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[zukkaoru]

mom, am i still young?

Soft fabric carefully attached to a metal clip, something that has adorned her hair for as long as she’s had it. A reminder of her mother’s love. Of her arms wrapped around Kyouka, warm and secure, her lips pressed to Kyouka’s forehead as she mumbled reassurances through Kyouka’s silent tears. And now, it’s. It’s ruined.

on kyouka, loss of innocence, and blood

🩸 2.4k words || kyouka & gin 🩸 for @bsdladiesweek day 4: blood

[nichuuu]

From Eden

Jeon Heejin x M reader

(1st instalment of De Selby)

PSA: This shit has not seen the editing board because I'm lazy. Fell off real hard. Sorry gang.

Word count: 10k

You liked to think that your first meeting with her after all those years was a fluke. 

As it went for most people who went their separate ways at a point in their lives: there was history between you and Jeon Heejin. It was a little more choppy than you’d like to admit, but it formed the crux of your relationship and you couldn’t just ignore it. She seemed to find no qualms in forgetting what happened between the two of you. And as you caught up with her at a booth seat in some club you guys bumped into each other at, you wondered if you’d overreacted when the two of you had your falling out.

She was possibly kinda bad company for the night – not exactly a face you wanted to see three beers in and ditched by the rest of your friends cause they all got too drunk and found themselves booted from this hellhole. But at the end of the day, they all say that it’s better to be in poor company than to be alone. 

***

To whatever gods that were out there, you thanked all of them collectively for the fact that the toilet that she’d dragged you into was empty. You hoped that the cubicle door was enough to keep whatever was happening in the bathroom privy to its occupants. The music that pulsed on outside the bathroom should be enough to cover you right? 

Heejin—as usual—had no qualms about skipping past the usual formalities of intimacy. Those deft hands were on your belt faster than you could utter her name, and your cock was in her hand before you even knew it. She was gentle with you, stroking you considerately as she laid a hand on your chest. Those fingers made you tingle from the tip down, pushing you to new levels of pleasure you’d no idea you could experience. They gripped you lightly yet firmly, applying pressure at all the right spots to make your toes curl in your shoes and your muscles tense throughout your body. You could only wonder: did she know what she was doing to you? Or was she just getting really lucky. However sordid this situation was, it felt right to you… and maybe to her as well.

“Jesus Heejin”--your hissing through your teeth. It sounds a little more aggressive than you’d like, but you know she’d have no qualms about it anyway–“you sure know your way around a dick.”

The smirk on her face was snitching on the fact that she definitely knew what she was doing. She leaned in, flushing herself against your chest while she continued to deliver languid strokes to the rock hard meat in her hand. “Thanks… He loves a nice handjob from time to time, though I always imagine myself giving it to you instead of him to get into it..”

You summoned the strength to look into her eyes – really gaze deep into those lustful, beautiful orbs she’d been blessed with. Past the want and need, there was an undeniable look of sincerity she held, a wordless soulful confession to you that she had always fantasised you in place of her ‘lover’. It drove you to push a little further, “and what are you thinking about now that I’m actually the one you’re giving it to?”

Heejin thought about it for a moment, almost as if she had a million and one answers that could express her carnal desires. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past her to actually harbour a million and one answers. She was always a wild thinker in many aspects. She was also diligent, and that translated into the way her hand hadn’t stopped moving throughout the eternity (it was shorter than that, but it sure felt like it) she took to produce a congenial answer. 

“Now that you’re actually here,” she finally answered, making sure to hit you with a smile that blurred the distinct line between sweet and sultry, “I’m thinking about how good you’re gonna fill me with this pretty, thick cock.”

“Pretty?” you couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d heard and read of many ways that people described dicks, but never in your life would you ever expect the word ‘pretty’ to be amongst that mix. Heejin giggled – one of mischief and ‘know-it-all’ energy. It’s pretty – her grip around you tightened, squeezing you with pleasurable force as her movements quickened almost in sync with your breathing – because I like the way it feels in my hand… and I know that this cock is gonna be better than anything that he’ll ever give me. 

She stopped, putting a jarring halt to the pleasure that surged through your system. Her hand on your chest snaked up to your cheek – a sweet action that almost took the pure filth out of the words that followed. “I want you to fuck me–no, own me.”

It felt almost like a command in the way that you immediately wanted to fulfill her request. Her thumb traces circles on your face; her speech only gets filthier, “fuck me like I’m yours. Make me cum so hard that I forget all about him.”

You found yourself back in control of the part of your brain that controls the facilities of your speech and movement. You gingery held the wrist that was delivering those soft strokes of heaven just moments ago and pulled her hand off your throbbing shaft. As much as you’d love to have her jerk you off, there were more pressing matters at hand – namely the situation of her clothing and the fact that it was still on her. You wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close.

“Heejin darling,” you whispered, relishing the way she shivered as your warm breath made contact with her ear. “I can’t do much if you still have all of these damned clothes on.”

She quickly recognised the game that you were playing and was eager to match you step-for-step. She held your gaze as she hooked a finger into the top of the tube top that adorned that wonderful figure and—rather enthusiastically—pulled it down. The nipple covers were quickly discarded and her small, perky breasts caught your gaze. Judging from her smile, she loved that you were staring. 

“You’re nice”, she told you, moving some hair out her face like you were looking there of all places. “He’s always commanding me: take off your clothes, do this, do that… I could get very used to you.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little. Her constant comparison of you and the man she was supposed to be loving was making you feel a little better about yourself (even though you knew that was far from the intended effect). You’d like to return the favour; you began running kisses down her body – starting from her lips before making your way down to her collarbone. Her shuddering sighs told you that you were doing something right, and you endeavored to keep up your performance for the rest of… Well… Whatever this session was.

“God… you’re fucking perfect, you know?” you informed her, wondering if she ever knew how much you adored that body of hers. Yes, you were more wholesome at a younger age – looking at her soft features and dorky personality to decide that you liked her. However, innocence never stopped you from stealing a glance or two at her ass when she wore tight jeans or a quick look at her slim figure whenever she wore anything that hugged her body like a glove. You’d never know if she ever caught you looking, but now you’re glad she knows that you are giving her your fullest attention (it was hard not to really).

You weren’t sure if her cheeks were flushing because of your comment or if she was just getting turned on. Either way, she still had remarks to deliver, “perfect is a little strong, but I’ll take the comment because I’m just so humble.”

Mischief was and would always be her idiosyncrasy.

A creak made both of you freeze. Female voices filled the bathroom, accompanied by the sound of heels clacking against the floor as your little getaway location was patronised by unwelcome guests. 

“Ugh… This damned contact lens is not coming out,” an identified voice carped. It sounded like the woman who said it was just in front of the stall that you were in. Judging from the slight look of annoyance that crossed Heejin’s face, you deduced that those were fellow bridesmaids who were in there together with you. With the same expression lingering on her soft features, she reached down and unclasped her jeans. She unzipped them slightly before pulling them down – past the delightful curve of her waist and till they were halfway down her supple thighs.

“Do you need help?” another voice rings out. Heels striked against the floor as another female occupant moved to join the scene; Heejin moved to grab you by the cock and pull you closer (as if the two of you weren’t already skin to skin in that stall).

“Fuck me now,” she hissed, an almost angry look filling her eyes. It was like she was being fuelled by the annoyance that stemmed from the presence of her fellow bridesmaids – using it as an excuse to quickly get filled with cock and have it pumping in and out of her within the next few seconds or so. She was lucky that you were taught to never keep a girl waiting.

Your movements are quick and firm; grabbing her by the waist and turning her around. Her gasp was telling of her surprise towards your sudden movements, but the grin that followed when she turned halfway around to you to watch as you pulled down her underwear told you that she liked how things were moving. Never in your life would you have imagined this: you and Jeon Heejin – each of you half naked in your own respects in a bathroom stall while people chatted freely beyond the wall of the stall. If the teenage version of yourself ever found out about this, you didn’t know how he’d respond.

Your right hand snaked down towards her crotch, and you are pleasantly surprised to find the slick wetness that could very well be running down the inside of her thigh. You could always check, but you liked to imagine. You took your shaft in your right hand. She bent slightly at the waist, her hands pressed against the white wall of the stall. The rest of her tight frame joined her hands soon after you parted the wet lips of her cunt and hilted yourself inside of her. 

Her insides felt like a warm embrace – better than you could’ve ever imagined it to be. It felt like a perfect fit; the throbbing meat within her walls filled her perfectly and felt every small movement the flesh could ever register. To call it heavenly would be downplaying the sheer pleasure she was bringing just by letting you be inside of her. Jeon Heejin felt like something unreal, unfathomable. You doubted that your hastily crafted description of her sweet wet cunt could allow one to process this taste of heaven.

Heejin let out a sharp gasp – loud enough for only the two of you to hear and loud enough for you to know that she too was unprepared for this new experience. From the way the muscles on her back tensed as her walls tightened around you, it felt as if her body was welcoming you. It was almost like she was subconsciously pulling you closer, deeper. You could get very used to this.

You revel in it a little, take in the feelings, the new sensation; the sound of the intentional soft breaths that the two of you were taking. This was certainly a novelty for you, and if you were being very honest with yourself: the events that led up to this moment felt a little too much like a fever dream. You half expected yourself to wake up in the next few seconds, or maybe—

“What are you waiting for?”–of course. It had to be her to really cement the fact that this whole thing was actually real. Sure, it’s inconceivable; but no imaginative power of yours could ever replicate the sarcasm (splashed with hunger) behind her voice, nor could you visualise the smouldering look in her eyes as she bit her lip–“your dick is in me. Do something with it.”

It felt like a challenge. She knew damn well that you always took up her challenges.

Withdrawing yourself from the warmth of her slick, you took a moment to cast your gaze downward. You appreciate the sight of your shaft glistening in her juices for a moment—and only a moment. There were pressing matters at hand—before thrusting back into her and reacquainting yourself with the warmth of her walls. You’d have loved to get into this slowly; unfortunately, Heejin chose the worst possible place to get it on. You’d have to live with her choices (and this isn’t exactly new for you).

And as a third voice joins the fray outside your stall—I think I have some eye drops here. Maybe that could help?—you began pumping yourself in and out of her, slow and controlled with full strokes that filled her to the brim. The voices continued to fill the bathroom as the three anonymous patrons struggled with one of their lenses; you struggled to keep yourself together inside of Heejin’s hot wet cunt. 

“F-Fuck yes,” she hissed. Don’t worry, it was soft. Or you could just be too absorbed by the delightful sound of wet squelching as your shaft appears and disappears between her legs to notice that she may be a tad loud. Even if it was, the trouble outside was enough to keep the other three  “I can’t believe I’m finally getting this dick. God… You’re so… Oh my god.”

It humoured you to see her in this state, though laughing at her would be the pot calling the kettle black; you yourself were trying to hold on to something tangible—that wasn’t her waist cause hot damn was your grip on it doing a number on you. Counterintuitive, but hot nonetheless—to keep you grounded in your senses. Slip up and you’d be dealing with the risk of being found in a girl’s bathroom. 

“Jesus Heejin”–you were trying your best to throw in some dirty talk. It would help to spice things up if it weren’t for the fact that your own words were failing you. Your mind was almost completely consumed by the warm squeeze of her pussy, the small twitches of her walls as you drilled yourself into her tight frame like you were slowly nailing a painting onto the wall of the cramped stall. Actually, you were nailing a painting to the wall of the stall: the way her body moved and responded to your thrusts could easily be considered fine art in your books; her body could be considered a canvas given its pale complexion and its smooth surface. Heejin was an art piece herself – a complicated mix of emotions that could take the place of colour and a mind so complex that no composition could ever capture its essence. Good god… You were hooked on this girl–”you have no idea how fucking good you feel around my cock.”

To be clear: from the moment you started fucking her, she hadn’t turned back to face the wall. This whole time she’d been facing you – eyes smoking under the fire of passion and her mouth slightly parted as if her soft moans and sighs were keeping them permanently open. Simply put – she was hot. If you were to discard the complications behind the sex, one could easily classify this as plain, passionate and simple fucking (in a highly risky scenario that could jeopardize both of your reputations, mainly Heejin’s) between two people who have longed for each other. But the plainness of that sounded unappealing to you; the enthralling fact about this was the complexity of the situation – the thrill behind the immorality of it and the sheer risk behind satisfying your own desires. As she gasped when your hands found purchase in her soft breasts, you wondered if she had the same thoughts running through your head as you (though from the looks of it, she was purely enjoying the sex and probably leaving her thoughts behind. Words fail in times like these – you’d be one to know).

Her voice is unsteady as she hissed through her teeth—harder. Fucking give it to me like I’m yours—to perversely request for more than what you were giving her. To see her this uncouth enthralled you to no end. With one hand on her left tit, you moved to secure her hair in a bunch in your other hand. Her hair was a little far from silky—no doubt from all the dye that it’d seen—but it provided friction for you to grip onto her strands with ease as you decreased the intervals between your thrusts. The sound of wet squelching began to permeate the stall, and it was starting to be accompanied by the soft sounds of skin slapping against skin as you struggled to control your desires to rail the girl before you. Thankfully, the cries of victory from the women outside masked the unsavoury sounds.

“Thank god!” one of them, presumably the one who had their contact lens stuck. You’d affectionately refer to them as ‘Eyes’. “I thought it’d be in there forever. Thanks guys.”

“No worries”, another chimed. It was the second voice you heard when all of them entered. She’d be ‘Two’. “Normally you could take this to Heejin. She’d get you fixed up in a flash.”

“Really?” the third asked. You’ll call her ‘Three’. “Do idols get their contacts stuck a lot?”

“Probably,” Eyes mused, “all that dancing on stage probably isn’t suited for glasses, and who knows what type of contacts their stylists have them on.”

Heejin catched your gaze. Struggling to control her breathing, she managed to confirm Eye’s statement—she’s… kinda right. Oh fuck…—before you pulled back firmly on her hair to shut her mouth. Don’t be mistaken: you loved her personality and all, but now really wasn’t the time for it to shine. For good measure, you sealed her lips with a kiss – sloppy and clumsy and hurried. You squeezed her breast a little harder. 

“Where is she anyway?” Three asked. “I haven’t seen her since she left to go talk to that friend of hers…”

A tongue click of disapproval could be heard. You could imagine that it was followed by a tongue wave of dismissal from the way Two commented, “leave her be. She rarely gets to get out of her schedule. Probably trying to catch up with some old friends or something…”

There was a hum of agreement; Heejin moaned straight into your mouth as you captured her nipple between your fingers and squeezed. If the women outside knew how Heejin was ‘catching up’ with you, you didn’t know how they’d react to the sight of her being fucked raw in a bathroom stall meters away from them. You didn’t know how she was getting away with this, but you weren’t exactly complaining. If it wasn’t for understanding bridesmaids, you wouldn't be able to make a wet mess out of her. Maybe you’d thank them later, but you’d decide on that after you were done with Heejin.

“Was that the guy she was talking about the other day?” Two inquired. You had no idea what she looked like, and it scared you a little that she’d seen your face.

There was a moment of pause before Eyes quipped, “what guy?”

Silence followed Eyes’ question. For a second, you were worried that they’d all picked up on the lewd sounds of you fucking the very girl that they were speaking of. You held your breath, but you didn’t stop pumping your shaft between Heejin’s legs. She was almost like a lifeline – a slick and wet and oh-so-hot one that was keeping grounded in your senses while hooking to the sensation of the slick thrusts inside her pussy. Miracle drug… Or maybe just a drug – either way: Heejin was everything to you right now. Listening in on their conversation was just so that you wouldn’t be found during your few minutes in heaven.

“Nevermind. I think I wasn’t supposed to talk about that,” Two muttered. “Let’s get out of here before someone spikes our drink or something.”

They began discussing more mundane things, and you couldn’t care less about them because all that really mattered was the fact that their voices were fading away. You waited till you heard the sound of the creaky door closing to relinquish Heejin’s lips from your possession. She let out a gasp of air, followed by a desperate cry – loud and pleading now that she had the freedom to speak.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” she hissed. It was almost a snarl really. “Cum with me. Please.”

She was lucky that you: a) had a really big soft spot for her and; b) knew better than to turn a nice girl down.

With a grunt, the hand on her breast shoots to her throat, gripping it tightly as you frantically fuck Heejin to catch up with her imminent orgasm. She was into it, reciprocating by accompanying your hand on her throat and squeezing even tighter. She lets strained cries tumble from her mouth—Oh yes baby… I’m yours. Oh fuck… Oh my fucking god… You’re gonna make me cum so hard—her wells squeezing tighter and tighter around you. Husky was her voice as she pleaded with you to take your liberties—Fucking cum anywhere you like. I just want to be yours—with her, and she was practically shaking in your grasp as you drove yourself closer and closer to the point of no return inside her wet tight walls. Everything – your heart and soul and whatever – pointed you towards making a huge mess out of the women in your arms, and you endeavoured to achieve that goal one way or another.

The tingling at the base of your cock was steadily growing up your shaft. Your thoughts blurred together, nullifying and cancelling each other out till all you could think of was her. With every pump into her, you told yourself that she was yours to take. With every sigh that left her lips, you thought about how many times she pictured this moment in her head. With each gasp and sigh and moan and cry, you fought the urge to hiss through your teeth—Heejin, I love you so much—and admit your feelings for her and how much you’ve missed her touch; tell her how no one made you feel like she could; let her know that for all these years, you’d longed to reconnect with her and sort things out once and for all. Sweet thoughts; perverse desires. The latter wins – all that comes out of your mouth is, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

And it happened. A little quicker than you’d have liked but there was no way to control the course that the lust of man would take you down. Your cock pops out of Heejin’s heat, glistening with her slick wetness as you pump yourself to completion with your free hand. The hand on Heejin’s throat was pulled down to her crotch, and she used your fingers to rub the swollen nub of her clit as the first ropes of semen shot out and landed on her lower back. She came as the second rope landed on the swell of her left ass cheek, and her knees buckled as the third and fourth spurts hit the fabric of her tube top and the right side of her lower back respectively. You lost track of the rest of your load as Heejin leaned against you, quaking as her orgasm struck her in waves and your load continued to streak her back. It all was so fast. You wondered how either you managed to process your actions in the moment. 

She panted against you, sweaty and spent as she closed her eyes and caught her breath. Your dick stayed flushed against the small of her back, slick with a mix of fluids from you and her. Your hand at her crotch slowly rubs circles into her clit, easing her off her peak and giving you something else to focus on other than how beautiful she looked. You feared that if you stared too long, you’d say something that you didn’t want her to know. The last thing you wanted was to have that moment of intimacy—facilitated by the afterglow of really good sex—to be ruined by some stupid feelings.

“Hey,” she whispered – all soft and tender as she opened her eyes to stare up at you. “That was fucking incredible.”

You managed a chuckle, restraining the urge to kiss her where she stood. She smiled, reached up to cup your cheek as you stared deep into her eyes. For a moment, the world went silent for you and her.

Then she pulled you down to her, kissed you where she stood. The position was a little awkward, your noses bumping each other at odd spots on your faces as she let the sweet nectar that was her lips grace your mouth in a soft and sweet kiss. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced, different from the kiss you’d given her in the midst of fucking her. It felt so right, so tender.

She released your lips with a soft smack, positively glowing as she gazed into your eyes for a little bit longer. 

“Keep this between us,” she whispered, “I love you. I always have.”

***

You stared blankly at her. It was all you could do really.

“What part of this can’t you understand?” she asked. The anger behind her voice was potent, palpable. “I have a boyfriend. Stay away.”

In your hand, the note that you’d plan to hand her felt a little lighter than it had when you first approached. Wishful thinking had you delusional; there was no chance that she would ever go to that dance with you. 

You thought that maybe the friendship could coax her into it – that maybe the years of what almost felt like kinship would drive her to just hear you out for a little bit; yet you seemed to forget that love is blind and can cloud your judgement.

In a moment, it felt like everything you’d built with her had turned to ashes.

***

“Indulge me Heejin. Bring me through your thought process.”

On the bed of your apartment, Heejin tosses her phone aside. Languidly, she flips onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as her elbow dents the pillow. 

“I know,” she mutters, a little bit shamefully if you might add. “Dating another guy to make you jealous and confess is a classic fanfiction folly and all… But I was desperate.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You know that we could’ve just… talked, right?”

Her lips form a line. She sighs and lets her head flop back onto the pillow with a bit of a thump. To be very clear: you aren’t asking her all these questions to guilt trip her into an apology. You are genuinely curious to understand how she was thinking at the period in your lives. It’s a good point of reflection for the both of you considering you both screwed up in one way or another, and maybe even a good chance to offload some emotional baggage. You’ll admit – finding out that she’d dated the guy she was currently with just to get you to run to her and confess your love in highschool was a bit of a shocking discovery. It was foolish, yes… But you wondered why Heejin of all women would resort to such methods. She could be awfully blunt when she wanted to be, and somehow even more blunt when she was telling you that you looked like shit in skinny jeans. You never knew as one to shy away from a confrontation when necessary, and even though she could be a bit of a big dork, she was emotionally aware enough to understand that communication would easily have settled your feelings for each other.

Heejin rolls in the bed, moving close to you so that she can throw an arm around you as she asks, “you’re not mad right?”

“No. Just curious,” you tell her truthfully. She’s silent for a moment, then she looks you in the eyes and opens up: I always meant to talk to you about it. When I heard from Haesul that you liked me I… I was just ecstatic. You were everything I wanted in a man, and I really just wanted to make you mine. Believe me when I say that I wanted to just run to you after the school bell rang and tell you that I loved you too… and maybe ask you out on a date the next weekend.

Her thumb traces circles on your back. You can tell that she’s being sincere from the way she never shies from your gaze. She continues, “but as I’m running to your class down the hall… This guy comes up to me and just tells me that he’s been crushing on me for years and wants to date me. I want to tell him ‘no’ on the spot. I really did. But I see an opportunity to… I dunno… Spice things up a little.”

And you can guess the rest of the story, but you just want to hear her say it just to be sure. Sure enough, she tells you the exact line that you predicted out of her—one thing led to another and then… well, here we are—and you can’t help but chuckle. The whole thing is pretty damn foolish to be honest, and you recognise the fact that if you’d just acted a little less rashly, maybe you wouldn’t have had to go down the path that you did. It’s a folly of the past but it does bring some shame to your present.

“I’m sorry”—she surprises you with this one. You assumed that you guys are past the stage of reconciliation at this point. I mean… You did fuck in a bathroom before she texted you after the wedding she was attending, so it would be kinda right to just conclude that you guys pre-fired the make-up sex—“I was rash and stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising again?” you ask her, “I thought we were through with the sob ‘sorry’s and what-nots.”

“Just for good measure,” she whispers, a gleam in her eyes as she shifts around in your bed a little. “You can never be too careful when it comes to these types of things. Don’t want to make you an enemy again, do I?”

“That wouldn’t be too bad,” you reason, albeit playful rather than serious. She recognises that and scoffs as you continue, “they say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“So what I’m hearing is: you’d stay for the hate sex,” she fires back. You smile.

“Not quite… But somewhat.”

Heejin sighs and slaps your leg. You secretly like pissing her off a little, but she didn’t need to know. 

“Now mister,” she says, hijacking the course of the conversation. “Indulge me and bring me through your thought process, and this isn’t about highschool by the way.”

She presses herself up against you, and you feel her hand slide down your torso and to your crotch.

“Tell me,” she whispers, a bit of smoky sultriness sneaking its way into her voice. “Why are you so fucking hard?”

It’s here that you realise that you’ve kinda walked into a trap. Not that what’s about to proceed is bad or anything, but it’s just that you’re a little disappointed that you hadn’t spotted this a little earlier. There were signs that you ignored when you saw her in your bed – namely the fact that she was wearing a see-through sleeveless dress that had a plunging neckline. If that wasn’t enough, she was blatantly playing with herself when you walked in, staring at her phone with this blanked out expression while her fingers worked between her thighs. If it weren’t for your questions about her relationship decisions, the two of you would probably have been naked and sweating in your bed right now. 

“Can I guy not be excited by a pretty girl?” you’re not trying to play innocent, but you are seeing how far it can get you in this situation just for fun.

“Not this guy.” Heejin’s fingers snake around your cock, gripping it lightly through your pants. “And definitely not when it comes to this girl.”

You chuckle softly and catch her hand at your crotch. You pull it away and lean in to whisper into her ear, “don’t worry Heejin. I’m not ignoring the fact that you’re wearing the easiest thing for me to fuck you in.”

Her eyes brighten. “So you did notice…”

And the kiss that follows is far from tame really. You’re at fault for this one since you initiated it, but that knowledge doesn’t stop you from keeping your hands to yourself as you reach down and locate her pussy. Okay wait, you’re making it sound like it took you some effort to find it when you really only took about a second; it’s really easy considering that the panties she’s wearing were so sheer and thin that you could hardly consider it underwear. It was probably more like a concept of clothing than an actual, tangible thing. And her dress? The hem was a lot shorter than it looked. She probably hiked it up or something.

You’re unsurprised by the slick wetness of her cunt practically dripping out of her at this juncture. She’s probably been holding it in for a while now – suppressing all that lust and hunger to talk about feelings for some 30 minutes before she finally gets the chance to let loose on you. Hats off to her really: she had more control than you’d credit her for.

“Fuck baby,” you whisper, latheing your fingers in her juices by dipping them in between her undoubtedly flushed lips. “So wet for me already.”

“Wetter than I’ll ever be for him,” she sighs, almost breathlessly as she shuts her eyes to enjoy the sensation of your fingers getting familiar with her warm cunt. “You should—mmph… you should be grateful that I’m actually attracted to you.”

“I feel honoured.” you’re being genuine with her, but right now it comes off more as a sarcastic passing comment that leans towards the more tame side of dirty talk. Either way, anything you say would probably end with her putting your dick into one—or maybe all—of her holes and using it to her liking. Not that you’re complaining or anything, but it’s just the way the cookie crumbles. There’s no stopping Heejin’s desire, and there really isn’t a point to trying to stop it. You’d be missing out on, like, a lot. “Though, no pressure, I’d be more honoured if you actually did something about that attraction.”

She smiles, borderline sadistic and a bit more enthusiastic than you’re used to. Her hands are deft as she quickly undoes the knot that keeps your sweatpants around your waist, pulls it off eagerly and makes quick work of your boxers. Your cock springs free, hard and throbbing as she slides out of bed to discard her dress. In record time, she’s between your legs and stroking your shaft with patient strokes of her hand. The cheeky comments that you had beforehand quickly sank back down your chest – replaced by an earthy groan that only Heejin was capable of drawing out of you. 

“You know… I was doing a bit of thinking,” she tells you.

“You do a lot of that.”

Heejin has no comments, only a cheeky little grin as she breathes warm air onto the tip of your cock. It makes you shudder, surging pleasure through your veins down to your bones. She’s oddly good at making you squirm, and you’re not too sure how to feel about that.

“Anyway,” she continues, unfazed by what she’d just done to you. “Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was about to suggest that maybe I could cross out one of my fantasies today.”

You’re no stranger to her wild thoughts that could probably fight that of Sabrina Carpenter. As you’d recently found out: fucking in a bathroom stall was one of many wild fantasies that she’d been wanting to cross out. Now that she had you, she’d been busy crossing more and more of them out. The whole infidelity thing was already a major part of her list considering the fact that she’s doing it with you instead of her ‘official’ partner, and things only get wilder from there. Sex with her can sometimes be like exposure therapy, not that you’ve done it before or anything. 

“And which one are we ruling out today?” you inquire, watching with great interest as she produces her phone from below the mattress and swipes through it eagerly. You never saw her grab the damn thing, but you figured that you were probably too preoccupied with the sight of her undressing to take notice. By the way: the entire time that the two of you had been talking? Yeah, she’s been stroking you through all of that. One can only imagine how you were feeling at the moment.

When you saw her phone, you thought that she was going to open her notes app and start looking through her kinks or something. Nothing prepares you for the sound of a dial tone, and you can only watch as she lays the phone next to your thigh, just out of your reach. 

“No prizes for guessing who I’m calling,” she grins, almost too innocently for your taste. “Try not to make too much noise okay?”

And before anything can be said, she slacks her jaw and draws you into the warm wet depths of her mouth. 

The dial tone only continues as Heejin goes still – adjusting to your size and length and taste and shape and whatever she needs to configure herself to. Frankly: if she’d just started sucking you off with that tight seal around your cock, you would’ve been in perdition in mere seconds after she starts. So you give a small thanks to whoever’s watching over you from up above, and you pray that the person on the other end of the line doesn't pick up. While you utter that silent prayer, Heejin’s tongue introduces itself to your tip, sliding almost gracefully over the head of your cock as her phone rings for the nth time. Another ring; her tongue flattens itself against the base of your dick and melts itself to the surface. You grit your teeth, fearful that the moment you make a sound, the other party would pick up and hear it. She slides up in a fluid motion, almost perfectly seamless if she hadn’t gone too far up too fast. Your cock ends up hitting her in the chin, and she smiles as if it were some cute thing that she was taking care of. 

“Heejin,” you grunt, keeping an eye on the phone screen in fear for both of your lives. “Let’s not—”

The caller chooses that moment to pick up, and this is where the game starts. Your lips shut so fast it feels almost automatic, and Heejin tears her eyes away from yours to focus on the other player of this perverse game. 

“Hi baby,” she greets her ‘lover’, all sweet and cute like she isn’t pumping your saliva-slick shaft in her hand as she calls him a pet name. “I was missing you, so I called.”

“Oh… I’m kinda busy now.” he sounds highly uninterested in her, tone dull and dry as Heejin takes a moment to give your cock a squeeze. “Can you call me back another time?”

For a moment, you’re ecstatic. Maybe you wouldn’t have to be subject to her games this time. 

“Quick chat. Promise,” Heejin fires back. She smiles wickedly, relishing the look on your face as you stare at her in a mix of shock and horror. “Just tell me about your day so far. It’s so hard to wait for you to get home to tell me about your day.”

There’s a moment of silence. Heejin takes advantage of the situation; she puts you back into her mouth and makes quick, sloppy work of your cock. The sound of slurping and gurgling is almost deafening, and there’s no way in hell that this man on the other side of the phone was not hearing all of this as Heejin blew you. You tilt your head back, clenching your teeth to prevent the guttural groan that’s building up deep within your chest from escaping your body. You’re hoping deep breaths of air can fill the space – block the desire to cry out in pleasure at the cusp of being translated into phonetics.

“Fine.” you’re almost grateful to hear that dull voice. “I’ve just been doing some filing and some paperwork… Nothing much really.” 

“Mhm,” Heejin mumbles, your cock still in her mouth. She frees it for a second to deliver a line—that sounds like super important work babe—that’s definitely sarcastic in her head and in concept, but masterfully manipulated to sound sincere and enthusiastic. “Anything else?”

“Uh… No.”

Heejin seems almost too gleeful between your legs. “Great. I’ll give you a quick run-down of my day then.”

She proceeds to give him utter bullshit, lying through her teeth about lazing around in her dorm and eating yoghurt. All the while she’s lazily delivering firm pumps to your cock, the sound of her spit squelching in her own hand a little too loud for your liking. Then she starts twisting, and you feel as if all hell is breaking loose inside of you. Your throat is pricked with the sharp gasps that are fighting to be let out of your mouth, skin tingling with the effervescence of pleasure racing through just about every vein in your body. You’re certain you have a knuckle-white grip on your sheets as uses her thumb to rub against the underside of your slit while her other fingers pull the skin around your head tight to keep the sensitive part of you exposed to her impending assault. 

“Oh, and by the way,” she adds, and you’re wondering what other lies she’s capable of generating right now. “I got a call from my old friend that I met at the club before the wedding… He says he wants to be my personal photographer.”

And now you’re shocked and stunned. What was a passing joke yesterday is now being used against you in a way that you can’t even fathom. Heejin revels in the silence—and all the emotions that could possibly be engendered by that single statement—as she smiles and licks you from base to tip. The layer of saliva around your cock thickens, and she uses that to get more aggressive with her motions. You didn’t know if she has limits to her cruelty, and you really hope that she’s reaching it soon. 

“You know how I feel about that guy…” he begins.

“I know, I know… I’m just telling you to keep you in the know.”—her dismissal of his worries is quick and almost genuine if it weren’t for the fact that she was going against his wishes while she assuages his worries—”wouldn’t want to fight with you again, would I?”

He grunts in agreement. “Stay away from him baby. He’s bad company.”

“Yeah,” she hums, locking eyes with you as she hovers her mouth over your tip. She gives it a swipe of her tongue, smiling as you grimace under the pressure that shoots up from your crotch. “He’s such a bad guy…”

Not that you’re into this or anything, but hearing that drawl—sinful and sultry; raunchy and earthy—made your breath hitch a little. Sure, you’re no stranger to Heejin’s sensual side; but this was a bit of her that you had yet to experience. It felt like she’d dug up a new side to her, something unearthed and unaired, and you’ll be the only one to see it. She could take your breath away in many ways and you’d just found another.

