#maybe she enjoys them for as long as she can

[prael]

Head-To-Head

Itzy Yuna & Artms/Loona Heejin x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 13,663 Kofi(donations/commissions)

There must be a reason. There's always a reason.

Yuna has this look in her eye when she's up to something, and she's always up to something.

She's the one who always has a plan to execute, a scheme to concoct, an idea to hatch. Everything usually aligns with a single, specific purpose: to be the best. To beat everyone at everything. It's why she's captain of the debate team and the track team. It's why she's the president of the student council. She's the type of person to do every possible extracurricular there is, and to dominate them all, no matter how small, no matter how seemingly irrelevant.

Though her every achievement is matched by another, and it eats at her like nothing else.

She's got this sweet smile, a gentle lilt to her voice, and the most charming laugh, but you've known her long enough to understand that none of it means she's on your side. Not always, anyway. Not until she's figured out what she wants. (You're not saying it's all fake. She is a sweet person, really. But there's something else behind her eyes that never disappears completely, no matter how hard she tries to cover it up.)

"Have you eaten today? You look a little pale," Yuna says, her brow furrowing with worry.

"I'm fine," you reply. "I had lunch. Just... a little tired."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to go hungry or overwork yourself. I'm sure it's tough being the principal's son. Are you eating your meals on time?"

Even for Yuna, this is a bit too much. A full-court press of concern, all focused on you. It feels like a trap. "Seriously, I'm okay. I'm just trying to work on a little project."

"Can I help?" She asks as she's already pulling her chair closer to you, so she's practically peering over your shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"It's not difficult. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Two minds are better than one," she playfully says as she leans in a little closer, her hair falling on your shoulder and touching your cheek. Then there's the smell, an expensive, intoxicating fragrance that sends a shiver down your spine and a warmth deep inside your gut.

"Yuna," you say, and even you're not quite sure if you're protesting or pleading. "I'm fine. You don't need to."

You feel her hand on your back. It's warm. Her thumb strokes back and forth. The pressure is gentle but persistent. "It's what friends are for, they help each other out," she says softly.

The touch is comforting, almost enough to make you melt right there on the spot. "I have to be able to do this alone. Thank you, really, thank you, but I'll be okay."

Her hand moves up, and now it's resting on the back of your neck. You can't help but tense up a little bit, and she must notice because her hand goes away.

"If you say so," Yuna says. "Then how about you let me buy you dinner later? It'll be my treat."

"No, no," you quickly reply. "You don't have to."

"Please, I insist. It'll make me feel better."

She's so convincing. That's the thing about Yuna. She has the kind of voice and manner that makes you believe whatever it is she's saying. You feel a strange sense of urgency, the way she says this, the way she's looking at you. You can't say no. "Okay. Thank you."

"See you after school." She stands up and walks out of the classroom.

That was weird. There's an explanation for it, but there's no way she could know, is there? She's always two steps ahead of everyone. How could she have found out about it when your father only told you the day before?

Your stomach growls.

Maybe you should have actually eaten lunch.

-

There are no classes at the moment, not with graduation right around the corner and the last of the finals coming to an end. You're sitting in the afternoon sun, enjoying the quiet before the evening rush. The breeze is cool and pleasant, and the grass is soft and plush. It's a good day to sit and relax.

There are not many people out in the courtyard, but you recognise the one that's been sitting out here almost as long as you have.

Heejin's sitting against a tree. Her hair is a little messy, as usual, but the soft breeze keeps it from being too unruly. Her clothes are a little loose as if she doesn't care about how she looks. She looks so peaceful, so tranquil, as she reads the book in her lap. She has her headphones on, listening to music and blocking out the rest of the world.

She's cute, you think.

You should probably stop staring.

(You're trying not to, you swear, but there's just something so... easy on the eyes, about Heejin.)

There's a sudden swirl of wind, a little stronger than before, that blows the trees. Leaves are swirling and fluttering, and the swaying of the branches breaks the shade that Heejin's tree provides. A ray of sunlight shines down on her, bright and beautiful. The glow makes her seem to shine, but she doesn't appreciate it, it blinds her for a moment, and you see the way her eyes narrow, and the annoyed look on her face.

It's enough to pull her out of her trance. Her gaze moves, and her eyes lock with yours. Her expression is flat and unamused. You can almost feel her judgement from here.

Oh. Yeah. Right. That's what you get for staring. You look away.

"Hey."

Oh no.

"Can we talk?"

You look up, and Heejin's standing over you. She's not smiling, but she's not frowning, either. Her face is neutral and expressionless, but you know it's because she doesn't have anything nice to say.

"Hi, uh," you nervously stammer. "What's up?"

She gestures at the space on the bench next to you. "Can I sit?"

"Go ahead." You slide a little bit to the side.

Heejin takes a seat. "I heard something from a friend, and I was wondering if it was true," she says. "I wanted to hear it from you directly, so I'm going to ask you."

"Yeah?"

Heejin looks at you straight on. She's not one to hold back. "Is your dad asking you to decide between me and Yuna for valedictorian?"

There it is. Confirmation of your suspicions. It makes little to no sense how it got out so quickly, or how it got out at all. The whole thing was meant to be a secret, after all. You hesitate to say anything.

She doesn't seem offended that you haven't answered. Instead, she says, "You don't have to tell me. I already know it's true."

You don't have an answer to that. Heejin is like this; one-sided conversations, like she has her own way of thinking about things. She's a bit blunt and brusque, and it's a bit jarring. It's the kind of honesty and openness that's a bit too raw to be considered polite.

"You don't seem very surprised," you finally reply.

Heejin gives you a shrug. "It's not surprising. The school's a bit of a mess. I'm not sure the principal has his shit together." She looks at you with a slight smirk. "No offence."

You let out a little chuckle. "Yeah. It's okay."

"Your dad's a little..." Heejin makes a vague gesture with her hand. "He's trying. He's trying to be a good principal, I can tell, but he's just a little, y'know, not great."

"I get it."

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. "Well, he's your dad, I shouldn't shit talk him too much. But I mean, it's a pretty big deal that he's making his son pick between the top students. I think that's messed up, honestly."

"To be fair, there's no way to split the two of you," you try to explain. "You're putting up the exact same scores, all across the board. You're tied."

"Yeah. I know. I know." She leans back a bit on the bench and lets out a long sigh. "Yuna's tough to compete against. She always has her head in the game. She's got that look in her eye when she's on to you." Heejin looks at you. "You know what I mean, right?"

You nod your head in agreement. "I know."

"I've come to a conclusion: there's only one way to beat her. You know what I have to do, right?"

"...What?"

Heejin gives you a smirk and leans in. She rests her hand on your thigh. Your eyes go wide in shock, and she lets out a little giggle. "I have to convince you to let me be valedictorian." Her fingers squeeze the inside of your leg. "I can persuade you, right?"

Your hand snaps down to her wrist and holds her. "Heejin," you say, and your voice is a little shaky. "What are you—"

"Don't play dumb, I've seen the way you look at me," Heejin interrupts. "I see it, the way you're checking me out. I'm hot, right? You can say it, I don't mind."

She's such a straight shooter, there's no other way to describe her. There's no double entendre or sneaky little insinuation or subtle implication. It's just plain and simple. Heejin says exactly what she wants, no more, no less. There's something attractive about that. Something... exciting.

But this is a lot to process, especially when her hand's on your leg.

"I... um, I," you stutter. "I..."

"What the hell is this!?"

Oh no.

The voice makes the two of you jump a little. Yuna's marching up to the both of you, and she doesn't look happy. You let go of Heejin's hand, but it doesn't make much difference. Her hand's still on you, after all.

"Are you really stooping so low?" Yuna demands, pointing at Heejin.

"Talking to my friend? That's stooping low, now?" Heejin asks, raising an eyebrow. Her voice is casual and indifferent, almost as if she's goading her. "I can't talk to my friend anymore?"

"Get your hands off him, Heejin. It's not a good look." Yuna crosses her arms. "Don't you have any self-respect?"

Heejin lets go of your leg, but she's as unflustered as ever. "I was just talking to my friend. I can talk to him, can't I?"

"He has a lot on his mind. He doesn't need you distracting him."

Heejin rolls her eyes and starts on the defensive. "I wasn't doing anything like that." She stands up. "He has enough brains to think for himself." She looks at you, and there's a little smirk on her lips. "Right?"

You're about to reply, but Yuna steps between you and Heejin, the skirt resting on her wide hips in front of your face and blocking your view of Heejin. She's staring at Heejin. Her eyes are narrowed. "I don't know what you were doing, Heejin. But it wasn't just talking."

"I was giving him my suggestion," Heejin answers.

Yuna shakes her head. "He doesn't want your 'suggestions', whatever that is."

"He can speak for himself, y'know? He's a smart kid," Heejin says, a little more sharply. "If I wanted his attention, he'd give it to me. He knows what he wants. Don't you?" She asks, looking over at you with a little twinkle in her eye.

"I..." You swallow. It's a bit difficult to think when there's so much going on. "I..."

Heejin laughs a little at how you're a little lost for words. Yuna, though, is not nearly as amused. She steps closer to Heejin and leans in to say something. You don't hear what she's saying. It's too quiet for you to make it out. Heejin listens, and her smirk fades.

"Fine. Whatever," Heejin says. She walks away without a single glance at you.

"Wait," you say to her, standing up. You're about to follow her, but Yuna steps in the way again, and her expression makes you stop.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asks, blinking her wide, innocent eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"I was just gonna say goodbye," you reply. It seems silly to try to explain this, and Yuna is looking a bit impatient. You decide not to say more. "Never mind."

She smiles and links arms with you. She's a lot more close than she's usually been. She's pressed up to your side, her arm entwined with yours, her chest pressed up against your shoulder, soft and warm. You try to ignore it. You're trying not to read too much into things. But it's a little tough when Yuna's the one being affectionate like that. "I was thinking," she says, "we can grab some pizza for dinner if you don't mind."

You take a final glance at Heejin as she walks away. Her backpack is slung over one shoulder. Her headphones are back on. Her head is held high as she walks with a strut. Those long bare legs protrude from under her skirt.

Yuna pulls at you. "Come on."

-

Dinner is, well, dinner. You and Yuna talk, about the usual things. You both chat about what's next after graduation and then she tells you about her family and how her sister has been annoying her lately. You listen. You nod. You talk. You eat. You talk again. It's a little weird, but it's nice, and the pizza's great. You're grateful.

But you know it's all a game.

If Heejin knows the power you've been handed, then Yuna does, too. And if both of them know, then the only way to get ahead of each other is by being more persuasive. Heejin had a... direct method. Yuna, though, she's more subtle, but you're sure her intentions aren't any less self-centred.

She turns the conversation to questions, focusing on you, rather than her. She's batting her eyelashes as she asks you questions about the school, about your family, about your friends. It's all innocent enough, but you're not stupid. You've known Yuna long enough to understand how she's playing you. And she's good at it. It's almost too easy to fall under her spell, to fall for her charms. The way she leans closer to you. How her fingers run across your palm, tracing little circles. The way she laughs at all your jokes, even the ones you know are dumb. How her smile is always on her lips. How her eyes sparkle whenever she's listening. The way she tilts her head and pouts when she doesn't quite get something.

"You're so lucky to be the principal's son," she says as if it isn't an excuse to bring up the whole reason she's even sitting with you. "Must be fun having all the connections."

"It's not a big deal." You shrug. "He just treats me like a normal student." Mostly. "I don't get anything out of it. He's a little strict on me, honestly."

"I don't know, there must be some perks to it," Yuna insists. "I'd kill to be able to have that kind of privilege."

"Yeah? Like what?" you ask. You take another sip of your drink.

"I don't know." She runs a hand through her hair, brushing the strands out of her face, and lets out a little laugh. "You get to be first for everything, don't you?"

You shrug. "Not really."

"And you can probably flunk a class and just make your dad pass you anyway." She winks. "No?"

"Not how that works," you reply. You're getting the sense she's trying to work up to a point.

"Okay, maybe not, but there's got to be something good." She smiles. "You've got any secrets?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of secrets?"

"Oh, come on," she playfully insists. "I bet your dad's told you all the juicy gossip about the teachers and staff, right? Or maybe even about students?"

You don't answer. She takes that as an affirmative.

"Oooh, you're holding out on me. I wanna know!" Yuna grabs your hands and leans closer to you. Her shirt hangs low on her neck, exposing a little more cleavage than you're comfortable seeing. "Tell me a secret. Something interesting."

"Like what?" you ask. You know you probably should lean away, but it feels a bit too rude to do that.

"Anything. Something fun." She squeezes your hand. "I promise I won't tell. Come on. Just between the two of us."

You feel like she's closing in on you. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, just like earlier in the afternoon, and her eyes are twinkling, her lips pouting ever so slightly. The warmth of her skin against yours, the way her thumb is rubbing your palm. "Okay, fine." You look around, making sure no one else can hear. "The art teachers, she, uh..."

"Yeah?"

"She's getting a divorce, turns out she's into women."

"Oh my god." She blinks and covers her mouth in surprise. "No way."

"It's true," you say. "There's been a whole thing, her husband found out about an affair, it's all messy. Don't tell anyone, okay? I wasn't meant to tell."

"I won't," she says, a coy smile on her face. "Don't worry. I can keep secrets. Your secret's safe with me." She leans back, but her hand doesn't let go of yours. "But it's not just gossip, right? Does your dad ever, you know..." Her other hand joins her first, her palms rubbing your knuckles, her skin warm and soft against yours, her fingers stroking and massaging you. "Ask you for advice? Maybe you have some sway on how things get run at school, huh? I'm just curious, I swear."

It's an obvious question, and it's the kind that you expected she might try to ask, eventually. "Sometimes, yeah."

She nods. Her hands don't stop. They continue to caress and stroke, her touch gentle and comforting, but also firm, persistent, almost suggestive. The sensation makes you tingle a little, a little buzz running through your body. "That must be fun," she murmurs. "So has he asked for any advice lately?"

You know exactly what she wants, but she hasn't quite asked for it directly. You decide to tease her. "Yeah. I guess he's asked a bit recently."

"Oh, really?" She leans forward again, her lips just inches away from yours. "Like what?"

"About, uh, some stuff," you answer vaguely. You can't tell her exactly, you want to hear her ask it.

"Maybe I could help. Maybe we can talk about it and figure it out together." Her hand's moving up from yours and now she's stroking up your forearm, slowly rubbing it. Her touch feels so good, and her eyes are locked on yours, unblinking, her gaze focused solely on you. She bites her lip a little. "If he asked about something like... I don't know..."

You smile. She knows. And she's playing coy, pretending that she doesn't know what she wants. You can't let that stand. You can't let her get away with it. "Spit it out."

"Maybe..." Her eyes glance to the side. "...who to choose for valedictorian?"

It's about time she asks. "And what do you think?" you ask, a sly grin creeping up on you. "You got a suggestion?"

Yuna blushes a little and lets out a giggle. "Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. I think I'd be the best fit. Don't you?" She bats her eyelashes. "My scores are the best—

"—Joint best."

"And my extra-curricular; I have the most—"

"—Joint most."

"And I'm the president, captain, leader of—"

"—Joint leader, captain and president."

"Are you just gonna keep doing that?" Yuna pouts.

"Doing what?"

"Joint," she says, imitating you, her voice lowering. "Joint. Joint. Joint. I mean, yeah, I get it. But you can't say that Heejin is really better than me, is she?"

You shrug.

"Is she? I don't think she is. I know her grades are as good as mine, but she doesn't put in as much work as me. I've been putting my blood, sweat and tears into all these clubs, all the things I'm in. She's just... doing things because she has nothing better to do. I'm actually trying, I'm working so hard, and I know that's worth something." She gives you a look that's somehow innocent and imploring, while simultaneously persuasive. "I deserve to be valedictorian."

You're not going to argue with her, she does deserve it. They both do.

Yuna keeps going, "You can help me, you know. We're friends. I've always been nice to you, haven't I? Do this for me and I'll owe you. Big time. I mean it. I will be very, very, grateful."

She trying so desperately to entice you, and she's doing her very best. The way her eyes twinkle and flutter as she speaks to you. The way her voice goes a little high-pitched and squeaky, the way she pouts her lips and widens her eyes. She leans so far over the table that she hits her drink and sends it tumbling. The glass shatters as it hits the floor and the two of you flinch from the sound.

"Oh my god!" Yuna gasps. "I'm so sorry, oh my god!" She jumps off her chair. The staff are quickly making their way over, and Yuna immediately apologises to them, a look of utter embarrassment on her face. "I'm sorry, it was an accident!"

The staff wave it off and start to clean up. You offer to help, but they refuse, so instead, you think it best to pay and call an end to dinner.

"That's so embarrassing, oh my god," Yuna groans. She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. "I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, it was an accident." You smile. The sun has almost set and the sky has turned a dusky orange and purple. The cool breeze in the evening air is pleasant and relaxing. You let out a sigh. You feel refreshed, and there's something to appreciate about the quiet. But the night's coming in, and you know you have to go back. "I'll walk you home," you offer.

Yuna smiles at you gratefully, and the two of you make the trip together.

-

The lady's dorms aren't far from your own. You're about to leave and head home when Yuna suddenly grabs you by the wrist. "Wait, don't go yet."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to give you something before you go."

"Like what?" you ask. "I already owe you dinner, so..."

"No, no, don't worry about that. This is something different." Yuna steps close to you and wraps her arms around you. You tense up, unsure, but you let her embrace you, her arms around your waist and her hands against your back. "A hug."

"A hug?"

"Yup. A big hug." Yuna rests her chin against your chest, looking up at you. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is sweet. She squeezes you tighter and leans into you. "For being a good friend. For listening to me talk about all the stupid things in my life. For coming out to dinner with me." Her hand rubs against your back. "And for being so nice."

"Um..." You're a little taken aback by this sudden act of kindness. You wrap your arms around her, too, hugging her back. You're not quite sure if this is a bit much. Yuna can be friendly, but this feels a little excessive, even for her. She's holding onto you, her body pressed up against yours, and it's making you a little uncomfortable. "Thanks. That's, uh, really nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yuna murmurs and her voice is low and soft, her eyes staring right at yours, unblinking. Her body is so soft against yours, her skin feels smooth and warm, and her embrace feels like it's melting into your own. You can't help but notice her body, her curves, the way her hips and chest seem to press into you. It feels like she's trying to make you notice. "So... do you think you'll help me?"

"Help you?" you ask.

"About... y'know..." Yuna tilts her head a little and leans back to look up at you, but her hands stay firmly planted on your back. She smiles playfully. "The valedictorian thing?"

"I, um, I haven't really—"

"—thought about it? Yeah. Okay." She pouts. "Do you need more time?"

"Maybe," you admit. "I haven't really been—"

"—been thinking about it. I know." Yuna steps back and lets you go. She smiles at you again, but this time, it seems a bit more... sultry? Seductive? "Okay, fine. But you'll have my eternal gratitude if you help me, I swear."

She turns and skips into her building, and you stand there for a second, watching as the doors close behind her. Then, you turn and start walking back to your dorm. It's dark out and you have a long walk, so you decide to take the scenic route. You pass by the school fields, past the baseball and soccer grounds, and then you pass the gym and pool buildings. Finally, you cross the courtyard, heading for your dorm.

You're about halfway across when you notice a figure on the benches. The same figure as earlier.

"Aren't you cold?" you call out, walking up to Heejin. She's still in her uniform, but she doesn't seem to be wearing anything to protect her from the night chill. She's still sitting there, legs crossed and head resting on one hand.

She looks up at you as you approach. "A little, yeah."

"Why are you out here?"

"Why not?" She shrugs. "It's nice. Peaceful."

You can't argue with that. You look up at the night sky and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs. The silence is nice. It feels like the world has stopped, the universe has paused to give you a moment of quiet. "You can still enjoy it while wearing a jacket, maybe a hoodie. Switch out that skirt for some sweats."

Heejin smiles. "You sound like my dad."

"I didn't know your dad was such a smart guy."

"He isn't," she jokes. She lets out a soft laugh, and then she looks back up at you. "So why are you out here?"

"Walking home. Passing by."

"Did she take you somewhere nice?" Heejin suddenly asks with a knowing smirk. There's no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounds amused.

"Dinner. Pizza."

"Sounds romantic," she remarks, with the tone of someone who means the exact opposite. "Did it work? Are you persuaded?" She leans back on the bench, stretching her arms out and spreading them wide across the back. Her position exposes more of her, the skirt rising higher. You can see the smooth curves of her legs, the muscles that have developed from years of track and dance. They look inviting.

"It was just dinner. We talked. That's all," you explain.

"Just talked," Heejin repeats. She's clearly sceptical. "Just talked," she repeats again, emphasising it.

"Just talked," you reaffirm.

"Sure. Fine," Heejin says with a playful roll of her eyes. She leans forward now, clasping her hands together and settling them between her bare knees. She leering at you, now. Her smirk is suggestive, even seductive. It feels like she's toying with you, almost mocking you. "What did she offer you?"

"Uh, nothing. Just that she would owe me one."

