “Could I get a picture? I love Zero Two.”

Melanie plastered a smile on her face and smiled before Lea had the chance to shoo the girl away. She just couldn’t say no to fans. The girl’s friend backed up to get the shot, and as Melanie posed, she felt another contraction brewing in her stomach. She could tell it was a bad one. Without the cushioning of her waters, the skull of her baby drove mercilessly down through her cervix, the pressure mounting by the minute. Hold the pose, she told herself, panting through it. Hold the pose, legs shaking, sweat pouring from under her arms, she couldn’t believe that the girl didn’t notice her violent trembling, didn’t notice the way her thighs spread and her knees bent slightly….

Fuck, she almost wanted to push.

Snap! The girl’s friend trotted back to them, smiling. “Thank you so much!”

Melanie’s smile was slipping. She tried to answer, and instead let out an acknowledging grunt. The contraction was releasing her now but she could barely remain standing with the immense pressure of the head dipping into her birth canal.

The girls receded back into the crowd, and Melanie heard Lea’s voice in her ear. Her hand went to her back, steadying. “You okay?”

“The baby’s trying to come,” Melanie whimpered back. “I can feel it.”

“Shit, Mel!” Lea hissed. “I told you!”

“Just—please, get me out of here.”

“Alright,” Lea breathed. “Okay.” Trying to look casual, Lea scanned the convention hall for exits. Even if they were to make it outside, Melanie thought, what then? Squat down and pop her baby out on the sidewalk? In the summer heat? No, they needed somewhere private, away from all the eyes and cameras.

Heat flashes. She was shivering, legs swaying. The mass filling her canal was nauseating and the pressure was almost enough to collapse her. Lea yanked her shoulder suddenly and Melanie was jolted back into reality. “Restrooms! This way!”

The main hall had become quickly congested since they took the photo, and they were forced to double back and pick their way around the edges. Along the way Melanie suffered another contraction that had her stopping to brace herself against the wall. The pressure was blinding. It was as though the baby was filling every part of her, slowly, an all-encompassing descending fullness that was impossible to ignore or stave off.

“I gotta push,” she gasped to Lea before grunting and bending her knees.

“No! No way! We’re so close.”

“I’m trying not to…. Oh, god.” She tried to resist the urge. Her body was demanding that she bear down.

Some passerby called over to them. “Hey, is she okay?”

Lea sprang up. “Oh yeah, perfectly fine,” and Melanie recognized the nervous lie. “Just some cramping, you guys had better avoid that sushi truck outside.”

Would Zero Two just give up like this? Lose control so easily? Melanie shook her head. No, she wouldn’t, and neither would Melanie. With an almost superhuman effort, Melanie took her palms from the wall and straightened and tried to pinch her thighs as close together as they would go. The fullness peaked, stretching her wide from within. “Fuck!” She felt tears forming in her eyes.

She leaned heavily against Lea, blinking the tears from her eyes as she glanced up. “Oh no…. mm, the line is that long?!”

People were lined against the wall and crouched by outlets, plugged into phones as they waited. She couldn’t wait that long. Her body was already utterly fatigued from fighting her most primal feminine instincts. She couldn’t imagine undergoing even one more contraction without giving in to the need to birth.

She spun Lea and held her shoulders, trying to convey the impossibility of such a task. “Lea, please, there’s no way in hell I can last that long. Mmgh, it’s coming, I’m gonna have to push, I can’t not push.”

Lea raised a hand to cup Melanie’s cheek, her touch light and tender. “Oh, Mel. Just hold on to me, all right?”

They took their places in the abysmally long line, Melanie fling, bowlegged, and clinging onto Lea for support. When another contraction struck it arrived with violence, and immediately every other thought deserted Melanie’s head except for the need to push. She buried her face into Lea’s shoulder, hanging onto her for dear life, and planted her feet wide. Then she PUSHED, with a long, breathless groan.

“I’m pushinggg-mmmgh,” she sobbed in Lea’s ear as she bore down.