The man on the other end grunts once more. With a gruff “Alright. I’ll text you later”, he hangs up on Heejin, leaving you free to let out the breath that you’d been holding in up till that point. 

“Isn’t he a bundle of sunshine?” Heejin drops the facade almost instantly, using the hand that wasn’t occupied with your cock to retrieve her phone. “Five minutes and twenty-seven seconds… Huh. That’s longer than most of our calls.”

You can only pant and watch as she giggles and tosses her phone aside. She crawls back up the bed and takes your lips into hers, and you’d like to think that it’s a sweet apology for the hell she’d just put you through. Deep down you know it wasn’t, but you’re in the mood for some wishful thinking after what you went through.

“Not sure if I’m being greedy here,” Heejin whispers, “but I’d like you to indulge me just a little more…”

“I’d like to hear this one through first,” you quickly request, because no way in hell were you about to live through those 5 minutes and 27 seconds for a second time. “Can’t let you bite off more than you can chew.”

Heejin laughs, fully aware where this was coming from. 

“Don’t worry. I think you’ll like this one,” she assures you, placing a hand on your chest for good measure. “Hand on my heart, honest-to-god: you’ll love this one as much as the next guy.”

You couldn’t help it. You had to check her – match her step for step.

“Considering that I just saw you lie through your teeth, I think it’s fair to say that I don’t quite trust you,” you tell her as plainly as you can. And it’s not that you actually don’t, but more so the fact that you’re just baiting her into saying something really raunchy that’ll rile the two of you up to no end. Depravity is the root of really good sex after all.

“I promise you,” her lips tilt at an angle as she smiles, “when we're done with this one, I’ll let you cum in my mouth.”

***

You figured that she’d come to you with the news at some point – tell you that he’d found her out and that things are gonna happen and blah blah. What you didn’t expect was for her to show up in the middle of the night to be a bearer of bad news.

“Went back to get a sweater that I’d forgotten,” Heejin’s explaining, a can of beer in her hand and fry in the other. “Open the door and next thing I know, the fucker’s blowing up on me in my face.”

She takes a swig and sighs. “Never liked him anyway… We fought more than we talked. Before you ask, make-up sex was horrible.”

You can only frown and nod in sympathy. You’re complicit in this whole ordeal and so don’t have much of a say in this thing. Guilty as charged, red-handed and whatever. You’re just glad that he didn't come over and beat you up like she said he would. Heejin downs the rest of the beer in the can in a gulp and gently places it on your table.

“Is anything gonna happen to you?” you can’t help but ask out of concern. 

Her smile assures you a little, but her words don’t, “honestly? I don’t know. I’ll find out if my publicist gives me hell tomorrow.”

She rises from her seat. “I’m just glad it’s over,” she says. “Don’t know how much longer I could’ve lived with that dry son of a bitch.”

Her sweater comes off her body. She tosses it at you. In her T-shirt, she struts towards the bedroom, stops in the doorway. With a look over her shoulder, she beckons you to join her—come make my night, would ya?—before slipping into the room.

Always a dance with her.

***

You’re starting to question where Heejin draws the line between her sex life and her regular life. 

(You’ve said this about a thousand times by now, but) Not that you’re carping or whatever, it’s just that sex on the kitchen counter while your instant noodles are clearly being overdone in the pot a few meters away is a bit of a safety hazard. You’re no chef, but bubble frothing out of a closed pot really isn’t a good sign.

“Heejin,” you say, struggling to fit her name between the ragged breaths and frantic thrusts. 

“I know,” she rasps in reply. “Ngh… We can… Turn it off later. I’m so close.”

Pretty solid reasoning in your opinion.

How you got into this situation is a bit more complicated that you’d care to explain, but let’s just say that a late night snack can quickly turn into a literal fuck-fest when Jeon Heejin palmed the shape of your boner as you put a pack of instant noodles into a boiling pot. You didn’t know what came over you really, but after the noodles went in and the pot lid was closed, you had her propped up on the counter and her panties around her ankles. You can figure out how you got to this point. 

Okay: to be fair to Heejin, you did kinda start this whole situation that might just put your lives on the line. You’re the perpetrator, criminal mastermind; yada-yada. But if you were to consider the technicalities, she did aggravate you to fuck her, and by so virtue of that you’re kinda both at fault. Does it make sense? Great, cause a situation where you’re both a little dirty minded makes for really great sex. 

Great… Now you just explained the complicated situation. Eh, who’s exempt from a little contradiction now and then. Anyway… Where were you?

“Oh my fucking god.” she’s moaning a lot louder than usual, loud enough to probably convert her voice into some sort of energy for the homeless or something. Between her thighs lay a wet mess that was the source of all this crying and keening, and your juice slicked cock is the thing that’s driving her wild with ecstasy as she wraps her legs around your waist and pulls you deeper into each thrust with her legs. “Fuck me harder please. I need to cum all over your pretty cock so badly I–”

She barely has it in her to finish her sentence. Her plea is truncated by a sharp cry, and it would be pretty funny if it weren’t for the fact that it's probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard. The cry is almost delicate, fragile to the ear and almost like sweet music that plays in the dark. The keyword here is ‘almost’. Your description rings true, but the fact that she’s such a needy little bitch right now kind of ruins it. ‘Ruin’ is a little heavy handed; ‘taint’ would be a better word. 

Yeah… Her want taints the beauty behind her desire… But only a little.

“I’m cumming”—Heejin’s practically whimpering at this rate. God you’d have quite the mess to clean up later—”I’m fucking cumming on your cock daddy I–Oh… Oh god oh fuck.”

“Fucking cum,” you hiss, saliva flying past your teeth and maybe onto her ear. “Be a good little slut and cum for me. Give me a nice and tight pussy to cum inside of.”

It feels weird, dirty even, referring to Heejin as a slut, but her reaction tells you she likes it. She loves being called your slut. You can see her mouth agape, tongue sticking out a little. She can barely keep her eyes open as the pleasure courses through her. Her nails dig into your back, and you think she might be drawing blood, but the pain doesn't matter right now. The only thing that matters is the sight before you.

She cums hard, and you know this because her walls clamp down on you like a vice. If you could, you would have taken a picture. The sight is just that amazing, but you're also preoccupied. The pressure is just right. The rhythmic pulsing of her walls against your throbbing cock is too much for you to take. Your hips stutter to a stop as you release a deep moan, and she gasps as she’s filled with rope after rope of hot cum.

When you finally come down from your high, Heejin is still panting heavily, eyes still squeezed shut, and legs still wrapped around your waist. You can't hold back the little smile that crosses your face as you watch her catch her breath. She looks so peaceful. It's hard to imagine her as a girl with the dirtiest mouth you've ever heard. 

She peeks an eye open to see you staring.

“The pot dummy,” she reminds you, and the horrors of reality come crashing back all at once.

***

So you do find a little bit of a charm behind really soggy Buldak in the wee hours of the night. It’s not the best thing you’ve tasted, but it had its appeal. The sauce helped to mask the depression in the sad, close-to-slimy strands of dough in your bowls, though it didn’t stop you from experiencing a new texture that was severely overcooked noodles.

“Still think we could’ve left it in a little longer,” Heejin muses, staring at the limp noodle trapped between her chopsticks. “Maybe from there we could reverse-engineer the noodle and re-cook it.”

“Yea. And maybe we don’t fuck when there’s clearly a four minute limit to this stuff,” you add befor slurping up the last few spicy, sad and soggy strands in your bowl. 

“Hey. I’m pretty sure the sex was good enough to offset this abomination,” she huffs, setting down her bowl next to yours. “Besides… We’re kinda both in the wrong this time. It’s not always just me you know?”

“Never said it was your fault.” you’re admiring the way her eyes glow in the dim light. At the right angle, it looked like the light was filling her pupils in the most adorable way. “You’re just inferring shit from a passing statement.”

“Wonder where I picked that up from…” she fired back, though it felt much more like she was conceding defeat than challenging further provocation. It was always a dance with her: unpredictable patterns in constant motion, and all you can do is follow her lead.

Maybe one day you’d find the time - make up for the dance you lost and dance with her for real.

Hi. Kinda posting here again because my therapist said that it was good for me to continue writing to regulate my emotions. This one is kinda messy and unedited cause I just wanted to get this out here for funsies. Anyway, I won't be posting as frequently as I used to, but I will drop by from time to time. No promises that I'm gonna be incredibly active and no promises that I won't disappear of the face of the earth again.

Cheers, Nichu

[willowsnook]

When Love is Left Unspoken

max verstappen x reader

she isn't you i'd be insane not to love you

request from @formulaal

Pt. 2 here

"Alright, one more question from the chat," you said into your mic, scanning for a good one. One caught your eye, and you began reading it aloud before realizing it would reveal something from your past. “Would you choose a guy over your best friend?”

Laughing humorlessly, you looked into the camera with a tight smile. ��Anyone who’s been here for a while knows how relevant that question is to my life. But my answer hasn’t changed: if you’re choosing a romantic partner over your best friend, you can get fucked. Thanks for tuning in, everyone. See you around.”

Logging off, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the kitchen to refill it. Checking your phone, you smiled at the stats from the stream—10k of your fans tuning in tonight was a big turnout. You’d gone viral on BookTok back in 2020, and now, your book podcast had a solid following. Normally, BookTok didn’t bring huge numbers, but thanks to your former best friend, your popularity had skyrocketed. As grateful as you were, his part in your success irritated you now.

Then a notification popped up on your screen, and you rolled your eyes.

MV: Nice stream.

You: Fuck off

MV: Glad I’m still living rent-free in your head.

You: Glad you got permission to text me.

You threw your phone down on the counter, boiling inside. Nobody got under your skin like he could, especially after 20 years of knowing exactly how to do it. Growing up, it hadn’t always been this way. At 10, you’d moved with your family to the Netherlands, right next door to the Verstappens. Max quickly became your best friend, your weekends spent watching him kart. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine things would end like this.

You met Kelly in 2018 at a race Max invited you to. Right away, you got weird vibes. She looked at Max like a toy she had to have. It was creepy, especially given the nine-year age gap. By 2019, they were dating, and she made it clear she didn’t like you, refusing to acknowledge your existence. That led to rocky times between you and Max; he always had excuses to avoid seeing you. When you were together, he seemed tense, as if being watched.

Everything fell apart in Australia 2021.

Flashback

Max invited you to the first race of the 2021 season, though you almost didn’t go. It felt obligatory, as if he invited you just because you’d never missed an opening race. You hadn’t seen him all winter, just exchanging quick holiday texts. Walking into the paddock, you felt a strange sense of finality, like this might be the last one.

Spotting Carmen outside Mercedes, you walked over and hugged her. As you stepped back, she looked worried.

“What’s up?”

She hesitated. “I thought you should know, Kelly’s been saying some nasty things about you around the paddock. No one believes her, but… I wanted you to know.”

“What is she saying?” you asked, heart sinking.

“She’s calling you pathetic, saying you’re still pining over your childhood crush and using Max to become an influencer,” she said softly, looking at you with sympathy.

“You’re joking,” you said, anger simmering. She shook her head.

“Can I be real with you?” She asked, and you nodded. “I love you and George loves you and honestly, everyone does. But I will accept not seeing you here anymore if you finally realize that Max is not being a good friend to you. And he hasn’t been for a long time.”

Eyes filling with tears, you let her words sink in. She was right, but admitting it was brutal. Maybe staying around him was just self-inflicted pain.

You found Max later, pulling him aside.

“I only have a few minutes, so make it quick,” he said, barely looking at you. Seeing him like this, you realized that the man in front of you wasn’t your best friend anymore.

“Your girlfriend’s telling people I’m a pathetic loser here to use you for fame,” you said, voice flat.

“I don’t believe that,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Really?” you laughed bitterly. “You don’t believe that from your girlfriend—the one who’s disliked me since day one?”

“Seems like you have something to say, Y/N. Just say it,” he replied, finally looking at you.

“There was a time in my life where I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without you. But now I’m living it. Have the past ten years been nothing to you? All it took was an older woman to bat her eyelashes at you and that was it?”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going to stand here and tell you that we had a good run and that I wish you the best. Fuck you. Fuck you for choosing her over me and fuck you for even letting it have to be a choice. I hate you.”

End of Flashback

That was the last time you had spoken to him. There were no texts or calls after that; his life just went on like normal while you felt like you were dying inside. You had thrown yourself into your work after that and now had over a million followers and subscribers to your podcast. You’d stayed friends with Carmen but hadn’t returned to a race since that day. You had tried to block the memory of that day from your mind, but when you were low, one thing always resurfaced in your mind. Kelly was right about you pining after your childhood crush. You had been in love with Max back then. How could you not be?

Then Carmen invited you to the Austin GP, and after much persuasion, you finally agreed. Thanks to your online following, you flew down with her, officially a Mercedes guest. Wearing Mercedes colors felt like poetic justice.

When you entered the paddock, a wave of nostalgia and sadness hit you. But it disappeared as you saw familiar faces you’d missed over the years.

"Y/N!" Alex called, arms open. Hugging him, you sighed, realizing how much you’d missed everyone. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you admitted before greeting Lily, who gushed over your podcast and joked about being a guest. As you laughed with her, you noticed Alex subtly trying to block your view. Looking over, you saw Max walking by. He did a double take, but you turned back to Lily, ignoring his stare.

Later, as you waited for a coffee, you overheard Checo’s wife and Fernando’s girlfriend chatting.

“I heard Max and Kelly broke up,” Melissa said.

“Oh yeah, it’s been a few months,” Carola replied, shrugging. “Apparently, he was in love with someone else the whole time.”

You smirked. So Kelly finally experienced what it felt like to be second choice.

The race came and went, and you successfully avoided Max the entire weekend. You didn’t even think about the possibility of running into him when you accepted Carmen’s invitation to go out that night. George had actually wanted to go out, so you found yourself at a little country bar that night with what seemed to be the whole grid. You felt Max’s gaze the second you walked in, and you were doing a hell of a job ignoring him. Charles was trying to talk to him, looking confused between the two of you, but you didn’t care.

Ordering another gin and tonic you felt him come up next to you and you refused to look over.

“Put hers on mine,” Max said, handing over his card. You tried to leave, but he held out an arm to stop you.

“No ‘thank you’?” he teased, eyes intense.

You glared. “You can have it, then.”

“Stop being difficult,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You look good.”

“Can’t say the same about you,” you shot back, and his expression darkened.

He sighed. “Can we talk?”

“I said everything I needed to say three years ago. Have a good night.”

This time he let you go and you made your way back to Carmen who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay?” She asked, and you nodded.

A little while later, you were sitting at a table talking with Charles with Max hovering close by.

“Max, come sit down,” Charles slurred, and at this point, you were too tipsy to put up a fight about it. “Max is my best friend, ya know?”

“Ah yeah?” You asked head tilting. “Those words don’t mean much coming from him.”

Charles giggled, too drunk to understand what you meant and Max clenched his jaw looking at you.

“Insult me all you want schatje, as long as you’re talking to me I’ll take it,” he said and you didn’t say anything, just stared at him trying to figure out his angle.

“Is this the girl Kelly broke up with you over?” Charles asked and Max whipped his head towards him. “You always had a thing for her, so I told Alex that was my guess.”

Max’s face fell, and you froze. Shock turned into anger as you got up and stormed out. You felt Max following and soon he was in front of you, blocking your path.

“Come on,” he urged, leading you to a nearby park.

“Max, I don’t want to talk,” you said firmly, pulling away.

“I don’t care,” he replied, frustrated. “Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

You laughed bitterly. “Crawling back because you got dumped? It’s too late.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You made your choice three years ago. Now live with it.”

“You want to know why we broke up?”

“I don’t really give a fuck,” you replied before turning to walk away.

“She isn’t you!” He yelled. Your legs stopped moving as your mind reeled.

Whirling on him you got into his face, “You don’t get to fucking say that to me. Not after all this time. Not after what you put me through. Not after you chose her over me. I was there the whole time Max. Me! I was there! It’s not my fault you didn’t realize that till I was gone.” 

“I realized it long before then,” he said softly, and you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Tears were starting to fall, and you looked everywhere but him. 

“Then why?” You whispered, voice cracking. 

“Because I wasn’t good enough for you,” he said laughing sadly to himself. “The pressure was starting to cave in back then and I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You were my best friend Max,” you said exasperated. “I would have done anything for you.” 

“It’s easy to see that now,” he said. “But then you were so full of life and starting your little videos that I didn’t want to disappoint you. She understood what I was going through, but I never stopped loving you.” 

“Then why did you still push me away?” 

“I had to do that so that I could try and move on. She knew and she hated that there wasn’t anything she could do to change how I felt about you. I knew what she was saying about you in the paddock, and I knew why she was saying it.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and it felt like heartbreak all over again. “You knew and you let it happen. You are the worst person I’ve ever known Max Verstappen.”

He was crying now too and the two of you stood staring at one another not saying anything. 

“I would be insane not to love you,” he said softly and it made you cry harder. “So I will do whatever it takes for however long to make up for what I did.” 

He let you go again and you left him there, crying silently as you walked back to the hotel. So many emotions going through your mind paired with confusing feelings. 

Happiness for your 15-year-old self that has wanted to hear those words for so long. 

Sadness for your 21-year-old self reliving those memories. 

And anger at your 24-year-old self for considering letting him make it up to you. 

[undressrehearsal]

dare to fuck this up

summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing

a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance

part 1

You hadn't talked about it. 

You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch. 

You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you? 

The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet. 

That had been three weeks ago. 

For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice. 

At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach. 

Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked. 

And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her. 

Fine. 

If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her. 

Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.

“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks. 

You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder. 

“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.

So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air. 

“What the hell are you-” 

You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor. 

She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor. 

And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered. 

So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”

And the game began. 

Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped. 

Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”

She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it. 

“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?” 

And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs. 

You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.” 

Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure. 

You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup. 

It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway. 

Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed. 

Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.” 

You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. 

Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.” 

You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake. 

The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably. 

“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die. 

There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut. 

You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. 

You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated. 

You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy. 

You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.” 

“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.” 

You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something. 

Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly - 

Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.” 

When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away. 

This was definitely Hell. It had to be. 

When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste. 

When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things. 

Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief. 

“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago. 

But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.” 

So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention. 

So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.” 

“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again. 

You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.” 

“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. 

You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.” 

You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.” 

You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.” 

Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?” 

Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.” 

You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’” 

You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!” 

You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.

Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again. 

And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth. 

For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”) 

And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened. 

But the clock kept ticking. 

After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”

“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.” 

Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you. 

“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh. 

Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth. 

And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.” 

A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering. 

Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-” 

You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it. 

But this was too important to ignore. 

“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth. 

Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break. 

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.” 

Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.” 

And it was the lack of care that broke you. 

You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?” 

“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?” 

Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart. 

It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.” 

You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?” 

“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.” 

And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. 

You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.” 

You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft. 

“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.” 

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?” 

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers. 

“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away. 

“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.

Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-” 

“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”

She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.” 

“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.” 

She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.” 

Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper. 

“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.” 

Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.” 

You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek. 

“What do we do now?” 

When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.” 

Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….” 

“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin. 

You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest. 

Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”

“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?” 

You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream. 

Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her. 

Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart. 

The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out. 

It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head. 

Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.” 

She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.” 

You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there.  You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.” 

You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” 

Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.” 

When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan. 

Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” 

She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise. 

You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck. 

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.” 

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.” 

You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the implication of that either. 

Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch. 

“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” 

Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her. 

This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue. 

But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face. 

“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you. 

If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.

Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips. 

You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it. 

You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel. 

You loved revenge. 

But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile. 

So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.

When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst. 

Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants. 

When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster. 

The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?” 

Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise. 

Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?” 

You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple. 

You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit. 

The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged. 

Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together. 

You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place. 

You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer? 

A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed. 

You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.” 

You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world. 

You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely. 

She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off. 

“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans. 

You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth. 

Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg. 

Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you. 

“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.” 

“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.” 

“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….” 

You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness. 

“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.” 

Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers. 

“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.” 

She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?” 

You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.” 

She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear. 

Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly. 

It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips. 

When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart. 

Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now? 

Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.” 

Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before. 

Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?” 

You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?” 

[themilfsland]

Under the forbidden tree - Part I

Pairing(s): religious!mommy Wanda X female!reader

Words count: ~ 10k

Summary: A break from your studies and work. A program dedicated to foster children you decided to join. A weekend of faith, charity, and innocence under the watchful eye of the Westview church. But beneath the prayers and borrowed smiles, something unholy stirs.

- "...but have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone."

tags | content: Wanda being a little psycho, innocence/corruption, a lot of teasing, jealous, manipulation, possessiveness, improper use of religion itens, praying for grace.

A/N: My initial plan was to create an one-shot, but it ended up being too long, so I decided to split it into two parts. Honestly, I’m still not sure if that was the better choice, but anyway. Enjoy :)

Fic menu | Part II

You were running late, but not as much as the ride your friend, Yelena, had promised you.

As you packed the last pieces of clothing you had laid out on the bed — "toothbrush, comfortable sneakers, sunscreen, hairbrush, cap, towel... vibrator?!" — your mental checklist came to an abrupt halt when your eyes landed on the object placed inside one of the suitcase compartments. "Do I need to bring this?" - you wondered, a pang of guilt creeping into your conscience. Bringing your toy to a church retreat might not be the wisest decision — actually, it was a terrible one. The possibility of boredom wasn’t a valid excuse, nor was the fact that finding a moment of privacy in your friend's apartment was nearly impossible.

Your thoughts drifted beyond the present — this week marked two months since you had temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s apartment. You could call it luck or mere coincidence, but either way, it had been a huge help.

A few months ago, you received an offer to work and study temporarily at a psychiatric hospital unit in Westview. At first, you considered turning it down — far from home, a small town that felt more like a village, completely different from your life, nothing particularly appealing. However, after an honest conversation with your favourite college professor, your perspective shifted. Finding out the significant research advancements happening there reignited your interest.

But, of course, there was still one major issue — where would you stay during that period? Money was tight, and there weren’t many good housing options in Westview. That’s when Yelena practically "fell from the sky" — or rather, her girlfriend, Kate, did, stepping in to help with everything you were missing — they were your saviour.

Two weeks after accepting the offer, you stood in front of Kate’s apartment with your small collection of belongings. In a quick rundown, Yelena had explained that she met Kate at an exhibition of ancient artefacts —more specifically, weapons and combat objects. Well, none of that surprised you. In fact, you made a mental note, wondering how it was even possible for more people to share Yelena’s questionable and somewhat violent interests. Either way, things moved quickly after that, and now Kate was working in a neighbouring city to Westview. Yes, even though you had to travel a few extra miles to the hospital where you’d be working and studying for the next few months, this was still the best option, and you were incredibly grateful for it. Oh, and of course, the small yet not-so-insignificant detail — less than a month after Kate settled into her apartment, Yelena invited herself to move in. Classic.

A knock on your bedroom door pulled you back to the present. The door suddenly swung open, followed by Yelena shouting, - “I’m home! Are you still not ready? Let’s go!”

You jumped in surprise and quickly shut your suitcase. Any hesitation you previously had about the vibrator was gone. It was coming with you, whether because you no longer had the chance to take it out or simply because privacy in this apartment is definitely not an option. Maybe, in a quiet place, free from interruptions, you’d finally get to enjoy a moment to yourself.

----

On the way to Westview, Yelena convinced you to make a quick stop at a Café. After all, a little caffeine would be welcome before hitting the road.

- "Are you sure about this, Y/N?" - Yelena asked, her expression filled with doubt.

- "You mean doing a little charity work by volunteering for the kids at the orphanage?" - you replied with a question of your own.

- "Yes... I mean, not exactly about helping out, but you know, this is a project run by the Westview church community..." - her voice trailed off as if she wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

- "I know, I get what you're trying to say." - You let out a small laugh. - "Honestly, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of spending the next few days at a church ‘club.’ Religion really isn’t my thing..."

Yelena was trying her best to not look judgmental, but she was failing miserably.

- "Look, it’s not going to be the best place or the best people, but I’m doing this for the kids. Giving them a weekend of fun, games, and a chance to breathe some fresh air outside of the orphanage. It’s worth it." - you continued.

Yelena stared at you while taking another sip of her coffee, carefully choosing her next words.

- "Okay, I’m still not completely convinced by that excuse." - You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a better response. - "But since you’ve decided, I should warn you that where you're going is far from being a ‘club.’ Kate and I went there once. Honestly, the place looks like the perfect setting for a period horror film. There's only a chapel and three large wooden buildings."

You were about to argue, but she cut you off.

- "No, don’t defend the place before you’ve even seen it. You’ll agree with me later. Oh, and before you ask what Kate and I were doing there — the only, and I mean only, good part is the huge, beautiful lake. Great for swimming or just relaxing."

You let out a long sigh and nodded, choosing to avoid a pointless argument.

- "Maybe the truth is... I just need a short break," - you admitted in a low voice, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself.

You could hear Yelena’s voice in the background — she was probably giving you a lecture about neglecting self-care and not recognizing your limits. But her words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, your thoughts louder than her voice, dragging you back to the exhausting days at the hospital.

--

- "Y/N adapted so quickly here, didn’t she, Darcy?" -Jimmy asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

- "Yeah! A little too quickly, actually. But she got lucky that we don’t currently have any patients going into the ‘dark book,’" - Darcy replied, giving you a playful wink.

The three of you were in the hospital’s break room, taking a short rest and having what might be lunch or maybe even dinner — with shifts so chaotic and schedules a mess from the overwhelming workload, this was probably your biggest meal of the day — a combo of lunch and dinner.

- "'Dark book'? What’s that?" - You asked, puzzled.

Jimmy shot Darcy a disapproving look as if she had just brought up a forbidden topic. Then, turning back to you, he answered in a tone that was far too cold. - "It’s nothing big, Y/N. Just reports on patients with more complex cases. In these instances, to protect their future, all records are archived under strict confidentiality. Once they’re discharged, it’s as if their past is erased — so there’s no public speculation and they can reintegrate into society more easily."

The idea intrigued you. What kind of cases could be so dark that they needed to be kept secret, their pasts wiped clean?

- "That sounds interesting, but I have my doubts about you two keeping secrets. I can practically read it on your faces that you know more than you're letting on."

Darcy let out a loud laugh before responding. - "Of course we do… and yet, we don’t." - She chuckled again. - "But honestly, we respect that confidentiality rule. I think it’s fair."

You weren’t satisfied with that vague answer, and your curiosity got the best of you. - "Oh, come on, guys! It won’t hurt anyone if you share just a little of what you know. Besides, I’ll be gone in a few months anyway." - You gave them your best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

Jimmy chuckled before finally speaking. - "Look, Y/N, you can dig around in our library all you want, but you won’t find anything with real details. Even we, after years here, barely have any real information."

Darcy nodded in agreement and added, - "He’s not lying, Y/N. We don’t even know the patients’ names. All we ever get are bits and pieces of stories that float around the hallways."

You kept staring, silently pushing for more, until she finally gave in. - "Jimmy, do you remember that guy who used to pull pranks on other patients? Even on Dr Strange? He was absolute chaos."

Jimmy refused to say a word, just shooting her another disapproving look.

- "Oh, come on, Jimmy. Everyone here knows at least one story about that guy, don’t give me that judgmental silence." - She smirked before continuing. - "But fine, I know you were way more interested in that other guy… the one who almost turned green when he got angry."

Jimmy scoffed. - "Now that’s a low blow. Of course, that case was more interesting, but don’t even try to change the subject. Your real obsession was that crazy patient who kept rambling nonsense and scribbling in that little red notebook… the one with those three initials on the cover."

You and Darcy were about to press him for more when Dr. Strange walked into the room. - "I believe the break is over. Time to get back to the studies."

--

- "Y/N? Are you listening to me?" - Yelena said, shaking your arm. - “Y/N!! Earth to you, hello??”

You were snapped back to reality by the pinch she gave you.

- “OUCH, YELENA! I’m here, and that hurts!!” - you grumbled, rubbing the spot where she had pinched you.

- “Yeah, yeah, I can see that you're here, physically, at least. But your mind? Oh, it went far, far away from here,” - she retorted with a disappointed tone. - “Anyway, you do seem like you need a break. Maybe your crazy idea isn’t so bad after all.”

She continued speaking as she grabbed her bag from the chair.

- “Speaking of enjoyment, I got you a little present.” - A mischievous smirk appeared on her face as she pointed to a small wrapped box in front of you. - “BUT — you can only open it once you get there. You have to promise me.” - She winked at you as she handed over the gift.

Still unsure, you took the package and shot her a suspicious look. - “This is so unlike you… but okay, I’ll accept this rare expression of affection.”

Her mouth fell open in mock offence at your comment — though she was well aware that acts like this weren’t exactly her style.

Well, you’d understand soon enough once you saw what was inside the box.

----

No matter how many times you drove down the road to Westview, you never grew tired of the natural beauty surrounding you — the towering trees lining the way, the fresh breeze streaming through the open window of the car, if you were lucky, you could even hear the birds singing as they soared through the sky.

As expected, the location was just beyond the entrance to town, requiring a small detour off the main road. A wave of anticipation and gratitude washed over you. You were excited about all the opportunities the universe was laying before you— and, of course, grateful that your friend was here to support you. After all, she was doing you a huge favour by giving you a ride. The designated arrival day for volunteers and children was technically set for tomorrow, Saturday. However, Yelena and Kate had already arranged a small camping excursion for the weekend. Not wanting to interfere with their plans, you reached out to the project administration to inquire about the possibility of arriving a day in advance. Fortunately, they responded quickly, assuring you that it wasn’t a problem — on the contrary, it was common for some team members to arrive early to help with preparations.

Once again, your mind wandered, and before you even noticed, Yelena was already steering into the front garden and parking the car.

- "Alright, are you ready to spend your next few days praying and dying of boredom?" - Yelena teased, her voice dripping with irony.

You let out a laugh. - "Girl, you are sooo dramatic! It won’t be that bad. I have high hopes it’ll be fun, and time will fly by. Just don’t forget to pick me up." - You tried to sound confident, though deep down, you had your own doubts about how interesting this place would be.

Yelena stifled a mocking chuckle, gripping the door handle. She turned her head toward you and stated, - "Good luck, then, Y/N. But seriously, don’t fool yourself into thinking this place is all rainbows and sunshine. When you’re sitting in that chapel praying…" - she pointed outside toward the small building, "… you’ll remember me and what I’m telling you now. There are a lot of weird people around here, so don’t be too easily convinced by good manners."

Without giving you a chance to argue, she swung open the car door.

You shared a brief embrace and a farewell kiss on the cheek. With a final wave, you watched the car fade into the distance.

Drawing in a deep breath, you turned toward the small gathering nearby and began making your way toward them. As you neared, a woman in the group noticed you and greeted you with enthusiasm.

- "Hello! Good afternoon! Welcome!"

The surrounding chatter ceased as the others turned their attention to you.

- "You must be Y/N, right? I’m Monica," - she said, extending her hand to greet you. You shook her hand in return, slightly surprised at her accurate guess.

- "Yes, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you! But… um, how did you know my name?" - you asked, suddenly aware that all eyes were on you.

- "I was the one who replied to your email about arriving a day early," - she said with a warm smile. - "I was just talking about you! We don’t get new volunteers here very often, so we’re happy to have you."

She glanced at the others and began introducing them from right to left.

- "This is Clint, Scott, Agatha, and Wanda."

They all welcomed you with warm smiles. A slight unease tingled up your spine — being in the spotlight had never been your comfort zone. Clint seemed to notice your nervousness and spoke up.

- "Hey, don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll guide you through the activity schedule. Today will be pretty relaxed — we’re just preparing the welcome for tomorrow and taking care of some last-minute details."

You nodded and muttered a "thank you."

It was also evident that holding onto your luggage was wearing you out, so Monica swiftly added, - "Alright, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know Y/N over the next few days, but for now, I think it would be best to show her around. Wanda, would you mind?"

Without hesitation, Wanda stepped forward and gently took your suitcase from your hands. - "It would be my pleasure! There’s so much to do here — you’re going to love it. But first, let’s drop off your things in your room so they don’t get in the way during our little tour."

She flashed a warm smile, gesturing for you to follow, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the vivid green of her eyes.

----

The place itself didn’t have much in terms of infrastructure, just as Yelena had warned you. There was the chapel, a large house that served as the dining hall and the main space for meetings and activities, and two additional buildings that housed the dormitories.

Fortunately, since you had arrived early, Wanda informed you that you could choose between a shared or private room. That was an easy decision—a private room, without a doubt.