"Yeah, she would owe you one," Heejin drawls, nodding her head patronisingly. "Bet she said it with real suggestive eyes, too, and she touched you, maybe held your arm or something, right? Like, really obviously trying to imply she'll fuck you if you made her valedictorian?"

Your throat runs dry and Heejin just laughs to herself.

"At least I know what I'm up against," Heejin remarks. She stands up, slings her bag over her shoulder, and steps closer to you. She's looking straight at you. Her expression is stern, determined, and serious. Her eyes are narrowed and intense, staring into yours, penetrating through you. "Here's my counter-offer: I'll suck you off, right now. We'll go to your room, you sit down on the bed, take off your pants, I'll drop to my knees and blow you."

Holy shit, Heejin's really serious. She doesn't blink, her gaze remains focused on you.

"Then you pick me. You make me valedictorian."

You're silent. Speechless. There's no subtlety, no suggestion, no implication, no hinting. There's a credit to be given for honesty. You can respect the fact that she's not hiding what she wants, or trying to play games or manipulate you. It's refreshingly direct and simple. And yet, it's Heejin. The girl who quietly sits in class and aces every test. Who beats everyone's times in track. Who performs in competitions as a hobby. Everyone admires her. Everyone wants to be her friend. To have her say that, to offer that...

"You're blushing," Heejin says, smirking. She steps even closer, standing on her tip-toes, bringing her mouth closer to your ear, her hot breath hitting you and making you shiver. "Take me to your dorm," she whispers. "I'll make you cum until you can't even think anymore."

There's not an ounce of shame in her. Not the slightest hint of guilt. She's absolutely certain that she's in control and that you're weak and malleable, willing to succumb to her. She's got no doubt in her mind that she's completely dominating you, that she's utterly in charge.

-

Yuna throws herself onto her bed, feeling incredibly pleased with herself. Step one is complete. She picked out a cute outfit that looked innocent, but still enticing. She chose a restaurant that had a casual atmosphere, but still allowed them to sit and talk comfortably. She held his hand, she stared deeply into his eyes, she smiled at him and laughed at all his stupid jokes. And yes, it was embarrassing when she accidentally spilt her drink, but it worked out! He walked her home and gave her a hug, which was perfect. A perfect opportunity to tempt him with her body, and show off her curves. A preview of what he can have if he obeys. If he bends to her will.

Ryujin is listening to all the details of how Yuna thinks she has you wrapped around her little finger. Ryujin can't help but shake her head at her friend's naivety. Sure, maybe she got a few moments where she could entice you, but Ryujin knows you can't be won over by cheap tricks and flirtatious looks. What you need is someone more bold. Someone bolder, someone who will make the first move, and then take charge.

"...and then we hugged, and he was totally into me, I felt his heart beat faster, he was sooo excited," Yuna enthusiastically tells Ryujin. "And then he was just staring at me as I walked up the steps. He was, like, ogling my legs."

"Wow," Ryujin answers, with little enthusiasm. "Did he agree to make you valedictorian?"

"Kinda," Yuna answers. "Well, no. But he will. Trust me."

"You think that's enough? Empty promises and some light flirting?" Ryujin shakes her head and lets out a dismissive laugh. "Bare minimum."

"What? Do you want me to just ask him outright if he wants to bang? That's not how people work, they aren't direct like that," Yuna protests.

"You think Heejin is just gonna do the same? You think Heejin's gonna hold his hand and giggle at his shitty puns?"

"Yes," Yuna insists.

"Nope," Ryujin immediately corrects. "If she finds out that you took him out to dinner and tried to flirt with him, she's going to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"She's going to beat you. She's going to be bold, brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he doesn't have a choice," Ryujin confidently replies.

Yuna scoffs. "Yeah, right. Heejin's gonna seduce him? Please." She rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand. "She's pretty but there's no way she's going to throw herself at him."

Even as Yuna says it, the doubt creeps into her mind. Heejin did have her hand on your lap. And her legs... she wasn't exactly covering much. What if she takes it a step further? That uncertainty turns into something else, and Yuna starts to feel a little paranoid. "Oh my god," she says, a frown on her face, sitting up as if she's suddenly had a revelation. "So, hypothetically, maybe, just maybe, she somehow finds out that I went to dinner with him. Maybe, hypothetically, she decides to act, like, bold and seduce him."

Ryujin gives a long sigh and shakes her head. "That's exactly what she's gonna do. There's only one person on earth who cares about accolades as much as you, and that's Heejin. She's going to get what she wants, and that's graduation as valedictorian, even if she has to give up her dignity to do it." Ryujin tilts her head and adds, as if it were obvious, "You should be in his room right now."

"Fuck."

-

Yuna left the dorm immediately, and she is walking that same route you did just ten minutes earlier, her entire body charged with a sense of urgency, her heart pumping with nerves. She's trying to stay calm, but there's no way to not admit that this is, potentially, bad. Very bad.

The anxiety gnaws at her, and as she rushes through the darkness, she starts to wonder what Heejin might be doing right now, what she might say to him, and the kind of persuasion she might use. She doesn't trust Ryujin's words, no, but they keep echoing in her head.

'She's going to be bold, and brash, and blunt, and she's going to seduce him so hard he won't have a choice.'

The thought strikes her, the terrible feeling of just not knowing what's going on in your room. Yuna wants to bash down your door, throw herself in, and see for herself. It's driving her a little crazy.

Yuna takes a moment to process what this could mean for her, what could possibly be going on behind the walls, in the building ahead of her. She can't just walk in alone, no, it's the men's dorm. But... she overheard it once. A few guys were jealous that you had the solo dorm, the big room on the bottom floor at the end of the building. So she could probably work out which window is yours. Then, well, one look inside to see you relaxing, hopefully, alone...

Yuna steps off the path and begins to round the building. It's dark and quiet out, but that just makes her feel like it's even more indecent and dirty that she's finding excuses to spy on you. There are no lights on in the rooms above, it looks like everyone else in the building is either asleep or has gone out for the night. Your window, though, your room... there's definitely a light on.

She draws close, and when she rounds the corner, she peeks up. There's you, just standing in the room. Just the sight of you alone gives her relief.

Until the peeks a little further. Her eyes go wide and her breath catches in her throat.

It's Heejin.

She's on her knees, still wearing her uniform, but with the top few buttons popped, and her hair tied up in a ponytail. You're looking down at her, eyes fixed on hers. One hand's in her hair, your fingers running through it, stroking her hair. You look so pleased, so satisfied. So relaxed and comfortable.

Heejin's hands are on your hips, and Yuna notices her long, elegant fingers pressing into you. She looks so confident, so smug. So in control. So in charge. Yuna can feel the rage inside.

How could this be possible? This can't be happening. There's no way. There's no way.

Heejin grabs your hip and drags you closer, her other hand sliding up under your shirt. Her nails lightly scrape against your skin. She smiles when you flinch, and the expression on your face shows you're enjoying yourself.

Under her breath, Yuna mutters, "No fucking way. She's..."

She's sucking your cock.

Yuna stares. She stares and she can't stop. She can't tear her eyes away from the sight of Heejin, her lips around your length, taking you deep into her mouth. You're looking down at her, playing with her hair. The look of bliss on your face is impossible to ignore.

Heejin's skilled, Yuna realises with a growing sense of horror. She knows her way around it, with her lips circling the tip, tongue swirling and coating you in saliva, and her lips then easing your length further inside her. It's so fluid and smooth, and she's only using her mouth. How good must it feel?

She can imagine it. The hot, moist mouth on you, the soft, wet insides, the pressure of a mouth wrapping around you. The hum of approval as she continues to tease and play. The slurping and slobbering sounds. How it would look like her taking you deeper and deeper, her forehead touching the base, and how her throat would tighten around you.

Yuna feels her body ache. She's watching her position as valedictorian be sucked away down Heejin's throat. The girl whose a joint first, the same as her, is all but sealing her own victory with your climax. Her eyes are wide, staring at the scene in front of her, her fingers dug into the palm of her hand. This is absurd, impossible, unbelievable.

Heejin can't win like this. There's no way Heejin's better than her. Is she?

There's only one way she can stop it.

-

Heejin's sucking your brains out through your dick, making your spine tingle and your breath come in jagged and short gasps. It's nothing but pleasure for you. There are no thoughts, no conscious mind, just the sensation in your core.

Her mouth slides up and down, dragging up your shaft, her tongue sliding along it, licking and tasting the salty mixture of precum and spit. She draws her lips up your head, right to the tip, where she teases you with her tongue before plunging you back into the depths of her throat.

God, it feels amazing, every second of it. You can hear her gagging, choking, the sounds are so vivid and raw that you can't help but groan, tightening your grasp of her ponytail, just like she asked you to. She likes it. You can tell she likes it by the way she inhales every time you pull her close and shove yourself into her. Her nails dig into your ass, dragging you closer to her as you press up against the back of her throat, and she's showing no sign of relenting.

This can't last, though. This kind of sensation, the ecstasy and passion and tension, has a breaking point, and you know your orgasm is coming. Heejin does too, because her pace starts picking up, and her head bobs faster up and down your shaft, her throat choking on your head, her mouth so tight and warm around you.

You fight it, the urge, the need to finish. You want this to last forever, you want it to keep going, the feeling of her lips, her throat, the sloppy noises of her sucking you dry. But the orgasm is inevitable. Your hands instinctively drag her to you, and you can feel the tremble in your hips, the buildup in your balls and the tightness in your pelvis.

But it's all fucking ruined. A bang on the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Heejin asks, pulling you from her mouth with a sloppy 'pop'.

The bang on the door happens again, more frantic this time.

"The fuck do they think they're—" Heejin groans in frustration. She wipes the cum and spit from her lips and chin with the back of her arm. "You have to tell whoever that is to fuck off."

"I, uh, yeah." You pull up your boxers, leaving your trousers open, you prepare to peek your head around the door and let the asshole who's ruining the moment know to get lost. You pull it open to just a crack, enough to bark out a bunch of curses, but you're taken aback by what you see:

Yuna.

"Yuna?" You blink a few times, trying to make sure it's not some delusion. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I— uh," Yuna stutters, looking a bit uncomfortable. She takes a deep breath, composes herself, and looks you directly in the eye. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

"Um, now's not a really good time." You glance over your shoulder, and you see Heejin perched on the edge of your bed. Her legs are crossed and her skirt is so far up her leg it's revealing the entirety of one thigh and just a little of her ass. She has her school shirt pulled a bit too low, giving an even better glimpse of her cleavage.

"It won't take a minute," Yuna quickly says. She tries to give you an imploring, and a pleading, look. "Please? I have an offer for you."

"Okay, um." You glance over your shoulder again. Heejin raises her eyebrows, looking amused. You bite your lip.

Yuna is staring at you with as much focus and persistence as she can muster. "I promise my offer is better than hers."

How the fuck do these girls seem to know everything? "Yuna—"

"I know she's in there, don't play dumb."

There's no denying it now, she knows.

"What the fuck are you doing in his room?" Yuna calls out to Heejin.

"Thought that was obvious," Heejin replies from behind you.

"You're—"

"Doing exactly what you wanted to do!" Heejin calls out to interrupt her.

Yuna goes quiet for a second, and then she holds out her hands. "Let me in."

"Yuna, listen, we're kinda in the middle of something," you protest.

"You were. You aren't anymore. I came along and now you have an offer to listen to, right? So let me in." Yuna is insistent. "Now."

You sigh and take a step back to let her pass.

She wastes no time. She walks right past you and into your room, heads straight for Heejin, and glares down at her. "So, is this how you planned to win? Sucking him off? A blowjob? Really?"

Heejin smirks and doesn't seem ashamed. If anything, it almost seems like a challenge.

"Okay. Whatever," Yuna goes on. "We're here now. We're all three together. And—" She turns her head and looks right at you. "—you're choosing one of us. Right here, right now." Yuna drops to her knees, her dark eyes locked onto yours as she pleads through them. She unbuttons her shirt completely and lets it fall off her arms. Underneath is a lingerie bra that holds her full breasts, its fabric thin and mostly see-through. "I'm better than her," she pleads.

There's no shame, no embarrassment. She's offering up her body in the name of competition. Her confidence has outpaced her modesty, and she doesn't care. Her body is on display, and she's daring you to look.

"Not really convincing enough," Heejin says dryly, leaning back, with one eyebrow raised.

You're still reeling—utterly astonished by this whole situation—by how absurd it's become. Everything is escalating so quickly, and your mind can barely keep up. These two beauties are squaring off against each other, a contest of sex to see who gets the status they crave. They both want the valedictorian position. Both students with the best grades and perfect attendance managed to find time to lead school societies and run after-school clubs.

Now, they've come to you for the deciding vote. They are both offering up their bodies, their most valuable assets, to earn it. A bit silly. A strange plan.

There's this mixture of amusement and disgust on Heejin's face as she looks over Yuna. This sort of derisive curl of her lip, combined with a half-hearted roll of her eyes. "Wasn't sure you had it in you, to be honest." She lays back against the bed, adjusting her skirt, letting the hem rise even higher on her legs. "Don't get me wrong, I always had you pegged as a bit of a slut."

Yuna just about manages not to show her outrage. "Yeah? You're the whore spreading her legs."

Heejin gives a small laugh, and again she shrugs and doesn't seem fazed. It's like she's unbothered by the insult like it's little more than a light breeze against her skin. "Just playing the game. Just like you, right?"

"This is crazy," you announce. "If the principal found out you're both in my room—"

"—this stays between the three of us," Heejin says, standing up.

"Yeah," Yuna echoes. She's still on her knees, the straps of her lingerie hanging from her shoulders, the shirt thrown on the floor, her plump breasts bare and exposed. "We don't tell anyone what happens here."

"Fuck," you breathe out. "You're serious."

Both girls nod.

They both want it, and they're prepared to do anything to get it. This rivalry is such a natural part of who they are, and who they've always been. How neither was able to stop the other or to find a better way to resolve things, is all connected back to what they must think is inevitable about themselves. They aren't friends, the two of them. Heejin and Yuna, they also aren't simply just competitors—rivals—those words don't go far enough, to explain their relationship. It's one of such dedication and passion, such pride and achievement, that to have someone matching every accomplishment, every grade, every victory, must drive them mad.

You remember watching a nature program once, something about wildlife, some documentary explaining how two aspiring leaders of a pride ended up locked in a rivalry. Though you can't quite remember all the details, something about a rift forming and how things had spiralled out of control between them. If only there was a way for them to live in harmony, some animal expert would have said at the end of the show, sadly shaking his head.

You look at the two of them. Harmony is a million miles away.

Yuna takes you by the hand, pulling your fingers and inviting you to touch her. Her hands guide yours, moving them over the curve of her breasts, and her soft, warm, skin. Her chest rises and falls steadily under your palm, and you caress her, touch her, cup her. You move one hand up, running over the length of her neck, up her jaw, to her cheeks and her ears. You brush her hair out of the way with your thumb, and she shifts forward. Her dark eyes are staring up at you, and you feel a shock run through your body.

"I swear I'm so much better than her," Yuna promises, in the quietest voice you've ever heard. It's soft, but there's also an intensity to it, a persistence like a raindrop hitting stone. "Trust me."

Pursed lips near the tip of your cock. Yuna's warm breath kisses the tip. She moves her tongue up, licking across your head. She's different to Heejin, more tentative, slower, and focused entirely on the feeling. Her touch is more gentle, less ferocious and domineering. When she takes you into her mouth, you can feel the sensation of her carefully tracing your length with the tip of her tongue, coiling you up inside, making you tingle, sparks coursing through your spine.

Yuna is watching you closely, her gaze not straying from your face for one second, as if she's so eager to see your reactions to her touch. Her gaze is focused, and intense, and she appears satisfied with how you're enjoying yourself. It feels incredible. Something about the eye contact, her attentive and focused style, and the way her lips glide up and down with pure reverence, is driving you crazy.

Heejin is behind you, trying to draw your attention. One of her arms wraps around your torso, her hand stroking across your front, exploring and exploring, her fingernails dragging over you in teasing lines. The heat of her breath hits your ear, hot enough to make you shiver, and you suddenly feel her bite your lobe. She knows where to attack, and she starts raining kisses along the side of your neck. Small nips and nibbles. Up to your jaw, tracing lines of heat along your skin. On your ear, her soft, red lips, suckling, her teeth leave little marks. When she sees your eyes are still on Yuna, a throaty, husky, disapproving purr in your ear. "Oh no you don't. Pay attention to me."

Her slender fingers tug at your jaw, turning you towards her. Kisses rain down on your mouth, not satisfied until her lips are plastered across yours. She strokes the tip of her tongue across your own, inviting you to taste, to explore. Her kiss makes you quiver inside, almost melting you, making every part of you tremble and weaken.

But it's when Yuna caresses you further, her hands finding your ass and grabbing tight, dragging your cock deep into her throat. The sound that erupts from you only spurs her on further.

You hear Heejin murmur quietly into your ear while running her hand through your hair, "Enjoying this?"

You swallow, taking a moment to compose yourself. You open your mouth to speak, only for your tongue to trip over an answer.

"I'm sure she's great and all," Heejin continues, "but you want the best, right?" She plants another kiss on your mouth, giving you a tempting taste, and keeping you close. "You must miss how much better I am."

Yuna's efforts begin to escalate, hearing the conversation continue. Determination has been written over her face. Now, however, her eyes dart up to glare at her competitor. It's cute, seeing how hard she's trying.

Heejin slips one of her hands under Yuna's cheek, her nails scratching lightly, scraping down her chin. She hooks them underneath and guides the girl's head, forcing Yuna's movement to stop. You can feel the subtle vibrations of Yuna letting out an annoyed groan.

"I bet you're not even close, are you? You can't cum from this, right?" Heejin's voice is soft and saccharine, dripping with mock sincerity.

"You're trying to piss her off," you point out.

"Good," Heejin drawls. "Does it piss her off, knowing that it's me who can finish the job?"

A frustrated Yuna ducks her head free from Heejin and takes you back into her mouth, starting anew, trying to prove something to someone. She's different now, you notice. Feistier, and more insistent. No more gentle, careful movements. She's moved on from worship, now charging through to ravish. She takes you hard, quickly, and thoroughly. There is an unrelenting pace to her. No patience, no playing, just the relentless need to do. She pulls and pushes, pressing and sucking, burying her nose at the base.

You wince at the heat, the slickness, how her tongue now massages you as her lips firmly embrace you. She's gripping hard at your ass, driving you onto her tongue. The warmth of her breath against your flesh is impossible to ignore. Hot breaths, soft and humid, leave goosebumps on your skin.

This new attitude has gotten the better of you. You can't help but give in. Threads of pleasure entwine up the length of your spine, each sharp twist of Yuna's mouth drawing the sweetest song out of you. Heejin has stolen your voice as a chorus is crawling up your throat, and you can barely hope to keep it down.

There's no stopping you, the finish is inevitable. You move to pull out, to stop yourself, yet Yuna swallows around you in response, taking you deeper into her waiting throat. Not a hint of an intention to let go. No, Yuna refuses to stop until you've emptied every single drop inside.

Heejin still won't relent, either. She kisses a constellation on your shoulder, up the side of your neck, her sweet caresses are lingering, teasing your flesh, dancing fingertips that burn in the best way. It doesn't do anything to soothe the tension inside.

You fill her mouth, flooding her with thick ropes. You can't imagine what it might feel like, all that hot fluid sliding down into her stomach. Once, then twice, then a third time, you spill inside, shuddering and groaning in release.

Yuna drags a heavy breath. It's not even over, as she's already trying to take you deeper. "Mm," Yuna moans, her voice trembling. She nuzzles forward, eagerly coaxing what's left, accepting the remaining throbs against her tongue, swallowing when she has to. You shiver at how she seems so hungry for every drop, her strength only seems to grow the more she drinks. She finally lets you out of her mouth with a pop and flashes a grin.

"So nice of her to finish what I started," Heejin quips and Yuna glares at her. "After I did all the work."

"Maybe you should've finished the job instead of talking shit," Yuna throws back.

Heejin tilts her head a little. "I have much better ideas. Want to see?" She smirks.

Heejin sits on the edge of your desk, reaching out to take your hand. She presses your palm to her chest, just above her breast, her uniform top exposing a tantalizing window of skin.

You look at her. Her eyes. The shape of her face, the sharp lines of her jaw, the elegant arch of her brows, the curve of her nose. The pretty rosy tint in her cheeks. Then her mouth. Her bitten lips, the long neck, the exposed part of her chest. Heejin knows how to pull you in.

Your mind is blank, just fixated on her, how gorgeous she looks. She's pulling open her shirt, unbuttoning it, unhooking her bra. She's undressing, putting herself on display, only for you. It's entrancing.

Her body is perfect, lean and toned, the sculpted muscle and firm curves making her look like a piece of art. Beautiful. Then her legs, perfect thighs, the muscles not too built, but trim and taut, soft to the touch.