Lea rubbed the small of Melanie’s back in soothing circles. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Every push shoved the baby further down, filling her birth canal more and more with its immense mass, and she couldn’t stop the descent, couldn’t even keep her thighs together any more, her legs permanently spread in preparation for the coming baby. Contractions wracked her belly; her womb clenched and seethed. With each one she was forced to stop and squat and bear down as subtly and silently as she could manage. It was all she could do to stop from releasing guttural roars as she pushed.

Twenty people down. Ten. Five. They were almost to the restrooms now, leaning against a vending machine near the doors. Unfortunately, Melanie just couldn’t hold it back. She and Lea had their back to the others, pretending to examine the vending machine for snacks when in reality, Melanie had both hands braced against the glass, pushing with all she had. Her powerful internal muscles thrust the baby down, and her tight groan sharpened the head shoved through her hips and began to fill her vagina. She fumbled between her legs with one hand, crying out at the sensation, and felt the slightest bulge in the leather at her crotch. The head was so close to emerging, the fullness was nearly unbearable, and it had her panting, open-mouthed, lolling her head even after the contraction had ended.

“Oh god, Mel,” Lea whispered, half in horror, half in awe. “I can see it! It’s starting to come out!”

“Can’t—” Melanie gasped. “Not, guh! I-it can’t come out yet!”

“Excuse me,” Someone behind them in line said. “I think the woman’s bathroom is free now.”

Lea ushered Melanie from her position against the machine; she could barely walk now, stuck at nearly a half-squat, toddling into the bathroom with the head trapped between her legs.

As Lea closed the door and flipped the lock, Melanie had already clamped her hands against her thighs and dropped into a deep squat, grunting the baby deeper into her bottom. The fabric at her crotch strained even more, and she could feel her lips distending outward, tautly enveloping the head but beginning to open. Her most intimate part, now being unrecognizably stretched. The burn had her panting in tiny, whimpering grunts, trying to hold back but failing altogether.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned. “OH. It burns, Lea! I’m giving birth, it’s coming, oh fuck, that HURTS.”

She doubled over with vigor, utterly consumed with pushing, with the desperate, overwhelming need to get this baby out of her. Her body suit stretched more and more, and the damp tent between her thighs grew until her lips were parted in a tight, fiery circle around the head, finally reaching full crown.

“Ah!” She gasped, and then Lea was by her side, cupping her face, murmuring into her ear how well she was doing, telling her, “I need to take this off, okay? Baby needs to come.”

“Yes, please, get it off!” Melanie pleaded. She wasn’t Zero Two anymore, wasn’t anyone right now except a birthing mother, giving into her natural instincts.

Lea circled around to her back, parting the pink hair of her wig to locate the zipper at her neck. She fiddled with it, struggling to fit it into the teeth. “C’mon, stupid thing!”

The next contraction was quickly taking hold. “Hurry!” Even as Melanie said this she was already settling into her squat again, readying herself to birth.

The crown in her bodysuit was unforgiving, the fullness and pressure driving her nearly to her breaking point. She just needed the head out, then she could focus on getting the suit down. “I gotta push again!”

“Just—wait,” Lea commanded her, fingers scrabbling with the zipper. “Ugh, I knew it’d be too tight for you.”

Melanie was panting, shaking her head back and forth, trying to escape the pressure and urge to push. Then she suddenly growled, mind going blank, stars spiraling behind her eyelids as she squeezed them shut and bore down. The head shunted forward, only to meet the sudden resistance of the unyielding leather. Stretched to its limit, it wouldn’t permit the head to move any further out of her. She was stuck at a full-crown.

“Lea!” She shrieked. “Get it down!”

“Trying,” Lea muttered. “Hold on—got it!” The bodysuit parted down Melanie’s back, exposing her smooth, slick skin. She reached the end of the zipper, just above Melanie’s rear. “Mel, hon, you’re gonna have to step out.”

“No,” Melanie was already shaking her head. Every part of her was trembling. ”No fucking way.”

“The baby can’t come until you let it,” Lea said, stepping close and wrapping her arms around Melanie’s convulsing pregnant stomach.

“Mmgh,” Melanie moaned, and raised one leg from the suit draped around her waist, feeling her vaginal walls twitch and pulse around the head splitting her apart.

“One leg out, that’s it!”