Wanda followed up with something you weren’t expecting.

- "Alright, a private room for the young lady. But you should know, Y/N, that nothing can be hidden around here."

You stared at her, speechless and confused about the meaning behind her words, until she continued.

- "I’m talking about the bathroom, darling. The restrooms here are communal, but don’t worry — there’s hot water and plenty of stalls for everyone in the building."

That was… disappointing. Not the worst thing in the world, but you had always valued your privacy— especially in a place full of strangers. At least you had managed to secure a private room, you thought.

--

- "And here we are, finally, at the most beautiful part of the refuge — the lake!" - Wanda said excitedly, taking your hand and leading you closer to the shore. - "The sunset view from here is just breathtaking… We’ll have plenty of activities with the kids around this area. I’m sure you’re going to love it."

You were absorbed in the view when you suddenly realized — she was still holding your hand. A warmth spread through your body, catching you off guard. You weren’t used to physical contact, especially not with people you had just met. And yet, when Wanda gently squeezed your hand to get your attention, pointing toward a flock of birds soaring on the other side of the lake, you felt something… different.

Your palm began to sweat from nervousness. In an attempt to check if she had noticed, you turned to look at her — only to find her gaze locked onto yours. It was as if she was trying to read your mind. Strangely, it was both unsettling and comforting at the same time. She radiated kindness, an almost motherly aura. Yet deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she had the power to destroy you if she chose to.

A wave of anxiety started creeping in, and to break the tension, your eyes mistakenly drifted to her lips. That only made things worse. A rush of heat spread across your skin, and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn. Acting purely on instinct, desperate to avoid an impending disaster, you abruptly pulled your hand away and turned to the side, pointing at some nearby trees.

- "This place is so green… so many trees, so many flowers. It’s really beautiful, Wanda," - you said quickly, starting to walk toward what you had just pointed at. - "Are those… fruits hanging from the branches?"

Wanda followed your awkward retreat, staying close. Too close.

Your face was burning, and you cursed yourself internally. Why do I always react like this around women? It was so embarrassing. This was exactly why you could never successfully start a relationship. It was ridiculous — being a lesbian but completely incapable of holding a normal conversation with a beautiful woman.

Before you could spiral deeper into your self-inflicted humiliation, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts.

- "Yes! Most of these trees are fruit-bearing. We have peach, orange, pear, plum… and my personal favourite—apples."

Coincidentally, the tree closest to you had a few ripe apples hanging from its branches. You stopped walking, determined to keep your eyes on the fruit rather than on Wanda.

Your plan failed miserably.

Before you notice it, she was standing right in front of you — too close again. Close enough that you could catch the faint yet intoxicating scent of her perfume.

Your gaze remained fixed on the apples above, but your real struggle was maintaining steady breathing. And, of course, you failed at that too.

- "Are you okay, Y/N?" - Wanda asked with a concerned expression, taking a small step closer. - "Your face looks a little flushed, and—"

- "I-I’m fine, Wanda," - you interrupted, quickly stepping back. - "It’s just… hot, I mean, because of the sun." - You fought to keep your voice steady, but it was a losing battle.

- "Oh, darling," - she said with a pity tone. - "Maybe you didn’t put on enough sunscreen. Your face is looking a little red."

Before you could react, she reached up and gently brushed her fingers against your cheek.

You froze.

Your thoughts raced so fast that they made no sense at all. A simple touch. A meaningless gesture. Why did it make you shiver? Why are you like this?

Just as you were about to combust from sheer overthinking, an apple from the tree behind you fell to the ground with a soft thud.

You let out a startled breath — partly from the sudden noise, mostly from relief.

The shift in focus was instant. Wanda let go of your face and looked down.

- "Oh, we’ve been blessed, Y/N! Look at what we have here," - she said, crouching down to pick up the apple, rubbing it against the fabric of her blouse. Then, she held it up to your lips.

- "Here, sweetheart. Take a bite."

Her eyes flickered from yours to your lips.

You didn’t move. You just… stared at her.

- "Y/N," she repeated, this time in a firmer tone. - "I said, take a bite."

A tremor coursed through your spine. There was something about the way she spoke — the quiet dominance in her voice. Instinctively, you followed, taking a small bite.

- "Well done, dear. That was so easy," - she said with a sly smile.

- "Huh? Easy?" - you repeated, swallowing the piece of fruit.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing it softly as if wiping away a nonexistent trace of apple. - There was nothing there. Right? - Before you could even think to protest, she silenced you with a quiet "Shhh."

She took a bite from the same apple.

- "Mmm… absolutely delicious. Almost as sweet as you are," she murmured with a smirk, then winked at you.

Your brain shuts down.

- "Anyway, it’s getting late, and we still have things to do. Let’s go, dear," - she said, taking your hand — again. - "I have some important work for your hands."

- "W-What??" - you blurted out in disbelief.

These double meanings — was she doing this on purpose, or was your pathetic interpretation playing tricks on you?

Wanda didn’t respond. She merely pulled you along, guiding you toward the buildings without a word of explanation.

----

It was obvious that you would use your hands to make welcome signs — what else would you even use them for? — As you cut and painted the papers, you found yourself caught in an internal debate. There was no reason for you to have ambiguous thoughts about Wanda. You reassured yourself that she was simply being kind, making sure you felt comfortable around here. She was polite and respectful, and it was evident in everything she did.

As you both worked on the signs, she struck up a light conversation — never prying, never overstepping, but also not allowing an awkward silence to settle between you. When you casually mentioned that you didn’t have much knowledge of religion because it had never been a significant part of your life, she simply smiled warmly, respecting your choices.

She took the opportunity to talk about the upcoming services. For the children, there would be interactive lessons designed to introduce them to biblical teachings. For the adults, there would be mass at night, just like in Westview. Before you could even comment on it, Wanda reassured you that you were under no obligation to attend it but were always welcome to share in the Lord’s grace.

What once felt unattainable was now unfolding—you were speaking to her with ease, without anxious stuttering or overthinking every word. Wanda was an incredible woman, captivating in every way, but above all, she was deeply devoted to her faith. She was present at every service, every activity — the very definition of a right woman.

The signs were finally done, and without wanting to brag, you felt quite proud of your artistic skills. What you weren’t so proud of, however, was the mess you had made in the process. Clumsy as ever, your hands and arms were stained with paint. Wanda noticed your chaotic state and grabbed a damp cloth to help you clean up. Unexpected yet expected. The more time you spent with her, the more you noticed her nurturing aura. It was oddly comforting.

She took your arm and gently wiped the fabric against your skin.

- “You made quite the mess here, huh, Y/N?” - she teased, meeting your eyes with a soft smile. You felt your face heat up, both from embarrassment and from the way her fingers moved over your skin.

- “I’m proud of your work, though,” she continued, her voice warm. - “They’re so colourful, so full of life. In the end, the mess was worth it, wasn’t it?”

You were almost certain she said that just to make you feel better, but either way, you couldn’t stop the small smile that formed at the thought of her being proud of you.

Wanda continued wiping away the last traces of paint. Her touch was soft and delicate, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the moment. The silence between you carried a strange paradox — both exhilarating and calming at the same time. To keep your mind from spiralling into dangerous territory, you let your curiosity take over. After all, you did want to know more about the woman in front of you. So with the smallest bit of confidence you could muster, you crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

- “So, Wanda…” - You hesitated. - “You said you live in Westview. Are you married? Do you have children?”

The hand that had once been so gentle against your skin suddenly tightened around your wrist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The shift in her demeanour was instant, her features tensed and her breathing grew heavier. Regret flooded your chest, and you wished you could take the question back.

Seconds passed, though they felt like hours. Her grip didn’t loosen. You tried to pull your arm away, your voice barely above a whisper.

- “Wanda? I—I’m sorry if that was too personal. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”

It was as if the more you tried to retreat, the harder she held on.

Then, finally, she spoke. - “Oh no, there’s no need to apologize.” - She let go of your wrist at last, and yet, you still felt the pressure of her fingers lingering on your skin.

- “Your question wasn’t inappropriate,” - she said, though something about the way she avoided your gaze made you doubt her words. - “It just caught me off guard.”

You unconsciously rubbed the spot where she had held you. The moment had been tense, and though you wanted to move on, you felt compelled to apologize again. Wanda let out a noticeable sigh. Wrong move. Before you could process what was happening, she took your chin between her fingers and tilted your head to the side.

- “I think there’s a little paint left on your neck,” - she murmured.

Before you could react, she wiped her bare fingers against your skin. - “Almost clean, darling,” - she continued. - “The paint dried, so it’s a little harder to get off.”

Her nails began to lightly scrape against your neck — not painfully, but enough to make your breath hitch. Your body froze again, your thoughts scattering in every direction, yet none of it seemed to add up. Such a small gesture, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. It was meaningless— just a touch, just a fleeting moment — so why did it feel like something more?

- "All done,” - she finally said, pulling back slightly. - “Oh dear, I might have been a little too rough. Your skin turned a bit red where I cleaned.”

Her voice was laced with mock sympathy, her eyes watching you intently before she leaned in. And then, without hesitation, she pressed a soft kiss against the spot on your neck.

- “Don’t worry, it’ll go back to normal soon,” - she murmured against your skin. She pulled away, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She didn’t wait for a reaction — not that you could have formed one if you tried. She simply changed the subject, as if nothing had just happened.

- “Well, that’s it. You’re officially free from your tasks with me.” - She winked and turned toward the door. - “I’d love to see you at mass tonight, Y/N. If you feel comfortable, of course.” - And then, just like that, she was gone.

----

After finishing your afternoon activities, you took one last walk through the garden, hoping the fresh air might help clear your thoughts. You had made a promise to yourself —all the interpretations you had about Wanda’s actions were just figments of your imagination. She was simply being kind, and that was it. You were the one at fault, the one creating feelings and fictionalizing reality. Plus, you even convinced yourself that she probably had a beautiful family but just didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.

Taking advantage of your free time, you returned to your room to organize your things and rest for a while. You even felt a spark of excitement as you remembered the gift Yelena had given you earlier. Tearing the wrapping open impatiently, you tried to guess what it could be. But the moment you saw what was inside, you immediately understood why Yelena had been so thrilled to give it to you. It was none other than a strap-on.

You stared at it in disbelief. Your friend was absolutely insane. Okay, sure — it was a good gift, you couldn’t deny that. Technically, you had no right to complain, considering that, during a drunken conversation some time ago, you had confessed your curiosity about trying one. But, honestly, first: it would be ideal to actually have someone to use it with. And second: of all the moments she could have chosen to give it to you, she had to pick now — while you were in a religious setting.

Anyway, it would be hypocritical to blame her, though, considering you had also brought something inappropriate into this environment. Still, you made a note: you weren’t going to let her get away with this when you saw her again. For now, to avoid any potential disaster, you hid your new toy deep in your suitcase, tucking it beneath layers of clothes.

----

You stood in front of the chapel door, hesitating, unsure whether to step inside.

- "Good evening. Are you not going in?"- A male voice sounded behind you, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned around, startled.

- "I'm Peter… and you must be…?"

You extended your hand in greeting. - "Oh, sorry, I’m Y/N," you replied. - "Yeah, I was just about to go in, it's just—"

He cut you off before you could finish. - "You're the new volunteer! Nice to meet you." - He grinned. - "Don’t worry, the first time can be overwhelming. Come on, I’ll show you around."

Saying this might sound cliché, especially given the circumstances, but thank God Peter showed up to keep you company. Only now did it truly dawn on you that you were in a religious environment. The air inside the chapel felt heavy on your shoulders. Some people were wearing traditional garments, though - obviously, you had no idea what they were called. Others were arranging objects at the altar and most of them clutched bibles in their hands.

The service didn’t take long to begin, but it was enough time for you to get to know Peter a little. His situation was surprisingly similar to yours, he was a university student who was here simply to support the cause of the children. He wasn’t part of any religious community and had started participating in these volunteer activities because one of the partners at his internship happened to be the founder of an adoption center in his city.

Learning that there were others here who weren’t directly connected to the church was a relief. The pressure in your chest, that lingering sense of being out of place, softened just a bit. Besides, you were now intrigued to meet this partner Peter spoke so highly of — Mr. Stark.

--

Your eyelids drooped with boredom. The people around you were full of energy, reciting prayer after prayer, but to you, they were just meaningless words drifting through the air. Without thinking, your eyes kept wandering over the crowd, searching for Wanda. You were fairly sure she was seated near the front, beside the woman named Agatha. They seemed so immersed as if they truly belonged.

All of a sudden, the sound of drums and guitars filled the chapel. A group of people at the front stood and walked up to the altar. Among them was Wanda. Her gaze landed on you immediately. It was hypnotic. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t look away.

- "This is always the best part. The lyrics aren’t great, but at least the melody makes up for it!" - Peter whispered, nudging you with his elbow. - "At least it brings some energy to the room… and wakes up anyone who's about to fall asleep." - He chuckled.

You nudged him back, holding in a laugh to avoid drawing attention.

But Wanda noticed.

And when you looked at her again, her expression had changed. If she had been happy to see you here before, that feeling had now been replaced by something else entirely. Her eyes burned as they locked onto you — and your new colleague.

As soon as the choir finished their last song, Peter turned to you with a small smile. - "I have to go now. I promised to help with the kitchen duties for dinner," - he said, getting up.

You felt a pang of disappointment, both at losing his company and at the realization that the mass still wasn’t over. Turning your attention back to the altar, you watched as the singers from earlier now exchanged greetings with the priest. And there she was — Wanda.

From a distance, she looked so harmless. She conversed effortlessly with those around her, and everyone appeared to admire her. In a way, it felt odd watching her engage with others. She didn’t seem to be giving them those scrutinizing glances, nor did she speak in cryptic phrases designed to mislead or perhaps she behaved the same as always, and everything weighing on your mind was meaningless after all.

It didn’t take long for people to return to their seats. Some, like Peter, left the chapel, but Wanda— She didn’t go back to her place. She was walking toward you.

- "Is this seat taken?" - she asked, not waiting for an answer before sitting beside you. - "I'm really happy you came tonight. I hope it’s not too overwhelming for you, darling," she added, placing her Bible on her lap and opening it.

- "It’s been a good experience," - you admitted truthfully. - "Besides, I met Peter. He seems like a good person." - You weren’t sure why you brought him up, maybe just to fill the silence.

- "Oh, Peter. Yes, I know him," - she said, her tone suddenly firmer, colder.

Looking down, you noticed her fingers fidgeting with the rosary in her hand, gripping the cross a little too tightly. Her mood had shifted — again.

- "Uh… is the mass almost over?" - you asked, hoping to lighten the air.

- "Almost, dear. Almost," - she murmured, just as the priest began speaking again. She turned her head forward, focusing on the next prayer, but not before flashing you a small smile. You were exhausted, silently pleading for everything to end soon.

As the minutes ticked by, Wanda’s presence beside you awakened something unfamiliar. It was as if your body remained in a perpetual state of anticipation, craving something beyond reach, even though you knew your longing was forbidden. Dangerous. And then, almost as if she had read your restless mind — you felt it.

Her hand lay still on your exposed thigh, the cool beads of her rosary caught beneath her palm, pressing into your skin each time her grip tensed with every echoed “amen.” You silently cursed yourself for choosing shorts over jeans.

Unlike you, Wanda appeared entirely unbothered by the situation. She echoed the priest’s words with ease, her voice steady and sure. And with each proclamation of praise, her grip tightened just a little more, pressing the cold metal of the cross even deeper into your skin.

Then, at last, the priest spoke his final words.

Wanda turned to you again. - "I hope you have a blessed night…" - she whispered, leaning in. - "And one full of grace, Y/N. Good night." - her lips grazed your cheek in a whisper-soft kiss.

And just like that, she was gone.

You remained still, frozen in place, watching as she walked toward the others as if nothing had happened. What… was that? Was your mind playing tricks on you again? Regardless of what conclusion you might come to, one thing was undeniable — That kiss was way too close to your lips.

----

You woke up to the sound of the chapel bell ringing. You were exhausted. Pressing the palm of your hand against your eyes, you let out a low groan of frustration. Your treacherous mind dragged memories from the previous night to the surface — the chapel, a new friendship, the endless prayers, and her — Wanda. No matter how much you fought it, the memories kept replaying in your mind—her gaze fixed on you, her presence beside you on the bench, her hand on your thigh, the ghost of her lips on your cheek. Stop. You had to stop thinking about it. As if stealing your sleep wasn’t enough, you refused to let her linger in your thoughts all day too.

As you wished, things were going well. At breakfast, you ran into Peter, who instantly invited you to sit with him. He talked a lot, cracking jokes and sharing stories from college — a great distraction for your restless mind. After indulging a little too much in the delicious food, you both headed to the courtyard, where more volunteers and children began arriving. You finally met the famous Mr. Stark, whom Peter had raved about, and his lovely wife. The conversation was engaging, but duty soon called. Monica gave you instructions to take the children to the dining hall while others helped store their luggage in the respective accommodations. Everything was well-organized, and the people were incredibly helpful. While watching over the children, you even managed a quick chat with Scott, who was eager for you to meet his daughter.

The day was going wonderfully, and, without intending to be judgmental, there were moments when you almost forgot the place was tied to a religious organization. You met people from nearby towns who volunteered regularly for this cause, regardless of their beliefs. It was all about the children, and they were absolutely delightful. Laughter echoed through the air, some raced across the lawn, others tended to the garden, played ball, or explored the small farm area, where they could interact with animals and learn about them. The most rewarding part was witnessing their beaming smiles, their excitement unmistakable as they eagerly chose which activity group to join.

Speaking of which, you were assigned to oversee the lake activities. Initially, you were excited about your role, but upon realizing that "lake activities" meant swimming with the children, your enthusiasm waned. You hadn’t packed a swimsuit, after all, who would have guessed there’d be water activities at a church retreat? Never. Regardless, you worked with what you had, slipping into workout shorts, a sports top, and a lightweight shirt over it. That would do.

--

The evening bell rang, signalling the start of the night’s activities. You began calling the children out of the water and sending them over to Cassie, Scott’s daughter, who was handing out towels.

You were happy but utterly drained. You had to give your all to help your team win the water polo match against Peter, but it was worth every effort. Of course, you took the time to lift the losing team’s spirits, assuring the kids that they had played exceptionally well and placing the blame for the loss entirely on Peter. Maybe that was a little harsh because your convincing words successfully triggered an all-out water fight against him.

Well, karma always finds a way back. After all the children had left the lake and headed to the dorms, Cassie announced that only one towel remained. You and Peter locked eyes in a wordless challenge before sprinting for it. Unfortunately, he was faster, laughing mischievously as he grabbed the towel. - “Better luck next time, Y/N! I win. See you later!”

Great. A short walk to your room while soaking wet wasn’t the end of the world. Everything was fine, you told yourself — until you heard Agatha’s voice.

- "My God, Y/N! Where are you going, dripping wet like that?!" - she exclaimed, approaching you, her loud voice drawing attention including Wanda’s.

- "I’m just heading to my room to grab a towel," you murmured, not wanting to attract more stares. - "Don’t worry, just a few more steps and I’m there," you tried to sound cheerful.

- "Oh, poor little thing," - Agatha teased, giving you a mock pitying look before turning away. - "Wanda! Bring a towel, your little angel here looks like a lost, wet puppy."

A cold breeze hit your damp skin, making the temperature difference even more unbearable. Your body tensed as you saw Wanda approaching.

- "Y/N! Why are you walking around soaked like this? You’ll catch a cold, for God’s sake. Where’s your towel?" - she asked, concern evident in her voice. - "Here, let me help you," - she added, draping a towel over your shoulders, pulling you closer —too close.

- "It’s fine, Wanda. There was only one towel left, and Peter got to it first," - you admitted softly, feeling guilty for secretly enjoying her attention.

- "Peter, huh? I’ve noticed you two are getting along, maybe a little too well," - she remarked, her hand tightening on your arm over the towel. Her grip was firm. - "I hope you had fun." - You couldn’t quite decipher if her tone was sincere or laced with something else.

Your mind replayed moments from earlier. You had done your best to keep thoughts of Wanda at bay, and, for the most part, you had succeeded. The distractions of games and the children’s company helped lighten things, as long as you didn’t glance in her direction. Every time your gaze drifted toward the field where the children played, Wanda was there, watching you. At first, you brushed it off as a mere coincidence, but soon, it became unnerving. Again and again, you caught her observing you as if carefully tracking your every move.

You snapped back to the present when Wanda pulled the towel from your shoulders. You looked at her, confused.

- "Take off your shirt." - It was more of a command than a suggestion. You stared at her, surprised at her boldness.

- "I’m not saying it twice, Y/N. Your shirt is drenched. Take it off." - You stood firm, refusing to comply so easily. Who did she think she was, ordering you around? Sure, she was right, but still, you can make your own choices.

- "I’m warning you. Don’t test me," she said in a sharp tone, raising an eyebrow and stepping closer. - "Don’t worry, darling. No one will see." Your eyes locked, and in an instant, whatever determination you had shattered. She had that effect on you, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

Hesitantly, you peeled off your damp shirt, shivering as the cold air met your skin and the fabric of your sports top. Wanda gave you a satisfied smile, wrapping the towel back around you.

- "Good girl. I’m proud that you listened to me," - she murmured, adjusting the fabric on your shoulders. - "It’s okay, sweetheart." - Her voice softened as she leaned in, her hands caressing your back over the towel, sliding lower. - "It’s okay to want to act like a brat sometimes…" - Her face was dangerously close to yours, her hands now resting on your waist. - "But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know your place." - She whispered the last words against your ear.

Taking the wet shirt from your hands, she gave you one last knowing smile before turning and walking back toward the others.

----

Your plan to stop thinking about Wanda had completely failed. The scene from earlier kept replaying in your head. Nothing made sense. Why does she act so harmless, yet suddenly she feels like a predator ready to devour me? The question tormented your mind. Well, not that it would be a bad thing for her to devour you, you thought. "STOP!" The thought was so loud in your head that you accidentally muttered it out loud. You needed to do something.

The first solution that came to mind wasn’t the best. In fact, it was the worst. But you were tired and maybe, just maybe, desperate. Whether you were ready to admit it or not, the truth was that your body craved her. The way she looked at you, her touch, her words — everything. She was driving you insane, both mentally and physically. You needed relief, and you convinced yourself this was the perfect moment. After all, you had come prepared for this.

You sat up in bed, determined. This was the right time, everyone was probably asleep by now. After skipping the evening mass and only stopping by the dining hall to grab a sandwich to go. You had been avoiding any contact.

Rummaging through your suitcase for your toy, your body burned with anticipation, your thoughts consumed by Wanda. To your surprise, the midnight bell rang, and you jumped in fright. The cool night breeze rustled the curtain by the open window, bringing a sudden clarity to your mind. "God, I mean, literally God. What am I doing? This is madness!" Guilt crept up your spine. Letting out a long sigh, you made a new decision — you needed a cold shower, now.

--

The freezing water was undoubtedly the best choice. As it cascaded down your shoulders, you felt your mind finally regaining balance. You were relaxed, at peace, when suddenly, a noise outside your stall broke the silence. A chill crept down your body. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe it was nothing. Just to be sure, you murmured hesitantly, "Hello? Is someone there?" of course, no response. There couldn’t possibly be anyone here at this hour.

Finishing your long, calming shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and stepped out, heading toward the bench where you had left your change of clothes. Everything was perfectly normal until you realized your underwear was missing. You shook out the rest of your clothing, but nothing. You could have sworn you brought it with you. — Had it fallen somewhere on the way? Or had you simply forgotten to grab it? — There weren’t many options left, you dried off and put on what you had. It was just a quick walk to your room. No one would see.

--

- "Y/N! You’re still awake!" - a familiar voice called out, approaching in the hallway.

No way, you thought. Your hand was already on the doorknob, about to open your room when Wanda appeared.

- "Oh, hi, Wanda. Yeah, I just… went to take a shower," - you responded awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact and instead looking at the object in her hand.

- "Mmm, lucky me, then! I was heading to my room and figured I’d drop off your shirt on the way." - She extended the clothes toward you.

- "Oh, right. Thank you. You didn’t have to wash it," - you said, suddenly remembering the forgotten shirt. Honestly, at that moment, all your focus was on one thing — you were only wearing a thin pair of pyjama shorts, no underwear.

- "No problem, darling." - She offered a warm smile before tilting her head slightly. - "Are you okay? I didn’t see you at mass and dinner tonight. I missed you." - Her hand reached out, gently stroking your arm with a concerned expression.

The warmth of her touch instantly undid all the effects of your cold shower. Your body heated up fast. You tried to maintain a natural posture, but feeling so exposed beneath your flimsy shorts was not helping. You kept your response brief, gripping the doorknob tighter. You needed to get inside, for your safety. - "I’m fine, Wanda. Just tired from today’s activities."

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Placing her hand over yours, she stopped you from opening the door. - "Is that all? Are you having trouble sleeping, dear?" - She squeezed your hand gently.- "How about we say one last prayer together, hm? It will help you rest." - Without waiting for an answer, she pushed the door open.

You had no choice but to nod and step inside, your pulse racing. Wanda followed, closing the door behind her. - "You know," she mused, her voice calm yet laced with something unreadable, - "I have this essential oil that works wonders for sleep. I could use it on you."

This had to be a curse. No word came from your mouth and you were afraid to face her.

Then the silence of the room was broken by her single command. - "Kneel." - Her voice was firm as she stepped closer to you by the bed.

You finally stared at her, incredulous. Your body tensed, yet you could feel a damp heat forming between your legs. She had power over you, and she knew it.

- "What’s wrong, Y/N? Kneel." - She repeated, this time with a slightly softer tone.

A thousand scenarios raced through your mind, all the possibilities of what might happen—but none were what she meant.

- "Didn’t you agree to pray with me before going to sleep?" - she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "Oh—of course! Pray, yes, yes, let’s do that." - You responded, your tone far too enthusiastic for the occasion, but relieved nonetheless.

Of course, kneeling was for prayer. You were so stupid. Immediately after your reply, you dropped to your knees, resting against the edge of your bed. The movement caused friction between your legs, heightening your sensitivity. This whole situation was making you feel strangely aroused and simultaneously desperate at the thought of what Wanda might do if she discovered you had been without underwear this entire time.

Before kneeling beside you, she cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at her. - "You’re a good girl, Y/N. Let’s pray to receive His blessing."

Those were the longest, most torturous minutes of your life. You fought against your consciousness, struggling to stay focused, but every little thing distracted you — Wanda’s arm brushing against yours, the rasp in her voice as she pronounced each word, the way she inhaled between phrases. — You felt guilty for desiring her this way, especially at this exact moment.

Shame. Guilt.

Your soaked folds throbbed with ache, your knees pressed against the cold floor — you were paying for your sins, and the devil knelt beside you.

- "Amen." - It was the last word you spoke before she ran a gentle hand down your back and stood up. - "That was wonderful, wasn’t it? I can feel God’s presence here." - She smiled, extending her hand to help you up. - "Alright, now it’s time to rest. Lie down, and I’ll apply the essential oil on you." - She turned, slipping a hand into her bag to retrieve the small bottle.

Honestly, you wanted to plead for her touch — to put an end to this unbearable torment — but at the same time, you felt like the most unworthy soul alive. She was doing all of this out of care and concern… right?

You lay down as she instructed. She poured a bit of oil onto her fingers and rubbed it slowly onto your wrists. - "This will help you sleep tonight, I promise, darling." - Her voice was gentle, almost a whisper. - "One last spot, and we’re done." - She released your wrists, giving you no time to protest before lifting the hem of your shirt, and slipping her hand underneath. Her fingers trailed just above your chest, massaging slowly. The motion caused the delicate fabric of your shirt to brush against your hardened nipples — she must have noticed. Just a few centimetres more, and she would be cupping your breast.

You couldn’t contain it, pressing your legs together, seeking any friction where you craved it most, a quiet moan escaped your lips.

- "You’re so good for me. My good girl." - Her eyes locked onto yours as she smiled. - We’re finished."

- "Goodnight, Y/N. I hope you have sweet dreams." - She stood up and left, leaving you there, needy and desperate. And you could swear that just before turning away, her gaze lingered on the damp spot forming at the center of your pajama shorts.

----

You slept peacefully, like an angel, and for that, you couldn’t hold it against Wanda. She had been right. However, that was the only credit she deserved. Last night had been a whirlwind of emotions and desires, forbidden ones. No matter how much your body craved her or how, in fleeting moments, you believed she might feel something for you too, none of it mattered. It was wrong.

Perhaps God had heard your prayers because your day went wonderfully well. In the morning, you had breakfast with Peter and Cassie. In the afternoon, you were in charge of the arts and painting activity group. Time flew by in the company of the children — so much fun and laughter. You even had the chance to teach them about recycling and how discarded materials could be turned into toys.

Everything was going perfectly — too perfectly. Until Monica approached you. Simply put, one of the church volunteers, an older woman named Sharon, requested a private room, claiming that her roommate’s snoring was unbearably loud. At first, you thought Monica was asking you to check the accommodation list for an available room, but then it clicked. She was actually asking you to give up your room for Sharon. Well, fine. It was a bit inconvenient, but you didn’t mind too much. After all, no one deserved to share a room with a noisy sleeper. However, the proposed solution for your lodging took you entirely by surprise — Monica suggested that you move into Wanda’s room.

You had no excuse to refuse. What could you possibly say? "I’m having forbidden thoughts about a religious woman and I think I’m losing my mind?" So, you had to accept it.

--

You didn’t have much to carry to your new dorm, or rather, Wanda’s dorm. Even so, Agatha offered to help with your belongings since Wanda had given her the key to unlock the room for you, as she was tied up with something else. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Wanda wasn’t here.

You stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety settling in your stomach. It was nearly the same size as a single dorm, the only difference being two twin beds separated by a nightstand. You couldn’t help but picture Wanda sleeping there and wondered why she had a shared room all to herself.

Agatha walked in right after you, lingering by the door for a moment before heading straight to the window above the beds, pushing it open to let in some fresh air.

- “Feel free to put your things in the wardrobe, Wanda won’t mind,” - she said with confidence, settling onto Wanda’s bed.

You nodded in agreement, carefully placing your suitcase on a table near the wardrobe, mindful not to knock over the items already there. Then, you quietly began unpacking your few pieces of clothing.

Agatha decided to break the silence and asked - “Y/N, have you ever sinned?”

A strange question, you thought, but maybe not so much, considering the place you were in. You took a few extra seconds to think of a response. - “Mm… I guess everyone has sinned at some point, right?"

She let out a laugh. - “Smart answer, darling. But have you ever sinned in God’s house?”

You froze in front of the wardrobe. Did I hear that right? You wondered to yourself. A pang of guilt tightened in your throat as if she knew some secret you’d been hiding. - “Mm… I don’t think I understand. You mean in church?” - you lied, feigning innocence as you resumed putting your things away.

You could feel her gaze on you, the heat creeping up your neck as she studied you. - “Never mind. You’re still too pure, aren’t you?” - she chuckled again, but this time, there was something more suggestive in her tone. - “Anyway, it’s good that you’ll be keeping Wanda company here. She’s been down all day.”

Agatha was right. Your afternoon had been busy with group activities, but in the few moments you glanced around and caught sight of Wanda, she seemed… indifferent. For a moment, you told yourself she was just overwhelmed with tasks or maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as interesting to her anymore, not enough for her to seek you out in a crowd. Whatever the case, something had changed.

- “Really? What happened to her?” - you asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

- “Yeah, she won’t be able to attend the kids’ farewell or the final mass tomorrow since she has to leave in the morning,” - Agatha replied, idly twirling a strand of her hair before continuing. - “That’s a shame. She’s always loved the last day, but unfortunately, she has to go back to Westview to take care of her boys.”

- “Boys??” - you asked, almost cutting her off as she finished speaking. There was no doubt she noticed how quickly the topic had caught your attention.

- “Yeah, her boys. They’re adorable. Too bad I can’t say the same about their father,” - she replied as if it were common knowledge. Common to everyone except you.

You put away the last of your clothes and stared at the back of the wardrobe. Agatha had just dropped a fact you weren’t prepared to hear. You felt pathetic for ever indulging in your own fantasies, a slow-burning frustration creeping in, frustration at yourself. Wanda wasn’t to blame for any of this. It was all in your desperate mind. “Just one more night here, then you’ll be gone. You can do this. You’re here for the kids.” You kept repeating it in your head as you turned to zip up your suitcase, eager to leave the room. But in your emotional haze, you pulled the zipper too forcefully, causing the suitcase to shift and knock over a few nearby objects, sending them tumbling to the floor.

- “Shit,” - you muttered, frustration slipping out before you could stop it.