She bunches her skirt at her waist, exposing her panties, those small scraps of silken fabric, almost see-through, the threads clinging to the contours of her hips and the mound between her legs. Heejin draws her hand there, exploring the smooth cloth, the delicate lingerie highlighting the body underneath.

She slips her thumb below the edge of the fabric, her fingers following, before she peels them down her legs, shuffling them past her thighs and her knees and kicking them off her feet. Her bare skin is tantalizing, her body like a vision of unknown riches. "Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice pure silk.

"What the fuck?" It's Yuna's exclamation, and the shock inside it, which makes you tear your gaze away. She is sitting on the floor, in her dishevelled uniform, pieces of clothing half-unbuttoned and hanging off her. "Is there a limit? How far are you going to go?"

"I told you, I have ideas," Heejin emphasises the plurality. She's completely unabashed, and without hesitation, she pulls you by the scruff of your shirt, towards her. A handful of you, drawing you between her legs, and then laying her lips on your skin. Traces of kisses on your chest, the brush of her tongue, her lips, her teeth. Words spoken against your body with hot breath, "Don't mind her. Enjoy me, instead."

It's like being drawn into the ocean. Heejin is pulling you in. Her serenity becomes calming and comforting, and there's no way to escape the feeling. She locks her legs around your hips, her hands grasping and caressing you. Nails digging into your skin and trailing along it. Each pull and tug on you is possessive. You run your hands over her skin. Soft thigh, plump breast, toned waist. Each part is addictive, and you can't decide which to take. You caress her face, running your hand over her cheek, letting her dark eyes shine with affection as she smiles, lifting her head to steal a kiss.

Yuna, the frustrated voyeur, can only watch as you grind yourself against Heejin, rubbing yourself along the sodden line between her legs. With each pass, her fluids cover the tip, smearing them and soaking the end. Each roll gets harder to fight, your instincts telling you to rush the heat into something more.

"There we go," Heejin murmurs. "No need to rush. Take your time. Enjoy me," she insists, encouraging you, "and I can show you just how much I can please you."

Tender. Gentle. This isn't some quick fuck, this is Heejin spoiling you. Worship, desire, lust. Each glance into her eyes sends a bolt of thrill into your gut, and your length continues to swell. Your mind becomes more and more intoxicated with each fresh coat, your cock aching, slowly and frustratingly sinking into her. You hold her thighs, lift them, and drag her closer. She squeaks with your grip, her body shuddering with one steady breath. "Mm, yes," she groans.

"Take me," she begs, and it's a plea that you simply cannot resist. A shuddering sigh of her pleasure at last releases, her head tilting back in an agonising cry. You slide as deep as you can go. No. Deeper. Your pace is agonising. Too slow. Far, far too slow. You grind into her, taking every chance to relish how her body clenches around you.

You know why she's doing this. Why she wants you to focus on her and forget about the other girl in the room. Why she wants to convince you, with every stroke of your cock inside, that she's the one who deserves it most. Yuna might have made you climax, but Heejin? Heejin has you mesmerised. Every twitch of her inner walls against you feels exquisite. Addictive. You want nothing more than to plunge into her again and again, desperate to take it all, all the wet, wonderful friction. Your grip on her hips tightens, holding her close as your bodies collide.

Yuna lets out a sound of frustration and disappointment. Her lips hang parted, unable to believe what she's seeing, gazing on as you are slowly overtaken. The two of you panting. Squeaking gasps from Heejin. Your own groans and grunts. Yuna mutters something, glaring daggers into the pair of you, though her words don't fully register in your mind.

"Mmm..." Heejin breathes, and with another squeeze, she guides your hands up to her chest. You massage her breasts, tracing shapes around her nipples. Your fingers trail and play and press, cupping and squeezing and massaging. Heejin melts into you, gasping for air, her body tingling. She moans a long, languid sigh of bliss, then bites down on her bottom lip.

The motions are so languid, every instant stretching out forever. Heejin's petite body feels so tender beneath you, so pliable. Like it was designed to be adored. Your every thrust is answered by hers, your bodies coming together as one.

When Heejin's fingernails dig into your shoulder blades, urging you closer, you grab her face. You tilt it upward, toward you. Her dark brown eyes meet yours.

Then her body shivers, quakes, stiffens, and spasms. The tight, squeezing depths within her constrict, compressing you. She holds onto you even harder than before. Her teeth bite down on her lip. A yelp turns into a whimper, which turns into a silent cry until all the sensations inside seem to boil over. She writhes in orgasm, her body racked by waves of euphoria, unable to control her reaction. She clings tightly, and the waves of ecstasy ripple outwards, travelling throughout her entire frame. Even her voice is distorted. Her breath catches and she quivers, gasping loudly. She struggles, her grip on you tightening, her body twisting and contorting as she shakes violently.

And you would be excused for thinking that would be it. That her delicate little body could take no more.

But you would be wrong.

She's snaking her fingers into your hair, drawing you to her as she falls flat against the desk. You're over her now. You're fucking her, down against the wood of the desk, nails digging into her thighs. She writhes and whines beneath you, her pants unashamed and delightfully arousing, her red face begging for more.

She's beautiful. All long limbs, dark eyes, soft skin, the supple flesh yielding under your rough treatment.

"Give me everything you've got," she taunts, and she's about to say more, it's on the tip of her tongue, but when you hook her leg and pull it over your shoulder, it cuts off her next retort, and suddenly the only sounds in the room are those of pleasure.

Faster, harder. Heejin has shown off enough, flaunting the kind of sexual prowess you never expected from the quiet girl who always sat at the front of the class.

Then again, it's always the quiet ones...

Yuna's still here. Watching. Enthralled, but also furious. Her hands clutch her skirt, balling the fabric in her fists. She wants to march over to the two of you and kick Heejin aside. She wants to scream her frustrations and push the interloper out of the way. And she wants you to fuck her the same way you did Heejin, so you can compare and find her superior.

Her fists clench to leave bloody crescents in her palm, teeth grit hard and grind. It's not jealousy, Yuna would deny it. She's never been jealous of anything Heejin does or has, because Yuna's always had what she needs and then some. Except tonight.

"Fuck you both!" She declares, indignant, but the pair of you pay her no heed.

And that only infuriates Yuna more.

"I'll report the two of you. This is fucked up!"

Even as you pound her, Heejin has just enough presence to dismiss her with a laugh inter-laden into her moans. "Report yourself for sucking him off, too."

There's nothing else she can say, no barbed insults or derisive statements she can fling at either of you. So she grabs her shirt off the floor and leaves in a huff. The sound of the slamming door rings through the room, like the period to a sentence.

It just allows you and Heejin to go even harder.

Soon the world closes in around you. Only the thumping desk remains, only the frantic rhythm of your bodies pounding against each other, only her tiny moans, muffled into the crease of her elbow, only her clenching pussy as she convulses, trembling. Her tight, warm walls flutter as they enclose your cock, milking every inch, rippling in rhythmic spasms.

You need a moment. To take a breath, gather your thoughts. You're nearly spent, so you change your tact.

You pull her from the desk and turn her to its edge. "I like the way you think," she coos, then sprawls herself against it. Her chest pressed against the wood. Her cute little ass presented in all its glory, begging for attention. It fits into your palms like perfection. Each soft cheek moulds itself to you, filling up your grip perfectly. She squirms a bit, enticingly, pushing her hips backwards against you as if she's afraid you might lose interest.

You enter her once more.

A squeak leaves her lips. It's so adorable. Cute. But also hot as fuck.

Tight body, tight cunt. A tiny little thing, yet somehow able to withstand your assault. Her slender frame jolts with the impact of each thrust.

You slap against her flesh, sending ripples through her skin. Her cute butt. The arch of her back. You grab her there, at the waist—that slutty little waist—and hold onto her tightly while you sink inside. Over and over. Relentless.

She twists, her nails dragging across the desk's surface, scrambling for purchase. Her eyes roll back and her legs buckle, a hoarse wail breaking from her throat. She looks like she's possessed, her features drawn into an ecstatic rictus. She cries out as the sensations overwhelm her. You can feel it happening. Since her unravelling.

"Yes, fuck," Heejin sputters. "Give me what I want."

And you don't know exactly what she means by that. Is it your cock or is it the title, but who are you to complain?

Then it comes, rushing at you like a tidal wave. You fall down on top of her, her delicate body straining underneath you. "Cum," she whimpers.

So you pin her there, under you, and empty yourself inside her. Your whole body sings, shaking uncontrollably as you unload.

"How was it?" Heejin giggles. "To fuck the future valedictorian?" Asked with the confidence that it was a foregone conclusion.

-

Decision day comes. It's been two days since you finished inside Heejin as a form of agreement, and two days since you last spoke to Yuna. It's all hostile stares and annoyed mutterings.

You feel bad. The fact that this whole thing devolved into some sordid exchange of sexual favours really gnaws at you. It doesn't sit well. You knew Yuna liked you, she never kept it a secret. In fact, it's cute that she was trying so hard to impress you. It all felt a little earnest, compared to Heejin's ruthless manner.

You've woken this morning with a conclusion that is quite frankly the easy way out. Yuna hasn't tried to argue it, she just keeps her scowl and glares from afar, like you're the antichrist. Meanwhile, Heejin gives a satisfied smile whenever you look her way.

At least this madness will end. You'll see your father today, give him the decision, and forget all of this, or try your hardest to.

First, you need to get out of bed, though, throw off these duvet covers and stand. Stretching gives some relief to the back, and it perks you up. A shower, breakfast, and some coffee—the standard routine. After that, it's clean clothes and a walk to the office.

That's how it should be, anyway.

You're still in only your underwear when there's a knock on your door.

"Give me a minute! Hang on," you call.

The doorknob rattles but doesn't open. Then there's the hammering of a palm against the wood. Impatient. Persistent. Another rattle of the doorknob.

You concede. Wearing nothing more than your underwear, you poke your head around the door and peek out of the opening.

There, arms folded, impatient foot tapping the floor, is Yuna. "I need to talk to you," she says, brow furrowed and serious.

"What's—"

Yuna tries to push the door but your body is blocking it.

"Yuna, I need a minute to—"

"—we need to talk." Her tone is urgent and agitated. She's not angry, exactly.

You relent. This sounds important. Maybe you've misjudged things. "Okay, okay, come in."

"Finally," she sighs, stepping past you and heading straight for the chair by the desk.

As you shut the door, she turns her gaze onto you. The intensity of her eyes, the depth, like swirling galaxies within a cloudless night sky.

"Yuna... I didn't think you wanted to see me, not after everything that happened."

"Yeah, I've thought a lot about that actually," she tells you. Her eyes don't leave you, roaming across your body. "We both wanted the same thing, but Heejin got there first. Today's the day, isn't it? Decision day. Your dad's going to want an answer." She's wearing her uniform again, freshly pressed, the white blouse starched and stiff, the skirt just skimming her knees.

"I was going to head over soon, actually."

"So it's not too late?"

"Too late for?"

"One final twist." Yuna reaches up to loosen the tie of her blouse. One by one, she starts working her way through the buttons, popping each one through the buttonholes. "How about we revisit the competition?"

"You can't be serious?" You ask, but you watch as she slips the shirt off her arms. Then she's reaching to undo the catch of her bra—soft blue lace cupping her full breasts. She peels the cups down and flicks the bra aside, revealing her perfect chest.

"I'm deadly serious." Yuna stands.

The arousal rises in you quickly, and you can feel yourself getting hard. There's no hiding it, and Yuna notices immediately, a smirk breaking across her pretty face. Yuna takes the opportunity, steps closer, and plants a palm against your abdomen. She trails her fingers down to trace the outline of your cock against your boxers, the thin material not hiding anything. A small laugh.

"There we go, now you're paying attention." She wraps her fingers around you through the material. It's electrifying, having her touch you like this. Her hands are small and delicate, but her grip is firm. She moves her palm up and down, stroking you gently and enticing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, the tension growing as she plays with your dick. "Yuna..." you manage, your heart pounding, your palms clammy.

"Do you like that?" she teases, her thumb brushing across the tip of your head through the cloth.

All you can do is nod, your mind hazy with lust, your legs weak. She grins, a predatory twinkle in her eye. She moves forward, pushing you backwards onto the bed, your legs buckling under the surprise assault. You land flat on your back, and Yuna looks down at you.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asks as she pushes her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. She slips it down, revealing her matching blue panties.

"Yeah?" you reply, unable to keep your gaze off her body.

"I've always kinda had a thing for you," she admits, "and it's kind of annoying that it takes some stupid shit like this for me to say something. But I've also kinda hated that Heejin got a hold of you, like, in a weird way, she won because she was braver than me."

"Braver? What does that have to do with—"

"—she wasn't scared to let you fuck her," Yuna interrupts. She steps forward until she's standing above you. "Guess what?" Her question is rhetorical. She hooks her fingers into her underwear and slips them down her smooth thighs. "It's my turn."

She's beautiful. Flawless skin, toned muscles, and perfect curves. Every detail of her is meticulously crafted, like a sculpture by an old master. It's hard not to stare. Your eyes are fixed on hers as she crawls onto the bed. The mattress dips, and you shuffle up the sheets, unsure where to put yourself as she straddles you.

"Look all you want." Yuna lowers herself down. She places her palms against your chest, pinning you, and lowers down further. You feel a warm heat press itself against your groin. The wetness soaking into the fabric. She begins to slowly grind herself against you, rubbing herself against your erection. "Have I ever told you about my dance classes?" she asks with a smirk, her hips swaying back and forth. She grinds herself against you in a rhythmic, slow, pattern, and the sensation is so intense and pleasurable that you groan. "I'm really good with my hips. Really good."

Yuna keeps going, her body swaying and grinding, and your underwear grows wetter. It's torturously good, the friction from her pussy, the wet heat against your length. It's impressive to watch the way her body rolls, the precision, the control.

Eventually, she slows, smiling slyly. Her fingers trace their way down your abdomen, down your stomach, and hook into the waistband of your boxers. With a slight tug, she pulls them down, freeing your hardness from its confines. She leans forward again, positioning herself above you, ready to descend.

This feels a little unreal. You never expected it to happen, nor did you ever expect her to be this assertive. "Yuna..."

"Relax," she says, lowering herself. She holds you in place. "Honestly, even if you still choose Heejin later, I won't care. I just needed to do this."

Then she lets gravity drop her and there's a sudden pressure around your length, her warmth encasing you, her muscles wrapping around you. Her head tips back slightly and her expression softens as she exhales. The feeling is incredible, and your groans echo hers. The tightness around your cock, the warmth and moistness, and the sight of her perfect naked form on top of you.

Yuna wastes no time, she lifts herself, rolling her hips up, and then slides back down. Her breathing becomes louder, more ragged. You reach out to grab her, your hands instinctively moving to her sides to pull her down into you. She welcomes the grip, biting her lower lip as you pull her into you, her breath coming in quick bursts.

"Does that feel good?" she asks, her voice husky, her body rocking against you.

"It feels amazing," you reply, your hands roaming up to squeeze her breasts.

A soft laugh escapes her as she shifts her weight back and forth, riding you, controlling the rhythm and pace. She's practised and precise like every movement is part of a well-rehearsed routine. "Better than Heejin?" she asks.

"You're incredible," you gasp, grabbing her tighter. The words seem to spur her on further, and she picks up speed. Each movement sends a ripple of pleasure through your body. She's in complete control, dictating the pace, deciding how deep, how hard, and how fast. You've given yourself completely over to her, allowing her to use you as she wants, to ride you however she pleases.

"That's good," she hums, picking up her pace. "I'll do my best for you."

She shifts again, leaning back slightly, changing the angle. She bounces, her breasts swaying with every rise and fall. She has found the perfect spot. "Oh fuck yes!" you hiss, your hands grasping at her thighs and body arching upwards.

"Mmmm," she moans, picking up the tempo. She's riding you now, fast and hard, sweat forming on her brow. "Fuck!" Her curse is rare, strange coming from her mouth, but it's welcome, especially as it's followed by her panting harder.

The room is filled with the sounds of slapping skin and heavy breaths. The air is thick with the scent of sex. You're both sweating, grunting, panting.

As great of a spectacle, as breathtaking a sight, she is, it's a constant struggle. You get so close to bursting into her, only for her to feel it coming, take a moment of pause, slow to a grind and adjust her position again, denying you of an ending. She's teasing you, playing you, keeping you on edge.

You want nothing more than to throw her down, kneel behind her and rail her until you cum deep into her, to hold her tight while you fill her up. Yet, despite how easily you could, how simple it would be to move her and shove her to the bed and do whatever you wanted, you can't do it. Something about watching her is mesmerising, and you can't take your eyes away. You watch her move, how her muscles flex with each rock and roll, how her breasts jiggle and shake with each bounce, how her head tilts back, her eyelids flutter and how her teeth bite on her bottom lip. The sight is far too powerful, far too thrilling, to break away from.

It must be plastered all over your face, the need, because she says, "You can't cum inside, it's not safe, but," and she gives that wicked smile once again, "I have an idea." She drags herself off of you, and then she turns around and bends over, facing away from you, exposing herself, her pussy soaked and glistening. You get the picture.

Then she hits her own ass. An open-palmed slap right across it, making the supple flesh ripple, a red mark stinging bright on her otherwise pale complexion. "Like what you see?" Yuna coos.

"Absolutely," you reply.

She sways her hips side-to-side, a small enticement. "Good." She lowers her hips, settling her cheeks on either side of your cock. Her hand pulls you between them, and as she shakes her ass side to side, Yuna lets out a satisfied chuckle. Then she begins to move, back and forth, sliding you between her cheeks. She grips and squeezes you tightly, using her own ass as a toy.

There's something raw and dirty about it. The way she rubs you with her cheeks, squeezing and pressing you into the cleft between them. Her skin is smooth and silky, her ass perfectly round and perky. It's intoxicating—addictive. Every time she squeezes, you feel that build-up inside you grow hotter. A boiling sensation, searing through your veins. It feels so good, but it's still not enough. You want more.

Yuna knows this isn't enough, and there's only one thing you would wish for her to do next. She pushes her hand between her legs, taking hold of your shaft firmly. Then, slowly, deliberately, she spreads her buttocks with one hand while guiding you between them with the other. The anticipation builds until she finally presses your cockhead against her asshole.

It's tight. Very, very tight. There's some initial resistance as she tries to force herself down onto you, but she's patient. Slow. Inch by inch, she sinks downwards. Soon, the tip of your cock slips into her, causing her to groan in discomfort, biting down on her lip to keep quiet, but she refuses to stop.

You can only watch as she draws your cock into her ass, stretching and adjusting to fit. She gasps, her eyes wide, her expression contorted. She takes a moment to collect herself, before sinking even further, taking more of you into her ass. You marvel at how her tight hole stretches to accommodate you. You've never felt anything like this before; the tightness is unlike any other sensation.

As Yuna continues to sink down, she begins to shudder with pain and discomfort. She's struggling. You place your hand on her ass, rubbing and caressing it, encouraging her. Yuna lets out a long breath, her head hanging down, sweat dripping from her brow. You're barely halfway in but she's rocking her hips and groaning.

"I want you to cum inside," she whispers, her voice hoarse, almost desperate, looking over her shoulder. Her back is arched where her waist narrows, the definition in her muscles more pronounced from the effort.

"You sure?" you ask, gripping her hips tightly.

She nods frantically, her hair falling into her face. Her hands grip the bedsheets tightly. She pushes herself down, finding a rhythm, pushing and pulling. You help, using your grip to guide her, but you're careful not to hurt her. She starts to pick up speed, working herself up and down, taking more and more of you into her with each pass.

It's intense, watching her work, seeing her concentrate so hard. Eventually she relaxes, her body less tense. She's adjusted to the sensation now, getting used to having you buried in her, and she seems to enjoy it. You find yourself lost in the beauty of her body, her slim figure, her narrow waist, her taut ass and toned thighs, the way she moves with such purpose and grace. Even under stress, her poise shines through.

She begins to move faster, rocking her hips, pulling you deeper into her ass. Her movements become smoother and more fluid. Each time she sinks down onto you, she groans loudly. She's loving it, her eyes closed, her mouth open in strained pleasure. You hear her muttering things under her breath, like "Yes" and "fuck." Each time she says it, you can't help but smile. She's really enjoying herself. You love the sound of it.

Her walls cling to you tightly, her tight hole squeezing you firmly. Every time she rocks her hips, it sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building, pulsing, and growing, until finally, your muscles clench. She grunts in exertion, her arms straining, her body trembling, and you grip her ass hard enough to mark her fair skin with fingerprints.

You hold her in place and you cum. Your dick spasms within her, filling her with hot liquid. You groan loudly as your hips buck wildly beneath her, spilling deep inside. The pleasure surges through every fibre of your being. When you're finally spent, you collapse back onto the bed. You're completely drained. Exhausted. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving, trying desperately to catch your breath.

Yuna is quick to join you, "That was so hot," she pants.

She doesn't say much else, catching her breath. While you're lost in the stars you're seeing, she rolls onto her side and brushes a stray hair from your face. It's affectionate and cute. Soft. Her dark eyes search yours and a playful smile appears on her lips. She reaches out to touch your cheek, tracing its curves before moving to stroke your chin.