Melanie shook loose her other pant leg, feeling her thighs brush the dripping head, then fell back against Lea, moaning, and then pushed with all her might. Her lips slipped around the head, then she shuddered as fluids spurted from her opening and it popped free.

“Oh my,” Lea said, reaching down between Melanie’s legs to hold it. “Oh, Mel, you did it…. you’re almost there.”

Mel couldn’t speak, could barely remember to breathe. She’d come here this morning to dress up, have fun, and meet fans. Now there was a baby coming out of her. Get it together, she told herself as she moaned uncontrollably, tossing her head as the shoulders rotated. Get it together and PUSH!

One more push, shoulders spreading her wide, opening throbbing around them, then— a rush; the baby slipped out into Lea’s waiting hands. Melanie sagged to the bathroom floor and Lea lowered with her, holding her in her arms. Melanie looked up at her as she took her baby and held it to her leaking chest. Her anime bangs were matted to her forehead, face flushed even behind her false blush, eye makeup stained and running. Lea smiled at her and she smiled back tiredly.

“You were beautiful,” Lea said.

Melanie glanced down to her chest. “I wonder what baby’s first cosplay will be.”

#fpreg #clothing birth #birth denial #labor kink #birth kink #pregnant kink #inconvenient birth #birth fic #commission

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s-4pphics · 2 months ago

Text

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL. suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game. dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do…

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess.

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do…

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives.

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled.

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you?

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties.

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles.

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed.

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest.

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt.

Aren’t you? Don’t you?

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think.

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow.

She clutches your wedding band in her palm.

What to do… what to do…

Birds are artists.

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness.

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through.

How stupid could a child be?

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else.

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next.

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved.

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either…

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours.

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife.

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.”

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.”

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee.

“My dad called.”

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?”

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?”

“Of course not.”

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.”

“Why.”

She squints at you. “Why what.”

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected.

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?”

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.”

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.”

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug.

“Are we.”

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh.

“Yes.” She answers.

“Okay.”

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?”

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood.

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?”

Excited is laughable.

“No, I don’t.”

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you.

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it.

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming.

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door.

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room.

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long.

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You’re a pest.

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you.

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that?

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her.

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood—

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal.

She’s not dead.

“�� You good?”

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard.

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery.

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?”

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help.

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle.

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?”

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie.

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry.

Try try try try

“Can you stand now?” She croaks.

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled.

“Can you get upstairs on your own?”

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move.

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk.

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit.

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way.

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake!

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.”

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind.

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper.

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…”

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either.

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles.

“I hate when p-people look at me.”

“Me too.”

“I wish my family loved me.”

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly.

“Yeah…”

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try.

“Me too.”

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on.

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that.

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again.

The universe will always remind you who you are.

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is…

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens.

You curse them when it starts up again.

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak.

“You rang.”

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.”

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks.

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife.

“Yes.”

“You’re attending.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Is that all.”

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.”

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget.

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice.

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent.

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again.

Tonight will be interesting.

The ride to your mother’s is silent.

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding.

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate?

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now.

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur.

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism.

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece.

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile!

Ellie! Ellie, look this way!

Ellie, where’s your wife?

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow.

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck.

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs.

Trouble in paradise?

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that?

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break.

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive.

When will you get here?

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home.

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind.

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt.

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood.

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly.

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open.

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing.

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you.

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you.

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds.

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only.

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it.

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient.

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door.

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell.

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet.

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room.

Where are you?

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of…

What the fuck was this dude’s name?

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter.

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?”

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance.

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?”

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers.

Why does everyone keep fucking with her?

“Cheers.”

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.”

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.”

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile.

“Meh.”

“Why are you here.”

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?”

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?”

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist.

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her.

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty.

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else.

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?”

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman.

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child.

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing…

How telling is time.

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter.

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body.

Funny.

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly.

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts.

“You, as well. And your husband is…?”

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them.

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch.

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back.

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright.

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.”

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows.

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion.

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void.

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?”

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow.

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!”

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her.