- “Oh God, everything okay over there?” - Agatha asked, craning her neck to check.

- “Yeah, yeah, sorry for the language. I’m just a bit clumsy,” - you said, quickly crouching down to pick up what had fallen.

The moment you saw what had fallen, you silently prayed not to be cursed. Lying there was a red hardcover notebook and Wanda’s Bible. You carefully picked them up and placed them back on the table. But, as luck would have it, one of the Bible’s pages had crumpled from the fall. Hoping to smooth it out, you opened it where a bookmark had been placed.

There were countless handwritten notes and highlighted passages. The sight warmed your heart. Wanda was truly a devoted woman. But then, one message stood out.

It was written in red ink:

“Father, forgive me;

For I have sinned;

This love isn’t holy;

But I’m too far in.”

Your eyes widened. You were about to read it again when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

- “Y/N? Are you sure you’re okay? Have you finished unpacking?” - Agatha asked.

You quickly shut the Bible, placing the small notebook on top of it. In one swift motion, you grabbed your suitcase from the table and turned to face her.

- “I’m fine, and everything’s set. We can go.” - You forced your best fake smile before striding toward the door, eager to leave.

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 3

hey... :) I know I've kept you waiting and I'm ready to hand her over to you. Here is the long awaited part 3!

Check out our Patreon for early access to new parts and 100+ Exclusive writings

The Favor Masterlist

WC- 10k

Warnings-dom/sub dynamic, oral sex, sprinkle of degradation, soft Dom h, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, h's filthy mouth, cumplay, etc.

---------

Y/N still had shaky knees by the time she got home that night. They hadn’t gone much further than that, his lips giving her a reward of kisses on her lips and neck as he had her lounge in his lap. To get used to his touch, he had claimed. It didn’t matter to her considering she felt like she was a bit touch starved and he was happy to supply his fix. 

Danny wasn’t a bad boyfriend. She didn’t want to paint him in a bad light- but he didn’t do all the things she had originally expected. He didn’t cuddle her as often as she’d liked and claimed he ‘slept hot’ so he didn’t hold her in his sleep when she slept over. A year into their relationship and she was thinking maybe he was just getting a bit too comfortable.

She was trying not to let it go to her head, how good it had felt to have Harry’s big hands on her body and little kisses pressed to her. How he had been gentle but dominant with her, reminding her to give her his eyes, his words, her lips. He’d kissed her like it was his job and made her head spin, but she figured he must have a lot of good practice on how to be a good kisser. 

When the phone rang the next day and she saw it was Danny, part of her didn’t want to answer. She still felt off about the fact he was okay with someone else touching her so intimately and made her feel so bad about wanting things in the bedroom, but the thing that bothered her the most was just how much she liked Harry touching her. She didn’t know much more about him but he had planned on her coming over to see him this weekend. They were going to actually play a little bit and that excited her to no end. There was no idea on what it was exactly they were going to do, but she knew she would do it for him. 

“Hi.” She said when she finally picked up on one of the last few rings. “Sorry, I’m making food.” It wasn’t a lie. The water was on for pasta. 

“It’s okay. I was just calling to ask how it went.” He said easily. It stung a bit, honestly. She clenched her jaw, unsure how he could be okay with her sleeping with someone else. Did he not know how intimate it was? How safe she had to feel? Clearly not, or she doubted he would let her do this. 

“Went good. He’s really nice and patient.” She mumbled.

“Oh, good. He’s a good guy, even if his tastes are questionable.” 

The girl felt herself stiffen. What the fuck? That wasn’t nice to say. Not about Harry and not about her. She was going to him for her ‘questionable’ tastes, and he never made her feel bad about it. 

“Yeah, well. I’m seeing him this weekend. We’re taking the learning thing slow.” Her fingers picked at the hole in her jeans. “I just wanted to let you know. I’m not really… Comfortable sleeping with two people at once. So I think we need to hold off on our sex together while I do this.” It made her feel icky. Not that there was anything wrong with it, per say. But she didn’t like the idea of him touching her right after Harry. 

“Oh.” He paused. “Okay. That’s fine. Are you still coming out to the bar this weekend though? Or are you and Harry going to be in his sex dungeon.” Now she was irked. Part of her had hoped for maybe a tiny smidge of jealousy. Maybe showing that he cared that she would be spending a lot of time with another man- but nothing. He breezed right past it.  He also talked about Harry in a way she didn’t like the more it happened. Reducing him as solely a man who was a sexual deviant wasn’t nice, or true. He had a dog, he did woodworking, he had a nice house and obviously a good job. He liked music, had vintage band posters in immaculate condition hung up in his hallway. It wasn’t just about who or what he did in the bedroom. 

“Don’t know. I’ll ask Harry.” She mumbled. Since she seemed to be his fucking girl for the time being. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, yeah?” 

There was barely any time to hang up before she sniffled, eyes closing as she tried to fight the tears. She’s really hoped that maybe she would get an inkling of care or jealousy out of him. He must not have a clue about any of the things they were going to do, the trust it involved, the intimacy. Harry was teaching her slowly and he was gentle and kind while also keeping the dominant persona up. It made her melt. 

So instead of calling her boyfriend back and crying to him, she took her phone out to text Harry. 

Y/N: hiiiiii. 

H: Hello. 

Y/N: I had a question if that’s okay? 

H: I have an answer, hopefully. Shoot. 

Y/N: what exactly did you have in mind for this weekend? 

Y/N: am I staying multiple days? 

Y/N: trying to figure out the packing situation. :-) 

Harry smiled down at his phone in his office. He was doing some emails but had abandoned them when he saw her name flash on his screen. He was thankful to hear from her, even more so that she was thinking about this weekend. She wasn’t having second thoughts. 

H: Yes, multiple days. I was thinking you sleep at mine Friday and Saturday, spend some of the Sunday with me. 

H: it’s up to you ultimately. In this situation, you’re in charge with how much or how little time you want to spend with me. It isn’t all going to be whips and chains, perhaps some food breaks in between. 

Y/N: he’s got jokes? 

H: a few. Don’t tell anyone. I can’t lose my mysterious persona. 

Y/N: my lips are sealed. 

Y/N: I told Danny I wasn’t going to have sex with him while I’m doing stuff with you. 

Y/N: we didn’t do it a lot anyways but it feels wrong to do that when we’re doing the things we do. Is that okay?

Was it okay? Harry could feel the smirk on his face, painted there without his permission. It shouldn’t feel so good that she cut him off in order to spend time with him, but it did. He was still astounded that he was willingly letting this happen but now that he’d had a taste of Y/N, he wanted to continue. He’d teach her everything there was to know. 

H: It’s perfectly fine. Anything that makes you comfortable, remember? 

H: it’s probably best, anyways. You went for your testing, yes?

Y/N: yes sir 🫡 bright and early. Should have the results by Friday!!! 

H: perfect. I’ve got mine done up too. You’re still on birth control too? 

Y/N: mhm, I’ve got an IUD. 

H: ouch. I heard those hurt to put in. But thank you for telling me. 

Y/N: it sure isn’t fun. We should probably be put to sleep but they don’t care lol 

H: I know. It’s a shame. I’m sorry that it hurt. 

Y/N: it’s okay :-) no oopsie baby for me!!! 

Y/N: are you planning to… you know… inside me? 

That was something she hadn’t thought about, but the thought was making her hot now. She’d never not used a condom before, always heard it was messy to not, but something about it felt… erotic. Like being marked and claimed. Something that he could play into when they were doing a scene. 

H: if you’d be comfortable with it, I’d love to. But it’s up to you. It’s your body and I respect what you want with it. 

Yep. He had decided that he wanted to do that with her. Already he was breaking his normal limits but the idea had a strong hold on him. Especially knowing now that she wasn’t going to be sleeping with  anyone else while they were together, it made him feel even more inclined to bend the rules he usually made for her. It was just… he wanted to give her everything. Let her experience the true intimacy of it. Plus he couldn’t deny the idea made him hard as stone. 

H: though… overshare? I am partial to the idea of watching your cunt drip with my cum. 

Y/N: I hope you know I’m blushing.

She was more than blushing. She was starting to get wet from the mere mention of it. Harry seemed to like to be blunt that way and there was something so hot about it, he had no fear of saying what he wanted. No matter how crass it may be. 

Y/N: I think I’d like that, though. If everthing is good with my results- which they should be fine- I’m okay with that. I’ve never done it. 

Harry felt himself twitch in his pants behind his desk. A groan audibly left his mouth as he placed his phone down for a moment, running his hand over his face. He shouldn’t like the knowledge he would be the first one bare inside of her. He would be the first one to cum in her. Fuck, he hated how much he loved the idea of it. This wasn’t his girl, wasn’t his to keep, but he was playing pretend like she was. 

H: good to know, pet. I’m excited to explore with you. 

H: you’re a lot of fun, you know that? 

Y/N: I didn’t know that :-) thank you for telling me. I’m really looking forward to seeing you this weekend. 

H: the feeling is mutual, darling. Very much so. 

—-

Y/N felt the familiar tingle of nerves when she pulled into his house. He’d given her the gate code this time, which she punched in and drove herself through as the house took away her breath again. What she wouldn’t do to live in a house like this. It was a Pinterest dream. 

Parking her car to the side, she grabbed her duffle bag and rounded the side to find Harry waiting at his garage door once again. 

God, he was handsome. 

He wore an open baby pink button up with a white tank top underneath and black trousers sitting higher up on his waist. His smile was soft as he watched her approach, stubble a bit more grown out than she remembered and his hair tousled in a sexy off hour type of vibe. To put it lightly, he looked like a model off duty and she felt a bit intimidated. This man found her attractive? She wasn’t insecure that way, but it was admittedly a stroke to her ego. 

“Hi, Darling.” He hummed, reaching out to take her bag from her. “Drive alright?” His eyes scanned over her in appreciation. A dress, one that flirted over her thighs. A soft pink with a subtle floral pattern, cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, flat shoes and a little pearl necklace. “You look adorable.” She really did. The picture of flirty innocence, making him heat slightly when he realized she wore this for him. She had to of, considering he was the person she planned on spending the day with. 

“You think?” The girl beamed, looking down at her outfit. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure what to wear or what the plans were. I wanted to look… presentable.” She could feel her cheeks warming from how intently he looked at her. It was unlike what she was used to, like he was drinking in the details. If he looked at her like this now, how would she feel when she was completely bare? “The uh, the drive was alright. Thanks for asking.” She looked at her bag on his shoulder. “You didn’t have to take the bag, I can carry it!” 

“Cute. No, my mother raised me right. Shouldn’t be carrying a thing, especially when you’re coming to stay with me.” He extended a hand. “C’mon, so you don’t catch a chill. Buttons is waiting for you.” The way her face lit up at the mention of his dog made something in his insides soften, her delicate hand slipping into his own and trusting him to lead. Harry knew he was lucky to spend this sort of time with her, and he wasn’t going to risk wasting a moment. All he’d been able to think about during the week was how she had felt under his palms.

As expected, his hand was dropped as they got inside and he said the release command for Buttons, letting her say hello to the excited animal. He whined and went in circles as Y/N giggled, brushing her hands over him and telling him in a soft voice that she had missed him so much. He had to check himself when he found it a bit too cute. Seeing her be this sort of soft was beyond attractive. “Do you want me to put this away on my own, or did you want to come with me?” He said after a few moments. 

“Oh! May I come?” She looked up at him with soft eyes, kneeling on the floor. The vision was marred by his own filthy vision, imagining this exact scenario with a vibrator tucked inside of her needy pussy, tears in her eyes and his cock slipped from her mouth. He felt himself twitch in his trousers, trying to clear the rasp he knew would follow.

“There she goes. Asking for permission already.” His hand came down to stroke her hair, watching her eyes widen as she saw exactly what it was that she said. Her mouth opened to apologize, but he merely shook his head. “I like it, sweetheart. You look good like this.” 

Y/N was burning between her thighs. It was the fastest she thinks she’d ever been aroused in her life. There was an intensity that radiated from him and a heat that crackled between them at her body reacted to his words. She hadn’t meant it like that, no. It was her trying to be polite, but this view was to her favor, too. Seeing him tower over her, his hand stroking her hair like she was the pet, feeding into a bit of a fantasy she had barely explored. That was the point of them, wasn’t it? It was just…. Y/N hadn’t expected for it to feel so good right off the bat. Had tried to write off their kisses and exchange last time as just initial excitement. It was clear now that it was far more than that. “Sorry.” She peeped, unsure of what else to say. 

“None of that.” His scold was gentle as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “No apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re being a good girl for me already, Y/N.” The praise was sweet falling from his lips, smirk growing as he watched her clench her thighs in what she thought was probably a discreet manner. Buttons had ran off to his toy basket to play, losing interest once Y/N’s hands had fallen from him, but she stayed in her position. Did she even realize what a natural she was at this? When she’d expressed concerns about ‘not being good’ at this last time after this kissing had slowed, he’d been positive she was the perfect person for it- but this proved it.  

The girl took a shaky inhale, smile painting her lips as she looked up at him with hesitancy. “May I get up?” Testing it out. It was difficult because all she wanted to do was please him, and she knew he’d written out terms but… she’d just walked in. It hadn’t been her intention to fall right into it, but they had. She wasn’t quite sure what to say about that. 

Raspberry lips twitched as he let out a breathy laugh, nodding his head. “Very nice. Yes, you may. C’mon.” His hand was extended to hers and he helped lift her up, steadying her as she blinked at him. He merely gave her a comforting look before taking her hand in his again and leading her up the stairs. “Now, I’ve got two options. You can stay in the guest room, settle in there… or you can stay in my room, with me.” It was a loaded question, he knew. “You’re welcome to change your mind about either at any time, of course. It’s up to you.” 

Y/N hadn’t expected the option to actually sleep in his bed with him. That felt… intimate. More intimate than she would have thought, but from what she had been taught so far? The whole thing was intimate. They weren’t doing just a scene, he was teaching her about this lifestyle and she felt excitement bubble in her tummy at the prospect of waking up next to him. He treated her so nicely like this. Surely, he was going to be a bit mean when they played and she craved that- but she had been craving that sort of intimacy desperately. Was it wrong to get her fill whilst she was here? 

“May I sleep with you?” She asked with slight hesitation. It was also up to him, and though he had offered,  she wanted to know his own preferences. “Is that something you’d like?” It was his house, she didn’t want to put him out. 

And truthfully? Usually, he didn’t really care either way. Sometimes he got a bit itchy for alone time when it came to other arrangements he’d had but the man really couldn’t imagine being sick of Y/N. Not wanting to rub his hands all over her and have unadulterated access to her. To see her sleepy and soft in the morning light, see how he could mold her into his own body and possibly have a bit of morning sex. “I’d enjoy it if you did, yes.” He hummed, trying not to show his bias too much. Ultimately it was her decision to make. 

“Okay.” She looked at him cautiously. “Then… I think I’d like to do that. Please.” Adding in the extra manners surely seemed to work in her favor, his smile brightening at it. It made her tummy flip flop, watching him look at her like that. It made her want to get more of it. 

He’d shown her the guest room she could use anyway in case she wanted time apart from him- though he hoped that wouldn’t be the case- before opening the double doors to his bedroom. 

It was a bit of a grand show off way, but he’d always liked the look of a suite. The doors opening and a tiny mini foyer before a hallway, opening up to the large bedroom. Hardwood floors and cream colored walls, a walk in closet to the left and the bathroom to the right as they walked through the hall, which he pointed out. His actual bedroom was quite large, with a fireplace, television, bookcase, large windows… the bed was on an elevated platform with four posters at the end. Her mind buzzed, knowing it was the perfect set up to tie her up. Leave her helpless. The dark red bedding popped against the cream and hardwood, somehow fitting his personality perfectly. It was clean, comfortable, but lived in. 

“Wow, Harry. It’s gorgeous.” Her hand left his as she walked further into the room and looked at whole thing. The loveseat by the windows and bookcase, the incredible view over the hills. It was hard to imagine what this house would cost, but she had to think it was way more than she could fathom. He walked up to the bed and placed her bag there, arms crossed as he watched her pad across the room and take in details. 

He liked the sight of her here. Her hair falling down her back and bouncing as she moved, she enjoyed the decor he put up and told him so. Harry did wonder if it was smart, keeping her in here with him. If he wasn’t going to set himself up for something painful considering he already felt a bit more for the girl than he should, but he couldn’t stop himself. Rationally he knew that she would probably go back to Danny after this was over and she had her ‘fill’ but… part of him hoped she wouldn’t. Even if she wasn’t with him, but someone who would give her what she wanted. What she needed. All without making her feel poorly about herself. 

His hands itched as he watched her bend over to look at a photo frame on the bookcase, eyes falling down to her dress as it rode up and exposed the softness of her thighs. It was short, the dress, and he wondered if she’d done it on purpose. What she was wearing underneath all of it. Part of his mind wanted desperately to call her over, taunt her about the fact she was teasing him and fuck her throat as a ‘punishment’- but he didn’t want to scare her by moving too quickly. Instead, he would give himself a reward for his self control. 

“Y/N? Come here please.” He stood by the bed and watched as she perked up, trotting over to him with a questioning look on her face. She didn’t do a thing to stop him as his hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up so he could look at her. “You’re still happy to be here, yeah?” His voice was soft as he tried to read her reactions.

It was hard for her to think when he held her this way, but she nodded insistently. “Of course. I’ve… I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” She admitted. It had been the whole week of texting and check-ins to make sure she had good days at work and it had become a routine she really liked. Their kissing and his firm tone had haunted her mind the entire time, making her crave more of it. 

“Yeah? You have?” He hummed. “Should have known. You’ve been a sweet girl since I’ve met you, but… I didn’t expect this out of you.” His thumb ran over her bottom lip. “It’s a welcome surprise. Though I never thought I’d find myself in this position with you… I’m glad you’re trusting me enough to help guide you.” It made him feel really fucking good, honestly. Yes, Danny may have suggested it but she was the one with the choice. “I just want to remind you that if you’re ever uncomfortable, you safe word for me. If you want me to stop, tell me. If I’m too mean and you’re hurt, if anything I do hurts past the point of pleasure, if you’re panicking? Stop me. I’ll never, ever be angry with you for doing that.” 

Y/N seemed to be the type to try and push through true discomfort to appease people. He didn’t want that with him. Of course, he would be pushing many limits. Physically and emotionally. But he didn’t want to cross those. It was a large responsibility any time he took a sub, but this was the biggest one yet. Someone he already knew and cared for, even if it was minor- and it was her first time dipping her toe into it. He was setting the tone for her experiences. It was a bit scary, though he’d never tell her that, but he was up for the challenge. “Promise me you’ll do that. For me. Not just as a dominant but as your friend and someone who cares for you.” He sighed, giving her a firm look. 

“Promise. I promise, Harry.” She murmured, understanding the gravity of what he said. He took her safety seriously and he cared for her. “I’ll be a good girl for you. Swear it.” 

Harry grinned, nodding his head. “I know you’ll be a good girl for me, pet. Knew it since you’ve walked in. You jus’ want to make me happy, don’t you?” His tone shifted, just slightly enough to make her body buzz. It was smooth, something reminiscent of last time she was here. At her nod, he let out a breath and smeared his thumb over her bottom lip again. “Good. You know…. Been thinking about these all week.” Her mouth, she realized. Something turned in her stomach and erupted into butterflies, eyes on his face as she tried to decipher what was going on in his mind. “M’gonna feed you and make sure you’re comfortable in a moment, but can I taste you again?” He hummed. “Do I need permission to kiss you this weekend, or is it something you’ll let me take as I please?”

The butterflies melted in her stomach, settling lower and heated her body up in a way she knew was arousal. Excitement. He was still so careful with her, tender, but she couldn’t wait until he was… less so. Until he took what he wanted, like he said, made her bend to his will. Told her what to do. Boss her around. But she understood he couldn’t read her mind and how she was fucking gagging for him to use her, to touch her, so she nodded. 

“Words, Pet. Remember?” He raised an eyebrow and made her breathing catch as his grip on her face tightened. 

“Sorry- sorry. Yes. You can… you can do whatever you want. I like when you kiss me.” She peeped, knowing that she was handing herself over to the man on a silver platter with all the dressings. “I want that.” 

“There we go.” He cooed. “So good. Thank you for correcting that- don’t make me remind you again.” His face got closer to hers. “I’m glad our wants seem to be in agreement.”

Y/N’s brain went haywire as his lips pressed to hers before it went quiet. So quiet, so smooth as his mouth sipped at hers ever so gently before applying a bit more pressure. Her face was still firmly held between his fingers as he kissed her, her hands falling to his button up and curling into the fabric as she did her best to return the kiss the way he wanted. She’d never been kissed like this, where it was so abundantly clear that he was in charge. There was no fighting for dominance- Harry owned her mouth. 

When he pulled away, the whimper fell from her mouth and she pouted as he chuckled, wiping his thumb over the corner of her mouth to clean her up. “S’okay, darling. Don't want you too worked up yet.” He brushed his nose against yours. “M’gonna take good care of you and your needy cunt. Don’t worry about that. But I’ve got to get you unpacked and some food in your belly before I can make you cum. Need your strength.” He sighed, pressing one last peck to her lips before pulling back. “C’mon. I’ve got a drawer cleaned out for you and the second sink is yours. 

Y/N followed him on wobbly knees, wondering just how fucked she was going to be when this is how she felt from mere kisses. 

—-

Dinner was eaten with a comfortable chatter between the two of them. It was surprisingly easy to just…. Be. Harry was a comfortable person to be around and she thought maybe that’s why she felt the way she did for him. Preening at his praise for her new project she shared with him, like a pup waiting for a biscuit. She’d trailed him around the house, going outside with him to take Buttons on his walk after he ate dinner where he had shown her around his yard. His pool, jacuzzi, garden, the tennis court and rock climbing wall- he seemed to have the works, and she was very jealous. What she wouldn’t do to live in this sort of house. Thankfully she was spending time here now, getting to pretend this was her life. 

Standing on the deck, he whistled for Buttons to come back to them before turning to Y/N. “Think we’re getting close to having our fun together.” He hummed. “Tonight we’ll play a bit, get a feel for each other. Tomorrow, I’ll take you out for lunch. Then I was thinking…” he crossed his arms over his body and Y/N gawked at his arms. He was incredibly fucking hot. “I’ll take you to the toy shop. Let you pick something out to try. S’that something you’d be comfortable with?” 

Y/N had to admit she didn’t expect him to do any of that. Not take her out, nor to a sex shop to get a toy for her, but the thought made her dizzy. It was so nice of him, so thoughtful, and still slightly dirty. She loved the idea, really, especially to spend time with him. “Yeah! I’ve never… I’ve never been to one of those before.” Her admittance was quiet. “Always been too nervous to go on my own. He never liked the idea of going even just to look, so I’m excited that you’d be willing to take me.” 

God, Danny was a pussy, wasn’t he? You didn’t even have to be into kinky shit to go to a sex shop. Harry felt for her. Having that urge, that itch to scratch, and feeling like no one around you would accept you for it had to be an uncomfortable and lonely feeling.  “Well I have a favorite shop and money to be spent. So allow me to treat you this weekend, yeah? More than happy to do it and let you experience new things.” 

Y/N felt guilt at the prospect of him spending money on her, but he didn’t seem to be the type to take no for an answer. He’d had dinner ready for them, had helped her unpack her bag, ultimately taken care of her since she’d walked into the house. Even wiped the corner of her lip when she’d gotten a bit of sauce on it. It came so naturally between them that she knew she should probably be a bit concerned but she couldn’t be. Not with how good it felt. “Okay. I can- I hope you don’t feel forced fo pay for me. I have money I can spend too.” She peeped. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage or anything. You’re the one helping me.” 

Harry clicked his tongue, brushing it off. “Well you’re the one letting me get wrapped in that snug little cunt eventually, yeah? Letting me throw you around a bit and have fun with you… so, that’s enough reason for me to want to do it.” He turned to her and pulled her against him, making her meet his eyes again. “For the time you’re alone with me, you’re mine. You told him he can’t touch you while you’re with me, yeah? M’the only one getting access to you like this?” 

“Yes, sir.” She breathed, feeling herself melt in his grip. His tone had changed and she felt it between her thighs as he held the back of her neck. 

“Then that settles it. I take care of what’s mine.” His mouth pressed to hers, stealing a kiss from her lips. “You’ve been doing well tonight. I think I want to play with you a bit now. Go upstairs to the bedroom and sit on your knees, right next to the bed. Hands in your lap.” The visible perk up made him want to smile, but he kept his face straight. Y/N was the prettiest thing, and he was more than looking forward to touching her now. 

Y/N was more than eager, pushing past the nerves and nearly jogging up the stairs as she made her way to his room. He’d lock the house up and settle Buttons for the night, and she would wait patiently for him. 

The hardwood was cold against her knees, but she did as he asked. Kneeling with her hands in her lap, she tried not to let her mind wander. Instead, she looked around the room and bought time as it rolled by. It was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t lie. She had to shift around, but the pain excited her a little bit. Her eyes had kept going to the clock by the bed, watching as 10 minutes passed. Each one made her more and more squirmy with the anticipation, but by the 13th minute she could hear his footsteps approaching and she settled into the final position, watching him walk towards her. 

The man looked tall. Powerful. Someone she had to give into. She craved it.  He stopped right in front of her, a gentle hum leaving his lips as he looked down, his hand coming over her head to caress her lightly. “Look at what a good listener you are, pet.” He murmured, fingers finding her cheek and brushing over them as she gave him her eyes. “This is a beautiful sight to walk into. S’where you belong, isn’t it?” His voice was… different. It held a different tone to it, a cadence that he didn’t have when speaking in other instances. It made her wet. “Belong on your knees, waiting for me to tell you what to do. Gorgeous”. He sighed, appreciating the view he had. 

“Yes, sir.” She whispered, mouth suddenly dry as her hands itched to grab his belt and pull him closer so she could feel more of his body heat. 

“You remember your safe word, sweetheart?” He asked, watching as she nodded. When she didn’t say anything else, his hand fisted her hair and tugged back, making her gasp loudly at the slight sting. It only made her feel hotter, mouth opening but failing to say anything. “What have I told you, hm? Told you to stop with the nodding and use your words, like a good girl.” He warned. 

“M’sorry, I’m sorry sir. Yes, I remember.” She winced as the grip on her hair lessened, missing it a little bit as his lips twitched up. Why had she liked that so much? He’d stolen her breath with that move, and they’d only just begun. 

“There we are. Don’t make me ask you again, or m’not gonna be as nice.”’he smoothed her hair back, taking a step forward. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to do with you. It’s exciting, you know? Having free reign over your body. A big responsibility, but it’s one I welcome.” Harry loved it now, seeing her reactions to him. She was doing her best to be good already. “It’s hard to plan when there’s so many things I want to show you. But I think we can have some of the basics now. Make use of those hands and take off my belt.” 

Y/N’s shaky hands gripped the belt and slipped the tongue through the loop, the metallic sound filling the otherwise quiet room. Getting the latch undone, she began to pull at it and watched as the leather ran through the loops until the accessory was off of his body. He didn’t say anything, merely stepping closer to her. So close that her mouth was inches away from his groin, making her excitement build. He was hard. She could see it, the print of him through the fabric, and she wanted to touch. 

“Look what you’ve done to me, darling. Got me hard just thinking about the filthy things M’gonna do to you.” He murmured, using his grip on her hair to pull her closer to him. Her nose brushed against his cock, Harry pressing her face against his pants with little effort. “Give me some kisses. Show me how much you want it.” 

One thing was certain- Y/N was eager. The man watched as she nodded, lips pursing against the fabric as she kissed from the base all the way to the tip. Her breath was warm and leaked through the fabric, making his stomach tighten a bit. What got him was the fact that he could tell she enjoyed this, even being nervous. She continued, keeping her hands in her lap like the good girl she was for him. “There’s my good girl.” He cooed. “Do you want to take them off? Want to make me feel good and wrap those puffy lips around my cock, suck me down?” He mumbled, watching as she nodded- though she paired it with words this time. 

“Yes, sir, I’d really like to. I want to make you feel good. May I?” She was a dream, really. Looking at him with pleading eyes, making him want to groan at how lucky he was to get such an eager little thing. He got to explore her fantasies with her and that was an honor. 

“You may. Go ahead and take my pants off- but don’t touch my cock until I tell you to.” Harry was impressed thus far. Y/N was doing an incredible job, and he could see it on her face. How she was leaning into this, that she was a natural at it. Like she was slipping right into a roll she was made for. Her hands were shaky as they pulled his zipper down, fingers gently tugging at the waistband and leading them down his hips. He didn’t offer much help, watching as they were quickly pulled down to his ankles and she looked back up at him, making him lift his leg to let her slip them off completely. “Excellent.” He praised, watching as her fingers went to his briefs but stopped, eyes widening as she caught herself. He hadn’t asked her to take those off. 

“I’m impressed.” He smiled, watching as she stayed where she was. “You were about to do something I didn’t ask for but you remembered. M’glad you caught that.” He could feel himself throbbing in his briefs though, and he desperately wanted her mouth on him. He’d been dreaming about it for days. “Go on. You can take those off.” Harry was arrogant at times, but the swell of his ego was massive as she pulled the fabric over his cock and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Her motions of taking the briefs off were even more hurried than the trousers, a little chuckle leaving his mouth. “Take me in your hand, give me a few tugs.” 

Y/N was gentle with it, her warm hand shaking slightly as she curled it around the base of his cock. It wasn’t often she would call a dick pretty, but if any she had ever seen deserved that title? It was his. Thick, slightly curved with a ruddy pink tip. Leaking a little bit, making her pant. She wanted it in her mouth. The deprived girl wanted him to push her down on him until her nose brushed the groomed thatch of hair on his groin that led up to a little happy trail. Never in her life had her mouth gotten wet to the point she thinks she could drool over the sight of something, let alone a person. “You’re so pretty, sir.” She whispered, giving him a stroke. He was hot in her hand and she could feel him twitch in her palm, scooting forward on her knees so he was directly in front of her face. 

“You think so?” He grinned. “Thank you, baby.” 

Baby. Baby. Baby? Y/N liked that nickname a lot. Of course she had been called that before, but something about hearing it from him in this context made her whine. Audibly whine, embarrassing the fuck out of her as she hadn’t meant to do it out loud. 

“Oh, you like that then? Sweet little baby.” The man crooned, stroking her hair back. “I have to admit… I didn’t expect you to be gagging for it like you are. But I’m pleasantly surprised.” He watched her pull his cock again, stroking with a gentle squeeze that made him exhale harder. “Prettiest baby, gagging for my cock. Are you going to let me down that throat, hm? Choke on me a little bit?” He purred, watching her eyes widen. “I know you will. But first, I want you to give me some kisses.” He was taunting her a little and he knew that, but he wanted to watch her squirm. 

“Yeah- I, I really want it Sir. I wanna make you happy.” She rubbed the tip over her lips, his precum wetting them in a filthy vision that had Harry wanting to curse. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll listen.” Soft, hot lips began to kiss up the length of him. Wet kisses, her lips curling around the sides as she pulled back and kissed the other side as well. She wasn’t precise with it, choosing instead to let herself be a little sloppy with her kisses and watch his reaction. 

“You are. Doing so fucking well, pet.” His praises made her smile against his length, which really was the filthiest, most lovely thing he’d ever seen. “You really are dirty, aren’t you? Don’t want to pull away from my cock so you smile on it. Do you think you can do it with me stuffed in your throat?” Realistically he knew she couldn’t- but her answer pleased him anyway.

“I’ll try anything for you.” She blinked up at him, resting the tip at her lips as she smattered kisses around the sensitive area. It took everything in her not to peek her tongue out and lick over the slit, but she had to be good for him. That’s all she wanted. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” He mumbled, watching her give him her best pleading look. “Since you can’t safe word with me in your mouth, pinch my thigh if you don’t want any more. I’m going to let you start, but I’ll take control shortly after.” There was a pause. “M’gonna be gentler because it’s your first time with me, but in the future I’ll push you to your limits. Remember what I told you.” He’d never be angry or upset if she wanted to stop. 

Y/N took the permission though, quickly pulling the head of his cock into her mouth and humming in relief. She’d been dreaming about this all week, just as he had. When he’d initially put her on her knees for him the first time they’d met up, she had hoped this would be the case/ but it was worth the wait with his fingers carding through her hair and taking a handful at the back of her head, loosely waiting as she sucked. 

She loved oral. Really, she did, but there was something about Harry that made her all the more excited to do this for him. Perhaps it was the praise or just his energy, but she could feel the dull throbbing of her clit as she took a bit more of him down. 