"I meant it. I don't care if you still choose Heejin," she murmurs, the satisfaction evident in her voice. Her touch is light, tickling and tingling on your skin, like she's admiring a fine piece of art.

-

The question inevitably comes, with casual ease, the coffee mug halfway to your lips(where it pauses while you ponder). You take a sip, then place the cup down. A look into his eyes, and you give a simple answer.

"Good choice," he nods, offering no sincerity. Just a solemn acknowledgement. "Will be a nice ceremony. You should wear something smart." There's that nod again, dismissive. He puts his reading glasses on and peers back at his documents. More scribbles. As if the whole thing was nothing.

[helen-with-an-a]

Hi, if I may request!

Barca team x teen reader [19] where R has started dating someone, maybe older then her by a year or so but decided not to tell the team because they can be -Too scary- and scare her girlfriend off but they figure it out after they see R out with the Girl, multiple times.

And after one of the matches they catch them before R could Leave and decide to give R's girlfriend 'The Talk' but like she's not scared and actually wins them over.

Change whatever you'd like :) Thank you!

I've changed this slightly but I think the concept is still the same. I wanted to make it someone within the team and I went with Patri because ... she's Patri. They don't have the talk in the conventional sense but I think its still good. I think this is kinda cute but also kinda funny. I hope you enjoy.

Older

Patri Guijarro x Reader; Barça Femeni x Reader

Description: Patri and R are concerned that the team will disapprove of their relationship. Who would have thought they would be exposed by a bra?

Word Count: 3.7k

You were 20 years old, and it was vital to emphasise this detail. Despite your age, which indicated that you were fully capable of managing your own affairs and making responsible decisions, the team often seemed to overlook it. This was especially apparent in interactions involving your partners.

Your personal preferences were well-defined. You had a particular type when it came to attraction, and it was almost a given that older women would capture your interest. In bustling, dimly lit clubs, your eyes would naturally seek out women who had a few more years of life experience, particularly those with dark hair. The dynamic of your attraction was often reciprocal – any older brunette who showed even the faintest sign of interest in you would frequently end up being the one to take you home after a night out. This pattern, though seemingly casual, was a significant part of your social interactions and personal experiences.

That was until Patri caught your eye. You weren’t quite sure what shifted in you, but something was undeniably different. You had known her for well over a year at this point, but until now, she had always been a teammate, a friend. Maybe it was the alcohol, loosening the usual boundaries and inhibitions. Maybe it was the way she smiled at you with an easy grace as you handed her another drink, her eyes holding a warmth that made you feel seen. Or maybe it was the way she kept glancing at your lips as you sang along to some song whose lyrics you only half understood, her gaze lingering in a way that made your heart race.

It was during a brief hiatus from international commitments, a period when the usual whirlwind of club games came to a halt. You were dealing with a minor injury that kept you off the field, and Patri … she didn’t answer her call ups anymore. You had started the evening with the other teammates who were also free from international obligations. The night had begun with light-hearted conversations and the clinking of glasses, but it quickly evolved into something more intense. As the night wore on, you found yourself gravitating toward Patri. The connection you felt with her seemed to intensify with each shared drink and every stolen glance. The casual flirtation of earlier in the evening became more charged, more electric.

Before long, you ended up underneath Patri, her nimble fingers leading you to the brink of pleasure again and again. The way she touched you, with a mix of tenderness and urgency, was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It felt like a dance of its own – a rhythm that resonated with something deep inside you. For her, it might have seemed like just another one-night stand, a fleeting moment of passion with someone she had always seen as a friend and teammate.

Yet, beneath the surface, Patri was grappling with her own emotions. Was it risky to cross that line with someone she worked closely with, someone she would have to face day in and day out after this? Absolutely. But the way her heart soared when you smiled at her, the way your touch made her feel alive in a way that no one else had before, was impossible to ignore. In those moments, when the world outside seemed to fade away and it was just the two of you, the usual concerns and boundaries seemed insignificant compared to the intensity of what she was feeling.

As the night drew to a close, and the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, the two of you lay together, breaths mingling and hearts still racing. The aftermath of such an encounter left both of you in a state of introspection. For you, it was a realisation that the connection with Patri went beyond mere attraction – it was something deeper, something that had the potential to redefine the dynamics of your relationship with her. For Patri, it was an unexpected awakening, a challenge to her preconceived notions of friendship and romance.

You had entered her bed one night, and never left. The following more … well, more like early afternoon … she found you at her stove top, your hair piled up on top of your head, one of her t-shirts covering your body. You had presented her with a pile of pancakes, made with a secret family recipe that she had tried to coerce out of you with the promises of going back to her bedroom. The day had bled slowly into the night and once again, you were wrapped up in her arms. It was a cycle that neither of you wanted to end.

You had both agreed that you would not be sharing this particular development with the team. She was well aware of the overprotective nature of some members, and she quite valued her life. You had laughed, a musical sound that made Patri’s heart flutter before agreeing to whatever she wanted.

That didn’t stop the team from prying though.

Alexia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she was certain that something was different about you. There was an unusual, almost otherworldly glow surrounding you, a gentle radiance that seemed to emanate from within. It was as though you carried a secret warmth that made you stand out from everyone else.

Your smile, too, had changed. Where it once had been rare and fleeting, you now wore a soft, almost perpetual smile that seemed to touch every aspect of your demeanour. It was as if you had discovered a new layer of contentment or joy that was reflected in your constant, serene expression.

You were always on the quieter side during training; the pressure to perform well and the worry of constant scrutiny were always on your mind. But lately, there was a noticeable shift. The intense focus and anxiety that had once characterised your approach seemed to have softened. You approached your training sessions with a newfound ease and confidence, as if you had found a balance between your inner strength and outer performance. It was almost as if the weight of expectation had lifted, allowing you to focus more on the joy of the practice itself rather than just the results.

Outside the walls of the training ground, however, the transformation was even more striking. You always had a level of confidence to you, but it was still reserved. But now exuded a vibrant energy that matched the exuberance of Cata or Pina. Your laughter was more frequent, your conversations more animated. You were more willing to join in on spontaneous adventures and social gatherings, embracing life with a zeal that was both infectious and heartwarming.

“Something is different with Nena,” Alexia announced to Mapí and Ingrid. Her voice carried a note of curiosity, mingled with the faintest trace of concern.

Mapí glanced up from the book she was pretending to read, her brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean? She seems fine to me. Maybe even better than fine – she’s been in a great mood lately."

Ingrid, who had been stretching on the floor, paused mid-stretch and looked over at Alexia with a thoughtful expression. "I noticed it too. She's... different. Calmer, maybe? Happier, for sure."

Alexia nodded, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed as she considered her next words. "It's not just that she's happier. It's like she's changed on a deeper level. She used to be so on edge during training, always overthinking, stressing out. But now... I don’t know, she’s just glowing. She’s more confident, more open. And have you seen how she’s interacting with people? It's like she's suddenly unlocked this whole new part of herself."

Mapí closed her book, giving up the pretence. "Yeah, she's been more involved lately. She used to stay quiet or just follow along with whatever we were doing, but now she’s right there with us, cracking jokes, coming up with ideas. It’s like she’s finally letting herself have fun."

Ingrid nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's a good change, though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this relaxed. Whatever it is, it seems to be working for her."

Alexia sighed, though it was more of a release of tension than a sign of worry. "I know, I’m happy for her. But I can’t help wondering what brought this on. It’s like she’s had some kind of breakthrough, and I just wish I knew what it was."

“Brought what on?” Patri asked, coming to stand next to the trio.

“Nena is different,” Alexia answered. Patri froze, her eyes widening imperceptibly. Shit, did they know?

For a split second, Patri’s mind raced. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, to not let the panic she felt bubbling up inside show on her face. Had they somehow discovered the secret you had been carefully keeping? Or was this just idle curiosity, a harmless observation?

She forced herself to take a slow, steadying breath before speaking. "Different how?" Patri asked, hoping her voice sounded as casual as she intended.

Mapí leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Patri. "She’s just... more relaxed, more confident. Like something has shifted in her. It’s a good thing, we’re just curious about what might have caused it."

Patri nodded slowly, her mind scrambling for a plausible explanation. She knew she had to tread carefully; one wrong word, and the others might start asking questions that neither she nor you were ready to answer.

"Maybe she’s just finally found her groove," Patri suggested, hoping to steer the conversation in a more benign direction. "You know how it is – sometimes everything just clicks, and you start feeling more comfortable in your own skin."

Ingrid seemed to consider this, nodding slightly. "Yeah, that makes sense. She’s been working really hard, so maybe she’s just more confident now that she’s seeing the results."

Alexia, however, wasn’t entirely convinced. "Maybe. But it feels like more than that. Like there’s something else going on. I just hope she knows she can talk to us if she needs to."

Patri’s heart pounded in her chest, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "I’m sure she does. We’re all close, and she knows we’ve got her back."

Mapí leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with Patri’s explanation. "Yeah, you’re probably right. Whatever it is, I’m glad she’s doing well. She deserves to be happy."

"Oh please, you guys cannot be that dense," Cata interrupted. "She’s having regular sex."

The room went silent for a moment as Cata’s blunt statement hung in the air. Patri’s breath caught in her throat, and she fought to keep her face from betraying the shock coursing through her. She hadn’t anticipated this turn, and her mind scrambled for a way to deflect the situation.

Mapí’s eyes widened in surprise, and Ingrid nearly choked on her water, sputtering as she tried to recover. Alexia blinked, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to process what Cata had just said. "What? Are you serious?" Alexia finally managed to say, her tone a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

Cata leaned back, folding her arms across her chest with a smirk. "Come on, it’s the most obvious explanation. The glow, the relaxed attitude, the sudden confidence – classic signs. Trust me, I’ve seen it before."

Ingrid shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. "But who? When? How do you know?"

Cata shrugged nonchalantly. "I don’t know the details, but I know what I’m seeing. It’s not rocket science."

Alexia still looked skeptical, but she couldn’t completely dismiss Cata’s theory. "I mean... I guess it’s possible," she said slowly, glancing over at Patri, who was doing her best to appear unfazed. "But surely she would tell us?"

“I don’t tell you when I have regular sex,” Cata replied with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Ew,” Mapí muttered, wrinkling her nose, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. The tension in the room eased slightly as the conversation took on a more teasing tone.

“Besides, you guys can be pretty scary when you want to be,” Cata continued, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Remember when Jana brought Jill to one of the Champions League matches? You nearly bit her head off.”

Ingrid snorted, unable to hide her amusement. "That was different! We were just... protective."

"Protective?" Cata shot back, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically interrogating her, asking all those questions like you were her older sisters or something. If I were her, I’d be a little hesitant to bring anyone around you guys too."

Alexia opened her mouth to argue but then stopped, realising that Cata might have a point. They were a tight-knit group, and while that closeness brought comfort and support, it could also be intimidating, especially when it came to personal matters like relationships.

Patri took the opportunity to steer the conversation further away from any potential landmines. "Cata’s right, though. We can be a bit much sometimes. Maybe she’s just enjoying this part of her life privately, and that’s okay. We don’t have to know every detail."

Mapí sighed, nodding reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess. I just hope she knows we’d be happy for her, no matter what."

"We’re just being nosy, as usual," Ingrid added with a chuckle. "But we should probably let her come to us if she wants to share."

Cata nodded in agreement, her playful demeanour softening slightly. "Exactly. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters."

You and Patri had been relatively successful at keeping your relationship quiet. It helped that you already lived in the same building, making it easy to slip in and out of each other's apartments without drawing too much attention. The close quarters provided the perfect cover – no one thought twice about seeing you together at odd hours or spending time in each other's spaces. It was just what friends did.

Patri’s naturally tactile nature also played a significant role in keeping suspicions at bay. She was always affectionate with everyone, always the one to throw an arm around a teammate, pull someone into a quick hug, or casually rest her head on a shoulder during team meetings. Her easygoing, physical approach to friendship meant that no one batted an eye when she touched you – no one suspected that her touches lingered just a little longer, or that her gaze softened whenever she looked at you.

This façade had worked well for months. You could share secret smiles across the room, brush fingers when passing each other in the hallway, or steal a quick kiss when no one was looking. It was thrilling in its own way – like you were both in on this wonderful secret that no one else knew about.

But as the weeks passed, the subtle changes in you were becoming harder to hide. The joy of being with Patri was seeping into every part of your life, and it was starting to show. The way your face lit up when she walked into the room, the newfound confidence that had everyone talking, the soft smile that seemed to have taken permanent residence on your lips – all of it was evidence that something had changed, something more than just a good mood.

Who would have thought that your carefully constructed illusion of smoke and mirrors would come crashing down over a bra? It was a very pretty bra – almost entirely see-through mesh with little blue flowers and vines draped artistically over the cups and bands. Delicate and elegant, it was a piece Patri had chosen carefully, knowing you would appreciate the details, knowing you would appreciate it immensely against her tanned skin.

It had been one of those rare, lazy mornings when you and Patri had lingered in bed longer than usual, wrapped up in each other and the comfort of your shared space. The early light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the tangled sheets. The world outside felt distant, and the pressures of your busy lives seemed to melt away in the quiet of the morning. There had been laughter – Patri had a way of making you laugh, really laugh, even when you were trying to stay serious. Soft kisses followed, the kind that spoke of unspoken promises, of shared secrets, and of the deep affection that had blossomed between you. Whispers filled the room, conversations so tender and intimate that they made the rest of the world fade into insignificance. It was just the two of you, in your own little universe, where nothing else mattered.

When it finally came time to get up and face the day, the reality of the outside world came rushing back in, and the easy rhythm of the morning turned into a scramble. You had dressed quickly, grabbing clothes off the floor in a hurry, not thinking twice about which items belonged to whom. There was no time for careful sorting or folding – just the frantic rush to stuff everything into your kit bags before heading out the door. In the chaos, it hadn’t even crossed your mind that something as small as a bra could unravel everything you’d worked so hard to keep hidden.

The rest of the day had passed in a blur – training, meetings, more training. You hadn’t thought about the bra once, too focused on your performance, on the game coming up, on the usual demands of your life. It wasn’t until you were all gathered in the common room later that evening, relaxing after a long day, that the forgotten piece of lingerie decided to make its dramatic reappearance.

Technically, it was Patri’s fault – she had pulled her stuff out while gathering her towel before heading to the shower, a familiar routine in your post training haze. The bra had slipped from her pile of clothes, falling carelessly onto the floor and lying there, unnoticed, as the team of you rushed to get ready. It was a simple mistake, the kind that happens in the rush of daily life, but in your situation, it was a mistake with consequences.

Jana was in between you and Patri’s lockers when she spotted the lacy material sprawled carelessly on the ground. She picked it up with a puzzled look, clearly intrigued by the delicate piece of lingerie. The room was bustling with the usual post-training chatter, but the atmosphere seemed to shift subtly as she held up the bra.

“Hey, I think you dropped this,” Jana called out as you approached your locker, extending the bra toward you with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Your reaction was almost instinctive. You had been caught up in the rhythm of the conversation, and without thinking, you waved off Jana’s gesture. “Oh, no, that’s Patri’s,” you said dismissively, barely registering what you had just revealed. The words slipped out before you could fully process their implications.

The instant the words left your mouth, the room seemed to go still. Alexia, who had been chatting with Mapí and Ingrid, turned sharply toward you, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and a hint of suspicion. “And how would you know that, nena?” she asked, her tone carrying a mixture of intrigue and challenge.

Your mind went blank, a wave of panic washing over you. You could feel your face flushing as the realisation of what you had inadvertently confessed began to sink in. You froze, your mouth opening and closing as you scrambled for a plausible explanation. “Uhhhhh,” you stammered, struggling to find the right words. “N-no reason.”

Alexia’s gaze was unwavering, and the room seemed to hold its breath as she waited for a more satisfying answer. “How do you know that bra belongs to Patri, nena?” she asked again, her voice firmer this time.

The question felt like a spotlight shining directly on you, exposing your every thought and emotion. Your heart raced as you tried to piece together a response that wouldn’t draw more attention. The easy-going vibe of the room had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable tension that seemed to settle over everyone.

Patri, who had returned from her shower at completely the wrong time stiffened visibly at the mention of the bra. Her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. You could see the internal struggle reflected in her eyes as she glanced between you and the inquiring teammates. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Uh, well,” you began, trying to regain your composure. “I just – ” The words felt inadequate, and you could see the doubt in Alexia’s eyes growing with each passing second. You glanced around, hoping to find a way out of the situation, but all you saw were the expectant faces of your teammates.

Jana, sensing the rising tension, looked between you and Alexia with a mix of confusion and concern. “Maybe it was just a mistake,” she suggested, her tone softening as she tried to defuse the situation. “I didn’t realise it would be such a big deal.”

Alexia’s eyes softened slightly, but she wasn’t ready to let the matter drop completely. “I get that. But if it’s Patri’s, then it’s a bit more personal than just a forgotten item of clothing. So, how did you know?”

The pressure was mounting, and you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Alright, fine,” you said, your voice steadying as you faced Alexia. “Patri’s my girlfriend, that’s how I know it’s hers.”

There was a collective intake of breath as the truth finally came out. The room seemed to shift, the realisation settling over everyone like a sudden wave. Patri, though visibly relieved, still looked a little flushed. You could sense a mixture of surprise and understanding in the reactions of your teammates.

Alexia’s expression softened from curiosity to a look of genuine acceptance. “Oh,” she said quietly, a smile forming on her lips. “Well, I guess that explains a lot.”

“It does?” You and Patri asked simultaneously.

“Yeh, it does, Patricia. Nena has the sex glow and you look at her like she hung the moon and stars.”

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[edenfenixblogs]

WRITE IN YOUR COOKBOOKS.

One day, your loved ones will see your notes in the margins and your scribbled additions and feel you there with them.

My grandma is currently dying and recently gave me her oldest cookbook held together with like 6 rubber bands because she used it for so long and wrote in it so much.

Food and recipes, more than maybe any other tangible item, are ways we live on for centuries, and ways we can tell people we love them long after our mouths and minds lose that ability.

If you don’t have a recipe book of your own and don’t trust yourself with one, get a big box and write stuff down (or print, cut, and glue the info) into index cards. You can organize them alphabetically or according to your own system or not at all!! But at least everything will be the same size and easy to sort.

When my sister got married, for her wedding shower all the guests wrote down a recipe on the front of an index card and a piece of life advice on the back.

I gave my sister a recipe for cheddar and hatch green chile cornbread and told her to make sure she’s in photos as much as she takes photos so she remembers enjoying her life and not just watching it.

Her mom organized all the recipes into a box for her.

Also: JUST PRINT IT OUT. Put it in a binder or whatever. You might have time to organize it later or you might not. Fine. Just have it somewhere.

We even have one family recipe engraved on a charcuterie board so we never lose it.

Finally: back it up to a cloud. Scan the recipes. Save them to a document folder. Copy and paste them all into a digital notebook. Whatever. Just…Have a backup in case of flood or fire.

You should be starting a recipe book. I don't give a shit if you're only 20-years-old. The modern web is rotting away bit by bit before our very eyes. You have no idea when that indie mom blog is going down or when Pinterest will remove that recipe. Copy it down in a notebook, physically or digitally. Save it somewhere only you can remove it. Trust me, looking for a recipe only to find out it's been wiped off the internet is so fucking sad. I've learned my lesson one too many times.

[bbydoll18xx]

I Try to Refrain (But You’re Stuck in my Brain)

You have a dream about Paige, and it leads to some shocking revelations.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: loneliness, reader realizes she's in love with her best friend, paige is a flirt (what's new?)

A/N: hi guys. sorry it's been a hot min. This election has made me miserable and my grandpa just died today so I wrote this to distract myself lol. I wanted to write something that wasn't fluff before coming out with a new part to I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit, so hopefully this will suffice. Please don't let this flop

Also Is There Somewhere is one of most favorite songs of all time you all should check it out if you've never heard it !!

Please enjoy:)

~

There was simply no denying that being a college student was pretty fucking exhausting. Between your on-campus casual job, the extensive list of assignments you had racked up, and the overwhelming need to still have a social life, the circles under your eyes had become much more pronounced in the last few weeks. 

You needed your beauty sleep, or else you’d be well on your way to looking like Shrek by the end of the semester. And because you had been on the hunt to end your single streak, looking like Shrek would be the worst thing to happen. 

You giggle to yourself, the sleep deprivation clearly making you delirious. Checking your watch, you see that you had in fact been up for a whopping 28 hours. It was time for a seriously good nap. You throw your backpack onto the floor of your bedroom, tugging your sweatshirt off of you and flopping down onto your bed. The plushness engulfs you in warmth and comfort, lulling you into a deep, calming sleep, that you so desperately needed.

Or so you thought.

~

You wake up panting. The air around you is suffocatingly hot, and you can feel the sheets twisted uncomfortably around your legs, trapping you in the warmth. Your heart is pounding against your chest, and you slide your hand across your sternum in a futile effort to soothe yourself. 