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!”

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind.

Anything to lure them away from you.

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little.

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen.

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper.

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?”

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.”

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore.

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire.

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses.

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?”

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises.

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!”

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens.

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?”

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you.

Do it for her.

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits.

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.”

“Or what, you old fuck?”

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned.

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?”

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago.

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach.

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it.

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache.

Suddenly, it’s too warm here.

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.”

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door.

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you.

Consider plan MERGE a bust.

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe.

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here.

“Stop.”

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep.

“Huh?”

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart.

“Stop. I hate that sound.”

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.”

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks.”

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather.

“Ellie.”

“Hm.”

“We should get a bird.”

“… And do what with it.”

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you.

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.”

“I never had one.”

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.”

“Lucky.”

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning?

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed.

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does.

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.”

“I thought you only went once or twice?”

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.”

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.”

“To PetCo?”

“Yeah.” Why not?

Everything is almost over. So, why not?

“… K.”

“So we’ll go?”

“Mhm.”

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask,

“Do you think we’re cut off?”

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.”

“What’s gonna happen to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border.

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from.

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone.

“I don’t know.”

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?”

“What if I just leave?”

“And do what?” Her voice raises.

“Who knows. Who cares.”

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.”

“What good will a corpse do for her?”

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all.

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers.

“For?”

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.”

You shrug. Not much. Not anything.

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery.

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle.

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.”

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again.

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still?

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet.

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know

Is death this quiet?

Your mom’s calling.

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again.

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t.

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake?

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness.

You never wear normal clothes.

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them.

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing.

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix?

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10.

“Did my mom call you at all?”

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours.

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.”

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?”

“Yes.”

“What’d she say?”

“I didn’t answer.”

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you.

“I hope it’s something bad.”

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?”

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.”

“Your dad?”

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.”

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.”

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit.

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.”

“Take me next time.”

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?”

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.”

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.”

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.”

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger.

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!”

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife.

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?”

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is.

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.”

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.”

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate.

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets.

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped.

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes…

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there.

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision.

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears.

Is she really keeping her promise?

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember.

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.”

“K.”

“What do I wear?”

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry.

“What are you wearing?”

“Whatever I want to.”

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.”

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking.

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?”

“No.”

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it.

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off.

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps.

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots.

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding.

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you.

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight.

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears.

… Fuck.

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake.

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you.

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be.

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile.

“Where are we going?”

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.”

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies.

“Not where I’m taking you.”

“Must be secretive.”

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.”

“Okay.”

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile.

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her.

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy.

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here.

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands.

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them.

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing.

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off.

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could.

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time.

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder.

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good.

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this.

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks.

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are.

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction.

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her.

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them.

Or are you simply as delusional as they come?

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint.

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish.

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home.

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper,

“I didn’t get to meet your sluts.”

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty.

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now.

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.”

You grin and slur, “Where to?”

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life.

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck.

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!”

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries.

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great.

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…”

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her?

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation.

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!”

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves.

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.”

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.”

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.”

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod.

“Is she who you fuck?”

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.”

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie the stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever.

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.”

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where.

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?”

You shrug, “If you fuck her.”

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.”

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you.

Until Ellie speaks again.

“You’re quiet.”

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.”

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?”

“Yes.” You break out in a grin.

“What else do you like?”

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?”

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why.

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.”

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually.

“… Uh huh.”

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?”

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge.

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys.

“Where to?”

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses.

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not.

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.”

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly.

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you.

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?”

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?”

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!”

“SO?” You holler.

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry?

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!”

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched.

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue.

“You know what I think?”

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.”

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium.

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.”

“So why stay?”

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual.

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you.

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask.

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?”

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!”

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!”

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!”

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her.

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear.

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time.

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?”

… That’s cute. Makes you blush.

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?”

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them?

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public.

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm.

“Get the fuck in the car.”

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer.

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button.

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks.

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.”

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that.

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?”

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth.

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths.

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her.

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered.

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you.

“Take us home, wife.”

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