“Pretty mouth.” He mumbled, wiping the corner of her stretched lips was she got a bit messier. “Been thinking about it, having you here. Love that you’re eager for it. Are you this much of a  cockslut for everyone else?” She tried her best to deny it, a muffled ‘mm-‘mm’ leaving her throat as she tried to take more of him down. “No? Only for me?” This was easier to confirm, bobbing her head a little bit. Harry let out a hiss as he watched her take more, the first tear slipping from her eyes without permission. He was making her eyes water already. 

“M’glad to hear that. This is going to be your favorite cock, I bet.” He started to take over now, pushing her hand away. “Behind your back- good, perfect listening.” He praised, slowly pushing her further down on his length. “This is where you’re going to dream about being. On your knees for me, a bit helpless. But I think…. Fuck.” His eyes clenched shut for a moment as she gagged on him. He watched for any sign to stop, but she merely opened her wet eyes and looked up at him. “I think you like being a helpless little thing. You want me to use you.” He was getting down to it now, thoroughly impressed- but he felt her hand come up and tap his thigh, immediately pulling back. The girl let out a choked noise, Harry pausing and stroking her hair back, looking down in concern. “Okay, baby?” He whispered, watching her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. “Need a break?”

“Y-yeah I’m okay. We can keep going but...” Her voice was hoarse. “I just- I couldn’t take anymore.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry. I wanted to take all of it. I tried-“ she was immediately cut off with Harry cooing at her, lifting her head up and his face bent down to look at her. 

“None of that. It’s okay, darling.” He smiled. “M’just a bit too big for you to take yet. I know. It’s disappointing but…. You’ll learn.” He thumbed away a tear. “We can work on training that throat to take what it was made for. Okay?” Despite how dirty his words could be, he was still comforting her. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’re only just now learning how to be the little whore you’ve always wanted to be.” He got down further, pulling her face up for a messy kiss before straightening up. “How about this. You’ll let me fuck your mouth, but I won’t try and make you take it all. Really want to cum on this pretty face, been aching for it all day.” 

Y/N was burning from his words, the lack of air, her throat. All of it felt good, though. She loved how he spoke to her, the zip of the degrading ruining her panties. She’d been so disappointed in not being able to take all of him, but she liked the idea he proposed. Training her. It made her think about spending more time with him. Sure, it was supposed to be a short term thing but… she was going to take her time if this was the only shot she had of living out her fantasy. 

“Sound good to you, pet? You think you can handle it?”

“Yes, sir. Please fuck my mouth.” She whimpered, aching for him to get back into it. 

And he did. Fuck, he really did. 

Harry was gentle at first, scooping her hair up into a makeshift ponytail. She was kneeling on the bed platform, giving her more ease to suck at the level she was at and him the ability to move her as he pleased. At first he pulled her down onto his prick, easing her into it. Giving some semblance of choice- but when she proved she could take him, he began to truly fuck her mouth. 

He wasn’t brutal, no. It wasn’t exactly what she expected- it was better.  Firm with his strokes but only pushing her to the limit, making he drool around his cock as her hands were held behind her back. Her arms were starting to ache a bit from holding the position but she liked the burn. She liked that he held her head still while she laid her tongue flat and let him thrust into her mouth, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in. Even more so, she loved how he talked to her. 

“There she is. This is what my greedy pet wanted, isn’t it?” He purred, eyes dark as he looked down at her. “Taking it so well. Messy little thing.” His gaze was hooded as he pushed her down as far as he knew she was comfortable, pushing a bit and making her throat flex around him as he let out a deep groan that went straight to her cunt. “Fuck, yes. Work that little throat for me. Fucking perfect.” He hissed.

It was hard to see with her eyes tearing up but what she did see was perfection. Seeing him lose that control as he watched her swallow his cock, her lips strained from being wrapped around it. Her jaw was going to ache something fierce but it was worth it. 

“Look so innocent, but you’re a deprived whore behind closed doors. Fucking love it, you know that?” He breathed. “Letting me show you how good it feels… how it’s good to let go and be the brainless slut you want to me. Just hand all that control over to me, open that pretty mouth and do what you were born to do. Pleasure me.” He was testing the dirty talk, giving her a glimpse of the degradation she had asked for but not go too hard into it. With each sentence he could see her clenching her thighs, he could feel how she sucked harder over him as he spoke. She liked it. 

Harry was in heaven. Of course he’d expected a bump in the road, multiple really, considering no dynamic was perfect right off the bat- but Y/N was taking to it really well. He’d been impressed with how much of him she could take, the fact she wanted her mouth fucked, and to be honest? She was good. Sloppy, her inexperience in this showing, but really fucking good. He’d happily train her mouth and throat to take him all the way, but this was just as good. His head was swimming in pleasure, her hair tight in his hand as he watched her saliva drip down her chin and onto her poor dress, how she took it without complaining. The girl was a goddamn dream, and he knew this had been the right decision. 

“Messy little baby. Making a fucking mess on my cock and your dress. It’s a good thing you’re not going to need to wear it for much longer.” He smiled, looking a bit drunk.Y/N loved being the one to make him look like that. “Really, you’re not gonna… not gonna need much clothing with me. Doubt you’ll want to wear any with how needy you are. Gonna bend over and offer yourself up to me.” He is breath hitched as he pushed deep, letting himself hold it there before pulling out and letting her cough. Y/N, the filthy thing,  smiled at him with her wet eyes and soaked chin. 

“Yes, Sir.” She breathed. “I want you to cum. Please…” she moaned as he rubbed the wet head of his cock over her cheek, painting it with her spit and his precum. She knew she had to look a mess, but Harry was giving her a look that made her feel like she was going to be devoured. “Please, I’ve been a good girl. I took you, I’ll keep getting better- I want your cum.” Her voice turned that tiny tinge whiny, just like he had predicted. 

“You really are a cockslut. Should I add cumslut to your list of names too?” He chuckled in disbelief. His hand stroked firmly over his prick, smearing it over her face as her lips pursed to kiss it as it passed over. “Fuck me. Where did that shy little thing go? She’s gone away and left me with a filthy excuse of a pet.” He lowered his voice. “Love that. I think I can give you my cum. M’so close.” He head tipped back slightly as he pushed back into her mouth, taking a few dips in the wet heat. The only thing that could beat this was cumming in her cunt. Watching it drip out- but this would be a very close second. 

“Beg me for it.” He ordered, pulling out and stroking right in front of her face. The dominant could feel it it in his balls as they tightened, watching her genuine need. “Be a good little pet, ask me for my load all over your pretty face.” 

There was no acting here. “Please, please give me your cum sir.” She whined, panting as she pleaded. “I want it so much, I was a good girl and I- I need it. I want to be messy with your cum, I want to taste it.” She stuck her tongue out for a moment, letting him smack the tip over it a few times before he pulled back again. Wasn’t good enough. 

“I’ve been thinking about it and touching myself imagining you all week- and, and I really really want you to cum on me. Make me dirty. I’ll do anything.” Her eyes watered again, “please? Please, sir.” 

Harry liked that a bit too much. Y/N was a vision on her knees for him, with her wet face and teary eyes, a glow on her skin that only reminded him of how lucky he truly was to be in this sort of position. He was the first one to give her the things she’d been craving for god knows how long and she truly looked desperate for it. The poor thing was tearing up, falling slightly into that space he had been curious to see just at the prospect of his cum. He couldn’t hold back on her anymore, not when she had been deprived of most of the other things she wanted. 

“Tongue out. Stick your fucking tongue out, and give me your eyes.” His words were chased through clenched teeth as he felt his stomach tightening, her pink tongue laid out and her breathing erratic as she nearly whimpered for him as he rubbed the head of his prick over her tongue. His eyes were glued to her, watching a single tear start to slip down her flushed cheeks- and that was it. He’d always been good at holding back his orgasm before but he couldn’t control this one, a heady groan echoing in the room as one hand held her head still whilst the other milked himself of his load. Watching it paint the pad of her tongue, some dripping down her chin as she tried her best to keep it all in her mouth.. She was such a good girl. It was in her nature, he could tell, and he had been the one to experience her first appearance. Her first bloom as she puffed against his cock, staying still while he fisted himself, making sure to drain every last drop from her balls on her waiting tongue. She deserved it. “There we are… there’s my pretty pet. Keep it on your tongue. Don’t swallow.” He could feel his legs slightly weaken as he regretfully pulled himself away. He needed a minute before he could do something else, but already he could feel his heat seeded in his tummy just by the view. 

It was hard not to be obsessed with the image. 

“Do you want to spit it out, darling?” His voice was softer now, hand that clenched her hair letting go to gently stroke her surely sore scalp. She whined in her throat though, shaking her head as her brows furrowed looking up at him. Christ. “You want to swallow it?” A nod. He’d underestimated just how dirty she was. “Alright, baby. Swallow it then, you were good. Can have what you want.” 

Y/N looked up at him obediently, keeping their eye contact as he watched her swollen lips close and her throat bob from her swallowing. Gingerly tipping her head further back, he thumbed the spillage from the corner of her mouth across her lips and pressed inside, dragging the cum over the pad of her tongue and smiling as she gave him an unsure look. “Suck for me. There you go… M’so proud of you.” He cooed, gently pulling her body up to sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, hm? Throat a little sore?” The dominant kneeled between her now split legs, thumbing over her bare knee as he checked in on her. 

To be honest, she looked incredible. And he wasn’t just saying that because a dribble of his cum had gotten on her tits. She looked happy. A shy smile on her flushed face and a glow to her skin, eyes hazy and soft, this was the ideal he had for anyone he played with. Happy. He’d gone easy on her to start, but he could only imagine how fucked out he could get her later on down the line. When he pushed her to the limits and she became even more proud of herself for pleasing him, drunk on orgasm and giggly in that space only someone like him could get her to. 

“M;okay.” She peeped, cautiously laying her hand on top of his. “Can I hold your hand? Is that okay?”

Harry felt his heart grow a little, smiling fondly as he flipped his hand over to intertwine their fingers. Their joined hands were brought to his mouth and a spattering of kisses was given to her knuckles, a show of appreciation for her and fondness over the cute little shit she did. “Fucking adorable. Y’know that, darling?” He chuckled under his breath. “Need to check in on you though. Make sure you know just how incredibly you did, that you were okay with everything that just happened, if you need anything to change. I went a bit easy on you for our first time.” 

Y/N’s head was swimming in a good way. Of course it had been far more intense than any blowie she had ever given but that was the point. Harry had been the one in control all while giving her a little leeway. Her face had been fucked, albeit not as much as she had hoped. Her body was still hot over the idea of him training her throat to take him. There were so many things that should be floating through her head right now but it was hard to think further than Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. He’d been so good to her, given her that taste she had been gagging for and now she knew she wanted more. This feeling was addictive. Maybe her head was swimming from the slight lack of air, but maybe that meant she’d be even more into breathplay than she imagined. Either way, she was happy.

“M’so happy.” She admitted, the rasp of her voice making her toes curl. He had done that to her. “I liked it all. Liked how you pulled my hair, how you talked to me a-and that you just… you fucked my face. I’ve wanted it for ages.” Her face felt hot even admitting that but there was nothing but acceptance and pride on his face as he nodded, lips brushing against her hand. His stubble was scritchy and she liked that. “Was a little disappointed I couldn’t take it all though. You’re… you’re bigger than anyone i’ve been with.”

“Didn’t expect you to.” The man laughed. “I know it’s a lot for your throat, sweetheart. Hasn’t been properly fucked before. Stroking my ego a little with that, but I’m patient. I’ll make sure you can take it soon. Just takes a little practice.” his face leaned closer to hers. “Luckily, I’m full of that when it comes to teaching you. You’re a lot of fun.” His lips pressed against hers chastely, pulling back with a pleased look on his face. “I know you’re probably wanting a little bit of relief, throbbing for me to touch you, aren’t you?” He hummed, watching as she eagerly nodded, blinking at him in hope. However, he wasn’t going to make it that easy for her. “But I think…” The evil little smile on his face made her nervous. “This would be a good time to show you your own bit of patience.”

[satorulovebot]

cursed seas chapter five | you're on your own, kid

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre — heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

word count — 10k

tags/warnings — 18+, mentions of cannibalism, neglect, mentions of anxiety and depression, ooc gojo, explicit smut (don't get too happy), mentions of death

notes — gojo is an ass. that is literally it. if you thought he was nice in the last chapter and had some character development, no I dangled a carrot in front of you sawwy. maybe one of these days i’ll stick with a theme. also he doesn't behave like this to be an ass but it's more of a trauma response and other things. also, the reader has a hard time standing up for herself in stressful situations. She has no problem insulting gojo when shes not in a stressful situation just to clear the air and give her more characterization. also my smut skills are rusty as FUCK it’s been so long don’t make fun of me. anyways this has been long enough rb's and comments always appreciated and my inbox is always open :3

prev. never saw you coming | next. the lakes

The sky above the ship was a muted gray, covered with thick clouds that hung low over the horizon. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the dampness clung to everything it touched. The island you were heading to was located amongst other islands. The islands were commonly referred to as the Sanguine Islands, some of the biggest islands in the Caribbean.

Captain Gojou stood at the helm as his hands rested on the ship's wheel. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was just as carefree as always. But you did know better. He was back to his usual self—cocky, arrogant, and always in control. He behaved kike the night before had never happened. What upset you the most was that you thought the two of you were getting somewhere. But it was all replaced by the same facade he wore when you first met him.

“Alright, gather ‘round,” Gojou called out. “We’ve got a map, and it’s time to head to our first destination.”

You were sitting on a wooden barrel when Gojou asked the crew to join him. You were speaking to Megumi and Yuuji about the map and if they had any ideas of what they would do with the treasure. Eventually, you walked over to him and stood a few feet behind the group, your fingers nervously clutching the map. Honestly, you didn’t want to give him the map, not after everything that happened, but you didn’t have a choice.

Still, you hesitated.

“Hey!” Gojou’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “The map, sweetheart. Don’t make me ask twice.”

You swallowed hard before stepping forward to hand him the map. Your fingers brushed against his as he took it from you, and you could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Good girl,” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear. The words were like a slap in the face. You stepped back, away from the group, as Gojou spread the map across a table on the deck. 

The way he acted as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t torn into you just hours ago, made your heart ache.

“We’re heading to an island,” Gojou began. “roughly three days' sail from here. It’s marked as uninhabited on most maps, but according to this,” he tapped the weathered parchment, “it’s got something we need. All you need to know is that we’re going there.”

“There is a catch, though. The island’s got a bit of a reputation. Cannibalistic locals, or so the rumors say. I’m not one for ghost stories, but if you’re the type to scare easily, consider this your warning to stay on the ship.” Gojou went to pick up the map before shouting out, “Oh, and Y/N, you’re coming too.”

The journey to the Sanguine Islands was uneventful, save for the occasional stormy waves that rocked the ship. You kept to yourself as usual, except for talking to the kids and Nanami. 

Something about those kids, though, was that they always seemed to be in a hurry. The other day, I saw Yuuji bringing a bucket below deck. I have never seen him get seasick or anything, and he lives on a ship. But it’s none of my business. 

It’s better to keep a low profile anyway, you thought to yourself. Besides, teenagers are sneaky.

Gojou seemed also to be keeping to himself. His usual cocky grin was back on his handsome face. It was unfortunate he was a good-looking man.

Finally, the islands appeared on the horizon, or at least what you could see of them. They were small, jagged pieces of land shrouded in mist. “This place gives me the creeps,” Yuuji muttered as he prepared to drop the anchor.

“It’s just an Island Itadori. You’ll be fine since you’re staying on the ship,” Nanami voiced.

“We’ll split into two groups. Half of you stay with the ship, which includes the kids, and the other half comes with me. Shokou, you also stay. We’ll check out the island, grab whatever treasure we can find, and return by nightfall.” Gojou announced.

As Gojou had previously stated, you were heading to the island, though you wished you weren't. You had a bad feeling when your feet touched the sand, and that feeling would only worsen. The group consisted of you, Toji, Getou, Nanami, and Captain Gojou. 

The deeper you ventured into the jungle, the more uneasy you felt. The trees seemed to close in around you, and the air was more humid than usual. Every now and then, you could hear the distant rustle of leaves from what you assumed were animals moving around in the underbrush. But whenever you turned to look, there was nothing.

“I don’t like this,” Getou muttered behind you.

“Quiet Suguru,” Gojou snapped. “We’re almost there.”

But “there” was nowhere to be found. The deeper the five of you went, the more lost you felt.

“Maybe we should head back?” You suggested quietly.

Gojou ignored you. Of course. But you could see the frustration in his expression as he tried to make sense of the map. 

“It’s like we’re going in fucking circles,” he muttered.

Suddenly, shouts erupted from the back of the group.

Before you could react, colorful figures burst from the treeline, their bodies covered in intricate tribal markings.

Chaos erupted as the four men fought back, but they were outnumbered. You ducked behind a tree as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Retreat!” Toji shouted, his voice barely audible over the sound of clashing steel. “We need to get back to the ship!”

When you went to turn around, there was no clear path back.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the attackers vanished into the jungle.

“Nice job, Satoru were trapped,” Getou drawled.

“We’re not trapped,” Gojou snapped before turning to you. “Give me the map.”

In the thick of the fight, Gojou had dropped the map, and you managed to pick it up before anyone from the opposing side could. Your hands trembled as you pulled the map from your bag. Gojou snatched it from you before unfolding the faded parchment.

But when he went to read the map, it had changed. 

Where there had once been clear markings were now a mess of lines and symbols that made no sense. The landmarks did not match what you had seen on the island.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Gojou muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. “It’s like the damn thing is cursed.”

“We will find a way back to the ship. And when we do, we’re leaving this godforsaken island. Treasure or not.”

The five of you spent hours trying to make your way through the jungle back to the beach, where you had made landfall. But every time you seemed like you were getting closer, the paths continued to change, leaving you all more lost than before.

“We’re going in circles,” Toji growled.

“We need to stop,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “We’re exhausted and not getting anywhere like this.”

For a moment, you thought he might snap at you, as he had multiple times before. Instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping, as he folded the map and tucked it into his coat pocket. 

“Fine,” he muttered, “We’ll rest here for the night.”

You wasted no time helping the crew set up a makeshift camp. You found some palm leaves that could be used as a mat so you wouldn’t be sleeping on the cold, hard jungle ground because god knows what is in this place.

You sat near the edge of the camp with your back against a tree as you stared into the flickering firelight. Your mind drifted back to Gojou and how he consistently spoke to you throughout your journey. Even on the night of the Merchant’s ball, he had never looked at you this way, although he did seem conflicted, and you could see it in his eyes.

It didn’t make any sense.

Yes, Gojou was infuriating, arrogant, and impossible to read. But something about him made your heart race and your thoughts spiral out of control. It didn’t help that he was extremely attractive, either. But you refused to let yourself fall for him, not after how he had treated you and what he had done.

You decided that it was time for you to at least try and get some rest before dealing with more of his bullshit. By the time the first light of dawn broke through the canopy, most of the crew was up and about. Gojou decided that you had all stayed in the same place for too long and needed to get moving. However, whenever you seemed to be going in the right direction, the dense foliage would twist and shift, obscuring your path.

Toji led the group since he had a machete that could slice through the undergrowth. Gojou stood behind you in case the attackers returned and decided to ambush your group from behind.

“What the hell is wrong with this place?” Toji growled.

“I did tell you it had a reputation. Locals say it’s cursed. People who come here usually never leave.” Gojou said.

Usually?!

“You believe that superstitious nonsense?” Nanami chimed in.

“It’s not nonsense, you ass. We’ve been walking in circles for hours. This place is messed up.”

“Enough. Keep moving,” Gojou ordered. “We’ll find a way out. There’s always a way out.” 

The thick canopy above blocked out most of the sunlight, causing permanent twilight during the day. It was easy to lose track of time. The hours seemed to blur together, and exhaustion began to show. 

“Maybe we should turn back? We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Gojou shot you a look full of irritation. “Why would we turn back? We aren’t turning back until we find what we came for.”

But wasn’t he just saying it was okay if we didn’t find any treasure?

You decided to stay silent, not wanting to piss Gojou off any further. 

“This damn map,” he muttered under his breath.

You approached him, looking over his shoulder to scan the map. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s like the island keeps changing, and the map doesn’t match.”

Toji, watching the exchange, sheathed his machete and stepped closer. “Look, Gojou, she’s right. We’re not getting anywhere. This place is like a maze, and we need to come up with a new plan.”

For a moment, Gojou looked like he was going to argue. But then he let out a sharp breath before folding the map and tucking it back into his coat. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll take a break, regroup, and figure out what the hell is going on.”

You all let out a collective sigh of relief as you set up a temporary camp. It wasn’t much, but it gave you all a chance to catch your breath and tend to any scrapes or wounds. You sat on a fallen log, wiping the sweat from your brow. Your eyes drifted to Gojou, who stood a few feet away, staring into the jungle with a frown. He hadn’t said much since he decided to stop, and you could tell that your current situation was finally catching up with him.

You approached him cautiously, your voice soft as you spoke. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. This place is just… pissing me off.”

“It’s like the island doesn’t want us to leave.”

Gojou didn’t respond immediately, but he continued to reassure you that you would be able to make it out.

As the sun began to set, the jungle seemed to be alive. The sounds of the day gave way to something darker. You all huddled closer to the fire you had built. The flames illuminated your faces. No one spoke, not even Captain Gojou. 

You decided to once again try to get Gojou to get you to keep moving. “We need to keep moving. We can’t stay here.”

“I know,” he muttered. “But we’re not moving in the dark. This place is bad enough during the day.”

You couldn't argue with that. This place felt like a death trap, and the thought of venturing back out into the jungle made you more than uncomfortable. But staying here wasn’t much better.

You glanced at Gojou, wondering what he was thinking. His face was hard to read, but you could see the way his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready for whatever the night would bring.

But nothing ever came.

This is the third day you have been stuck on the island. The path the group had been following had disappeared. Every turn leads to a dead end or tangled vines. The thick canopy overhead barely lets any sunlight in. It casts strange shadows that play tricks on the mind.

“Dammit,” Gojou muttered as he hacked away a particularly stubborn branch with his sword.

You kept your distance from him, knowing how irritated he was now, considering that you had been on this island for longer than he wanted. Your conversations had long since died down since each of you was focused on your survival. Getou had been having a reaction to mosquito bites recently, which had significantly slowed the group down. You were sweaty and dirty and desperately wanted a bath. The muscles in your legs screamed in protest, but you pushed forward, determined not to hold the group back.

A sudden noise caught everyone’s attention. Before anyone could react, something shot out of the underbrush. Panic erupted as more figures emerged from the jungle. They had necklaces made of bones around their necks and clothing made out of what you hoped was animal hide. 

You heard Gojou shout something out before grabbing your arm and running in the opposite direction, away from the chaos. You noticed there was blood smeared on his sleeve and his sword drawn. You came to a stop, and he ordered you to stay close to him, not even sparing you a second glance before he turned his back and started walking. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, too exhausted and too shaken to argue with him. Following him was your only option, and judging by his demeanor, you could see that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be stuck with you.

As the two of you walked, neither of you spoke. The only sounds that could be heard were the crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

He didn’t stop walking, nor did he slow down. “No.”

“So we’re just wandering then?”

“You got a better idea?”

You didn’t bother responding. It wasn’t worth it. The ache in your legs had become unbearable, and it took more effort than you would have liked. But the last thing you were going to do was complain to him and have him think you’re weak. He already seemed to look down on you, and you didn’t think you could take any more of it.

“Why are you always like this?”

He stopped so suddenly that you almost ran into him.

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me. I’ve done nothing but try to help you and your crew. And all you do is push me away like I’m some… some nuisance.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his icy blue eyes studying you with an intensity that made your heart race. With a scoff, he turned away again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me. Tell me why you treat me like I’m nothing. Tell me why you act like—”

“Because it’s easier. It’s easier if I don’t care. If I don’t let myself...”

“Let’s go,” he muttered, turning away from you again. “We don’t have time for this.”

But you weren’t ready to let it go. “You don’t have to be like this.”

He didn’t respond and instead began walking again as you followed in silence. The jungle grew darker as the sun began to set, and the path became even harder to navigate. You stumbled over roots and rocks, your exhaustion making it difficult to keep up with Gojou.

After walking a little while, the two of you came across a small stream. Gojou knelt down by the water's edge, splashing some onto his face before drinking deeply. You followed his lead, kneeling beside his and cupping your hands to bring the cool water to your lips.

Then, without looking at you, Gojou spoke. “You should have stayed on the ship.” 

His words caught you off guard, and you looked at him in surprise. “What?” 

“You shouldn’t have come. You don’t belong here.” 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? You told me to come! I thought I was helping.”

“It was a mistake. You’re just making things harder.”

Instead of arguing or defending yourself, you simply nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“We should keep moving.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Your heart was heavy as you followed him through the dense jungle. The canopy above filtered the light into beams that cast shadows across the jungle floor, but you felt none of their promised warmth. Gojou strode ahead of you; you hadn’t spoken in hours and didn’t dare break the silence. Your feet ached with each step, the rough terrain taking its toll on your body, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

He suddenly stopped, its abruptness making you stumble. “We’re losing daylight,” he said flatly before turning his back to you once more. “Keep up.”

You swallowed hard before nodding. Words sat heavy on our tongue—words you wanted to shout, to throw at him in anger and frustration—but you bit them back. What good would they do? He had made it perfectly clear where you stood with him.

As you continued to walk, you noticed you were beginning to struggle even more than before. In an instant, your foot caught on a root, and before you could even let out a gasp, you were falling. The world spun, and pain shot through your ankle as you hit the earth. You bit back a cry, the sharp sting making its way up your leg. 

Gojou stopped again. This time, he glanced over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

“Get up.” Get up? What the fuck? He didn’t move to help you and didn’t even offer you a hand. It was as if he expected you to pick yourself up, just like you always did.

You clenched your teeth. The pain was unbearable. Slowly, you managed to push yourself up, wincing as you put weight on your injured leg. It was clear that you couldn’t walk properly, but Gojou had already turned his back on you. Again.

For a moment, you just stood there. Your chest heaved in an effort to hold back you emotions. How many times would you have to prove your worth to him? How many times would he let you fall only to leave you behind without so much as a glance?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to move. You limped after him with every step, sending a fresh wave of pain through your ankle, but you kept going. You had to. Not because he asked you to—but because you refused to be left behind.

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of running water that you realized the jungle was thinning out. Gojou was stopped a few feet in front of you with his gaze fixed on something in the distance. When you caught up, you saw what had gotten his attention—a river that cut through the dense forest.

“We need to find a way across. The island won't wait for us to figure it out.”

You nodded, though the pain in your ankle made the mere thought of crossing a river seem impossible, but you knew it was better not to voice your concerns. He wouldn't care. He never did. Not really.

The riverbank was rocky and uneven, and you found yourself trailing behind Gojou as he scouted ahead. You tried to mask the limp in your step, but he noticed. Of course, he did.

“You’re slowing us down. If you can't keep up, I’ll have to leave you behind.”

Of course. You expected no less from a heartless man like him.

“I can manage,” you replied quietly.

The two of you finally made it across the river, not without some trouble due to your injury. When you looked up, you could see the evening sky as it bled into soft shades of violet and indigo. The island’s edge was near, and you could hear the faint sounds of waves and the smell of salty seawater.

“We need to get off this island before night falls.” He started toward the beach without waiting for you, making it hard to keep up with his long strides. You followed him, limping slightly as you looked for any way to escape the island. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small, weathered boat hidden behind a stack of driftwood. It looked old, and it probably couldn’t even float without sinking. But it was better than nothing.

“We can use that,” you called after Gojou. “But the oars…”

Gojou glanced at the boat before glancing back at you. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll figure it out.”

Without another word, he made his way over to the boat and began inspecting the vessel, running his hands over the worn wood to assess its condition. You stood back, watching him work. You limped over to the boat and knelt beside one of the broken oars, running your fingers along the jagged edge. “We could try to fix this,” you offered, unsure if he would even listen.

Gojou glanced up at you, and you thought he might snap at you. But surprisingly, he nodded.

“Do what you can,” he said before turning back to the boat.

With whatever scraps of driftwood and vines you could find, you began the makeshift repairs on the oars. The pain in your ankle throbbed with each movement, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through it. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and when you finally managed to piece together something that resembled an oar, the sky was now a deep purple. It wasn’t pretty, but it would have to do.

“I think this will work,” you said, holding it up for Gojou to see.

He turned to inspect your handiwork, his eyes glancing over the makeshift oar. A small grunt of approval escaped his lips, and without saying another word, he began pushing the boat toward the water. You moved to help him despite the sharp pain in your leg. Together, the two of you heaved the boat into the shallows as the cold water lapped at your ankles. Gojou climbed in first before holding his hand out to you. It was the first time he had offered his help on your journey.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and climbing into the boat. The oar you had repaired was far from perfect, but somehow, Gojou managed to guide the small vessel through the gentle waves. The island slowly began to fade from view, being swallowed by the darkness. You sat opposite him with your legs tucked beneath you. 

The small boat rocked gently as you neared the ship that could be seen on the horizon. Its lanterns on board had guided the both of you back, and for that, you were eternally grateful. Relief had washed over you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pain in your ankle, which you had somehow almost forgotten about. 

Gojou continued to silently row the small boat toward the ship, his gaze fixed ahead. As you neared the ship, you could make out figures on the deck. It seemed like Nanami, Getou, and Toji had made it back safely, just as Gojou had predicted a few days ago. 

Yuuji and Ino quickly made work of pulling the small rowboat onto the side of the ship so you and Gojou could board once more. But the moment you tried to move, the pain flared up again, causing you to wince. You bit back a groan because you were unwilling to show weakness, especially in front of Gojou.

The boat bumped softly against the side of the ship, and without a word, he stood and glanced down at you, his eyes narrowed as he took in your obvious discomfort. You knew what was coming before he even moved, but that didn’t stop the jolt of surprise when he bent down and scooped you up in one swift motion, cradling you against his chest.

“W-what are you—”

“Can’t have you limping around the deck like a wounded animal. Besides, you can’t fix your ankle if you can’t even stand.”

Jesus Christ, this man is hot and cold. Can he please make up his mind?

Your protests fell flat as you realized how futile they were. He carried you through the deck of the ship, heading straight for his quarters. The door to his cabin creaked open, and Gojou carried you inside. He gently lowered you onto his bed.

“Stay here. I’ll get Shokou.”

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You let out a slow breath, the tension in your body easing slightly now that you were alone. Your ankle still hurt, but at least you were off of it.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again, and Shokou stepped inside. She carried a small medical kit with her. There was a hint of amusement in her expression as she glanced at you on the bed.

“Well, well, look who’s in need of some help,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I figured Gojou was being dramatic when he said you broke your ankle. Guess I owe him an apology.”

You forced a weak smile, wincing as you shifted slightly on the bed. “It’s not as bad as it looks… maybe.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me take a look.”

She knelt beside the bed and gently began to examine your ankle. It was swollen and bruised from all the walking you did on it. Her touch was light, but it didn’t stop the pain as she assessed the damage. You sucked in a sharp breath, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from making any noise.

“Hate to break it to you,” Shokou said after a moment, “but it’s definitely broken. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse, though. A little rest, and you’ll be good as new.”

She kept up a light conversation as she worked on bandaging your ankle. She carefully wrapped it before turning her attention to a small vial she pulled from her kit. “This should help with the pain,” she said, offering you a dose. “Drink up.”

You accepted the vial with a quiet nod. The liquid was bitter, but the relief that followed was almost immediate. The pain dulled to a more manageable state. 

Is this shit magic?

As Shokou finished up, Gojou reappeared in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. His cerulean eyes flicked over to your bandaged ankle before settling on Shokou. “How bad?”

“Not bad enough to keep her out of trouble for long,” Shokou replied with a smirk, standing up and dusting off her hands. “She’ll be fine, but she needs to stay off it for a few days.”

“You heard her. No more running around.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you muttered.

Shokou began to pack up her kit, and before turning to leave, she gave you a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ll check on you later,” she said, flashing you one last smile before disappearing out the door.

With it just being you and Gojou, the two of you fell into an uncomfortable silence. Gojou lingered for a moment before he pushed off the doorframe and approached the bed. 

“You did good back there,” he grumbled.

“Thanks… I guess.”

Without another word, Gojou turned back to the door. “Get some rest,” he called over his shoulder before stepping out, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

Not long after Gojou left, you sat in silence. Your ankle lightly throbbed, though Shokou’s treatment had eased some of the pain. The ache that lingered in your chest was another matter entirely. You hated everything about this ship, the adults on this ship, and most of all, Captain Gojou. All of them seemed to be pushing you towards a breaking point.

The door creaked open again, and you glanced up, expecting Shokou to check up on you. Unfortunately, it was Gojou. He glanced over at you briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Are we going anywhere near Elysport?” you blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Why?"