The dream was quickly fading, and you squeeze your eyes in deep concentration, desperate to hold on to the remnants of it before they fled from your racing thoughts. 

It was hazy. But the pounding of your chest and the fluttering that accompanied made you feel like you were missing a key detail. It was right on the tip of your tongue, inching further and further away the more you search for the answers. 

You were in bed with another person. They were warm, and their laugh was enough to make you want to get down on one knee right then and there. You were cuddled up with them, the feeling of peace washing over you.

It has been a long time since you felt peace, and as you search for more clues to unearth your future love of your life, the wistfulness settles deep inside you. It mocks you, whispering into your ear that you’d never feel so lucky to be at peace with someone. 

The last of the dream fades, and you groan, throwing your arm over your face and vowing to prove your meanest, most vile inner voices wrong. 

Because, goddamn it, you did deserve to be loved. And maybe, just maybe, it would happen for you. 

~

You go to bed that night with a fierce determination to coax your brain into revealing more, and as you settle into bed, you pop two benadryl tablets. 

‘This’ll give me some good dreams,’ you think slyly, before shutting your eyes and waiting for the next clue, sleep quickly overcoming your thoughts.

You sleep soundly, waking the next morning with a crick in your neck and long, blonde hair on your brain. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, your dream still playing again in your muddled brain. “It’s a girl," you say incredulously.

"Or maybe an Australian surfer dude," you say sarcastically out loud to yourself.

"God, I'm losing it," you mumble, rubbing a hand over your sleepy eyes.

Her face was blank, deluding you of figuring out who it really was, but the familiar, tinkling laughter was playing on a loop. It was making you crazy. 

Your thoughts drift back to being tangled up with lean limbs, the soft hair flowing over slim, strong shoulders and down the girl’s bare back. You recall how you had traced a line down the line of her spine, goosebumps erupting in the wake of your touch. 

She was strong and delicate, a dichotomy of perfection that had your thighs clenching in want and your heart clenching in need.

You sigh. It felt almost real, and now it was being ripped from you every time you woke up. It felt unnecessarily cruel, and tears prick your eyes as reality sets in. You were escaping to a fantasy world in your dreams to avoid the crushing forlornness that was settling deep into your bones. 

Loneliness was certainly the muse, it seemed. 

~

You meet up with your friends later that night, searching for a distraction from the blonde hair that was currently haunting every waking moment. As you cross campus to head to Aubrey’s apartment, you scold yourself as each blonde who passes you makes you glance hopefully in their direction. 

There had to be something to jog your memory, unclouding the face you wanted nothing more to recognize. But each face elicited a disappointed pang in your stomach that spread an uncomfortable coldness through the rest of your body. 

You shake your head as you approach Aubrey’s door, trying to rid yourself of the disheartened aura you were currently giving off. 

You and Aubrey had become friends two years ago, and by extension, the rest of her team and her girlfriend had accepted you with open arms. You were looking forward to Caroline and Azzi’s wisdom and kind smiles. And KK and Ice’s laughter would certainly be a great distraction. 

Your mind gently drifts towards Paige before the door swings open with a large bang, and a loud, joyous cry erupts from the group of girls in the apartment. 

You wave at them, cheeks turning pink from the attention. You scan the room, letting your brain secretly look for Paige, just to check to see if it would trigger the flashes of your dream. 

You move towards the kitchen, joining into a heated discussion KK and Jana were having about Legos, eyes still darting around curiously.

“I’m obviously the best and fastest builder,” KK boasts, sticking her tongue out childishly at her teammate, and you giggle, taking a sip of your drink as Jana voraciously defends herself and her Lego-building abilities.

It was almost subconscious. You step back, as if you were being pulled against your will, and you hit a wall of warmth and muscle. Your heart lurches as your mind registers what was happening. 

“Damn, ma. I gotchu, don’t worry,” Paige mumbles in your ear, chuckling as you turn into a bumbling mess in her firm grasp. 

“Oh, god. I’m sorry, P,” you whisper, not trusting your full voice. You steady yourself, proud that you at least did not spill your drink. 

Her hand slides down your side to rest heavily on your waist, and her touch ignites a fire in your belly. Your breath hitches as you look up at her. Her hair is down for once, flowing across her shoulders, and your head spins as she laughs again. 

You knew that laugh.

“Never gonna complain about having to rescue a pretty girl,” she flirts, and you turn your head, not wanting her to see the way her words sent your face up in a blaze of heat. The realization hits you like a crashing wave.

Your dream was about Paige fucking Bueckers.

Your friend, Paige Bueckers. 

You were so goddamn fucked.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

~

What'd we think?? Please let me know. I might do another part if you guys are up for it.

Thanks so much for reading. I'm hoping I will be writing more frequently from now on

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half, @patscorner, @sophswbb, @dietcokesmom, @tndaqlifwy, @ch12334, @double22, @inthedeathofherreptuation, @authentic-girl03, @blueredg52 , @kmoneymartini , @mrsarnold, @ittiwdwysylm @sillylittlefakeacc

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message :)

[sirfrogsworth]

My Aunt Mary just had a stroke and is in hospice. She was my Uncle Larry's wife. I wasn't very close with her for most of my life.

Honestly, I think a lot of my relatives thought of her as annoying. She could talk your ear off and left 10 minute voicemails. But after my Dad died, she was the only one from that side of the family to call and check on me. We started talking maybe once a month to catch up. I came to realize she was very sweet and kind. And I started enjoying her long messages and found them endearing. And maybe she wasn't always trying to be funny, but she was funny. And she made me smile.

She lived nearby and was the only one that didn't move away from this area. She helped me take care of my parents by giving them rides to important medical appointments before I had my driver's license.

I have a lot to thank her for.

I'm going to go see her tomorrow and say goodbye. I'm told she can hear people but can no longer speak.

There is one problem.

This is her room.

And for some reason that sounded familiar. Then I looked at my texts to my uncle telling him the room my dad was in.

I see that room in my nightmares. I sometimes get flashes of my father lying dead in that room. That room is a traumatic place for me.

But I will go see her tomorrow. She deserves a proper goodbye. So I will get through it.

[trashytracktales]

Fade to nothing | CL¹⁶

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.

© trashy track tales, 2024

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── Maybe the summer break on the French Riviera fried their brain cells, because they've finally decided to simply not care anymore if someone sees them together. But when she catches the wrong stares, she starts spiraling. Now, Charles has to switch her focus back on him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, secret relationship going public, fluff & smut, overusing French terms of endearment, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, lots of teasing, reader dealing with insecurities.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.5k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 10, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Foaming at the mouth, because I find it so very offensive that I don't have my own personal Charles Leclerc. Anyway 😤. As Daniel Ricciardo said, enjoy the filth. Wait, no. That's me 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THEIR DAY ON the French Riviera begun in a golden haze. Hand in hand, they strolled through picturesque streets, enjoying every moment together. In public. For the first time.

They walked across the town like they were the only two people left on Earth, passing by quiet art galleries and stylish boutiques. For the most part, all she focused on was the pure excitement of being with him, holding his hand had, taking pictures and making memories. But as the day went on, her awareness of the curious looks she caught grew stronger.

The sun is now slowly setting, painting the horizon in a warm orange glow just as they return to Charles' boat. As though nothing could possibly bother them here, Charles puts his arm around her and guides her on board. Then, he offers her a gentle smile, his gaze full of warmth while telling her he's heading over to make some drinks.

The girl watches him for a moment, allowing herself to take in the serene comfort he exudes, and wishing she could absorb even a small portion of it. She always feels it when she looks at him, and this time around, nothing is different. On the contrary, somehow, it's as if everything she feels for him comes together in a tiny, small point, a singularity so powerful that it makes her feelings collapse on top of each other.

She rushes to the cabin to change, but her hands start to shake halfway through, and she can feel the doubts weighing her down. She keeps thinking about the subtle judgment she saw in their eyes, which serves as a reminder that many people might believe they jumped into this too soon and that she is only a fling — a stand-in for his previous relationship.

Even though she tries to push the thought away, the sadness comes too quickly, and tears start to well up in her eyes. Suddenly, she feels small, so out of place, as though she’s a visitor in his life rather than someone who belongs beside him.

Which sucks, because she really, really likes him.

She was always confident; she thinks that was one of the reasons why Charles noticed her in the first place. But now, it is as if all her confidence has evaporated under the gaze of some random people she doesn't even know.

They both agreed to keep the relationship a secret in the beginning, just as they both agreed that today they won’t care if anyone sees them. They've stayed hidden from the world for far too long, but now she wonders if they should have waited just a little bit longer because, all of a sudden, she starts feeling too unprepared for the wave that is about to hit, which sends her spiraling.

Because it takes her too long to return, Charles comes to check on her, finding her in the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked and clutching one of his shirts to her chest. Usually, he's not the type to intrude, but the soft sound of her quiet sobs fills the small room, piercing through him like a sharp, unexpected ache.

Without a second thought, Charles sprints over, kneeling down in front of her, his gaze steady, filled with raw concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She feels his hand on her thigh, which brings her back to the present moment, way too fast. Her breath is slightly shaky while her hands try to instinctively pull away from his gentle grip to wipe her cheeks, in order to hide any trace of her tears.

Looking down at him, she manages to let out a choked word that holds so much weight for her right now, “Us.”

“Us?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “What about us, mon cœur?”

She smiles, pressing the shirt closer to her chest, wiping the tears again with the back of her hand.

“I want you to have it all,” she admits, “And I'm starting to think that, maybe, I won't be able to give you what you need.”

He wants to immediately deny her statement, because in the four months they've been together, she gave him everything and more.

“What? What do you think you don't give me?” he asks, taking the same hand she wiped her tears in his palm.

She shrugs, “I just think… I sometimes think you deserve better.”

Better. The idea twists in his mind, disbelief and frustration tightening around his heart like a claw. He lets out a small scoff — not to mock her, but because it's hard for him to believe that she's doesn't think she's enough for him. It breaks his heart, because she cannot be further away from the truth.

“Where is this coming from?” asks Charles in a quiet, but firm tone.

She shakes her head, wishing she would've never opened her big mouth, “I was just thinking,” the girl repeats, letting out a dry chuckle. “It's nothing, really.”

Charles’ eyes travel across her face, taking in every micro expression, “You're crying, mon amour, so it's not nothing. Where is this coming from?” he asks again, “How much ‘better’ do you think I deserve?”

Her fingers start fidgeting in his grasp, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, “Everyone loves you, especially your fans. You deserve someone who matches that, someone who belongs in your world, without feeling so small next to you.” She pauses for a moment, the words weighing her down, “I saw people staring today,” she explains, “I know we’ve both agreed to not care about what they think or if someone gives a fuck about seeing us together, but I realized how out of place I must look beside you. That’s all.”

Charles needs superhuman powers to ignore the frustration that’s slowly creeping around his shoulders. His eyes are intent, fixed on her, desperate for her to see what he does. He knows that her feelings are valid and very real to her, but that doesn't mean that they tell her the whole truth. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it worse by explaining why people's opinions shouldn't affect her the way they do. Instead, he gently grabs her hips, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she's now straddling him, their faces inches apart.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low, “You see me, beyond everything everyone else sees, and that’s why you are more than enough. You are the realest thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand? You're not just a phase, and I'm so sorry I didn't show you enough how important you are to me. Because you are, bébé.”

She bites her tongue in order to stop herself from contradicting her boyfriend. Deep down, she knows she’s flawed in ways she can’t easily mend, no matter how much Charles wants to reassure her. A part of her wants to believe him, but even now, wrapped in his warmth, she knows the doubts will find their way back.

Charles’ hands drop on her waist, resting there while holding her close on his lap. He feels her doubt, understanding that she's struggling with more than what she lets him to see — another dagger to his heart.

“I'm with you, love,” he adds, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on her bare skin, “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not if I have any say in it, is that clear?”

His voice sounds far too bossy, which makes her flinch a little, recognizing too late that he is far too blunt for the situation they both find themselves in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, don't apologize,” Charles rushes to say, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m glad you told me, but I want you to care about what I say, and not what people might say.”

He envelops her completely in his arms, and it’s like he’s just now realizing how small she feels against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She feels that, too — the warmth and steadiness of his arms around her, the way he grounds her, making her feel safe.

“I never doubted you, you know,” she clarifies, “I was just thinking that, if I can't handle pressure, I don't think we should…”

He tightens his grip around her waist, refusing to let her finish her thought, his heart screaming in agony as she tries to move away. “Don’t go there, please,” he almost implores her.

“Why not?” she whispers.

“Because it’s not the case, I promise.”

“But—”

“Because you'd be so wrong. Because I love you,” he continues, as if it's the most casual thing ever. Like it is as obvious as tomorrow. As easy as breathing. As automatic as blinking. As if it's not the first time he ever says it to her face.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words are ricocheting against her skull like he just put a spell on her. Of course Charles loves her. He showed her this through every little gesture along the way, and she knows he means it, because for the first time since they got back, she realizes she doesn’t want to run from this, from him.

She was so blind, but the next time she looks at him, her fingers tracing his cheek, she simply knows. Charles lets out a small sigh, leaning into her touch, then taking her hand back in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Tell me you see it,” says Charles, exhaling a heavy breath.

His gesture makes her feel warm inside, “See what?”

“That you are everything to me,” he answers softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That I want you exactly as you are.”

For a moment, understanding dawns in her eyes — the realization that they are real, in spite of what she might think — like a light that is breaking through the doubts that had clouded her mind for so long.

“You are mine and I am yours, and I won't have it any other way.”

She exhales slowly, nodding in his direction. Even though he's able to see the relief washing over her face, he still needs a confirmation, so he can anchor himself to it.

“Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she parrots, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

He sees the hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment. “You understand, but you don't believe me,” Charles concludes, his voice full of wonder. He sucks in a breath while freeing her lip, brushing his thumb against it. His eyes lock on hers, “You really think there is someone else out there who makes me feel the way you do, hm? Who else is going to be this responsive, baby?”

To show her what he means by that, he pushes his thumb inside her mouth, Charles' soft voice sending shivers down her spine. She opens up more, instantly, gazing back at him, realizing how right he is. Meanwhile, Charles is slowly pushing his thumb further, watching her lips closing around it.

His mouth curls up into a smile, “That's it, mon amour. Oui, see that? I don't think there is anyone else out there who can be this good for me, so eager to submit to everything I do,” he laughs, “Hell, I don't even have to tell you what to do, you just know, baby.”

She closes her eyes for a split second, sucking on Charles’ thumb, her hands gripping tightly on his forearm. It makes him feel in control more than usual, which awakens something primal in him. He ends up caressing the side of her face with his fingers as he pushes his thumb deeper, pulling it out with a soft pop, before shoving it back in.

“So fucking good for me, and you think I deserve better? What’s better than this, mon cœur?”

As a response, she moans slowly around his deliberate, slow movement. He finds it so satisfying to see how easily she listens, understanding exactly what she needs from him in return — patience, kindness, reassurance, and trust.

Charles pumps his thumb one more time before pulling out, using it to leave a wet trace down her neck. His hand tightens around it for a brief moment, bringing her back to him. She opens her eyes, still under the spell he put on her earlier with just three little words. Her eyes are dark as she looks up at him through her eyelashes, the desire in her eyes sparking like fireworks.

“You need this, don't you?” he asks curiously.

She nods, which makes Charles smirk. It’s easy to notice the subtle shift in her energy — the way she presses her body closer to his, and the way her breathing deepens. Charles sees the vulnerability in the way she looks at him, but he knows is different now; she’s not hesitating anymore.

Something flickers inside of him as her hand lightly but purposefully caresses his chest; she wants him to take the lead. She isn't seeking power or domination, but asking him to guide them both through this. And Charles understands she’s giving him the space to be the one to move them forward, because this is more than just a physical need. It's about how she decides, here and now, that she trusts him completely.

They stand inches apart, the air between them heated and taut with silent yearning. Every part of their bodies is tuned to each other in a way that feels so delicate yet urgent, and Charles can feel her heartbeat synchronize with his, both of them pounding in anticipation. Her lips are slightly parted as her eyes glide up to his, a silent invitation he cannot refuse. The outside world seems so far away, as if all that remains is this common understanding that neither of them is willing to let go of.

The kiss begins shyly and slowly. At first, his lips are gentle against hers, a slight touch that seems to carry the weight of all they have been resisting. She reacts swiftly, her hand slipping into his hair, drawing him in and intensifying the kiss.

Then everything changes — the pressure grows desperate, almost vital as the intensity increases. She melts into him, pressing every inch of her body against his as if she can't get close enough. It drives him wild, forcing him to tighten his grip on her. 

Slowly but surely, their make out session turns into a silent cry for something more profound, as her fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer. Their chests heave and their foreheads rest against one another until they eventually split apart, panting for one more breath of air.

“Forgive me, mon amour,” says Charles, trying his hardest to regain his composure.

“Forgive you?”

“Because I made you doubt us. Doubt me, and how I feel about you,” he clarifies, breathing wetly above her skin. “Will you let me show you how sure I am about this?”

She nods again, smiling, her hands still resting on his chest.

He gets up to lay her carefully on the bed, positioning himself between her legs as he unbuttons his white shirt. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes glide over her bare chest and the way her wavy hair spills over the pillows, making her look like an angel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her neck, then going further down, sucking bruises all over her chest on his way to her stomach, claiming his girl with every flick of his tongue against her skin. He cups her breast in his palm, squeezing her enough to feel him all over her body, his lips reaching over her panties. “In case I wasn't dead fucking clear already,” Charles adds softly, almost like a promise, hooking his fingers on the lace material before pulling it down her legs, “I only want us. Like this. Always.”

She moans softly, anticipating his fingers to send her to another realm, far from any doubt. And her world does, indeed, change completely the moment she feels his tongue at her entrance instead. So hot and soft and warm against her, that her fingers curl instantly into his hair while his tongue slips between her folds, as if that is its rightful home.

“Charles,” his name comes out of her mouth in the form of a whine, sending little jolts towards his already hardened cock.

“Putain,” he chokes out, raising his head to look at her, “Nobody tastes like you do, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”

“Charles,” she whines again, her chest rising and falling with burning intensity. “Please…”

“Patience, bébé,” Charles chuckles, his voice vibrating hotly above her, “Let me worship you, so you won’t question me ever again, yes?”

He would have heard her agreeing with him, if Charles hadn't slipped his hands under her until his palms gripped her ass to pull her closer to his mouth. As a result, he hears her moan louder than before, smiling as he connects his lips back on her pussy, sucking on her clit with a newfound thirst.

His grip on her is so strong that even if she wants to push her hips further, she can't move an inch. Which drives her crazy, because his tongue works her with such frivolous movements, bringing her so close to the edge, but she still needs more.

“Baby,” she moans painfully, getting too agitated that it makes her get up, proppting herself on her elbows to watch him. “Fuck, Charles,” she adds, admiring how beautiful he looks between her legs, lapping at her with one goal in mind.

She tries to rock her hips back against the pressure again, which just reminds Charles of how good he makes her feel. The thought drives him mad and, even though it’s all about her right now, he can’t stop fucking his hips down so he can rub his aching cock against the bed, searching for any sort of friction.

“I feel you, baby. Don’t hold back,” says Charles, his voice sounding muffled between her legs.

His tongue is enough to make her come all over his face, he knows that, but he can't deprive her of his fingers when she needs him the most. So, he uses his hand to split her further under his mouth, making sure he touches her sweet spot again and again. And again, until a wave of pleasure hits her like a tsunami, shaking her to the core as she cums involuntarily. She tries to pull him out of her legs, because she knows how messy it gets when she comes that hard, but Charles drops his mouth back on her, driving her through her orgasm as his tongue finally stops at her entrance to catch the rest of her release. Then, he swallows her sweetness, letting his forehead drop on her thigh.

Their breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the entire cabin for a while, her palm resting on his cheek to caress him gently as they both recover slowly.

“So fucking hot, mon cœur.”

She sighs, still too sensitive from the pleasure that reverberates throughout her body, “Come up here,” says the girl, patting Charles’ head.

He pushes himself up, still half dressed and very much hard in his boxers. Charles lays his weight on her, exhausted, like he's came ten times by now. Gently, he rests his head on her chest while her arm wraps around him and his palm curves around her breast, pinching her nipple lazily between his fingers.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, enjoying the way she gets covered in goosebumps under his breath. “So perfect and so mine.”

She can't say anything to him without her voice shaking, so she gently grabs his chin, bringing Charles on top of her to kiss him. She feels her own taste as their tongues collide, causing her to moan softly into his mouth. Even if this kiss is much, much tamed than the previous one, just the thought that he was between her legs makes her pussy tighten, as if she's been set on fire from the inside out.

“Can I return the favor?” she finally asks in a breathy voice once their lips part.

Charles hums at the mental image of her mouth around his cock, but decides to push the thought deep into his mind, “Who said I’m done with you, mon amour?”

Charles' hand travels to her pussy once again, his middle finger gliding lightly over her wetness. Her eyes close in pleasure, while her arms wrap around his neck, before she realizes what he's actually doing. Her eyes snap at him as he reaches the letter 'R', Charles grinning proudly from above her.