"Because I need to know. I need to know when I can leave this fucking ship."

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"I hate it here. I hate this ship, the way everyone looks at me, and I especially hate the way you’ve been treating me like I’m nothing more than a problem."

"I’m treating you like a problem?"

"Yes!" you snapped, pushing yourself up. "You’ve been an asshole from the start. You act like I’m just some burden you’re forced to carry, and I’m sick of it."

The way I treat you is because I’m keeping you alive. This isn’t some fucking pleasure cruise. You’re out of your depth, and I don’t have the luxury to babysit you."

"I don’t need you to babysit me, Gojou!" you shot back. "I need you to stop treating me like I’m invisible. You drag me along on this ship, ignore me, and then throw me a few scraps of attention when it suits you. I’m tired of it!"

"You think I’ve been ignoring you? I’m trying to protect you, even if you don’t see it. The less attention you get from the wrong people, the better. And if I have to push you away to do that, I will."

"I don’t need your protection, Gojou. I’m not some fragile doll who’s going to break at the first sign of danger."

"You have no idea what you’re talking about. This world we’re in—it’s cutthroat. People die. You’ve already seen that. And if you think leaving this ship is going to solve your problems, you’re dead wrong.”

"I don’t care!" you spat. "I want off this ship. I’ll take my chances out there. I’d rather deal with the dangers of the world on my own than be stuck here, treated like I don’t matter."

"You really think you’ll be safer anywhere else? That if you leave, everything will magically be fine?"

"I don’t care if it’s safer. I just want out. I can’t stand being here with you anymore, with the way you’ve been acting."

“I act this way because I have to. This world isn’t for someone like you.”

“The world is this way because of people like you! Maybe my father was right about pirates, considering people like you were the ones who killed her,” you spat. "Stop acting like you know me. You don’t know what I can handle, and I don’t need you making that choice for me. If we get near Elysport, I’m leaving."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "We’ll talk about this later,” he said before turning to the door.

“Damn him.”

You didn’t care what Gojou thought or what he claimed. You were done with being treated like you were a piece of cargo who he could just push around whenever he felt like it. Besides, you could check up on how your father was doing if you went back to Elysport. Before leaving, you never spoke to your father much, except for the occasional holiday or whenever he was in the right mind to chat. You thought about how panicked he must be, knowing his only daughter was missing. Did he pray to God to bring you home the same he did all those years ago? You wondered if he was spiraling like he did after your mother’s death or if he was holding it together. You wondered if he was hoping his little girl's body would wash up on shore just as his wife’s did fourteen years ago. The two of you may have been distant in the last few years, but he was your father, and you loved him. You were a daddy’s girl through and through.

You wanted to go home.

“Sweetheart, you got lucky. We’re going to a place close enough to Elysport for you to take a carriage.” 

You looked up from the book you were reading to see Gojou standing in the doorway. You were sitting on Gojou’s bed reading one of his books with your ankle propped up on a pillow. You were surprised to hear that they were going in that general direction, considering their constant need to be in danger. Plus, you were surprised to hear that he was even letting you leave with his atrocious behavior.

“Oh, really? I’m surprised you’re even letting me off this ship,” you breathed. 

“I had a discussion with the rest of the crew, and they decided it would be best for you to leave if you truly want to. Yuuji was pretty opposed to the idea. The kid likes talking to you.”

“Well, that makes everyone else infinitely more likable than you. Oh, and also, you can keep the map; I don’t want it. It’s caused me enough trouble as it is, seeing I’m here with you.”

“Can you not be bratty for five minutes?”

“Can you not be an asshole for five minutes?”

“You should behave more like how you did on the island, submissive and silent. I liked you better then.” he spat. “Be more grateful we’re going anywhere near Elysport since we need a restock on supplies. For some reason, more supplies have been going missing even though you don’t even eat much or use much of it.”

It had been a few days since your accident, and your ankle was healing quite nicely. You could finally walk on it just in time to make it to Hinsoll Port, a port neighboring Elysport. For some reason, Gojou let you stay in his room, which you will admit was pretty nice of him. When you slept, he would sleep on his chair, and to be honest, it made you feel bad because of how uncomfortable it looked.

The day you got to the port, you stood at the edge of the dock as the wind tousled your hair. And for the first time in days, you finally felt free. You had been dropped off by Gojou while his ship was being restocked, and Yuuji was quite sad to see you go, so maybe he wasn’t lying about that. You had packed the little amount of stuff you had brought along with you and began walking down the dock. Regretfully, you decided to turn around, and low and behold, Gojou was leaning on the ship, watching you leave. He didn’t come to say goodbye as the rest of the crew had, and you just chalked it up to him being a self-righteous asshole.

Gojou had made it clear. We’re not going directly to Elysport, but close enough for you to take a carriage. You felt a pang of regret as you walked down the dock, as you were leaving behind a life you had known for only a month. Had it really been that long? You thought back to when Gojou had said sorry for once the night he had called you a whore and had carried you to a hotel so the two of you wouldn’t have to walk back. But that was before you had started this whole treasure hunt, and the last “hunt was disastrous. Even so, didn’t they need part of that for said treasure, and they don’t have it? Oh well, it’s not your problem anymore.

You made your way to the carriage station, and soon enough, you were tucked inside as the wooden wheels creaked beneath you. Your fingers played with the fabric of your skirts while the sound of hooves against dirt calmed your nerves.

When the late afternoon hit, you could see the streets of Elysport as the carriage came to a halt in front of your father’s house. The moment your foot hit the ground, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The city port smelled exactly the same as it had the day you left. It was kind of like an old friend pulling you into a warm embrace.

You hesitated for a moment while standing at the wooden door of your childhood home. It was a modest home ticked away on a quiet street. You used to take care of your father’s garden every once in a while, but it had since grown a bit wild in your absence. Your heart pounded in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door, unsure of how he would react to seeing you after being gone for a month.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Your father stood in the doorway, his face haint and his eyes sunken in. But the moment he saw you, his expression shifted into shock, disbelief, and finally, joy.

His arms were around you before you could say a word. “Thank God,” he whispered as he buried his face in your hair. “Thank God for bringing my little girl home.” You melted into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had slipped down your cheeks. “I prayed every night for you, hoping you'd come back to me.”

“I’m here now. I’m home.”

Your father just held you, and it was as if he was afraid that if he were to let go, you would disappear again. Eventually, he stepped back, his eyes glazed over, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Could you do me a favor, darling? The market’s still open. Would you pick me up some herbs? I was thinking of making a stew tonight since you came home.”

You nodded quickly, eager to please and eager to slip back into a normal routine. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

The marketplace was just as lively as you remembered. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air, along with baked goods and roast meats. As you made your way through the crowd, picking up the herbs your father had requested, you caught sight of an unfamiliar figure at the edge of the market. He stood out like a sore thumb—leaning casually against a stall. His pink hair stood out against the drab green and browns of the market, but it was the tattoos curling along his face that truly set him apart.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

You were startled by the sudden appearance of the man with pink hair. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “We’ve heard about you. A traveler, are you not? Someone who’s seen more than they probably should.”

You blinked, confusion flooding your mind. “I—no, I’m just—”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t looking for something. We all are.”

“I’m just here for my father,” you said, your voice coming out smaller than you intended.

"Of course you are. But that doesn’t mean you have to leave empty-handed.”

 “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say,” Sukuna said, his grin widening, “we have an offer you can’t refuse. One that doesn’t involve treasure. All you need to do is listen.”

“What is this offer?”

“You know,” he began. “I thought I’d made it simple. Put up the wanted signs, sit back, and wait for you to be brought to me, along with the map.”

So that’s what he wants.

“I don’t have the map.”

Then, with a disappointed sigh, he stepped closer. “What a shame,” he murmured.“I was hoping you’d make things easier for me.”

“I told you, I don’t have it.”

“She’s telling the truth, you know. No point in lying about something like this.” This voice was a different one. It came from a small woman with white hair and an irregular line of dark plum pink running across the back of their head. 

 “Pity. Because if you did have it, we might’ve come to some sort of... understanding.”

“Funny thing, though. I hear that Captain Gojou, your kind-hearted protector, might’ve had something to do with your mother’s... untimely end.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, just rumors. But if you’re curious—really curious—you could always find out for yourself. All it would take is a little favor. Get us that map from Gojou, and we’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“I... I don’t know.”

Captain Gojou was crazy, but he wasn’t that crazy.

“Well, take your time. But don’t take too long. You wouldn’t want the truth slipping through your fingers, now would you?”

“I’ll think about it,” you muttered, trying to buy yourself some time.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred, his grin widening. “We’ll be waiting.”

You returned home clutching the herbs your father requested. The sky had darkened as the last rays of daylight turned into twilight. Your father sat in his chair by the window, the evening light casting shadows across his face.

“Got what you asked for,”  you said quietly, setting the herbs down on the table.

He gave you a small nod, but his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. He could sense something was wrong since he had always been able to read you like an open book.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked gently, leaning forward with concern etched into his features.

You hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “Dad,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I told you... I could find out who killed Mom?”

The words hung in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, there was only silence. “What are you talking about?”

“I... I ran into someone at the market today. They said they knew... who might be behind it. But they need a favor.”

Your father’s brows furrowed. “Who are these people? What favor?”

“They want something from Captain Gojou. They want me to... get it for them. In exchange, they’ll tell me what happened to Mom.”

“And you believe them?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if there’s even a chance... don’t you want to know the truth?”

His jaw tightened, and you thought he might refuse. But then, he sighed heavily, the years of pain and grief evident in the lines of his face. “I’ve spent fourteen years wondering who took her from us,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “If there’s a chance, even a small one, to finally get justice… then you do it. Find out who killed her.”

“You... you’re okay with me going back?”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment. Whoever killed your mother... I’ll see to it they pay.”

The sky was pitch black by the time you slipped into bed. You thought back to the conversation with your father. Although you had made your decision, it wasn’t any less scary. Your heart pounded in your chest as you lay in your childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling.

That’s when you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside your window. You sat up and looked towards the window, but you saw nothing, so you decided to ignore it, thinking it was a drunk passerby trying to get home. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at the window, and you saw a figure standing there. Before you could react, your small window was yanked open.

Of fucking course he’s here.

Gojou stood in the window frame, his white hair almost glowing in the dim moonlight.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

He hopped inside before closing the window behind him.  “I told you it was dangerous to be here. And yet, here you are.”

“I’m with my father, Gojou. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You think you’re safe because you’re in your childhood home?” His voice was laced with irritation. “Do you have any idea who’s been hanging around this town?”

Your stomach dropped. He knew about the strange man down by the marketplace. Though you never managed to catch his name.

“I... I can handle myself.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, that’s what you’ve been telling me since day one,” you muttered.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. And maybe I don’t. But I do know one thing—you’ve been lying to me.”

“What in God's name are you talking about?”

“I know you had something to do with my mother’s death,” you blurted out, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. 

“Your… mother?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I haven’t had anything to do with your mother’s death, so don’t get too excited. Besides, I’m only thirty-two. Who told you this information? Was it the man with pink hair you met in the market?”

“It’s none of your business. And since when have you cared who I meet? Last I checked, you could have given two shits about me?”

You were now weary of the information the strange man had given you. And doing the math, he would have only been eighteen years old at the time of your mother’s death. But still, the thought lingered in your mind.

“I should’ve known you’d get involved in something this stupid,” he muttered.

“Take me back.” 

Gojou’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Take me back to your crew. Let me come with you. I need to see this through.”

“You want to come back after everything? You just left like yesterday.”

“Yes. I can’t stay here. Not when there are so many questions. Maybe the treasure can help me find out the truth about my mother.”

Lies.

“Are you sure you’re not going to force me to take you back the moment something shitty happens?”

“No, you ass, my father asked me to find out what happened to her.”

“Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you out of my sight.”

“Why would that be.”

“Because you have been talking to strange men, Y/N. I’m not stupid,” he sighed. “Be ready by dawn,” he muttered as he walked back over to the window. “We leave as soon as the tide is in.”

Satoru felt guilty. He felt guilty about his lack of self-control, guilty that he managed to drive the one person who seemed to care away. Guilty about the fact he might hurt you.

Satoru didn’t know why he behaved this way. It’s not that he wanted to behave this way towards you, but that's how it was. He didn't know why he felt inclined to treat you the way he did, and he kept telling himself that this was normal behavior. He didn’t want to admit it, but he really liked the kiss the two of you shared in the hotel room, and he wished to have more of them. But there was something that seemed to stop the two of you from seeing eye to eye, and it was that map.

But there was one more thing Satoru felt guilty about. And that was his dream about you. 

Satoru didn’t remember exactly how it started, but all he knew was that you were the last person supposed to be there. 

You looked the same as you did a few nights ago, but instead of being in your heavy skirts, you were in a sheer nightgown. You were lying down on his bed facing away from him, and from where he was standing, he could see the outline of your supple breasts and the gentle curve of your waist.

“Sweetheart?” he murmured as he walked closer to where you were lying. As he got closer, he could hear the soft sounds of your cries, and he noticed your shoulders were shaking. He sat down on his bed and put his hand on your shoulder to give you some kind of comfort. Something he couldn’t do to the real you.

“Why do you always hurt me? I’ve done nothing but help you,” you sniffed.

Satisfaction.

Satoru felt a deep satisfaction because you were crying over him.

He shouldn’t have felt that way, but seeing your tears made him feel like he was in control. Just how he liked it. You turned around to face him, and he could see your teary-eyed expression in the candlelight. It made him happy that you suffered all because you liked him.

“You look so pretty when you cry,” he murmured as he stroked your tear-stained cheek.

The dream version of you stared up at him, seemingly analyzing every detail of him with your glossy eyes. You watched as Gojou took off his boots and made his way up his bed to rest his back against the headboard. He gripped your waist and lifted you from where you were sitting to sit on his lap.

“What are you doing in my chambers sitting half-naked and crying, sweetheart?”

“My best wasn’t as comfortable as yours,” you shrugged, ignoring the crying and half-naked part.

“Your bed wasn’t as comfortable as mine? Well, we can’t have that, can we, baby?”

You shook your head, docile like a rabbit. 

As soon as you sat in his lap, you immediately connected your lips with a soft gesture as he tasted the salt from your tears.

Gojou kissed you passionately as his large hand caressed your face, moving down from your cheeks to your collarbones and back, and finally, his hands rested on your backside. You sighed, leaning into the kiss, desperate to feel the warmth of his body, feeling the familiar heat pool in his belly.

“What do you want me to do, Sweetheart,” Gojou asked, breaking the kiss.

You were silent for a moment before responding, “I want you to fuck me.”

He groaned at your response and flipped the two of you over so that he was on top. You could feel his weight as he ground his hips against the flimsy piece of underwear you wore. You could feel his hardening cock rubbing against your clothed pussy and your inner thigh. He wanted to rip that sheer nightgown off your body and bury his head between your thighs, wondering how you would taste.

“I wanna feel your cock inside me. Please?” you moaned out.

You looked so pretty, so beautiful beneath him. Gojou sat up and made work untying his linen shirt and ridding himself of his breeches, which were practically useless by this point. You helped him untie his top, seemingly eager to be closer to him. When he managed to undo the last string, he pulled down his shorts, revealing his cock that slapped against his stomach.

Fuck he’s so hard, and he’s only dreaming.

There was only one problem: you still had your clothes on, or what could be considered clothes, considering it left nothing to the imagination. Gojou began dragging his fingers along the arousal-soaked underwear you wore. You shuddered when he slipped his hand inside your underwear, gliding his fingers through your soaked folds, almost dipping inside your hole but going back to your clit.

A small moan escaped you, and Gojou decided he wanted to see more, even if it was just a dream. He removed his hand from your underwear, hooked it onto the bands, and muttered, "Lift your hips" to you before removing your underwear. You closed your legs, embarrassed of the mess between your thighs and how wet you were for a man who made you cry and treated you like you were nothing. He pried your legs apart and was greeted by a small patch of hair, and he could see your hole clenching, desperate to be filled.

“Why are you so shy, hm?” He breathed. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Gojou focused his attention back on your neck, feathering soft kisses around the skin before moving to your breasts, lowering the straps of your thin chemise. You were arching your back as he descended further in further until he was face to face with your sopping cunt. He was quick to begin lapping at the entrance with his tongue until you were quietly moaning his name. “S-Satoru!”

It was like music to his ears and Satoru thought he could stay in this dream forever. 

“You taste so sweet, sweetheart. I could stay here forever,” he murmured, circling your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading them apart to look at the mess you made. Satoru took one last look before grabbing his erect manhood and lining it up with your core, sliding his tip against your core to gather some of your arousal before sliding himself in. But before he could do anything his dream started becoming blurry and soon enough, he realized he was going to wake up.

All of a sudden, the world around him began to grow fuzzy, like a painting that was smeared by careless hands. Satoru blinked, trying to clear his vision, but it was ultimately useless. The edges of everything became clearer, and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a cold sweat on his bed in his captain’s chambers.

Satoru clenched his jaw, shaking his head to try and rid the images of his indecent dream. It was just a dream. Though his mind kept drifting back to the way your lips had lingered on his, and the heat of your body that was pressed against his in ways that felt all too real. It that dream he could touch you without restraint, kiss you without hesitation, and indulge in the desire he fought so hard to ignore.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. The frustration was mounting, but there was something else. A wet patch on his breeches. He glanced down and a wave of embarrassment swept over him, realizing how deep his dream had sunk his claws into him.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push down the storm of emotions, but it was no use. Even here in the safety of his chambers, he couldn’t escape you.

Satoru stared out the small window of his quarters, the moonlight coming through the window, spilling in like silver threads. Why you? Why now? Of all the things haunting his subconscious, why was it you that left him so unhinged?

He needed control—over himself and his thoughts, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to let you go.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

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[hockeybot]

THAT PLAYER INTERVIEW, THO, THE ONE FROM TODAY WHERE THEY ASK HIM IF HE'S GOING TO BUY A HOUSE AND HE LAUGHS LIKE, YEAH, I GUESS I GOTTA

LIKE, he's 21 and lived alone for maybe six months now except is it really alone when he has all the rookies over all the time and my brain is going BRRR.

that prompt, wyatt buys a house, this is how he makes it a home one, tho, like, okay that is the most obviously me sentence ever written (x verb y, emotional hook full stop) but man, i have been watching those arwin critiques mansion youtube videos and i have so many thoughts about his potential house and what a disaster he would be trying to live in it on his own.

like, like,

everyone on the team would have such, opinions, about the best place to live, the neighbourhood and someone says the words "school zone" and someone else (tsegs) shrieks "JOHNNY ARE YOU PREGNANT" (the entire seguinette line go on a Skit, like, tsegs moaning WHAT DID I MISS and THEY GROW UP SO FAST and mush patting his back while wyjo just covers his face with his hands and prays that they don't start asking about the father. dutchy grins at him like he can read his mind).

(mikko has been on the team for about three days. wyatt tries really hard to not go up to him and say, i'm like, not actually pregnant. but mikko comes up to him and says, gravely, congratulations, on his way out. roope smirks at him.)

(roope had gone around with mikko to make introductions and called wyatt, 'our rookie, the kid' and when wyatt had protested, 'lian is right over there' and 'this is my third season,' harls had slid over, slung a heavy arm around wyatt's shoulders and crooned, 'yeah, johnny's a bigtime hotshot now, signed a big contract and everything.' into wyatt's red tipped ear.

lian, affable, had just waved.)

one of the finns (roope. it's always roope, but he's honestly just doing double duty for miro in Inscrutable Finn.) stops him outside and gives him a business card like, "this man will make you a sauna" and that's not a suggestion, that's a prophecy, that sauna will exist and this is before he even buys the damn house.

the thing is, he doesn't actually want like, a mansion, but when he counts up the bedrooms he'll need, the numbers keep going up and up.

takes tom to go looking and there's just, "why is there so much marble" wyatt moans, and "you could fit the entire team in this shower," tom says and they just, look at each other and try not to laugh too obviously while the real estate agent is still there. (facetimes delly to show him, wants to call logan but they're still exchanging awkward text messages only)

i will not write this, i really won't, because it'll take like 10k words to do justice but

wyatt hasn't spent most of his elc, didn't pay rent to the pavelskis despite offering again and again (Sarah had laughed at him and made Pav buy him like, furniture for his room, furniture he still has) so he has a little nest egg for his deposit, signs the agreement with more zeros than he's seen outside his contract, and has to sit down he's so lightheaded with the weight of five years pressing down on him.

it's summer when he moves in, between training and preseason and not having to try to convince too hard for tom to come back early with him, help him move boxes and unpack. every time he moves, his meager amount of belongings fill less and less of the space.

he doesn't expect to be lonely

tsegs suggests a dog, robo says cat and roope looks him up and down and says, maybe he should start with a hamster which. okay, wow. (wyatt can live without joe pavelski, okay, it's been two years and he's not dead yet - though maybe joe had come to stay in one of his woefully underfurnished guest rooms for a few nights already, that is besides the point)

WAVES HAND, the slow and not exactly sneaky campaign to get tom to move in, buys tom's brand of protein shakes that wyjo personally thinks is disgusting, etc, etc. I DON'T KNOW i don't have a plot and i don't wish to write this, i hope someone picks up the prompt tho, it would be so fun????

the thing is, wyatt's really bad at cooking for one. he can cook for a family of four or two young hockey players (roughly, this is the same amount of food) but by himself, he ends up staring confused at the still full pots after he's fixed himself a plate.

(calls tom, etc) and, maybe, it's not that late when wyatt suggests that tom sleep over, but they're health conscious elite athletes that should be on, like, routines or something so he pushes tom into the spare room closest to his own, already stocked with new toiletries in familiar brands.

(the finns are right, having his own sauna is awesome.)

[arivsxq]

Meddle About chapter 7

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, maybe slow updates

Word count: 7,8k+

Songs: Meddle about - Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat - Childish Gambino

A/N: Sorry for making u wait again. I had planned to make this chapter 10k+ words but it didn't work out like I wanted to. Hope u enjoy this chapter😭

The first thing I registered the next morning was warmth. The kind that made me want to burrow deeper, stretch lazily, and pretend the real world didn't exist for a few more hours. But then I shifted, and the second thing I noticed was the weight of an arm slung around my waist.

Oh.

My eyes snapped open. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the sheets. Jungkook was still asleep beside me, his face half-buried in the pillow, dark hair tousled and falling into his eyes. His breathing was steady and peaceful.

Panic clawed up my throat as last night came rushing back. Why did I agree to go out? Why did I agree to drink something and why the fuck did I decide to hump on his lap like a needy bitch who hadn't got laid in ages? I should've stayed home and studied.

Shit.

Carefully, I tried to move, but his grip tightened instinctively, pulling me closer. His body was solid against mine, all muscle and warmth, and okay, yeah, that was unfair. My brain was in crisis mode while he was over there sleeping like a damn angel.

"Kook," I whispered, poking his side.

He groaned in protest, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "Five more minutes."

"No, you have to wake up. We slept for too long," I hissed, poking him again, harder this time.

Jungkook groaned dramatically, his grip tightening for a second before he finally cracked one eye open. His voice was thick with sleep when he mumbled, "Relax, it's not like the world ended overnight."

I scowled. "No, but my academic career might have."

That got him to open both eyes, though he didn't seem particularly concerned. If anything, the lazy smirk that tugged at his lips told me he was enjoying my distress. "You're cute when you're panicking."

I smacked his arm. "I am not panicking. I am simply coming to terms with my life choices."

Jungkook chuckled, finally rolling onto his back and stretching, the muscles in his arms flexing in a way that was completely unnecessary and distracting. "You mean the life choices that involved you grinding on me like your life depended on it?"

Heat flooded my face. "Don't make me smother you with a pillow."

He grinned. "Tempting, but you'd miss me."

I opened my mouth to argue, because, obviously, I would not but then he propped himself up on one elbow and looked at me like he was trying to read my mind. It was unfair how effortlessly he could make my pulse go haywire with just a look.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

He shrugged. "Just wondering what's going on in that overthinking brain of yours."

I hesitated. Because, honestly? I had no idea what was happening in my brain. Last night had been... well, it had been exactly what I needed. But now? Now everything felt too real, too tangible, too full of implications I wasn't ready to face.

"I should get up," I muttered instead, pushing the covers back.

Jungkook caught my wrist before I could escape. "You regret it?"

The question was simple, but the weight behind it wasn't. I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his eyes. Did I regret it? The logical part of me screamed that this was a terrible idea, that blurring the lines with Jungkook was only going to end in disaster. But then I thought about the way he'd touched me last night, the way he'd looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I exhaled. "No, we both agreed on this"

Jungkook studied me for a beat, then nodded as he understood. "Fair enough."

He released my wrist, giving me space, but before I could fully escape, he smirked. "If you ever need another 'stress relief' session, you know where to find me."

I groaned, grabbing a pillow and launching it at his face. He caught it with a laugh.

"I need coffee," I muttered, mostly to myself, as I grabbed the nearest hoodie from the chair and pulled it over my head.

Behind me, Jungkook stretched again, the sheets slipping just enough to reveal more of his tattooed arm, and his toned stomach, Jesus Christ, I needed to get out of here before I lost whatever shred of self-control I had left. I fled to the kitchen, hoping caffeine would miraculously reset my life. The smell of coffee filled the space as I leaned against the counter, inhaling deeply. 

"Smells good," Jungkook's voice was rough with sleep as he walked into the kitchen, barefoot, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a ridiculously smug expression.

I refused to acknowledge the way my stomach did a dumb little flip at the sight of him. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" He leaned against the counter, far too close for my sanity.

"Like you do right now" I shoved a mug of coffee into his hands, mostly to give myself something to do.

Jungkook took a sip, humming in approval. "You're acting like I didn't already see you fall apart on my lap last night."

I nearly choked on my own coffee. "Jungkook."

"What?" He grinned, completely unbothered. "I'm just saying, no need to act all shy now."

I glared at him over the rim of my mug. "Please shut up."

"Make me."

"I'm serious."

Jungkook nodded, but there was something playful, almost challenging in his eyes. "If you say so."

Silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft clink of mugs against the counter. I should have left it at that, let the moment pass, and moved on with my life.

But then Jungkook leaned in slightly, his voice lower, teasing. "So... does this mean you're kicking me out, or do I get breakfast first?"

I exhaled through my nose, half-exasperated, half-something else I didn't want to name. "You're the worst."

He smirked. "And yet, you're making me coffee."

I shook my head, already regretting everything "What do you want to eat?"

Jungkook's smirk deepened, his eyes flickering with something decidedly mischievous as he leaned against the counter. "Depends," he mused, taking another slow sip of his coffee. "Are we talking about actual food, or...?"

I rolled my eyes, already exasperated. "Yes, actual food. You know, the thing people consume for survival?"

He hummed, pretending to consider. "Mm, I don't know. I could go for something else."

I froze mid-sip, glaring at him over the rim of my mug. "Jungkook."

His tongue darted out, swiping across his lower lip, and I swore he did it on purpose. "What?"

I pointed a warning finger at him. "If you say something inappropriate, I'm throwing you out."

Jungkook chuckled, completely unbothered. "Alright, alright. Eggs and toast, I guess."

I sighed, setting my mug down. "Finally, a normal answer."

I moved to grab the eggs from the fridge, but before I could open it, I felt him step closer. Not touching, but near enough that I could feel his body heat radiating against my back.

"You sure you don't wanna reconsider?" His voice was lower now, smoother like he knew exactly what he was doing.

I scoffed, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted. "Oh, I'm reconsidering, alright. Reconsidering letting you stay."

His hands landed on my hips, light but deliberate. I sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact.

"Relax," he murmured, lips ghosting near my ear. "I'm just helping."

I swallowed, my resolve cracking when his fingers skimmed beneath the hem of my hoodie, his hoodie, I realized belatedly. His touch was warm, teasing, and far too confident for my sanity.

"This isn't helping," I muttered, though I made no move to stop him.

Jungkook's chuckle vibrated against my back. "I think it is."

I turned to glare at him, but the moment I did, he took advantage of the angle, dipping his head to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to my throat.

Fuck.

I should stop this. I really, really should.

But when his tongue flicked against my pulse point, my fingers curled against the countertop instead.

"You're distracting," I managed to say, though my voice betrayed me by coming out breathy.

He hummed against my skin, trailing his lips lower. "Am I?"

His hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and suddenly, I was hyper-aware of just how little he was wearing. His bare chest was solid against my back, all heat and muscle, and his sweatpants did little to hide the fact that he was enjoying this just as much as I was.

"Jungkook," I warned, but it lacked any real conviction.

He grinned against my shoulder, nipping playfully. "Say the word, and I'll stop."

I hated him. I really, truly did.

Because we both knew I wasn't going to say it.

Instead, I turned in his hold, my back pressing against the counter as I met his gaze. His pupils were dark, blown wide with something that sent a thrill down my spine.

"I should make breakfast," I tried one last pathetic attempt at common sense.

Jungkook smirked. "I have a better idea."

Before I could protest, he sat me down on the counter and dropped to his knees.

My brain short-circuited.

"Jungko-"

"Shh," he hushed, hands splaying over my thighs as he nudged them apart. "Let me take care of you."

I exhaled shakily, my fingers gripping the counter so tightly my knuckles turned white.

He was already hooking his fingers into my shorts, dragging them down my legs at an infuriating pace.

My breath hitched as Jungkook's fingers trailed down my thighs, his touch both deliberate and teasing. He was watching me, dark eyes flicking up through thick lashes, lips curled in the faintest smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing.

And he was enjoying every second of it.

"You're thinking too much," he murmured, squeezing my thighs as if to anchor me in the moment.

I swallowed hard. "Can you blame me?"

Jungkook chuckled, his breath warm against my skin. "Not really. Your brain never shuts up."

I wanted to protest, but any argument I might have had fizzled out the moment his hands gripped my hips, tugging me just a little closer to the edge of the counter. My fingers curled around the counter's edge, desperate for something to ground me as he leaned in, his mouth tracing a slow, searing path along my inner thigh.

I sucked in a breath, pulse hammering against my ribs. "You-"

My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, determined not to let him see just how much he was affecting me. "You said something about breakfast."

Jungkook hummed against my skin, the vibration sending shivers up my spine. "This is my breakfast."

I groaned, tilting my head back as he pressed another open-mouthed kiss to my thigh, his fingers digging into my hips just enough to make my breath hitch. "You're impossible."

His hands, his mouth, the warmth of his breath against my skin, it was all-consuming, making it impossible to focus on anything else. It wasn't just the physicality of it, it was the way he looked at me, like he wanted to memorize every reaction like he was determined to unravel me one touch at a time.

I bit my lip, my resolve hanging on by a thread. "You're very smug for someone who should be on his knees begging for forgiveness."

Jungkook grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. "Why would I beg when I already have exactly what I want?"

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, and I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But he saw it anyway.

His fingers tightened on my thighs, his lips brushing featherlight over my skin. "Just let go," he whispered.

I exhaled shakily, my grip on the counter loosening just enough for him to coax me closer. And then, with an infuriating slowness, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm kiss on my clit-

A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

I gasped, jolting upright, my entire body going rigid. Jungkook, to his credit, didn't immediately curse, but the tension in his shoulders told me he wanted to.

We were both silent for a beat, waiting.

The knock came again, louder this time.

"Shit," I breathed, scrambling off the counter, putting my shorts back on, and tugging at my hoodie as if that would somehow erase the situation. 

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, looking vaguely murderous. "Who the hell-"

I shot him a warning glare. "If it's Carla and she sees you looking like that, I'm never going to hear the end of it."

Jungkook smirked, stretching lazily as he leaned back against the counter. "You act like she doesn't already suspect something."

I ignored him, marching toward the door and yanking it open without bothering to check who it was.

Big mistake.

Because standing on the other side, was my mother.

My mother's gaze swept over me in a single, assessing glance, and I could practically feel the judgment radiating off her in waves. She was dressed immaculately, as always, cream-colored blouse, pearl earrings, and not a single hair out of place. 

"Mother, what are you doing here?" I ask slightly panicked. She looks at me up and down before answering. 

"That's not how you should greet your mother"

I forced a tight smile, gripping the doorframe a little too hard. "Good morning, Mother. What are you doing here?"

She gave a clipped nod as if that was a slightly more acceptable response. "I was in the area and decided to check in. Clearly, my timing is... informative."

Her gaze flickered past me, sharp and calculating.

I resisted the urge to step in front of her line of sight like a human shield, but it was too late.

Jungkook, still shirtless, still smug, was leaning lazily against the kitchen counter, cradling his coffee mug like this was the most entertaining part of his morning.

"Morning, Mrs. Cheng," he said, voice deep and slow like he was enjoying this.

My mother's expression didn't shift, but I could feel the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. "Jungkook."