Their faces are so close she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and their breaths blend together in a sweet warmth.

She laughs, “Did you just spell your name on my clit?”

His expression instantly lights up when he hears her. “Planned to do it with my tongue, but I didn't expect you to come that hard,” he admits, joining her in laughter.

She blushes at his statement, remembering how true it is. It's impossible for Charles not to notice that, but he loves it when her cheeks and chest become so rosy as a result. He also loves the sounds she makes when she's turned on, so he's not wasting any more time before teasing her wet entrance with his finger, pumping it slowly, until he feels her clenching around it. Just to make her forget the shyness, of course.

His flemish gaze sweeps over her entire body and, seeing her so vulnerable and willing beneath him, makes him want to run his tongue over every inch of her, to cover her in kisses and love marks until it's too much, so that he can come all over her pretty nipples just at the sight of her.

“Fuck, if you could see yourself right now,” says Charles, exhaling sharply. “You make me lose my mind, you know that? I almost forgot I still have to show you how mine you are. You want that, baby, don't you?”

“Yes,” she returns to whining, because apparently that's all she knows recently.

And she does it again, when his fingers pull out of her way too soon for her liking. She follows Charles, getting rid — fucking finally — of his shorts and boxers with a quick movement, poising himself again in his place, right between her legs.

She swallows hard at the sight of him, her mouth drying up in record time. She remembers the first time she saw Charles naked and how it didn't even occur to her that they would even fit. Of course, he made it work, because that's what a man with a huge cock does — it makes it fit.

The girl follows Charles as he wraps his dominant hand around the base, then runs his hand along its length, massaging the tip to spread the pre-cum. He made her feel so good, she didn't even take into consideration how torturous it must have been for him. But the little hums he lets out as he positions himself at her entrance are enough of a signal for her to push her hips against him.

Unfortunately, the man meant every word when he said he wasn't done, so he won't simply let her have it, just because she’s so willing to take him. She has to understand, once and for all, that this is it — she is it for him.

Slowly, Charles taps the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing mercilessly. It's almost like a punishment for thinking so low of herself, for doubting him, his feelings for her and what they've built together so far.

A lot can change in four months, especially feelings.

He lets out a shaky breath as he parts her folds with his tip, but instead of pushing inside, he fucks his cock up between the lips of her cunt. Once. Twice. Three times, until he's leaking on her clit, coated in her wetness. It is a sinful feeling that makes them both moan in unison, an ecstatic duet between two souls who found each other at the right time, no matter what people would say about it.

Fuck people. All of them.

She throbs against him, the feeling of skin on skin settings her atoms on fire. His hardness feels so good between her folds that she needs to anchor herself to something, and the sheets are far too fragile for her grip.

“Yeah, you feel that, ma vie?” asks Charles rhetorically when he sees her losing herself. “Of course you do. The question is, did you feel it before?”

“Charles…” she whimpers, pushing her hips against his length in order to find the sweet friction she craves. “Need you. Please.”

Her eyes are watering as she feels the knot in her stomach, waiting for a release that seems so far away — he’s not even inside, fuck's sake.

“So pretty,” hums Charles, ignoring her pleading. “You're gonna look so pretty taking me, ma belle. You always do.”

She raises her head only to let her eyes wander down Charles’ body, from his flushed face to his toned abs, down to where his cock rests hardened between her pussy lips. His eyes are locked on where they're making contact, the image so intimate and powerful it makes him want to scream. She realizes that this is a punishment for him as much as it is for her, but he enjoys it more since he's the one in charge.

She gasps in surprise when Charles grabs her thighs, her head falling back down on the pillows. He pulls her closer as he leans over to seal his lips with hers, having no intent to be soft this time, the passion that burns between them pushing him so close to the edge.

Charles’ tongue tastes her in a rush as he pushes forward, his cock pressing deliciously on her clit, making her break the kiss with a pathetic whine.

So predictable.

“Can you, please, fuck me already?” she says, frustration evident in every word she utters.

Her pleas are so close to get him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself so deep inside her, until he feels her coming on his cock all over again. But Charles groans loudly, hovering above her chest to take one of her nipples in his mouth, biting her gently.

At that, her frustration only grows bigger, forcing her back to arch against him.

“Charles,” her tone is demanding now, motivated to make him understand she's done playing.

“Don't worry, I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Turn over for me,” he replies, anticipation tugging at the edge of his patience.

She does as instructed without saying another word, feeling his hands grabbing at her waist to pull her against him. Then, Charles pushes his palm gently between her shoulder blades until her face is buried between the silky pillows. She lets a muffled moan while his knees are pressing down into the mattress on either side of her thighs, his cock resting hard against her ass.

“Did I mention how pretty you are?” he asks, not expecting an answer in return, while he finally guides himself toward her needy cunt. He pushes in, slowly at first. Deliberate and calculated, as if their initial contact is meant to gather as much data as possible, so he can choose the perfect setup for what's about to come — the position, the angle, the pace. “Such a pretty girl,” he adds with a tamed moan, “Opening right up for me. Every single time, baby. Taking me so well.”

She tries to get up by doing a weak push-up, but her head drops heavy between her shoulders as she fucks back against Charles' length, the pleasure overwhelming her.

The feeling of having him like this makes her squeal, failing to find a single thing worth more in this world than Charles thrusting from behind.

“Oui, have my cock, baby, like that,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss on her shoulder, managing to hit her deeper from this angle.

Charles' touch is still gentle, though, like he's testing the grip, desperately wanting to find the perfect balance as he eases into a rhythm made just for them. He takes every gasp and every shiver of her body as signals, relearning what makes her pulse race and using everything in their favor.

She turns her head to the side when Charles leans over to clasp the edge of the mattress, his knuckles whitening with the force he's putting into it. The veins on the back of his hand look like they're about to pop at any moment, bulging from his skin and snaking up his forearm, finally out of her view as they reach his elbow.

He's so hot and she is so turned on that she could come again just by looking at his arms.

Charles' pace begins to build, the intensity in his breathing growing more labored with every thrust of his hips. Each one is bolder than the last one, like he's reaching the apex of a corner, pressing into her just enough to feel the thrill without losing control. As a response to his movements, she starts breathing in short spasms, the world around them becoming a blur.

“That's it, bébé. You're so fucking good for me, I'm not… fuck,” his voice almost gives out, feeling how close he is to cum from fucking her like this, so he decides to pull out completely in order to prolong the feeling.

Charles learned from an early age that every race is unpredictable, so he has to adapt to any condition.

It makes her cry at the emptiness, her pussy clenching wetly around nothing while he looks down, curious too see how bad she needs him.

Her head falls back between the pillows for the hundred time, too exhausted to scold Charles any more. So, she guides her hand between her legs, firmly massaging her clit, feeling her thighs start to shake. However, the pressure is not nearly as good, which makes Charles chuckle at her weak attempts.

Patiently, he grabs both of her wrists to keep them pinned to her lower back as he uses his free hand to rub the head of his cock against her throbbing hole.

“Chaaarles,” she whines loudly, pressing her cheek deeper into the silky fabric under her, mind too numb to protest further more.

He buries himself back in with a strong thrust, making her gasp at the fullness. Somehow, it feels so much better than before, her body so sensitive in all the places they make contact.

With every shift in pressure and pace, Charles reads her reactions as if they are telemetry data on his steering wheel.

“Please don't... Don't stop again, please,” she lets out another cry, feeling her walls clenching so sweetly around him. “You feel so good, fuck, I… I'm so close.”

He knows that. That's why he stopped in the first place. But now he's ready to give her exactly what she needs, freeing her wrists as he watch them fall next to her body as if they're lifeless. Charles then grabs her waist with both hands, thrusting into her so hard that the sound of their bodies slapping together drowns out both of their moans.

“Want to fuck you for the rest of my life, amour. Please, let me fuck you for the rest of my life,” he implores, panting aggressively.

“Oh, yes,” she agrees, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.

Charles pulls out again, making her grunt at the loss. But before she gets the chance to protest, he flips her over, shoving his cock back in while searching for her eyes, a smug smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

She moans in relief, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to bury her fingers in his messy hair.

“I almost started barking at you,” she admits, rolling her hips with his.

“I know, baby. Just wanted to see your face,” he explains, finding his pace once more.

“Oh, yes. Yes, feels so good,” she begins to moan uncontrollably under his weight, just as Charles leans down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I know, I know. I've got you, my love,” he kisses her again but it doesn't last this time.

Their mouths remain parted, breathing heavily against each other as she comes around his cock, gazing into each other's eyes as if they could see what shape their soul have. Seeing her face changing in pleasure, makes Charles fucking into her faster, following so closely after her.

His moans sound so melodious in her ears while he rides their orgasms, that she starts believing honey is dripping from his lips, because he cannot be real.

Charles is about to pull out when she stops him with a hand on his lower back.

“I only want us, too. Like this. Always,” she repeats his words from earlier, more determined than ever. “And I think I love you a tiny bit more,” she continues, running her hand up his spine. “That's why I was so scared.”

Charles shivers under her gentle touch, “You still scared?”

“Terrified,” she replies, giggling, pulling him in to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

The kind that makes the rest of the world fade to nothing.

thank you for reading!

reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of whb king (plus any other characters you want) reacting to gn mc avoiding them for as long as she can because mc got dared to by some random demon

WHB kings' reaction to MC avoiding them because of a dare

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! This was so fun to write since each king had a completelly different reaction ^^ Sorry for the long wait though t-t

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Oh, Satan doesn't like this at all

The moment he notices your suspiciously long absence, he's on the prowl

Where are you and why tf are you avoiding him?

He'll even send out Amy and his group to look for you and bring you to him

Hopefully he'll during his search find out about the dare

At least hopefully for you

Poor demon who dared you will find himself homeless after Satan in his demon form destroys his place

Once that's dealt with, the next time you go outisde, you come face to face with Satan, leaning back against his bike

"Talked to that mf. The dare's called off :)"

    ༺☆༻

Mammon notices that you haven't been around him much, but he just chalks it up to you being busy

He's okay with it, knowing that eventually you'll come back to him anyway

Besides, if you needed something, you'd surely call him

After finding out that it's a dare, he's also curious how long you'll be able to keep away from him

If he ever gets worried about you, he'll just send one of his nobles to check up on you

Once you're back to him, he's taking you out for a dinner to congratulate you on how long you lasted

    ༺☆༻

Leviathan knew from the beginning thanks to Foras

You don't even get to leave the Hades castle so it's easier for you to avoid him when you get a message from the devil who dared you that the dare is off

It doesn't take a genius to realise that the poor demon had been visited by His Majesty himself and forced to end your dare early

Most likely, if you video-called with him, he'll be gasping for air, hung by a noose

The next time you see Leviathan, he acts like nothing happened, but you can feel his piercing stare when you're not looking at him

He's most likely not sure how to punish you yet...

But once he does...

Oh boy, now comes the moment to avoid him for the sole sake of your survival

    ༺☆༻

Funny :)

You think you can avoid Beel? :)

I mean, technically you could do that by hanging around in the Abyssos castle, but even then you can't exactly avoid Beel

If Beel wants to see you, he'll come and see you

Doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing

Even if it means that he'll have to sneak through his own castle to escape Bael's wrath

And even more so, if he finds out about the dare...

Oops, he just reminded he meant to take you to this place and booked it in advance and can't cancel it

Sorry, guess you'll have to spend the whole month with him :)

I guess the rule with Beel is that the more you want him, the less he'll be around

(True story with my pulls for his cards tbh T-T)

    ༺☆༻

Belphie would probably realise that it's been a while since you were there when he woke up, but eh...

Maybe you're just busy doing your work

No sweat

That is until Beleth accidentally slips up about the dare

Oh?

Now that is something different

Prepare to start dreaming about him every night

That'll eventually make you come back...

And if not, don't worry...

Belphie's ability can bring you back anytime, so enjoy your time away from him before he decides this little game is over

    ༺☆༻

Keeping away from Asmo is honestly your day-to-day task, so I don't think there's much difference

That is until you realize that it's time for another annual king meeting

The real challenge becomes coming up with a good reason to excuse yourself from it

And all the nobles are helping you at this point

Sure, you could just not go, but Asmo might then leave the meeting to come and see you since he was so excited to meet you after so long

In the end Leviathan coems to save the day and hides you inside his coffin for as long as the need be

Phew

You're safe for another year

    ༺☆༻

To Lucifer, not seeing you for a long time is a good thing

It just means you're healthy and safe

But he does eventually start to miss you

And then Gamigin talks a bit too much and mentions that you've been avoiding Paradise Lost because of a dare

So whenever you need medical assistance one of the nobles has to do a house call

...

A house call?

That sounds unsanitary

Who even knows what germs and bacteria you might catch

Lucifer better make his way over to you for a surprise visit to make sure you're doing well

And no apples can save you from this doctor

[clemswinecorner]

Datenight [George Clarkey]

Summary: George and Y/N go on a date, without any of their friends knowing they're dating. Or do some of them?

Wordcount: 1k

Warnings: sexual innuendos and alcohol, other than that it's fine

Based on this request, as a response to neat :)

Main Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time they were out in public for a date, and they were close enough friends for it to not be seen as one. It was, however, the first time they were out in Central London, where any of their friends could decide to go to the exact restaurant they were sitting in the corner of. 

“I’m glad we’re doing this. That we’re able to just have some time together, going out, that we can have dinner together,” she says, looking at the man in front of her. “Well, I’d hope so, it’d be unfortunate if we went to dinner and we couldn’t eat,” he jokes, making her roll her eyes with a fond smile. “You know what I mean. I’m really happy to be with you,” she just says, making him smile. He reaches over, their hands on top of each other on the table. His thumb softly grazes her hand. “I’m really happy to be with you, too.”

They spend their first and second courses simply talking, joking around, looking at each other. Of course, it wasn’t a date night without some shameless flirting. George looked extremely handsome in his black button-up, and god, the short sleeves made his arms look extremely good. She had to keep herself from looking at them, the same way George had to remind himself not to stare too long. She was wearing a tight-fitting, white, off-shoulder top, and god, he wants her to never wear anything else ever again. 

As they were waiting for their dessert, their cheeks were a bit flushed from the wine as they giggled together. George lets out a content sigh, leaning back to look at her. “You know, I know I don’t say it a lot, but you’re an incredible person. A good shag too, if I may say so myself,” he jokes, making her giggle again as his expression softens. “Seriously, though. I’m really glad this is working out for us, you’re one of the best things to happen to me,” he quietly admits. She smiles at him, taking his hand that’s resting on the table. “I’m really glad, too, George. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else,” she says, making a small smile appear on his face as he shyly looks down. A comfortable silence falls over them, the couple simply enjoying each other’s company and the shared feelings between them. “I’m staying at yours, right?” She breaks the silence right as dessert is served. They both thank the waiter before continuing their conversation, “Yeah, the boys went out and would stay at Arthur’s, they said, telling me I’ll have the house to myself after ten,” George answers, grabbing his phone as she nods. “This looks so good. So you’re telling me we could've had a cosy night in without the boys?” She teases opening the camera app. She looks up to find George’s pointed at her. “What?!” George laughs at her reaction, “Just capturing your love for food. You look good, you look pretty. Happy.” She blushes at his comment, reluctantly taking a picture of her plate. “Which one did you get again?” She asks, looking over. “Uh, the crème brûlée,” he says, as she takes another picture of both plates together, commenting how good it looks. He smiles, looking at her adoringly, before briefly glancing out the window to the busy streets. She furrows her eyebrows as he sits up straighter, “Is that Arthur?!” She turns around, not immediately spotting the singer but recognizing the head of curls next to him. “Oh my god, yeah, they’re here. Should I go to the bathroom and you text me when they’re gone? I have to go anyway,” she says, already standing up. George nods, still with a confused look on his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll text.”

It takes less than five minutes before she gets back. “Any of them realise we were here?” She asks, pushing back her chair to sit down again. He shakes his head, taking his glass of water in his hand. “Maybe Arthur, he was looking in, but I don’t think Chris or TV saw me,” he twirls his drink before taking a sip. She looks at him thoughtfully. “Hey, if you want to tell them, that’s fine with me, you know that right?” He immediately nods. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I want to, eventually, but I’m keeping you to myself for just a while longer,” she smiles at him, as he looks around again. “Oh god, I just realised… They already think I’m on a fucking date,” George suddenly says. “Well you are, with me.” He chuckles at her comment, “Yeah, but they don’t know that! I won’t hear the end of it,” he groans, making her laugh along with him. “You’ll be fine. Are we finally going to eat this? I want a bite of yours.”

It’s nearly midnight by the time they walk back to George’s. They’d spend a little while more drinking the last of their wine, conversation flowing effortlessly. With the alcohol, the giggling, flirting and touching all increase, and they’re walking back leaning against each other, fingers laced together. “I’m glad we have the flat to ourselves, it’d be a long night if I had to go spend the night by myself,” George whispers, kissing her cheek. She giggles, turning to look him in the eye. “Hmm. Luckily we don’t have to think about that, because I’ll be yours tonight and every other moment of the day for the foreseeable future,” George giggles along, pulling them to stop. They giggle as he kisses her, their bodies completely together, almost forgetting where they are. She innocently smiles at him, “C’mon, let’s get to yours,” she whispers. When they arrive, they quickly make their way to George’s bedroom, too indulged by each other to think about anything else. Their phones are completely disregarded on his bedside table, neither of them looking at it until later that morning. George checks his texts for the first time as Y/N is doing her morning routine after their shower, to see one from his roommate. 

From: Arthur Hill

saw you and y/n having dinner last night, looking cosy ;) swayed arthur and chris the other way, they don’t have a clue. happy for you two, george. x 

[dark-konohagakure2]

Hi can you write Teuande and sakura with a young female worker who they like to grop, sexually harrase. And force her to be naked 24/7 around them. Maybe she has clit leash or nipple claps and they always pull her from their like their own dog.

tw: noncon, abuse of power, workplace harassment, degradation, nipple clamps, clit clamps, mild petplay, exhibitionism, manipulation, cunnilingus, age difference

All characters depicted are 18+

Tsunade is very particular about who she allows to be her students. Sakura is her most trusted disciple due to her strength and intelligence, but the Hokage could always use another promising young lady to mold and guide, just not in the ways of medical ninjutsu and taijutsu, instead Tsunade requires someone who can provide something that has been sorely lacking for both women; some entertainment.

Tsunade really knows how to pick them, the kunoichi she picks to train with her and Sakura is a very cute and skilled young lady. Strong, but not strong enough to fight back against the Hokage, not to mention she is a very obedient shinobi. The girl is of course thrilled at the rare opportunity to train with both the Hokage and one of the strongest kunoichi of her own generation, she'd be a fool to turn down such a privilege.

All is well at first, but not for very long. One minute the girl is thanking her Lady for letting her learn underneath the Sannin, the next Tsunade is telling her to remove all her clothes. But not to worry, Tsunade is going to give her a brand new, and much more fitting uniform; a set of nipple clamps and a matching one for her clit. It'll be abundantly clear that she's not here as a student, but as a pet.

Sakura isn't the type to seem like a bully, but she is going to enjoy teasing her underclassmen, enjoying the seniority she has over the new student. The pink haired medical ninja is always looking for an excuse to tug on the clit leash or to tighten the already snug nipple clamps. While not as strict and domineering as Tsunade, Sakura is much more teasing.

"Oh come on! This is just some simple endurance training, hun! So be a good girl and take it before I tell Lady Tsunade how disobedient you've been today."

Tsunade is no better than her student when it comes to being mean to her little student. She'll use her power as both a Sannin and a Kage to force her subordinate to remain naked at all times, even when others are entering the office, Tsunade will even casually play with the young woman's naked body in front of others, this will quickly earn the poor girl quite the reputation, she'll be known throughout the village, and even by a few people in other villages, as Tsunade's obedient little fucktoy.

The humiliation doesn't just stop with the forced nudity and bondage, the two medical nin are very busy women, with Tsunade being the head of the village and Sakura being the head of the medical department, so they need some serious stress relief. It's not rare for the two women to pass her back and forth, forcing her to take turns eating both of them out until they're satisfied, praising her for getting so much better at eating pussy after all her training.

Getting passed around will soon become routine for the poor kunoichi, she'll be used as a reward for any shinobi who does a good job at their missions, she'll mostly be used by those who are close to the two women, such as Shizune and the men of Team 7, her cute body is perfect for boosting the morale of the Leaf jonnin, and it gives the girl the occasional much needed dose of dick, so everyone wins.

Tsunade is still a kind woman however, she's not going to be nothing but cruel to her beloved pet. She'll still be punished if she's a bad girl, bit if she's a very good girl, Tsunade will reward her with affection and pleasure, she'll even occasionally get the girl some gifts, although they aren't always very appreciated...

"You've been very good for me, haven't you? Well I guess that means you get a reward. If you put this collar on then you won't have to worry about me pulling on that cute little clit of yours! Isn't that nice?"