That was it. Just his name. Said with all the warmth of an email that starts with per my last message.

I wanted to disappear.

Jungkook, naturally, looked delighted.

"Well," she said after a beat. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you entertaining guests so early in the morning. Especially not one who steals others' identity."

I bit back a groan. "He stayed the night because it was already too late. We were studying."

My mother arched a perfectly sculpted brow, unimpressed. "Studying?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes."

She hummed, the sound so light and airy it was almost worse than outright skepticism. I shot Jungkook another glance, just to make sure he wasn't about to say something that would get him buried in my backyard. His lips twitched. Oh, he wanted to. I could see it. The absolute chaos gremlin in him was dying to open his mouth.

I swore if he said one word-

But he didn't. He just sipped his coffee, watching the exchange like he was front row at a show he'd been dying to see.

My mother exhaled, slow and long-suffering. "We'll talk later."

The warning was implicit. Unavoidable. Then, without another word, she turned and left. The moment the door shut, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Behind me, Jungkook let out a low whistle. "That was..."

"Not. A. Word."

He pressed his lips together in an exaggerated display of obedience.

I squinted. "I can still hear you thinking."

His mouth twitched again. "That's crazy. I wasn't thinking anything at all."

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. "I need a new identity."

Jungkook grinned, stepping closer. "Pretty sure that's my thing, baby."

I dropped my hands, glaring. "Do you have a death wish?"

He shrugged, unbothered. "Just making an observation."

I exhaled, tilting my head back against the door. "She's going to eat me alive."

Jungkook leaned in, lips brushing my temple in a barely-there kiss. "Not if I get there first."

I shoved him away. And, annoyingly, he just laughed.

"Seriously," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Do you have some kind of adrenaline addiction? Like, do you wake up every morning and think, 'How can I make someone's' life more difficult today?'"

Jungkook took a leisurely sip of his coffee. "Not every morning."

I squinted at him. "Oh, so I'm just special?"

His smirk deepened. "You said it, not me."

I groaned and flopped onto the couch, pulling a pillow over my face to muffle my impending scream.

Jungkook chuckled, setting his mug down before walking over. "C'mon, it wasn't that bad."

I ripped the pillow away to glare at him. "Not that bad? Did you miss the part where she basically called you a con artist?"

Jungkook shrugged, dropping onto the couch beside me. "Not the worst thing I've been called."

I sat up, leveling him with a look. "Jungkook, she already hates you. This just gave her a whole new set of reasons."

He hummed, completely unfazed. "Not sure that's possible. Pretty sure I maxed out on her hate scale the moment I stepped into that gala."

I sighed because he wasn't wrong. My parents had disliked Jungkook before they even knew what he looked like or who he was except from a few stories, but the whole Park Jimin stunt had sent them into new levels of outrage.

"And what was with that 'morning, Mrs. Cheng'?" I demanded, waving a hand in frustration. "You sounded like you were auditioning to be a Bond villain."

Jungkook stretched, his tattooed arm resting against the back of the couch. "It's called confidence, baby."

I groaned again. "It's called having a death wish."

He smirked, leaning in slightly. "And yet, here I am. Still very much alive."

I shoved his face away. "Give it time."

Jungkook just laughed, but then his gaze softened slightly. "She's not gonna disown you or anything, right?"

I let out a dry chuckle. "No, she won't disown me. She'll just make my life miserable in a hundred subtle, manipulative ways. Which, honestly, might be worse."

Jungkook frowned, his playful expression dimming just a little. "You know that's not okay, right?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah, but this is just how they are. As long as I keep my grades up and don't completely embarrass them, they tolerate me."

His jaw tightened. "That's a shit way to live."

I hesitated, not really knowing how to respond to that. Because yeah, he was right, but it wasn't like I had a choice. I'd spent my entire life walking the tightrope of their expectations, and at this point, balancing on it was second nature.

Before I could figure out what to say, Jungkook nudged my knee with his. "So," he drawled, clearly changing the subject. "Are we gonna sit here sulking, or are we gonna make breakfast?"

I narrowed my eyes. "By 'we,' you mean me, don't you?"

He grinned. "You catch on fast."

I threw a couch pillow at him, but he dodged easily, laughing as he got up and sauntered back to the kitchen. I followed, rolling my eyes but feeling a little lighter despite everything.

Breakfast was... surprisingly normal. I cooked, Jungkook hovered, stealing bites of toast straight from the plate like an absolute menace. We fell into a rhythm, me swatting at his hands, him pretending to be innocent, and somewhere between flipping eggs and pouring coffee, the morning didn't seem quite so catastrophic anymore.

Until my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen, my stomach twisting as I read the message.

Mother: We'll discuss your behavior over dinner. Your father will be joining us. Do not embarrass me further.

Jungkook must have seen my expression shift because he set his coffee down. "What?"

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the counter. "She's calling for a family meeting."

His brows lifted. "Oh, that's never a good sign."

"Nope."

Jungkook studied me for a moment, then nudged my arm. "You want me to come?"

I snorted. "Oh, absolutely not. That would make things ten times worse."

He smirked. "Exactly. Which is why I should go."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Oh god."

Jungkook leaned in, voice low. "Say the word, and I'll sit at that dinner table with the best fucking manners they've ever seen. 'Yes, sir, no, ma'am,' full eye contact, maybe even a humble backstory for good measure."

I stared at him, torn between horror and laughter. "That's evil."

His grin widened. "That's strategy."

I huffed, shaking my head. "As much as I would love to see that disaster unfold, I think I need to fight this battle alone."

Jungkook nodded, surprisingly serious. "Alright. But if you change your mind..."

"I know where to find you," I finished dryly.

He smirked. "Damn right."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Okay. I should go back to studying and you too"

Jungkook tilted his head, studying me with an unreadable expression. "You sure you don't want a quicky before?"

I punch his biceps without hesitation. "I'll fucking kill you" 

"Fucking yeah but we have to talk about the killing part again."

I give him another slap and he just laughs. A few minutes later he stands in front of my door fully dressed and says softly while grabbing my hand "Hey. You're gonna be okay."

I exhaled, giving him a small, tired smile. "Yeah. I hope so."

***

As evening rolled around, I started getting ready for dinner with my parents, which meant mentally preparing for the inevitable passive-aggressive comments and thinly veiled interrogations. I stood in front of my closet, towel-drying my hair, staring at the rows of clothes like they held the secret to surviving the night. Something respectable, something polished—but not so polished that my mother would assume I was trying to impress her. That would only encourage her.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it, already suspecting Carla because she loved to check in before I did anything remotely self-destructive. But when I saw Jungkook's name flashing on the screen, my stomach did a weird little flip.

Jungkook: Don't die at dinner.

Jungkook: If you do, leave me something cool in your will.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight the small smile tugging at my lips.

Me: If I die, I'll haunt you.

Jungkook: Hot.

I groaned, tossing my phone onto the bed. There was no winning with him. With a sigh, I yanked a dress off a hanger, black, not too short, fitted but not scandalous. By the time I was fully dressed, hair smoothed into something presentable, I only had a few minutes to compose myself before heading out.

The restaurant was, predictably, one of those upscale places that required reservations months in advance, where the lighting was dim and the wine glasses were too delicate to hold a normal amount of liquid. My parents were already seated when I arrived, my mother's lips pressed into a barely there smile that still managed to communicate her disappointment in my punctuality. My father, as always, was just there, physically present but mentally elsewhere, absorbed in work emails or pretending to be.

"You're late," my mother says the moment I sit down.

"Traffic," I lie smoothly, though we both know I left my apartment later than I should have.

"So," she started, setting down her menu, her fingers resting lightly on the table. "How is university?"

"Fine."

"And your exams?"

"Also fine."

"Are you eating properly? You look-"

"Fine?" I supplied helpfully.

She exhaled through her nose, a sign of patience wearing thin. "You don't have to be difficult. I'm simply concerned."

I refrained from pointing out that 'concern' was just the socially acceptable version of micromanaging. Instead, I focused on the menu, as if deciding between overpriced salmon and overpriced risotto required all my mental energy.

The waiter appeared, took our orders, and disappeared just as quickly. My father cleared his throat, finally looking up from his phone.

"Your mother tells me you've been... distracted lately."

I glanced at her, arching a brow. "Distracted?"

She offered a knowing smile, the kind that made my stomach twist in warning. "You've been spending time with... certain people."

"Certain people," I repeated, feigning innocence. "Care to be more specific?"

"Don't play coy," she sighed, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "Jeon Jungkook."

I didn't react, at least not outwardly. But inside, my brain was running through a rapid-fire list of potential responses that won't immediately result in me being disowned.

I settled on, "We are friends."

"Friends?" she echoed, unimpressed. "He is not your kind of company."

"And what exactly is my kind of company?"

"Someone who doesn't make a spectacle of themselves at public events," she replied smoothly. "I trust you haven't forgotten what he did at the gala."

Oh, I haven't. If anything, I remember it too well, the way he'd slipped into the party with that infuriating smirk, pretending to be Park Jimin just to mess with everyone. The absolute chaos he left in his wake. My parents had been livid.

"That was weeks ago," I said, keeping my tone even. "And it's not like he committed a crime."

My mother's lips pressed into a thin line, her version of barely restrained disapproval. "He is reckless and thrives on attention. That is not the kind of influence you need."

I took a slow breath, willing myself to stay calm. This was a familiar dance, my mother prodding, waiting for me to stumble into the answer she wants, my father playing the neutral spectator. It's exhausting.

"I don't need you to approve of my friends," I said finally, keeping my voice even.

"That's not the point," she replied, like she was talking to a child. "We just don't want you associating with people who-"

"Who what?" I cut in. "Who doesn't fit into your perfect little world?"

She stiffened, and I knew I've hit a nerve. My father cleared his throat, his go-to move whenever he sensed an argument brewing.

"We're just concerned," he said, ever the diplomat. "You know how people talk. After the gala, there was already speculation."

"Speculation," I echoed flatly. "Right. Because the biggest scandal in our family's history is that I might be friends with someone you don't like."

My mother's jaw tightened. "This isn't about dislike. It's about standards. You have to be mindful of the company you keep. And especially who you let into your bed"

I gripped the stem of my wine glass, my fingers tightening just enough to ground myself. My mother's words hang in the air, poised like a knife waiting to cut deeper.

"Excuse me?" I said, even though I knew exactly what she meant.

She exhaled a soft, measured breath. "I saw him this morning. At your apartment. Half-dressed. Looking very much at home." she continues, voice calm but heavy with meaning. 

I set my glass down before I shatter it. "It's not what you think."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows lifted in challenge. "Then do enlighten me. What exactly should I think when I see my daughter entertaining men overnight?"

My skin prickled, heat creeping up my neck. "Jungkook crashed on my couch. Nothing happened."

Maybe something happened...

She tsked under her breath, a sound of forced patience. "You don't have to lie to me, Y/N. I just hope you understand the kind of reputation this sort of behavior invites."

"Reputation," I echoed, my voice flat.

"Yes." She folded her hands neatly on the table, her rings catching in the dim light. "People talk. You're not some ordinary girl who can afford to be careless. You come from a respectable family. And respectable young women don't let men spend the night so freely."

Something in my chest tightened, a knot of shame that I didn't want to acknowledge. I glanced at my father, hoping for some kind of intervention, but he stayed quiet, his attention lingeried on his drink like he wished he would be anywhere but here.

"Are you seriously implying that I'm- what? That I'm sleeping around?" I forced out a laugh, but it sounded brittle even to my own ears. "Because Jungkook stayed over? That's ridiculous. I already told you we were studying together"

"Is it?" Her gaze sharpened, cutting through every flimsy layer of my defense. "Because from where I stood, it certainly looked like something less... innocent."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" She tilted her head, her smile razor-thin. "Y/N, I wasn't born yesterday. I know exactly what goes on between young people when there are no rules. No supervision. No consequences."

"There was nothing to supervise," I snapped, my patience was fraying. "We were studying and it got late. That's it."

"And yet," she swirled her wine, "he looked awfully comfortable for someone who just stayed after a study session. Do you think this makes you powerful? Being so careless with yourself?"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. The worst part wasn't the accusation itself. It was the way she made me feel like I should be ashamed like I've somehow tarnished myself just by being seen with him like my worth was suddenly negotiable because a man was in my space.

I took a breath, trying to steady myself, but she saw the crack in my composure and moved in for the kill.

"How easily do you let him in? Is this why you've been so distracted? Too busy opening your legs to open a book? You may think you have everything under control," she said, her voice gentle, coaxing, "but men like Jungkook... they take what they want, and they leave. And you, my dear, will be left with the consequences."

The words were a slap. A slow, deliberate one.

"Wow," I whispered, staring at her. "You really think that little of me?"

She didn't flinch. "I think the world isn't kind to women who make foolish choices."

For a moment, all I could do was sit there, my appetite long gone, my chest tight with something bitter and hot. I wanted to lash out, to say something cruel, but I knew it wouldn't change anything. She was right but she also will always see me as something delicate and breakable, something that must be preserved rather than lived in.

"This dinner was a mistake," I said quietly, reaching for my bag.

"Don't be dramatic," she sighed. "I'm simply trying to protect you."

"No," I said, standing. "You're trying to control me."

My father shifted like he might say something, but I didn't give him the chance. I turned on my heel and walked out, my pulse roaring in my ears.

***

Yeah, Mother was right about one thing. Me letting Jungkook get under my sheets but that wasn't her business after all. She shouldn't care about who I was sleeping with unless it would be a danger to my health. And besides he wasn't some guy who would only use me for my body... because we both actually were. We were using each other so where was the problem? Still, her voice echoed in my head, her sharp words curling around my thoughts like vines, tightening, squeezing.

"You think this makes you powerful? Being so careless with yourself?"

"How easily do you let him in?"

"Is this why you've been so distracted? Too busy opening your legs to open a book?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling sharply as I pressed my palms against my temples like I could physically force my mother's words out of my head. But they clung, slithering through my mind, settling into the cracks of my self-control.

"Too busy opening your legs to open a book."

I let out a shaky breath, a bitter laugh bubbling up my throat. It wasn't enough for her to be disappointed in me, no, she had to make it ugly, had to make it shameful. Because that's what she did. She took things that belonged to me, my choices, my body, my decisions, and twisted them into something filthy, something she could sneer at.

I was still standing in the middle of my bedroom, my coat draped over the back of a chair, and my heels kicked off haphazardly near the door. I hadn't even bothered turning on the lights. Just stood there, drowning in the echo of her voice.

I shouldn't care.

I shouldn't let her get to me.

But I did.

God, I did.

With a frustrated groan, I yanked my dress off and threw it onto the bed, stalking toward my dresser in nothing but my underwear. The reflection in the mirror caught my eye, and I hesitated. My skin still smelled faintly of perfume, my makeup was smudged at the edges, and my hair falling loose from where I'd pinned it up. My lips were painted red. Bold. Confident. But my expression... my expression looked small.

I curled my fingers over the edge of the dresser, gripping hard.

Jungkook wouldn't care about any of this. He wouldn't care what my mother thought, what she said, how she looked at me like I was something she needed to clean up before people noticed the mess. He wouldn't care that I had stood there, at that stupid restaurant, and let her tear into me like I was made of paper.

He wouldn't care, because none of this was real to him.

We weren't real.

We weren't tangled in each other the way real people were. We weren't feelings and confessions and soft touches in the dark. We were a transaction. A mutual relief. We didn't ask questions. We didn't pry. And yet, standing there, my mother's words clinging to my skin like cheap perfume, I had the overwhelming, stupid, reckless urge to call him.

Not to talk about this. Never that.

But just... for distraction.

For something to drown out the voice in my head telling me that maybe, just maybe, she was right.

I stared at my phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of my bedroom. My fingers hovered over Jungkook's contact, the temptation so thick in my chest that it almost hurt. A distraction. That's all I needed. Something to dull the sharp edges of my mother's words, to smother the ache she had left behind like bruises beneath my skin.

I could call him. He'd pick up. 

Jungkook always picked up.

He'd probably answer with something obnoxious, some teasing remark that would normally make me roll my eyes but would, in this moment, feel like an anchor, pulling me back to something solid. Something real. And if I told him to come over, he would. No hesitation. No questions.

But then what?

I already knew the answer. He'd show up at my door, all smug confidence and lazy amusement, taking one look at me and knowing exactly why I called. He wouldn't push, wouldn't ask, because that wasn't what we did. He'd let me pull him inside, let me use him the same way he used me, let me disappear under his weight, under the warmth of his skin, until there was no space left for my mother's voice to exist.

And in the morning, I'd wake up to tangled sheets and he would be beside me.

My fingers curled away from the screen, and I exhaled sharply like I'd been holding my breath without realizing it. No. I wasn't calling Jungkook. Not for this.

Instead, I threw my phone onto the bed and stalked toward the bathroom, flicking on the light with more force than necessary. The brightness was almost jarring, too sharp against the dark haze of my thoughts. I braced my hands against the sink, staring at my own reflection.

I looked tired. Hollow.

I turned on the faucet, letting the water run until it was hot before splashing it onto my face. It felt grounding, at least a little. I reached for my face wash, scrubbing off the remnants of my makeup, watching as the red smeared and then disappeared down the drain. Gone. Like it had never been there at all.

A  ring at my door made me freeze, water still dripping from my chin. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

Who the hell-

Another ring, more insistent this time.

I grabbed a towel, wiping my face as I made my way toward the door, half-expecting it to be Carla. She was the only one who ever showed up unannounced, usually with some ridiculous excuse about how she "felt a disturbance in the force" whenever I was having a bad day.

But when I yanked the door open, it wasn't Carla standing there.

It was Jungkook.

Of course it was.

He leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, dark eyes flickering over me with something unreadable.

I swallowed hard, gripping the towel in my hands. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, tilting his head slightly. "You didn't text me back."

Right. I'd ignored his texts.

I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling very aware of the fact that I was standing there in nothing but my underwear and an oversized t-shirt. "Didn't realize that required an emergency house call."

Jungkook smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. "Didn't say it was an emergency. Just figured I'd check. You're always in a bad mood after dinner with your parents" His gaze flicked past me, into the dimly lit apartment. "You look like shit, by the way."

I huffed out a dry laugh. "Thanks."

"Wanna talk about it?"

I opened my mouth, ready to throw out some deflection, some sarcastic remark to push him away, but the words didn't come. Instead, I just stood there, feeling the weight of my mother's voice pressing against my ribs.

Jungkook sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Dumb question." He shifted on his feet. "You wanna get out of here?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Out," he repeated. "Go somewhere. Do something. Whatever you need."

I hesitated. I should have said no. I should have told him to go home, that I was fine, that I didn't need whatever this was. But the truth was, I didn't know what I needed. All I knew was that I didn't want to be alone in my apartment, drowning in thoughts I didn't want to think.

So instead, I exhaled slowly and said, "Yeah. Okay."

Jungkook nodded once, stepping inside, and waiting for me to get ready.

***

I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, following Jungkook down the stairs of my apartment building. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't easy either. It sat there, unspoken, filled with everything I didn't want to say and everything he wasn't asking.

His car was parked on the street, sleek and black, like it belonged to someone who didn't give a damn about speed limits. Jungkook didn't open the door for me, he wasn't that kind of guy. Instead, he slid into the driver's seat, waiting until I was in before he started the engine. The low hum filled the space between us as he pulled away from the curb.

"Where are we going?" I asked, watching the city blur past through the window. The neon signs, the late-night stragglers, the world moving forward even when I felt stuck.

Jungkook shrugged, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gear shift. "Dunno. Just driving."

I nodded, leaning my head against the cool glass. Driving was good. Driving meant movement, escape, and the illusion of control when everything else felt too heavy.

Minutes passed like that, the city lights fading into quieter streets. It wasn't until we pulled up to a gas station that Jungkook finally spoke again. "Hungry?"

I blinked at him. "You're getting food from a gas station?"

"Gas station food is elite," he said with a smirk, already pushing open his door. "You want anything or are you gonna sit there and judge me?"

I sighed, unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out into the cool night. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as we walked inside, the scent of cheap coffee and something fried lingering in the air. Jungkook headed straight for the snack aisle, grabbing a bag of chips and a couple of energy drinks. I stood there for a moment before sighing and picking up a candy bar and a bottled iced tea. When I turned around, Jungkook was already at the counter, tossing some bills down before I could even think about paying for my stuff.

"You didn't have to do that," I muttered, grabbing my things as we stepped back outside.

"Yeah, well." He popped open his drink, taking a swig before glancing at me. "You looked like you needed a win."

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. 

Back in the car, Jungkook tore into his bag of chips, one hand still on the wheel as he pulled back onto the road. The sound of crunching filled the silence before he finally asked, "So, what'd she say this time?"

I hesitated, fingers tightening around my iced tea. "The usual."

Jungkook hummed like he understood. Maybe he thought he did but I knew he didn't. I couldn't just tell him what Mother said this time. I don't know what I was scared of. Maybe it was the fact that she was right. Luckily he didn't ask any further questions and the car was silent. 

The road stretched out ahead, dark and endless. We had left the city behind now, the neon glow replaced by the occasional flicker of a streetlamp and the vast, inky nothingness beyond. The roads were emptier here, quieter. And after a few minutes, we were on the little mountain where we could see the whole city.

We sat on the car deck without saying anything. Jungkook sipping on his energy drink and I on my iced tea. I don't know why it hit me just then. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the way Jungkook wasn't asking questions, wasn't pushing, just sitting there, solid and real. Maybe it was the weight of everything Mother said at dinner pressing down on me, suffocating me even hours later. Whatever it was, it cracked something open.

The first tear slipped out before I could stop it, sliding hot down my cheek. I blinked fast, trying to force them back, but it was useless. Another came. And another. Suddenly, I was breaking, hands shaking as I sucked in a breath that didn't feel like enough.

Jungkook turned his head slightly, eyes catching the way my shoulders curled inward. "Y/N-"

I shook my head quickly, swiping at my cheeks. "I'm fine."

It was a pathetic lie, and he knew it.

A sigh left him, and then the sound of a bottle being set down. I felt the shift in the air before I felt his fingers on my wrist, warm and grounding. He didn't say anything. That was all it took. A small crack that turned into a landslide. A breath in, and then I was fully crying, turning away, pressing my hands to my face like that could somehow stop the way I was falling apart.

Jungkook didn't pull away. He didn't tell me it was okay or that I needed to calm down. He just shifted closer, his hand sliding up my arm, slow and sure, until his fingers curled around the back of my neck.

"I hate her," I choked out. "I hate that she's right."

Jungkook's grip tightened slightly. "She's not."

I let out a bitter laugh. "You don't even know what she said."

"Don't need to." His thumb brushed against my skin, barely there. "She's never right about you."

Both of my hands moved up to my face, shaking his off of mine. I quickly wiped the tears away, not wanting to appear weak. 

"You don't know that" My voice didn't come out as solid as I wanted it to be. "Fuck you don't know anything about me or my fucking life! We don't even know each other for half a year so stop trying to comfort me when you have no clue about anything!" Yeah... maybe I overreacted.

"Y/N...I-"

But I interrupted him before he could have talked any further. "Stop! Just...stop. I don't want to hear shit"

Jungkook's jaw tightened.  I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to meet them. The air was thick even tough we were outside, too full of things I wasn't ready to say and feelings I didn't want to acknowledge.

For a long moment, he didn't respond. He just exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that sounded like he was trying really hard not to say something he'd regret. Then, just when I thought he might let it go, he leaned forward, eyes fixed ahead at the city below.

"You're right," he said finally, voice even. "I don't know everything about you."

I swallowed hard, not trusting myself to speak.

"I don't know what it's like to have parents like yours or to sit through dinners that make you feel like this. But I know what it's like to have people try to tell you who you are. To act like they know you better than you know yourself." He glanced at me then, something unreadable in his gaze. "And I know that just because someone says shit about you doesn't make it true."

I bit my lip, my throat tight, but I still wasn't looking at him. Because if I did, if I let myself see whatever was in his expression, I might break again.

Jungkook sighed. "But fine. You don't want to hear it? I won't say shit."

I should've felt relieved. That's what I wanted, right? For him to just stop, to let me sit in my mess alone. But instead, something sharp twisted in my chest. The silence stretched between us, but this time, it wasn't comforting. It felt cold. Stiff. Like I'd built a wall between us and he wasn't going to bother trying to climb it.

I should say something. Fix it.

But I didn't.

Instead, I hopped down and got into the car. He did the same. 

The drive back was quiet. Not the kind of silence that felt safe, like earlier. This one was edged with something sharp, something I didn't know how to fix. I stared out the window, watching the city lights grow closer, my fingers still curled tightly around my iced tea bottle, now warm from being in my hands too long.

Jungkook didn't turn on the radio. He didn't ask if I was okay. He just drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, his jaw tight like he was grinding his teeth. I should've said something. Maybe even apologized. But the words sat heavy on my tongue, refusing to move.

When he finally pulled up in front of my apartment building, he didn't kill the engine. Just let the car idle, the low hum filling the space between us.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, hesitating for a second before reaching for the door handle. "Thanks for the ride," I muttered. It was weak. A pathetic excuse for everything I actually wanted to say.

Jungkook let out a slow breath. "Yeah." His voice was unreadable. Flat.

I stepped out, shutting the door behind me. But as I reached my building's entrance, something in me wavered. The fight had drained out of me somewhere between the mountaintop and here, and now, standing there with my hand on the door, all I felt was exhaustion.

I turned back. Jungkook was still there, staring ahead like he wasn't waiting for anything. Like I hadn't just completely shut him out back there. I swallowed, then walked back toward the car. He didn't roll down the window, just watched me with careful eyes as I hesitated by his door.

"I..." I forced myself to look at him. "I didn't mean it like that."

Jungkook didn't say anything at first, just studied me for a second before tilting his head slightly. "Like what?"

I sighed, shifting on my feet. "Like you don't know anything. I mean, yeah, maybe you don't know everything, but..." My throat tightened. "You know enough."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a moment, I thought he was going to make me work harder for it. But then, he exhaled, long and slow.

"Okay," he said.

Just that.

No snide remark. No sarcastic jab. Just okay.

I nodded, awkward and unsure. "Okay."

Jungkook's fingers tapped against the steering wheel. "Go inside, Y/N." His voice was softer now. Not quite forgiving, but not angry either.

I took a step back, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets. "Yeah. See you."

He didn't say anything, just gave me one last unreadable look before shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. I stood there for a second, watching his taillights disappear down the street, then let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

What the fuck did just happen?

[gaspshichat]

hi chat. pearl made me cry at 9:30 in the morning so y'all know what time is it. warning there will be swears [i say the f word ☹️] bc i haven't slept but i'm somehow not sick rn which. hasn't happened in weeks

[and a quick health update: pretty sure i have narrowed down what's making me sick to three possible things. i'm hopefully seeing my doctor soon bc the refill on my meds expires in june. we're so close and i haven't been able to breathe]

.

.

.

OH MY GOD. Y'ALL. IF YOU'RE FOLLOWING ME AND SOMEHOW AREN'T A PEARL FAN. HOW ???? GO. GO BE A PEARL FAN. IT'S A THREAT

pearl is funny and kind and caring. there is a reason i gave her 10k bits the other day. she deserves the entire world and more. i don't know what the world did to her that made her so kind

i'm not the only one who has a message though !! here are a few messages from people but i've seen so many in reblogs and tweets and whatnot

.

from my lovely partner tay aka twitter user PandoraRxse: I can’t catch streams very often but your videos always make me smile and I always look forward to a new upload. Keep doing what you’re doing, you’re amazing Pearl

from lovely twitter user SKYBL1NGS: shes like genuinely super funny and has great content that everyone can get into and shes really pretty and i loce pearlecentmoon

from a lovely anonymous twitter user: she is genuinly such an amazing artist, both in minecraft and in real life, all of her art is so lively in a way that i'm not sure how to describe best. also she is such a kind human being :))

from lovely tumblr user sapphicwhimsy: pearl is such a lovely and sweet person. shes SO kind to everyone in chat, new or old, and creates such a lovely environment to hang around in. her streams are the only ones i can sit through fully, and she has SUCH a lovely voice! i could listen to her read the dictionary, because im sure she would make it interesting. she has such a way to make everything interesting! even things like sitting still for thirty minutes can be something interesting in a pearl stream, because shes always got such amazing things to say. shes absolutely beautiful, inside and out, with a kind soul that matches her through and through. the fact that she always tries to read everyone out personally, and tries to pronounce their names correctly - and accepts corrections wholeheartedly - is so nice. and shes so wonderfully accepting to all of her community, and always has well wishes for everyone. shes truly a very wonderful and accepting person, who deserves the world! honestly the sweetest person ive ever came across.

.

anyway onto the next part of why i made this post

HOW THE FUCK IS SHE SO PRETTY. WHAT. IT'S GENUINELY UNFAIR. SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE COULD BE A GODDAMN SCULPTURE

LIKE COME ON. I WISH I COULD DRAW SO I COULD DRAW HER. SHE'S BEAUTIFUL. WHAT THE HELL. LOOK AT HER

featuring other GORGEOUS women. my god. i am so

anyway :)) it took me an hour and a half to write this bc i kept getting distracted. in short. pearl is so amazing and wonderful. it's weird how she remembers things about me and actually cares ???

also. SHE PRONOUNCED MY NAME CORRECTLY ???? I'VE HEARD SUCH TERRIBLE PRONUNCIATIONS BUT PEARL. SHE SAID IT RIGHR FIRST TRY. WHAT. i kind of want to hear how karn would attempt to pronounce it

[bc yes. i'm okay with anyone, including streamers, calling me vyren. you know me better than my dad does. it's okay to call me vy, vyren, gasp, or gasps]

sleepy brain wrote this post and i want to say so much more but i can't. i had a better message when i did my 10k bits message but that thing is long gone. the only way pearl knows about those bits is if she sees this

and to her community: i love y'all. y'all are lovely. thanks for helping make my shitty life a little brighter. the world may not be kind to me, but y'all are. thank y'all for that. y'all are so lovely

pearl, if you see this, sending all the love to you and your three cats. and yes. karn is the third cat

[seriouslysam8]

The poll you sent truly messed me up! I only get to choose one?! I want all of them! But I understand you can’t write all of them at once even though we all want you to…

Just wondering though, how much of Succiduous is already written? Would you mind sharing a snippet?🙃

I know, right??? I wish I had more time to write all these ideas in my head. Or, even better, have there be a job for writing fanfic! 🤣🤣🤣

Succiduous has about 10k words written already. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be.

But here’s a snippet!

A groan escaped Harry’s lips as he rolled his neck. He needed to make sure he still had his wand on him. He had to find Sirius. Except, Harry couldn’t move his arm. Either one of them. His eyes snapped open to see Albus Dumbledore sitting calmly across from him. Next to him sat a man Harry had never met before but he looked vaguely familiar at the same time. Glasses were perched on his long nose. His salt and pepper hair sat messily on his head, like he had carded his hand through it one too many times and caused it to stand up in the back.

“Hello,” Dumbledore greeted, though there was no smile on his face or twinkle in his eye.

Harry swallowed, his eyes glancing over at the unidentified man. “Professor, I had a… dream,” he started as he looked back over at Dumbledore, stretching his neck to try to relieve some of the tension. “He has Padfoot. In the place where it’s hidden.”

The unidentified man shifted, his body leaning forward as he rested his forearms on his knees. His jaw clenched and his dark hazel eyes looked murderous.

“Who has Sirius?” the man gritted through his teeth.

Harry squinted at the man, shifting against the bonds that held him to the chair. He couldn’t work out why he was even tied up. Why would Dumbledore do this to him? Unless the man next to him forced him to? But who could be more powerful than Albus Dumbledore?

“I’m not talking to you,” Harry snapped, his fists clenching. “How do you even know who I’m talking about anyway?”

The man turned to Dumbledore. “Did you check for the Mark?”

“The Mark?” Harry repeated, his eyebrows raising.

Certainly they couldn’t be talking about the Mark.

“There was nothing, Fleamont,” Dumbledore replied. “No glamours or anything else of the sort. I honestly thought it was James when Alast-“

“James?” Harry gasped, blinking rapidly as he tried to wrap his brain around what was going on. “James? You mean James Potter?”

The man named Fleamont snapped his attention to Harry, his face setting harder than stone. Harry only felt his own anger rise at the situation.

“That’d be rich if I could pull off being a dead person,” Harry snapped.

Fleamont was out of his chair in a split second, knocking it down with a loud thump. The man’s face pressed close to Harry’s, their noses nearly touching. Fleamont’s hands grabbed at Harry’s shirt, keeping him from moving.

“What did you do to my son?” Fleamont seethed.

“Fleamont,” Dumbledore called, his voice still calm.

“Your son?” Harry repeated. “What are you talking about?”

None of what was happening made any sense. Nor did they have time…

Harry froze.

[trick-jester]

Friendly Killer [02]

[Leon S Kennedy/Killer!Reader]

❝ A lover’s charade. ❞

warnings : blood (slight gore description), swearing, sexual intimacy implications, reader is given she/her pronouns but gender is never specified

3100+ words

A/N: I am really, really sorry in advance. I feel like this chapter isn’t as good of quality as the first chapter made. I’ve re-written this around 8 separate times trying to summarize my entire idea but compressing 10k worth of words into 3k is stupid difficult. I’ve been sitting on this for over half a year and want to just get it over with so I broke it up. Hope you still enjoy reading though! Ɛ>

The chanting caws of crows echo eternally into night sky, fading into obscurity upon taking a directionless flight. 

[F/n] sighs, leaning onto the windowsill of her worn cabin. Deep within her own thoughts as her eyes mindlessly skim through the dainty atmosphere of her own realm. She runs her fingers through her hair, untangling small knots caught along the way.

It had been minutes since the end of their previous match. Hours since Leon confessed his feelings for her without needing to say a word. The permanent memory made her flush. From the way his lips felt against hers to the way their bodies melded together almost too perfectly, it was as if they were created specifically for one another.

Images of his nude figure were pinned at the very center of her core memories: burned securely into its place. [F/n] felt her mouth water at the mental sight of his abs, her cheeks sizzling feverishly as she could do nothing to prevent the replay of their intimacy.

Her scowl cracks, unable to hide the adoration felt as a smile emerges among the visible blush on her expression. Though as quick as it came— it went.Coming away from her position, [F/n] groans, bringing a hand to soothe her a temple. There was a major issue present she couldn't ignore. Their prolonged session couldn't have gone unnoticed by his teammates.

Would they believe Leon if he said she slugged him? Or if he was simply being overly stealthy? Could anything really justify the absurd amount of time taken to complete a match?

The mere idea of anyone else discovering their relationship gave her a migraine.

How would her fellow killers respond? How would the survivors respond?

If the survivors shunned Leon it would snowball into a massive issue in the long run, making matches far more strenuous than needed. It would only require for him to be downed once —once to be abandoned on hook— for his run to be over.

Then, knowing well none of the killers would show an ounce mercy without some sort of return she simply couldn't provide, the outcome of this would eventually drive [F/n] to a breaking point. The entity was not at all a fan of friendly fire when it came to her killers, she knew this far too well.

[F/n] felt her heartbeat quicken, clutching a fistful of her serape. Heavy footsteps did nothing to reel her from overthinking as Danny made his presence known. Arm extended to grip the doorframe.

The leather of his glove crossing her eyes first before the rest of him did.

Danny shook his head as their eyes met. Demeanor anything but well, there was no sugarcoating what transpired. 

"Well there's two things— it's a shitshow." He pauses, head shrinking back in anticipation.

"They ended up interrogating your little plaything, toots."

[E/c] eyes widen, [F/n] paced towards him with anger.

"What do you mean?"

"Well..."

Leon sighed, planting his thumb and index finger across his forehead. He was visibly annoyed. Though he didn't expect any less from the result of their previous trial. Tossing his head back out of his hunched position, he stands, finally turning towards the group with a stern expression.

He felt his anxiety rising under the number of mixed stares he'd receive from judging eyes. Awaiting any sort of explanation, reasoning, justification. They all wanted an answer he couldn't honestly give them.

"I already said what happened, whether you believe me or not isn't my problem." Leon repeats.

YunJin scoffs at him. "Do we look stupid to you?" Her arms crossed. "You spent hours in the realm!" The accusatory tone in her voice didn't go unnoticed. Their other two teammates, Dwight and David, were complete contrasts of each other's reactions.

David appeared more annoyed than upset, his hand rubbing the ache felt within his head. Like YunJin, he suspected something was going on: whether it was foul play or not was something to be told. Though he wasn't nowhere near accusatory.

Dwight on the other hand chewed on his nails, rather dismissive of the entire situation, figuring there must've been some sort of misunderstanding. They were all on the same side, it wouldn't make any sense for Leon to lie. He was a rookie cop fighting to save the world.

"Maybe he's... telling the truth?" He mumbles just loud enough to be heard, readjusting his glasses to see YunJin shoot him a displeased look. "I-I mean he has n-no reason to lie? I, uhm, I trust him..."

Dwight's voice gets softer and softer, feeling the pressure as the three stare intensely at him. Leon makes eye contact with Dwight, nodding at him in appreciation. In return, Dwight smiles sheepishly. Almost proud.

Though Leon felt bad for taking advantage of his naivety, the result of outing themselves far outweighed his guilt.

YunJin, scoffing, makes her discontent even more obvious than it already was. She grimaced, shoving a finger close to Leon's features. "Whatever you are hiding— you will regret it. That girl is nothing more than a manipulator."

The sound of crunching leaves quickly fills the ambiance as Yunjin storms off, David following after with a disappointed sigh and a mutter.

Leon stands, a wave of relief washing over him as their figures soon disappear within the trees. For the time being the issue has been squashed, at least until Yunjin tries something. He crosses his arms.

Dwight nervously laughs. "Y-You've always been nice to everyone at the campsite, so I-I trust you. Yunjin can be a bit... uh... Overdramatic?" Dwight struggles to find the words, not that it mattered. Leon can tell what the intention was, grateful at the attempt.

"Thank you." Was all he said, needed to, as Dwight returns the expression. He looks in the direction they walked off in momentarily before meeting his eyes again. Dwight immediately gets the message.

Danny peeks his head out of the tree he stood behind, eyes glued to the man who his best friend had fallen for. He becomes very aware of how hard he was gripping the handle of his knife. And suddenly, it dawned on him.

He wasn't staring at Leon, Danny was staring through him— the direction where the others walked in.

The way YunJin walked off raised some alarm. Was she a threat? Danny couldn't exactly hear the conversation due to the proximity between them. Regardless, this was something he couldn't chance. Merely judging based off expressions it was nothing good.

Danny scoops up a small rock beside him, gently tossing it in the air to test its velocity before launching it through the barrier. The small waves it produced as a result was enough to capture Leon's gaze, spotting it as it kicked up the dirt beside him upon landing.

Ghostface waves him over, causing Leon to look behind him for a moment to ensure Dwight was no longer around. Leon walks over to Danny without hesitation.

"YunJin— does she want to die?"

"All she knows is that I'm hiding something.”

Danny, dissatisfied at the answer, says nothing else but rolls his dark eyes at the response. He turns his back on Leon, taking a few steps away whilst fixing his mask. When he halted, he peers over his shoulder.

"Your girlfriend asked for you."

"Should've said something sooner."

It takes Leon a second before coming his side almost too eagerly. His boyish grin didn't go unnoticed. Danny raises a brow amused by the reaction. 

"Completely shameless." Ghostface chimed. 

Fading into the trees, the only a trace of them left were the crushed leaves that met their shoes.

"So where the fuck is he?" [F/n] interrupted impatiently, looking in the direction Danny originally walked in from. She held some expectation he would be near, though when she saw no trace of him her gaze returns to Danny.

Thankful she couldn't see the expression behind his mask, a bead of imaginary sweat runs from his forehead down to his chin. "...And that's the second issue. We got separated trying to enter your realm.”

The immediate shift of her expression made him cringe.

She less than subtly pushed past his shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly. Though it wasn't powerful enough to knock him over, it was enough for Danny to shoot her a glare. 

"You're welcome too... bitch." He brushed it off quickly as he joined her out the door.

⨯ ┈┈┈┈┈✦┈┈┈┈┈ ⨯

Crouched behind a wall of trash, Leon tensed as the sound of footsteps came closer. The pit in his stomach grew as he leaned over in an attempt to get a glance. Eyes meeting the figure of the man who looked around with a purpose.

He inches towards the opposite end, making the turn just in time as Evan moved forward. His fist clenched on the handle of his cleaver which was painted a sickly red at the dried blood. A low growl breaks the silence.

"I know you're out here!"

If anyone were to tell him this would be the current state of his life going into the future, that rookie officer would probably shit himself.

The cold sweat on Leon's neck increases as he does his best to create as much distance as possible between them. Leon spots a vault a few steps away, tracking towards it. His steps were light, worried the slightest sound would be his last, relieved once he successfully made it completely across.

Leon turns his head back, only able to see the very top of Evan's back.

"I'm not in the mood to play this game of hide and seek. Whoever's here needs to get the fuck OUT!" Evan's voice rung throughout the realm in clear agitation.

As nice as the idea was, Leon quite literally had no idea how to leave. Traditionally he'd have to do generators, but a quick survey of the area revealed the fact that there were none, and there was no indicator that hatch was present.

His only logical option was to wait out this entire situation. Surely Danny would've known something had gone wrong when they were no longer walking together. It only made sense he'd be searching after noticing.

Hopefully.

His attempt to go unnoticed is quickly erased as a small twig snapped underneath the sole of his shoe. Unable to contain the "oh shit," at his lips when he heard heavy footsteps come around the corner.

Evan wasn't sure who to expect. He assumed it was Danny playing a prank on him again or maybe even the entity fucking with him. So, when he laid his eyes on Leon, Evan was completely caught off-guard, dumbfounded as to why a survivor was lurking in his personal realm.

His nonexistent brows raise, giving it thought. The only way a survivor could end up in a killer's personal realm was if another killer had brought them there— and no survivor was insane enough to trust a killer outside of their protective dome in the first place.

Something wasn't adding up. Who could possibly be in cahoots with the survivors? Unless it was the entity herself? But this wasn't a match, there would be no point in presenting him otherwise.

With the grip on Evan's cleaver becoming tighter, Leon decides it's time to back up, eyes glued to the Trapper. The staring contest ends after Evan takes his first step forward as Leon breaks into a sprint.

Evan takes a second to recollect his thoughts before chasing after his intruder. Purposely tailing him in a calculated route, he knew it was only a matter of time before Leon stepped into one of the dozens of active traps laying around his realm.

Leon does his best to focus but finds difficulty in finding a safe path to dart towards. Any mistake could cost him his life.

But Leon was no simple man, vaulting over another opening as Evan swiped his weapon at him. Nearly tumbling in the process as an armed trap rested several inches before it, he narrowly avoided both ill outcomes.

"Can we talk about this?!" Leon shouts, finally panicking. No matter what he did, realization sunk in incredibly quickly as his options had finally run dry. The trap he missed clicking underneath the sole of his shoe.

Evan says nothing in return, instead watching the scene unfold. 

Leon screamed as rusted metal locked into his ankle. He ducks down, desperately pulling the mechanism's jaw for any sort of relief. The pain was excruciating, crushing, on an entirely different level than what he was familiar with. Reality draws in the shadow hides him from the nonexistent light source.

"You're making a mistake!!!"

Leon looked up to watch him draw his weapon back, sweat turning ice cold as he stared death in the face. How could this possibly be fair? Out of everything he had survived through, this was how it ended— trapped like a helpless animal. He felt resentment at his circumstance, praying to a god he knew wouldn't listen.

The sound of harsh winds part through the air with lethal speed, scythe sticking into the ground effortlessly between them. Evan turns his head in the direction it came from, spotting the silhouette that stood on the roof of his shack.

It was a warning.

"Hey, Evan, buddy, I'm really sorry." Danny twiddled with his fingers: tone coated with more sarcasm than understanding. His knife not straying far, it comes out of his sleeve and into his gasp.

Leon takes this moment to grab the scythe, sticking its blade in between the claws he successfully pries himself free. He wobbled slightly, hissing, the pain was greater than what he accustomed to, using the staff as support.

Evan watches him go, making no effort to resume his chase: instead attending to his curiosity turning his attention to the approaching figure. It doesn't take him long to digest the information, clicking near immediately at the scene.

"A killer saving a survivor." He puts it simply, releasing a chuckle mocking the idea. "And I thought I went insane battling with the entity. You're fuckin' worse!"

"Evan." [F/n] states as if his name was an insult itself, [e/c] eyes squinting subtly in agitation. Clearly displeased and even more so when she takes the sight of Leon limping. She comes to his side, carrying him into her arms almost effortlessly with her blade still in his hold.

Leon swallows a grunt, relieved at the loss of pressure from his burning ankle.

"You okay?"

Appearing indifferent, she subtly observes his reaction in masked worry. "I'm fine now." Leon mumbles, offering her a small reassuring smile. [F/n] hums in acknowledgement, focusing her distain towards Evan.

"You know survivors aren't protected outside of a match."

"Then this is the perfect opportunity."

"Desperate enough to resort to this, Evan? Cause this is pretty fuckin' pathetic." 

Silence, though it doesn't last longer than a moment. 

"How long?" Trapper continues, moving to get closer only for Danny to step before the couple shaking his head. He brandished his already stained blade. 

A reminder. 

Evan growls at him in response, nearly offended.

"This doesn't concern you."

"You seriously think you can keep this hidden from her? She'll shred you both like scum: use your little boyfriend to make you feel a whole other type of pain you both can't forget." Evan spits, invisible grin emerging. 

"Are you prepared for that, farmer? You're gonna lose him— just like how you lost everyone else. It’s all you know how to do, lose."

[F/n]'s grip on Leon becomes tighter and tighter as her agitation grows, masking it with a taunting smile on her lips along a heavy exhale. 

"Anyone ever tell ya' you got a big fuckin’ mouth on you? Bastard." Smirk becoming wider, Evan shrugs confidently at her question.

"You should thank me for trying to bring you out of your delusion."

"Of course, how about I return the favor and teach you some manners as my thanks?"

The Trapper readjusts his grip on his hatchet completely unbothered; Danny's hum of disapproval interrupts the increasing tension, doing his best to divert their attention. 

"It's too risky to do this with him here, toots." Gesturing obviously at Leon's presence, [F/n]'s tight grip instantly vanishes.

Leon winced at the sudden release of pressure, sighing through the pain. He meets her [e/c] eyes apologetically. Though there was no fooling his infatuated killer.

The thought cooks in her mind. As much as he was right it aggravated her. She wanted to punish Evan with every driving force in her body. No matter the consequence from the entity.

[F/n]'s predatory gaze meets the Trapper a final time. His figure burned in her memory. 

“Whatever.”

Evan looks at her expectantly, knowing well he won the exchange his eyes gleam the reflection of a crow taking off in the background.

"You'll hear from me again very soon."

At her signal, Danny walks over to her, fishing for something underneath his coat he pulls out a foreign offering.

The Trapper smirks. "Don’t keep me waiting."

Evan watches Danny use the offering, taking a mental picture of the fog enveloping around them. His stare glued towards the survivor, more amused than anything, while he hums in content.

And just as quickly they were there: they weren't. Evan tilts his head, readjusting the hold on his machete as excitement rumbles through his veins. His stifled chuckle finally emerging.

"Let's see how long your lover’s charade will last, farmer."

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet post-finale discussion

this is a post that goes over some things that i briefly touched on in the tags/mentions some plot points i wasn't able to expand upon! SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS after the cut. so dont look unless u want it to be spoiled

ok so! i want to first of all start out by thanking everyone reading/the ellie community this for being so patient and wonderful and just lovely in general! writing long fics can be so draining for me, especially when i start making poor plot choices and start writing parts that are over 10k words (i at least have the decency to be ashamed of it). i hope that you all have enjoyed reading p7/the rest of the series. i did want to offer a little more elaboration on some points/why i made some of the plot choices that i did. so spoilers under the cut!

petra

petra's character might seem super random, and it's because she actually used to play a much bigger role in this story. my original outline included petra actually coming back to jackson as well as a few cutscenes away to her time working at a bourbon plant in kentucky, detailing exactly how the goods were contaminated/how they actually got past quality control. i cut these scenes bc i was like literally no one came to read about this random oc.

how did terranova get infected (in other words: what petra's story would've told)

she used to have a monologue talking about how everyone in the plants—even the commanding officers—were frustrated with the poor conditions and managed to infect weaker members, tie them up, and drop their saliva into the vats of aging bourbon. this slipped past quality control because you'll recall that 1) the prices were skyrocketing in terranova and 2) there was a festival that involved hella drinking. petra was supposed to explain that since the prices of liquor were so high and quality control could be overly cautious, flagged bottles were smuggled off by guards and sold in a black market. so that's why it was so fast/why it got through the borders!

why didnt u write a smut scene between ellie and y/n smh

i honestly planned to—i had a whole scene where y/n has her little top moment, but i just couldnt integrate it into the last final scenes. to me it just felt too much for ellie to be like yes im opening up 2 u emotionally....now lets fuck in the span of like 20 mins when they hadn't been speaking beforehand. and also i think it speaks to how ellie kind of used sex to put distance between them in the first few parts and tried to avoid any sort of emotional intimacy, so this was a big step for her. also if i were y/n id be sleepy as hellllll at that point and would not have the wrist stamina for any sort of activities that didn't involve tucking into bed after the day she's had!

what next?

so of course there's the epilogue, but that doesn't have to be all. i was thinking of writing an alternate ending that adheres more firmly to tlou 2 canon and involves joel's death + ellie's spiral, where y/n actually chooses to leave terranova with dina to try to find her once she hears from her father about a girl with a fern tattoo that's causing a disturbance just a bit south of terranova. i didn't want that to be the actually legit ending, because i do think it's important for ellie's conscience to know that she's not keeping y/n from somewhere safer.

so in conc: epilogue for sure, maybe an alternate ending, and potentially a few "deleted scenes" (including the smut scene i cut)

why did you choose to do that to terranova instead of having ellie find her or y/n leave?

ellie was never going to terranova to get y/n because she'd never try to take her from there unless she had a genuine belief that she'd be better off outside. so i suppose that there could've been a storyline about ellie finding out about terranova possibly getting infected, but idk how she would know that when communication is so private and tommy wasn't even able to get in contact with any terranovan authorities with his connections.

i didn't go with my alternate ending idea where y/n actually chooses to leave, partly because of ellie and mostly because i felt like terranova needed to get blown up anyway. i was hoping that part of the message i sent with this was that overconsumption is never sustainable and that it will always have consequences, and terranova falling apart because of and not in spite of its resources and suppliers seemed like a good way to get the job done!

this may not be something anyone is particularly interested in but if you have any questions about any things i didn't cover in the finale, feel free to ask ! now that the actual plot is mostly complete and i can't really spoil anything, i have a lot more flexibility with answering things!

[sorbriquette]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Tagged by @hyperions-light via DMs because apparently my mentions are still broken (womp womp). Thank you muchly <3

Not sure who this has made the rounds to yet outside off who was tagged on the prior post sooooo - feel free to jump on or ignore? Or if you've already done it drop me a link so I can read it? @aeipathism @acethmatic @vicsplinters @alexandracabotswife

Also gonna gently nudge this over to the FE fandom too even though we may not be mutals I know y'all write fic so I wanna pass on the game (sorry if that's weird) @ferditheas @hubernies

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

26 — though 6 of those are unfinished WIPs (and only 2 that I plan on definitely finishing)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

384,397 — honestly a little shocked by that I could have written like 4 books for all that word count. But oh well it’s all skill building and I enjoy reading my writing back.

3) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

They are ALL from Carry On and written in like 2018 so the kudos is a reflection of time and the dropping of 2 sequels since posting them, not necessarily quality or anything. In fact the top by kudos was my first one when returning to fic and in hindsight it is not super well written.

The Truth Will Set You Free, Night After Night (this one I tried to update every night for the vibes it was fun times), Catch Me If You Can (explicit - be warned), Follow Your Heart, Not Really

4) What fandoms do you write for?

Currently it’s mostly Fire Emblem because I got hooked again during my existential spiral over xmas. I wooooould like to write some more Dragon Age, but I am not an OC girly really. And I feel like DA fandom is big into OCs.

Most of my backlog is Carry On, but I analysed the text to shit and fell out of a love with it a bit.

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes - on newer fics. I should reply to comments on older fics but idk my social anxiety tells me that if I respond to someone and didn’t respond to someone who commented on that thing a year prior - that second person will hate me. Which now that I type it out is insane.

I also did stop responding some time in like 2020-2021 for some reason? I’m not sure why but I sure think I’m an asshole for it.

6) What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None of my fics have angsty endings. Not my MO sorry.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of my fics get like, half their word count again in epilogue so… they all end pretty happy.

But given the Carry On sequels and that most of my FE stuff is before the end of the war it’s probably Overdue Commitments since that is post war, getting married, etc. And thus the only one that actually takes place after all of the other shit characters have to go through in their actual canon. (Also recency bias)

8) Do you get hate on fics?

I mean one of them got book marked with this “The first chapters are perfect. The rest, not so much. Beware” which is a bit rude. But that’s my no3 by kudos as above so like… not exactly gonna keep me up at night.

9) Do you write smut?

Not often. When I do most of it doesn’t get finished and lives in my drafts. That said I recently dropped a 10k word smut fic that is probably gonna get a sequel because I got some nice comments. And I have a 25k smut fic, and an unfinished one too.

… so that’s probably actually just a yes.

10) Do you write crossovers?

No. Not against it though. I would love to do a The Locked Tomb/Dragon Age but I don’t think I have the writing style necessary to write TLT characters.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Maybe? I’ve had people offer and have said I’d be fine with it, but never actually followed up.

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I’m always down if someone’s into that stuff. Used to do a lot of RP, so I do like the collaborative stuff.

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I honestly do not know. There are a lot I like but I don’t know if I could pin down an all-time fav. I’m sure I’ll wake up in a cold sweat to the obvious answer at like 3am though.

15) What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Putting In Effort because goooood I love Marihilda as a ship. But it really didn’t get much traction and Marianne is really hard to write like emotionally/mentally because she is so self-depreciating and depressed. It is not a fun headspace to spend your time in, particularly if no one is reading it.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I like the cadence I write with I think? The “know the rules and then break them” thing. Where my punctuation isn’t technically correct but it produces a certain rhythm in the text. Honestly I don’t even know if readers notice that.

Also I think maybe character voice? But that could be mere cowardice because I will not write a character I cannot hear clearly in my head.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Brevity.

I tend to write everything blow by blow. Which can be great for fic romance. But when you need to GET THROUGH A DAMN SCENE??? Impossible. Why do I write everyone individually walking out the door? Must we put up this tent in excruciating detail?? We do not even need this scene. Send help.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I think it’s cool when people do it but I wouldn’t put it in mine because I do not know any other languages. I would maybe make an exception for latin tho because it’s sick as hell and also dead.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Artemis Fowl, on the fan website at like age 9.

Literally just went looking for it and got a massive blast from the past - but also the website doesn’t work because of a fatal MySQL error. Not that I’d expect to find my stuff there, that would have been like 15-20 years ago now.

20) Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It’s still a WIP but probably Affection, just an all round comforting read for me. But again I suspect that’s recency bias. Also possibly the fact that it is a WIP and I don’t like endings.

I would like to go back and tidy it up a bit though. Ferdinand von Aegir does not use conjunctions.

[charmspoint]

Full Foreword

(Context: I wrote a long foreword for dance with the devil but AO3 nerfed me so I'm posting it here :3)

On 30th of June 2021 I published Rabid Dreams, Neon Lights and Your Teeth on My Tongue. It was supposed to be a one shot for an exchange, one that I at first struggled to write, before suddenly managing to find my stride. And what I wrote ended up capturing my imagination so intensely and viciously that on the night I posted it, I started planning the first prequel.

It’s now 14th of June 2024.

Three years later and we are finally here.

In many ways, this fic is my child. I truly think it’s some of the best writing I’ve ever done and certainly the best, most in depth character study I’ve ever done. This fic technically has two iterations, because when I first started writing it, it was supposed to be a 10k oneshot...then a 20k oneshot...then a 70k oneshot. Faced with such a big number, I couldn’t in my right mind post it all together and expect people to read 70k incessant words of a deep au (without a ship dynamic!) so I set to separating it into chapters. To separate it into chapters each previous section of the oneshot had to be rounded into a story that could stand as a chapter, and then of course there were some things I ended up not liking about certain arcs so I changed them, expanded them, shifted the character roles around, gave certain characters more screen time and more impact and well...you can expect to read about 101k words once this fic is fully finished. Just of this. Just of the prequel from Satoru’s POV. It’s hands down the biggest thing I’ve ever written and the big word count is one of the reasons this took so long. The other reason is that I wanted to have a weekly posting schedule. Currently, all chapters save from last two have been fully written, beta read and edited. I’m confident I can give you a regular posting schedule every Friday around this time.

Now for some dedications.

Firstly, this fic is dedicated to Sesshom0ru, who originated the initial prompt that fired off the oneshot and then this fic right after it. Thank you for patiently waiting for the prequel that was promised to you three years ago lmao!

Secondly, this fic is dedicated to Frappe. I met Frappe when she did art for CotA and we became very good friends, so much so that she was quickly wrapped up into the production of this fic. Frappe was going to draw the cover for this fic as well as spot art for each chapter. We were both very excited about it and talked about it constantly and some of that art, especially the cover which is completely stunning, does exist. But unfortunately, Frappe fell out of contact almost two years ago. I don’t know what happened to her but I hope it’s nothing bad. I hope life was just life and she got carried away with it, I still hope I see her discord avatar pop up in my dms again. Out of respect for Frappe I won’t be posting any of the art she had made for the fic, but this fic is still dedicated to her and I hope that one day she still gets to read it. This is for you Frappe, thank you for loving my boys as much as I did <3.

Thirdly, and most importantly, this fic is dedicated to Ker, my beta reader. If there are readers here who had read multiple of my fics, they are probably familiar with Ker’s name. Ker beta reads most of my big projects and most of the little ones that I think are really good. The reason you might have been seeing less of their name pop up in current projects is because I had them sat and beta reading 18 chapters for this crazy fic. And they did such a wonderful job with it too. I honestly couldn’t ask for a better beta reader if I tried, couldn’t find one if I searched the whole internet for them. Ker brings such incredible love and attention to detail to beta reading and editing my fics. I’ve had a fair number of people edit my fics, but only Ker does it with such care and attentiveness. I often say, me and Ker, we are coparents of this fic. It’s theirs as much as it’s mine. They not only beta read it, but also listened to my endless rants about it, encouraged me when I had doubts and cheered me on when I did something well. They don’t just point out grammar mistakes, they carefully go through the chapter and point out where things don’t flow well, when scenes should be expanded, when things should be better explained. They also react with a lot of baby emojis to Satoru’s antics. I have taken to referring to Satoru as Ker’s son whenever he’s doing something stupid. I cannot overstate how much Ker does and has done for this fic. They truly, honestly make me a better writer, not content with just correcting my grammar and then patting my back, but constantly challenging me to do better, to develop more, to surprise them again. I cannot overstate how important Ker is to my writing process and to me personally. This is why this might sound like someone endlessly gushing about their spouse, lmao. But they do deserve it. They stuck with my crazy, violent little story from beginning to the end and are already at the next starting line, eager for more. Ker is the best beta reader I could ask for, my loudest cheerleader and my most beloved. Thank you darling, for being you, you’re irreplaceable to me <3

It might seem silly to have such a long starting note on a silly little gang au fic of a manga that has almost run its course. But this fic took three years to make. A lot of love was put into it, a lot of energy and effort. I hope you all enjoy it and love it as much I do.

[mochalottie]

hiiii lottie, this is not a question and i honestly have no idea where this is going, but there's too much things i need to say soooo let's start with a massive, gigantic THANK YOU! the way you managed to write chapters averaging +10k words each EVERY SINGLE WEEK for TWENTY. NINE. FUCKING. WEEKS!!! this is monumental work you did on your free time and i'll never be grateful enough for all the efforts you put in it.

there is something about the way you write, idk if it's about your descriptions or the way you handle your characters and their voices, but i think i'm simply in love with your style! i had read all your avatar works before ftnadol, and i'm so glad i was able to read this one since the first chapter. the journey has been one of a kind, a wild ride unlike any other, and to tell you how deeply invested i became, just know i usually rarely take time to comment on fanfics. shame on me i know, but i'm too shy and never know what to say but idk what happened with this fic, i guess it broke something in me. it took me three chapters to leave the tiniest comment and then i was writing whole-ass essays???? i don't even know myself how that happened but goood, i think i needed to somehow process all the thoughts and feelings and emotions your writing gave me. and now it's so much easier to leave comments on other fics and it provides me so much joy and pleasure to know that writers know how much i enjoy and care for their works, so i guess i must thank you for that as well 💖

i think i told you already but your little story became a whole part of my routine, i had my monday night ritual reading the new chapter, screaming in my pillow and then again in your comments. i was looking forward to come back to this universe every week, thinking about those characters at random times throughout the week, wondering what would happen to them next and coming up with my own little theories. they were not always correct (malachy socorro, you will alway be remembered </3) but this kept reminding me the power held by fanfiction, stories, and art as a whole. i cannot fathom how some people manage to live their lives without being deeply involved in fandoms and engaging with cultural medias, and i'm so sorry they'll never get to experience the sorrows and joys it provides!

now that's been said, back to ftnadol! where to even begin? the whole concept of this alternative universe is a banger sort of idea! i mean, sorry, but eywa-blessed spider in a world where every single human was sent back to earth?!?!?! goooosh it feels just like yesterday that jake was finding baby spider in hell's gate, and look where we are now! so much has happened, those characters went to hell and back, and most essentially they've grown so so much!! baby spider and baby neteyam growing up as brothers since day one was not something i thought i needed, but you've crafted such a wonderful relationship, you wrote such a beautiful take on brotherhood and love and acceptance. i shed so many tears on this fic and just to think of their bond is making me emotional again.

every character was written so amazingly well: jake with all his humanity and stubborness, neytiri so fierce and caring, mo'at is an absolute icon, even the way you explored quaritch. his character is so complex, a much crueler version of him whose end was very satisfying. the whole expansion you made on na'vi culture and the connection between clans. tsireya, ao'nung, rotxo, even tonowari and ronal, they were not featured much but you managed to bring something fresh and new to them, fitting the twists of this story. i could say the same with tuk and kiri, i wish we'd had more of them but every time they were in a scene, they were an absolute delight and i can't wait to have more of them in the sequel. lo'ak, gosh i could say so many things about him, he is the character who touched me the most in atwow and every little additions you made to his character made me love him a little more. since spider is his big bro and not just his best friend, it changes so many things about his character. you gave us a much more mature version of him and i'm so proud of the journey he went through. now one of the biggest surprises i would say is neteyam! he didn't particularly stuck with me in canon, surely because his character is less present than the other kids and jc made a totally unnecessary decision that destroyed me. but fanon made me change my mind, and this fic played a big part in it. again it's so hard to speak of this neteyam without bringing up spider, and to see his character so impacted by the loss of his brother, with so much anger and frustration and sadness and hurt, god it was so devastating and heartbreaking. which leads us to the one and only spider!!!! our little guy, who's been through so much and yet remains that sweet kid who manages to see the goodness in people. he wormed his way in people's hearts, got a loving family and caring friends, and was ready to do everything in his power to protect them. he cares so much for his people and for his world, and life has been so hard on him but he proved everyone he deserved to be here and he's worthy!

honourary mention for the way you depicted the na'vi relationship with animals. payakan, the discovery of tsuraks and ilus, THE IKRANS. but most important of them all, my guy GUY <333 i miss him so much, and his bond with spider was the most wholesome thing. they were not able to communicate like others can and yet we saw how the trust between them grew through care to become this beautiful companionship. my life will not be complete until i see them reuniting and be one again

and last but no least, malachy! don't worry i didn't forget about him—how could i? this is just another proof of how good your writing is; you made me care so much about some original character whose foundations had everything to make me hate him. but you gave him an insane backstory, compassion and mercy, a brain, and this exceptional change of heart. i remember you wondering if we were interested in reading from his pov, and already then i wanted a more nuanced stance within the rda. you gave us everything i wanted and more with this character. he went through his own fulfilling journey and i know there's still so much more to learn about him, and he still have so much to learn from pandora, and i'm so glad he made it out alive thus far!

another massive thank you for you, lottie. i wish i could reach through my screen and give you a hug for everything you gave us with this story. your talent is boundless, you made these characters feel so real and i couldn't be happier that you decided to write this sequel because i don't want this story to end just yet. i'm not ready to say goodbye to them so i'm very excited to see where this next ride will take us <333333

Babes, bestie THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR AMAZING COMMENTS!

I'm stunned my work got you to come out of your commenting shell because your essays were literally one of the comments I looked forward to each chapter. And that you have a routine stop you're gonna make me sob-- TT_TT

I literally don't know what I can say that will say thank you for your words and love for this story so just please take my love and hugs and everything else babes.

And thank you for loving Malachy!! I'm glad he's been accepted by readers because it was a bit nerve wracking to create a character like his.

Thank you my love, one hundred times thank you

<333