The wannabe medical ninja ended up getting exactly what she's always wanted, albeit in a twisted way. She wanted to be known throughout the entire village, and now she is. Just not for any of her combat of medical abilities...

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!reader

Word Count: 1493

Chapter 35:

Jen helped keep Lilia focused on the present and not let her mind wander or get distracted by anything that might slow them down.

Those swords were still hanging above, and everyone doubted would remain there if you kept losing time.

As if the room had heard your thoughts, the ceiling slowly started to go down; bringing the swords closer and closer to you.

"We didn't even put any cards down!" Agatha shouted, glaring at practically anything.

The road was starting to get on her nerves.

"Maybe no cards are as bad as the wrong ones." Billy suggested.

You looked at Lilia again, who seemed for a moment to be lost somewhere else; her mid wandering off to a different memory of the past.

You grabbed both her shoulders and shook her faintly. "Lilia! Focus on me!" You shouted, trying to bring her back to the present. You were not sure what was going on, but now it was neither the time nor the place to question her. "We need your Tarot Expertise"

Wasting no time, Lilia walked towards the table; her eyes immediately falling on the cards both Billy and Agatha had put down.

"Who massacred this spread?" The old witch questioned, making the two culprits point a finger at one another.

You held back a chuckle at the scene, and if you were not racing against time to avoid impalement; you would have definitely enjoyed the moment more.

But alas, your time was ticking, and there wasn't exactly any true indication of how long you had before the trial was over.

"Who's the querent?" Lilia asked next, looking at her coven.

Billy looked around at the women for a moment. "You mean the subject? Me. I guess I'm the queer-ent." He was amused by his own bad joke, but the smile disappeared as quick as it came the moment you slapped the back of his head.

He turned to look at you, one hand placed against the spot you had smacked him; lips parted in a theatrical hurtful expression.

"Now it's not the time for pun jokes," you reminded him, surprising the teenager with the fact that you knew what a pun was in the first place. "Just get your reading so we can get out of here,"

You almost pushed him towards one of the chairs and forced him to sit, as Lilia took the seat across and grabbed the deck before passing it to him.

"The querent shuffles and cuts." She informed as the coven gathered around.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Lilia, we don't have time for this."

"Shuffles and cuts," she repeated stubbornly. Billy immediately obliged. "Now, please ask your question."

Of course, nothing could go smoothly as Jen and Agatha started to argue again; honestly making you wonder if they also had some sort of former romantic relationship.

Their arguments were not helping with the situation, pressuring Billy more and taking time from the reading.

The two witches continued and dragged Lilia with as tried to defend the rules of the Tarot to Agatha; who clearly had no respect for this particular witchy art.

It was only you who noticed the swords coming down once again, the roof slowly approaching as your end was getting nearer and nearer with each passing second.

"Ladies," you called then out, hoping to stop them while refusing to take your eyes off the swords; fearing if you did, one would kill you in the next second. "Ladies!" You called louder, hoping to be heard above their arguing and the mechanism pulling down the sword covered roof.

Billy was watching all this time, seeing the swords coming down and no one able to help; cause this was on him. At that moment of thrill and worry, at the face of certain death; he dared to ask the one question he had deep within his heart.

The very same question he feared to even think feared to get any answers to.

"Am I William, or am I Billy?" He asked, practically shouting above the noise.

"That's a very good question," Lilia said with a gentle smile, knowing in most detail of his feelings on the topic; considering he did take over the body ofna dead boy and pretended to be someone else's son. "This is the Safe Passage spread," she continued explaining and pulled out the first card. "The first card is you, the Traveller. Next comes What's Missing, the reason for your quest. Here is the Path Behind, wounds suffered, lessons learned. Here is the Path Ahead, a space for growth and discovery. Of course, you will face obstacles preceding a potential windfall. Uou must overcome all to reach your destination."

As Llia explained each card placement on the spread and what would represent depending on the card, Jen, you, and even Agatha were listening intensely; equally drawn by Lilia's words.

Jen was the first to notice that Agatha was actually paying attention for once and did not seem ready to comment, which was odd for her.

"What, no snide remarks?" Jen teased, always in the mood to try and rub some salt on Agatha's wounds and prove her wrong.

Of course, Agatha was not going to make it any easier for her. She kept her chin up. "Made sense to me."

You rolled your eyes, cleared your throat, and moved to stand between the two women. "If you two are done. Time is ticking, and this is Billy's reading, not yours. "

Being called out like that and realizing you were making a valid point, they just mumbled under their breaths, but the two witches did not dare to continue their little quarell.

You looked at Lilia, who nodded faintly in appreciation for stopping the noisy duo from interrupting any further. You replied with a head nod of your own, though you could still not shKs the feeling that something was off.

The Tarot Cards were definitely Lilia's trial, and yet the questions were about Billy's Path. It just didn't click right in your mind, simply because this was not how the trials worked.

Each trial circled around a deep fear for each member, a fear they had to face, and a challenge that needed to be overcome as a coven.

So, if it was Lilia's trial, why was there nothing about her journey in the cards? Why the sudden focus on Billy?

While you were contemplating those questions in your mind, Lilia proceeded to draw two cards for Billy; the Magician and the Sun.

Yet both those cards did not seem to please the trial, for the swords changed and one landed top close to Jen; causing her to grab your upper arm subconsciously as she moved more into your personal space.

That was not something that Agatha liked, evident by her hard glare towards the Potions Witch; envy and jealousy flashing in her blue eyes... when she noticed.

The swords shaking and as she dared to focus on one, she saw it detaching from whatever invisible string was held; heading straight for Lilia.

In a surprising act of selflessness, Agatha tackled Lilia off the chair and to the ground; just as the sword pierced her chair.

An involuntary gasp left your lips, and your hands covered your mouth, eyes wide at the near death experience that you just witnessed. If Agatha had been a second slower or if she hadn't managed to push Lilia down with the first try...

You shook your head, trying not to think about the outcome.

Instead, you simply stood there and watched as Agatha was forced off; Lilia clearly fought her despite the magicless witch trying to explain that she had just saved her life.

Once both women were up again, you passed a hand over your hair; having almost forgotten the odd but rather unique crown of ice on your head.

"Something we did was wrong... there is no other explanation, " you commented, trying to ease your beating heart.

Jen looked at you. "Yeah, but what are we doing wrong?!" She asked, her tone elevated as she was getting equally stressed. "We followed damn Tarot Rules, Lilia doing the reading as is her trial. So what do we do wrong?"

Jen's words seemed to trigger something within Lilia's mind as she started to realise everything. Her time slips, the random flashes she would get a those years... it all slowly started to make sense.

And she finally had an answer.

"Because he is not the Querent," she suddenly said as she sat at the edge of the chair; unbothered by the sword that had almost impaled her and made her one Vlad the Impaler victims. "I am. This is my reading"

And with those words, she stopped shuffling and cut. Her fingers touched the first card, and her mind's eye immediately got a time flash; the name of the card was known to her before she even turned it.

"The Queen of Cups"

Chapter 36

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can i ask for insecure reader x Donna?? Maybe before reader met Donna, the girls in the village teased her about her looks because they were jealous of her beauty. Reader can't believe that someone like Donna would like her. She notices that the reader cries every night and can't stand the sight of it so confronts reader.

Can it be a smut???

Yesss!!!! Thank you for request!!! I hope you like and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

P.S: To the anon who made a question to me yesterday. I'm sorry, I deleted your question by mistake but I remember it so:

To the question "what does G!P mean?" Well, I know it's not well written, yk, maybe GP! (girl penis) sounds more familiar to you.

Idk why I always write it like this. I made a mistake once but I didn't fix it. I guess I like it that way, like my own style or smth. I hope I've solved you doubt, take care of yourself!!!

Beautiful?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, fluff, angst, hurt and comfort, hurtful mockery

Word count: 8,162

Summary: You've started to think they were always right about your ugliness

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Hey, (Y/N),” you heard.

Behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, was a young man you knew, one who always smiled when he saw you.

“H-Hi, Ivan,” you said with a shy smile, turning around. “Aren't you with your friends?”

“Well, I saw you pass by and I was wondering if…” the boy said, scratching the back of his neck. “Um… Have you tried Mrs. Grescu's apples?”

You smiled, shaking your head.

It had been a long time since someone approached you to talk and you weren't stupid, in that shy smile there was more than the innocent intention of spending time with you. Having some boy approach you was strange enough to notice that you weren't really interested.

“Not really,” you said with a friendly smile.

“Well, then you won't have any problem in…”

“Oh, Ivan, I was looking for you,” a girl who appeared from the shadows interrupted the boy, drawing your attention.

You had tried to stay away from her, from her and her friends, but, apparently, it hadn't been possible.

“Miriam?” he asked, frowning after the sudden approach of the young woman. “I was talking to…”

“Hey, aren't you bored? The party is over there,” she said, hanging on to the boy's arm, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“No, it's just that…” he stammered, being dragged by the girl while you stood, completely ignored in that remote corner.

“Hey, he was talking to me!” you protested, not because you actually liked that the boy seemed interested, you really didn't, but because you knew the way that girl acted.

“Surely the lack of light has confused him, hasn't it, handsome?” Miriam joked, blinking seductively, leaving the villager speechless and with a silly smile.

“Um... well, if you say so...” he murmured, looking at you for the last time before disappearing, leaving you, once again, alone.

You sighed and sat down on an old bench. That the meeting had been short shouldn't surprise you, they all were, thanks to them.

“Oh, wow, poor (Y/N),” a cocky voice startled you and your body began to shake.

Two girls appeared out of nowhere, pretending to pout. They weren't friends of yours, but they were acquaintances, unfortunately.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, frowning and crossing your arms.

Trying to escape was already difficult enough, as they seemed to want to corner you.

“Are you enjoying your solitude?” one of them said with a sinister smile. “Well, I shouldn't be surprised that you like dark places, right, Alicia?”

“It's true, this place is made for you, (Y/N),” the other girl said, resting her arm on your shoulder mockingly. “A dark place, where no one can see you…”

“Why don't you just go away?” you asked, removing the hand and getting up from the bench. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

Alicia pushed on your shoulder, forcing you to sit back down among unpleasant laughs.

“Shhh, where do you think you're going?” she threatened, looking at her friend. “Do you think we like being here? No, (Y/N), we're doing altruistic work, right, Olga?”

“Yes, it's true,” her friend said, sitting next to you with a disgusted look. “Have you seen what time it is? There are still children on the streets and instead of having fun, we have to watch you.”

“That's good,” you whispered, starting to get nervous.

No, not again.

“If we let you go with the rest of the decent people, you could cause them a trauma,” Olga said. “With that face you could make even the lycans flee.”

You should have protested, been enraged by that insult, but you were used to it, too used to it.

“Well, Ivan isn't a lycan and he wanted to go for a walk with me,” you said with dark eyes, looking towards the snowy ground, trying, pathetically, to say something in your defense.

“Of course, because he can't see you well,” Alicia said, sighing and running a hand over your shoulders. “As soon as the light illuminated your shitty face, he would surely run away.”

“P-Please, leave me alone,” you stammered, with tears in your eyes, unable to escape from that horribly common situation.

“Please, please…” the girls mocked, pretending to pout. “Oh, are you going to cry?”

“She's going to cry,” Alicia mocked. “Spare us the suffering, (Y/N). I don't want to have nightmares.”

“Hey, come on Alicia, it's not okay to laugh at (Y/N), she has to look herself in the mirror every day,” the girl commented while you made an effort to keep the tears in your eyes.

“It's true...” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “Although I doubt she has mirrors in her house. What for?”

“Well, for her parents and...” the other girl commented, putting a hand on her lips. “Oh, sorry, you don't have parents, do you?”

You, wishing the ground would swallow you up, shook your head, starting to sob.

“Olga, don't be cruel,” Alicia said, getting up from the bench and gently hitting her friend. “What would you do if you had a daughter like her?”

“I would have probably wanted to die,” the girl replied cruelly. “What a shame...”

“Enough!” you shrieked, clenching your fists and abruptly. “Leave me alone!”

“Don't shout, stupid, your voice destroys my ears,” Alicia joked, covering her ears comically.

“Jeez... even her voice is horrible,” Olga protested while you began to tremble, letting the tears fall into the snow. “She's crying again, you're pathetic, (Y/N).”

“Pathetic and ugly,” the other added, nodding with her arms crossed. “Hey, do us a favor and go to your lair, monster.”

“Hey, look,” one of the girls said, hitting her friend's shoulder and pointing at something with her head.

The two looked at each other and gave you another mocking smile before moving away from you.

“Anyway… have fun, ugly,” they joked, walking away from you.

The silence was a relief, only broken by your sobs. Teasing had always been in your life. That trio of witches had always enjoyed torturing you, insulting you, and making you think that everything they said… was real. You could never understand what you had done to deserve those insults, to deserve the constant mockery that made your life a hell.

No matter how much you wanted to get away from them, even from the village itself. That was impossible. In that lost place, guarded by the Black Gods, there was no escape.

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled you, waking you up from that nightmare, from those tremors and tears.

You looked to one side, to the other… Nothing, you saw nothing. You thought that maybe you had gone crazy, that all the suffering was starting to take its toll on you, but that wasn’t the case. You looked down and couldn’t help but step back.

On the ground, illuminated by the dim light of a street lamp, was what at first seemed to be a girl, but in reality wasn’t.

Of course you were no stranger to the Lords or to Mother Miranda. Everyone in the village respected and feared them. You knew that figure, that sinister and almost dark smile: the Angie doll, inseparable companion of one of the four guardians of the village, of the youngest Lord: Donna Beneviento.

For a moment you thought about running away, but you froze. Of course, having a Lord so close, or well, part of one, wasn’t a good sign.

“What are you doing? Help me up,” the doll said, gesturing for you to sit her on the bench.

 Afraid of the consequences of not doing so, you grabbed the puppet with a hesitant gesture and followed her order.

“That's it, well done, villager.”

“M-M-Miss Angie,” you murmured, wiping away your tears and lowering your head in a gesture of respect. “What are you doing here?”

“My Donna and I don't like crowds,” the doll answered, watching you from very close. “Hey, silly, silly, are you crying? Do I scare you that much?”

“N-No... it's just that... n-never mind,” you said, scared, but with the feeling that this puppet had nothing to do with the three girls who made your life miserable. “I-I don't like people very much either.”

“I see that,” Angie said, swinging her legs comically on the bench. “Why? You’re beautiful and you should be surrounded by stupid boys.”

At that comment, your eyes widened. No one, ever, had told you that you were beautiful, much less, someone like her.

“Beautiful? Me?” you asked confused, pointing at yourself. “No, I'm not…” you sighed, believing that, just like the girls, that doll was laughing at you.

“If you say so…” the puppet sighed. “Hey, hey, hey, silly, do you want to play?”

“What? Play?” you asked, shaking your head.

“Yes, that way we kill time for the festival to end,” the puppet suggested. “Do you know how to play chain words?”

“I-I think so,” you stammered. “S-Sorry, Miss Angie… it's just that I've never been so close to… someone… someone like you.”

“Well, you'll get used to it,” Angie whispered, getting a little closer, still looking at you. “Hey, lonely girl, I think my Donna would like you…”

Unintentionally, by chance, that meeting preceded by a horribly bitter moment was the beginning of your new life. The lady in black appeared shortly after to take her doll, who seemed to have escaped.

If Angie hadn't existed... well, none of that would have happened. The doll's insistence to its owner to meet you was a bit exaggerated, but... to your own surprise, it worked. You didn't know what that veiled lady had seen in you, but you didn't reject Angie's proposal to get to know her better.

You couldn't deny that you were afraid, you were, and very much so. Lady Beneviento was described by the village as an extremely dangerous, sick and unhinged woman, but... to you she didn't seem that way. It was impossible to know what was under that black cloth and hypotheses were always part of the village's rumors.

Despite that, it didn't take long for you to find things in common with that woman. She didn't seem like a ruthless creature but... a normal, ordinary woman, or at least, on the surface. A lover of art and literature, cultured, sensitive, intelligent... Donna was the opposite of what the rumors said.

She was a woman wounded by her past, consumed by the loneliness of her dilapidated mansion, but somehow, your presence made it not seem like that. Her voice, a voice that no one had ever heard before, rang out only for you on one of the afternoons you spent with her, drinking tea, like two unknown souls dying to know each other.

Everything happened so fast that you couldn't control it. Your feelings, the sensations you had when you were with her became overwhelming in a very short time. She wasn't laughing at you, she was nice to you. The monster that the rumors spoke of was, to you, an angel in a world of demons.

Her beauty was special, undeniable, stained by a scar that covered part of her face. Again, you could feel privileged to admire what was hidden, but you didn't have much time to do so, as her lips suddenly landed on yours, showing that Donna felt the same as you.

Everything seemed perfect, incredible. The relationship you started with Donna was a good reason to start leaving your past behind. You believed that this tangle of kisses, whispers of love, caresses, could tear down what seemed like an eternity of suffering.

In part it was like that, smiling was no longer too hard a job for you, but, to be honest, you didn't forget as much as you thought.

Sometimes those dark shadows came back. It didn't matter if it was day or night, those words echoed in your ears, preventing you from forgetting your complexes, those words that, after being too many years in your head, seemed like an immutable truth.

It wasn't strange that you wondered what that incredible woman was doing with you, what she could have seen in a horrible, ugly girl like you. Looking in the mirror, you came up with dark reasons for it. Maybe her complexes made her settle for the first girl who didn't run away, or simply, she felt better with someone uglier than her.

Deep down you knew it was nonsense, that none of the arguments your brain made were true but… after so much suffering, you just couldn't help but think it.

Two years later, that relationship continued. Donna was perfect, simply perfect, and you had a hard time understanding why perfection had set its sights on you, but it did, and the reasons mattered less and less to you.

You couldn't stop sadness and the past from coming back to attack you, causing you to cry in front of the mirror for no reason, looking at the reflection of what must have been… a monster.

Of course, your past remained hidden in the depths of your soul. You didn't want her to know about your misfortunes. You were afraid that, if she did, she would recognize that the love she felt for you was nothing but spite.

No, you couldn't tell her anything, you didn't want to worry her or expose your insecurities, besides there was no reason to do so anymore. In those two wonderful years, you didn't return to the village. You were convinced that, with time, you could stop crying.

“Hi,” you said with a slightly fake smile, erasing the tears from your face as you entered the workshop.

The lady in black didn't turn to look at you, but she made a loving gesture with her hand for you to come closer. You did, leaning down to kiss her cheek, to get that shy laugh that drove you crazy out of her lips.

“Mm, ciao, tesoro...” she whispered, turning her head so your lips crashed against hers, stealing a tender kiss from you. “Are you coming to keep me company?”

“Yes,” you said amused, enjoying the contact of her skin with yours, letting her hands grab your body, sitting you on her lap. “What are you doing?”

“Making dolls,” she said, looking back at the work table as you settled on her.

“Yes, I see,” you said amused. “Can I?” you asked, reaching out your hand to pick up the porcelain doll she offered you, looking at it lovingly. “It's very cool.”

“Grazie, (Y/N), but it's just like the others,” Donna said as you ran your fingers along the seams of that little dress. “Well, almost… Look, I decided to add some ruffles.”

“I gave you that idea,” you said with a sincere smile, sighing at the sight of the creation that came, in part, from your imagination. “What is she?”

“She's a fisherman's daughter,” she said, moving as she lovingly caressed your hair. “Look, see the little fish I embroidered on it?”

“Yeah, wow, that’s fabulous work, Donna,” you said, nodding in admiration at your girlfriend’s underappreciated work.

The lady smiled, looking at you, proud of your compliments, but that smile suddenly faded, bringing a hand to your chin and slowly lifting it.

“(Y/N), your eyes…” she murmured confused, studying your gaze.

“W-What's wrong with them? A-Are they ugly? Don't you like them?” you asked nervous, looking away from her.

You were starting to think that time would never heal your insecurities.

“Mm? Di che cosa stai parlando?” Donna asked, shaking her head. “Your eyes are beautiful, tesoro but… they're red… What's wrong? Have you been crying?” she asked with a worried tone.

“Oh, no, no,” you said, shaking your head effusively, rubbing your eyes. “It's just that… I think, I think I have an allergy to… to dust.”

“Allergy?” Donna questioned, frowning. “Really? W-Well, maybe I should hire a maid and…”

A maid? A beautiful girl in uniform working for Donna? A girl surely much more beautiful than you? A girl that the lady in black would notice, realizing that you were hideous? No, thank you.

“No,” you said abruptly, making her blink in confusion. “No, Donna, it will pass.”

She smiled, nodding.

“You're right, besides, I wouldn't like to have another girl in the house, you could fall in love with her,” the lady in black commented, whispering in your ear. “That would kill me.”

“Don't talk nonsense,” you said, laughing at the tickling her lips were starting to do on your neck. “I could never fall in love with someone other than you.”

“I like that you say that. I like knowing that you're mine…” she purred playfully, but before you could perhaps get carried away by passion in the workshop, the phone interrupted, making you two sigh in a complicit manner.

“Hey, you two!” Angie shrieked, interrupting the kisses that were beginning to heat up. “Are you deaf or is your blood not reaching your head? The phone is ringing!”

“Ugh, Angie,” Donna protested, pushing away the doll, who was already beginning to tug impatiently at her dress. “Behave, please…”

“Pick up the damn phone!” Angie shrieked, creating, along with the sound of the phone, a chaos in the normally silent workshop. “Let that silly thing go and get up!”

Your smile faded when you heard the doll talk about you as a… thing… The memories came back to haunt you.

“Angie, taci,” the lady growled, not obeying her puppet. “Pick it up, will you?”

“Always me! Angie, do this, Angie pick up the phone,” the doll mocked, making the lady laugh.

“Do it,” Donna growled, still kissing you, calming your nerves with her hot lips.

“You damn clingy fool…” Angie grumbled, leaving the workshop and obeying her owner.

Anyway, she couldn't do anything else, Donna created her.

After a while in silence, only accompanied by kisses, hugs and increasingly suggestive caresses, the doll returned, making you, with a knowing look, move away before your clothes began to disappear.

“It was the Duke,” the doll said, climbing onto Donna's lap, trying, unsuccessfully, to push you away from her. “He says he couldn't come this afternoon.”

“What?” the lady asked, frowning. “Why not?”

“I'm sorry, Miss Angie, personal matters,” the puppet said, imitating the merchant's voice. “What personal matters? Lose weight?”

“Cavolo…” the brunette lamented, passing a hand over her forehead. “We need flour.”

“So?” Angie protested, without being able to move an inch. “Send the fool to get it.”

“Yes, well… (Y/N), would you do me a favor and go to the village?” the lady asked, causing you to suddenly get up from her lap, nervous.

“M-Me? To t-the village?” you asked with difficulty pronouncing the words.

Two years had passed, two happy years without setting foot in the village. All your demons were still present, but, somehow, far away. Returning to the place where you suffered would only make things worse and besides, they would still be there, you were sure.

“Yes, you,” Donna said, frowning, surprised by your reaction. “Do you mind going?”

“Um, well… I… it's been a long time since I've been to the village and…” you murmured, looking away, somewhat embarrassed by your irrational fear.

“Ha!” Angie laughed amused. “Are you afraid of getting lost or something? Please…”

“No, of course not, it's just that…” you said nervously, noticing how sweat was beginning to run down your hands.

You couldn't, you didn't want to go back. Away from that place you had been safe. You just didn't want to go through the same thing. You couldn't do it, unless… Donna accompanied you.

“O-Okay, but… Donna, could you come with me?” you asked with a pleading look.

Being accompanied by a powerful Lord changed things. Maybe if those stupid girls saw you with her they would change their minds, or, at best, they would get the scare of their lives.

“Io?” she asked, pointing at herself. “No.”

“Why not?” you asked approaching the woman in black, who maintained a cold gaze. “How long has it been since you left the house? I think you could use some fresh air.”

“If I want to get some fresh air, I would take a walk around the grounds, like I do with you. I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I don't want to go to the village,” she answered with a dry voice, shaking her head. “I just need flour, the other things can wait. It's not that big of a deal.”

“It's not that big of a deal?” you asked more nervously, looking for somewhere to look. “Donna, I…”

“What's going on? Why don't you want to go to the village, (Y/N)? Is there something you haven't told me?” the lady asked, slowly getting up from the chair and holding your gaze with her eye half-closed.

“Um, no…” you sighed, lying again, unable to show the root of your problems, of your insecurities. “No, but…”

“Then obey, silly,” Angie said, with a severe tone camouflaged in a sinister laugh.

“I… O-Okay,” you said, without further arguments, defeated by that curious look that threatened with one of her interrogations. “I'll go.”

“Fine,” Donna said, arching her eyebrow and sitting down again. “Don't be long, tesoro.”

“N-no,” you murmured, biting your lip and slowly leaving the workshop.

As you walked, you thought about everything happened in that place, everything you had been through: the death of your parents, your loneliness, the cruel teasing of the girls… Everything had been generated in that sinister village. If there was a place you hated, that you never wanted to return to, it was that one.

Luckily, there was tranquility among the houses. No one noticed you as you walked towards your destination. Maybe, just maybe, those girls were no longer there, maybe you were worrying in vain. After all, two years had passed.

Everything seemed to be going surprisingly well, as you made the purchase relaxed, without awkward questions, as if you hadn't disappeared. For a moment, you had the hope that the demons that tormented you had disappeared with the passage of time. Unfortunately, it was a fleeting thought.

“(Y/N), what a surprise,” you recognized that voice immediately, freezing but forcing your legs to keep walking.

“Hey, where are you going so fast?” Olga insisted, grabbing your arm roughly. “Look, Miriam, Alicia, the monster is back.”

“(Y/N), you look ugly, as always,” Miriam said while you struggled against Olga’s grip. “What has happened to you these two years? Apart from being more horrible, of course.”

“Yes, (Y/N), we thought you were dead,” Alicia said, stopping you from moving forward.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, pushing them away with your shoulder, trying not to hear their hurtful comments.

“What's wrong? Were you petrified by seeing your reflection? Have you hibernated? What happened to you?” Miriam insisted, with that petulant tone that reminded you of your horrible past.

“It's none of your business,” you growled, walking faster, escorted helplessly by the three girls.

“Well, we like to know where the monsters are, right, Olga?” Miriam commented, laughing mockingly. “So we can hide.”

Maybe telling the truth wasn't such a bad idea.

“You want to know where I've been? Huh?” you said, stopping abruptly, tears in your eyes again. “I've been living with Donna Beneviento for two years, she's my... girlfriend,” you said, faltering.

“What?” they asked in unison, looking at each other confused. “You must be kidding.”

“It's not a joke, so... stop, stop messing with me or I'll tell her and...” you said, pretending a threatening tone you weren't able to emit.

“Oh, what will she do to us? You're pathetic, (Y/N), of course, if anyone had to be with the crazy doll lady, it's you.”

“Don't insult her,” you hissed nervously, cornered again.

“Yes, surely that nutcase has noticed you because you're even much uglier than her.”

“Shut up!” you shrieked, shaking the bags in your hand. “I'll tell her and…”

“They say she's more horrible than a lycan,” Alicia hissed, approaching you with a smug smile. “That she has five eyes and claws in her mouth…”

“No, shut up,” you said, noticing how your legs were starting to fail you.

“Alicia, don't mess with the monster's girlfriend,” her friend said, with a cocky pose. “It's the most (Y/N) can aspire to.”

“It's true, although well, she probably hates seeing her face every day, that's why she sends you on errands, right?” she said, making tears return to your eyes.

“Well, a deformed being like her could only be with another deformed being like you. It's nature, but… well, maybe it's not a good thing,” Miriam commented, leaning uncomfortably on your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” one of the girls asked.

“It's obvious. That relationship won't last. Lady Beneviento will probably commit suicide for having her around, just like her parents... or, and yours,” Olga said with a dangerous tone.

“My parents died of an illness,” you growled nervously, looking everywhere, looking for some help.

“Yes, the illness of having an ugly as hell daughter,” the girl laughed, those laughs that didn't leave your mind even when you couldn't hear them.

“Relax, (Y/N), nothing will happen to her when she realizes how ugly you are, she probably won't take long to get rid of you, but... when she does, if you survive, don't go near the village, okay? You give nightmares to the children,” Miriam said.

Unable to defend yourself, you decided to run, to flee, while the three girls laughed amused. You didn't want to blame Donna for not being with you, for not making those stupid girls swallow their words, but you couldn't help but do so.

When you returned home, you didn't give any explanation, you just wanted to cry. You needed to. Your nightmare was far from over and your reflection in the mirror was becoming more and more distorted. It had been a while since you'd seen a person, but a monster.

“I'm telling you something's wrong with her, Donna, can't you see it?” you heard Angie say as you went up to the dining room.

The crying had exhausted you and you had masterfully avoided your girlfriend's questions.

“Yes, she was tired,” the lady whispered, setting the table while you listened, hidden in a corner.

“You're stupid, Donna, it's obvious that she's been crying,” Angie said, tugging at her dress. “I've approached the bedroom and heard sobbing.”

“If (Y/N) has any problems, she would tell me,” Donna said, sure of her words, ones she didn't know were a lie.

“Maybe the problem is you,” Angie murmured. “Donna, you are as understanding as a glass of water, why don't you ask her and…?”

“Oh, (Y/N),” the lady said when she saw you appear, with a tender smile, one that you returned with great effort. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I just needed to rest,” you murmured with your voice broken by crying, letting the lady kiss you quickly before accompanying you to the table.

“Mm,” she murmured with a sweet smile as she sat in front of you, thus beginning another of your romantic, silent dinners. “Angie told me you have been crying.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “T-the allergy, you know.”

“If something worries you, (Y/N), you must tell me. You haven't said a single word since you came back from the village,” Donna commented, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye as she poured you a glass of wine.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” you said, feigning confidence, stopping eating for a moment and looking at the lady, who was frowning. “Hey, Donna, you… you love me, don't you?”

“Of course I love you, amore mio,” she sighed, reaching out her hand to caress yours. “I see tears in your eyes, tesoro. Please tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing, I just sometimes wonder what you're doing with me,” you said in a sad tone, returning to your dinner.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Donna said amused, thus showing her lack of ability to understand emotions, something she wasn’t guilty of.

Poor Donna had been alone almost all her life. She wasn’t able to see the glow that indicated there was something wrong.

“Everything was delicious, Donna, but I think I'll go to sleep, I'm kind of tired,” you whispered after dinner, getting up from the chair.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing your wrist before you left. “(Y/N), I'm sorry about not going with you. If you're upset about that, I beg you to forgive me.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you said with a fake smile, kissing the back of her hand. “I have nothing to forgive you for.”

“Yes, but…” the lady said hastily, getting up and cupping your face in her hands. “I want to make it up to you. Tomorrow I have a meeting with my siblings and maybe, well, maybe you want to accompany me.”

“Do you want me to accompany you?” you asked, blushing at the proposal.

“Yes, um, the only bad thing is that you would have to wait outside, but I could give you that walk through the village, do you fancy it?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Donna,” you sighed, kissing her cheek with hope resurfacing in your chest.

Maybe, finally, you could get your revenge, scare those stupid girls, show them that they couldn't mess with you, that Donna was by your side, that she loved you, and that she didn't think you were horrible, because she didn't, right?

Luck didn't seem to be on your side at all. The next day, you walked with the veiled lady through the village.

There weren't many people on the street and they all lowered their heads as soon as they saw you. You clung to Donna’s arm, keeping her close, looking with your eyes for those girls, who seemed to resist appearing.

You finally reached the entrance of the cathedral, where you would have to wait. You were disappointed for not having been able to fulfill your objective, but you were patient, since there was still the way back.

“Well, well...” that voice, that voice again.

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)? Have you come to ask Mother Miranda to end your suffering?” other girl asked while you read quietly under a statue.

Unconsciously, you looked at the cathedral, looking for a help that wouldn’t come.

“I'm afraid there is no remedy for you, (Y/N),” Alicia said, letting herself fall next to you. “You are so ugly that not even the Black Gods could fix you.”

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, without taking your eyes off the door.

“Has your girlfriend committed suicide already? I would if I had to wake up every day next to a monster like you,” Olga commented, imitating her friend's gesture. “Now it's time to go after another Lord, isn't it? How about Moreau? You two look quite alike.”

“Yes, you'd make a good couple,” Miriam mocked, opening her eyes wide immediately.

“Ladies... Do you think it's fun to mess with my sister's girlfriend?” a seductive, velvety voice appeared behind you, the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu.

“My lady,” the girls repeated, standing up and bowing.

“Gods... How inelegant you are, my dears,” the lady in white murmured, placing a huge hand on your shoulder. “Maybe a few days in my castle will teach you some manners.”

“No, my lady, we're leaving now, my lady,” one girl said, terrified, walking backwards.

“Get out...” Alcina whispered, shaking her head. “Get out!”

You were nervous, sobbing, watching those three demons flee in terror. In other circumstances you might have laughed, but not at that moment.

“My dear… How do you let them say those things to you?” Alcina asked, sitting down next to you as best she could, running a hand over your tear-wet cheeks. “Can't you defend yourself?”

“I-I've been hearing them say that for so long that… that…” you said hiccupping, succumbing to your complexes, ones they created. “They're right.”

“They're right? Please,” she sighed, putting her arms around your shoulders. “You must be blind, dear. Those three stupid girls are just jealous.”

“I have nothing for them to envy… I'm a monster,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands.

“Maybe you and I have a different idea of ​​what monsters are like, my dear,” the lady of the castle said, shaking her head and patting your back. “I assure you that I have rarely seen a girl as beautiful as you. You must believe me, I know a lot about beautiful girls.”

“No, that's not true, that's…” you stammered, ignoring the compliment. “It's a lie.”

“Hey! Keep your claws off our (Y/N)!” Angie shrieked, appearing next to Donna and threatening the vampire.

“Your (Y/N)?” the lady in white asked, standing up elegantly. “My dear… If she is really yours, you should care a little more about her.”

“What happened? Why is the fool crying?” the doll asked as the lady in black approached, bending down to lift your chin, a touch you rejected.

“Three undesirable vermin were mocking poor (Y/N). Donna, you disappoint me, how can you allow them to say such things to your girl?”

“Cosa?” the brunette whispered raising her gaze and abandoning her touch on you. “Mocking?”

“Sì, cara mia… Allow me some advice: protect what is yours if you want to have the guts to call yourself a Lord, because if you don’t… well, I suppose there will always be room in the castle for this beautiful young woman, right?”

“Who did it!?” Donna shouted, frantically, comically pulling on Alcina's white dress, making her laugh amused. “Who did it!?”

“Mm, three young girls, they went that way,” Alcina pointed with her head.

“Come on, Donna!” Angie shrieked, walking in that direction. “It's been a long time since we had some fun.”

“Wait!” you screamed, grabbing the doll maker by the hand. “Leave it be, Donna, let's go home, please,” you begged, sobbing, wanting to disappear from that scene.

“No,” she hissed, pulling away from your grip. “They will pay for it.”

“No, no please, Donna!” you shrieked, pulling the lady under the watchful gaze of her sister. “It doesn't matter, I just want to go home, please.”

“What did they say to you, (Y/N)? Why were they making fun of you?” Donna said nervously, putting her hands on your shoulders. “What did they say to you?”

“It doesn't matter, Donna, really,” you insisted, resisting her nervous grip, her nails digging into your skin.

“They've hinted to your girl that she's… ugly, which is nonsense in my opinion, don't you think, Donna?” the vampire explained in an indifferent tone.

“Ugly? Her?” the lady in black asked in a confused tone, looking at you slowly. “But…”

You sobbed, hurt, deeply hurt, and turned around, running away from the women, returning home with a heartbroken cry.

There was nothing to do. Donna had discovered your problems, and you couldn't, nor did you want to wait to hear how she might agree. You wanted to cry, scream, but above all, you wanted to be alone.

You couldn't tell how long you were crying against the pillow, in the dark bedroom, hearing in the background a tireless knocking at the door.

“Apri la porta, (Y/N)!” Donna shouted from the other side. “Do it! Do you dare to disobey me?”

“I want to be alone!” you shouted, resting your head on the pillow. “I don't want you to tell me they're right, I don't want to hear it!”

“Cazzo!” Donna shrieked, banging on the door harder. “Why are you repeating that nonsense!? Open the door! Ugh…”

“No!” you screamed childishly, glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the vanity table. “You want to leave me? That's it, isn't it? You'll leave me because I'm ugly!”

“What the hell are you talking about? (Y/N)… open the door,” the lady hissed, getting impatient. “Please, I can't stand to see you cry, I know it's not the first time you've done it.”

“What do you care if I cry? You'll leave me anyway,” you said, sitting up and rubbing your stinging eyes. “Say it already.”

“What? What do you want me to say?” It was heard from the other side.

“That I'm horrible!” you shrieked, opening the door and running away from the lady, who grabbed you tightly by the arms.

“You're pissing me off, (Y/N)…” she hissed, not letting you escape. “Now you're going to tell me what's wrong with you, why you don't stop crying day after day if you don't want me to get really angry, you don't want that, right?”

You could only shake your head.

“Well, talk, what's all this business about those girls? Why do you cry every night?” she asked, in a calmer tone, wiping away your tears. “Tesoro, you're so ugly when you cry…”

“I'm always ugly,” you murmured, sitting on the bed and playing with your hands. “T-Those girls…” you started when the brunette sat next to you, ignoring your self-pity. “…T-They were never my friends but since I was very little they were always… harassing me, insulting me…”

“(Y/N)…” Donna whispered, nodding for you to continue.

“I know I'm not beautiful, but they... they're always reminding me and laughing at me and... even when some guy would come over, they would talk him out of it, telling horrible lies and...”

“I don't get it, (Y/N), what's this about you being ugly? I'm sorry, but I can't understand,” she stammered, frowning, confused.

“Stop pretending! Look at me!” you shrieked, pointing at your face. “They're right, I'm horrible...”

“Are you sure about that? Are you completely sure?” Donna asked, pulling your hand, lifting you from the bed and dragging you to the mirror, sitting you roughly on the stool. “Look, (Y/N), look!”

“D-Donna...” you stammered scared as the lady grabbed your face, forcing you to look at your reflection.

“Look at yourself, (Y/N). Look at your face, your eyes, your lips…” she whispered, fixing her eye on your reflection while holding your head. “I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you.”

“Y-You're just saying that to cheer me up,” you murmured, lowering your head. “It's not true, I…”

“I can't believe you, (Y/N), even my sister has noticed that you're beautiful, do you really think she offers anyone a room at the castle? Please open your eyes, look at reality.”

You shook your head, looking at all your features, features that, you began to notice, weren't those of a monster.

“If you think you're horrible, (Y/N), what am I?” she hissed, pointing at the deformity of her face. “You've never needed to cover your face, have you? You don't need a veil…”

“Donna, I didn't mean…” you said regretfully, blinking. “It's just that they…”

“They? They're just bitches!” the lady shouted, cursing like never before. “Do you know what their only problem is? That they'll never be as beautiful as you.”

“S-So… you think that…”

“They're just jealous, (Y/N), jealous of you, but you know what? You shouldn't care, all you have to do is… look in the mirror and acknowledge the facts. You're the most beautiful girl in the village, and I don't have enough gratitude for the Gods, because someone like me is lucky enough to have you.”

“Donna,” you said with tears in your eyes, believing her words, forgetting the insults, the years of teasing, realizing that she was right, that boys were approaching you in droves, interested in you and scared by those stupid girls, just out of jealousy because they would never be like you.

“Come here,” Donna whispered lovingly, lifting you from the vanity table and grabbing you by the waist. “Promise me that you will never believe a single word again. You must believe me, tesoro. I will always tell you the truth.”

“I... I don't know what to say,” you stammered, excited because, for the first time, Donna had managed to calm your fears, because you realized that you should have always trusted her, that this nightmare would have ended if you had told her what was tormenting you during those nights of crying.

“Mm, then don't say anything, just kiss me, bella,” the lady whispered, slowly approaching your lips, devouring them in a wet and warm kiss, comforting and salty with tears.

It was a long, deep kiss, animated by the silence, by the nervous breaths your lips emitted while they caressed each other. Her hands grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to her body, letting all her warmth embrace you slowly, without hurrying, while you had fun messing up her black hair, letting it fall on her shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on hers, running a hand over the scar that deformed her face, discreetly consoling her own insecurities. “I love you…”

Donna smiled, closing her eye so your hands caressed her soft skin, letting only you have that privilege, only you realize that she was a beautiful woman, that her beauty was only for you.

The doubts, the insecurities disappeared little by little, with each step you took towards the bed, with the voices of your demons camouflaged by the wet sound of the kisses, of the steps on the wood. Donna let her body rest on yours as her hands clung to your face while her lips reluctantly moved away from yours kissing your skin slowly, whispering things you didn't understand, but tickled your flesh.

“Beautiful... the most beautiful girl in the world,” she whispered in your ear, her hips betraying her desire, her fingers caressing your collarbone and her lips refusing to abandon the softness of your skin.

You laughed at the compliment, wanting to give her that affection too, running your hands over the perfection of her body, her waist, her chest covered by what at that moment seemed to you to be a horrible black dress.

“Donna...” you gasped when those innocent hands stopped being innocent, when they attacked the ties of your dress and pulled it down your body while you were distracted by her kisses, with her shy tongue bristling every inch of your skin. “Donna…”

She didn’t answer, since worshipping your body was a task that always required all her attention. Her legs settled on either side of your hips and her fingertips undid the annoying bra that covered you.

You gasped again, letting yourself be carried away by the subtle movements of her body, with your hands struggling to make their way over her chest, to undress it, to delight your eyes with her naked and perfect body.

Her kisses went down little by little, without it seeming important to her the hand that slipped through her dress, the hand that caressed her chest softly, a chest that rose and fell nervously, anxious to know what your fingers would do to it.

She pulled away from your lips, sitting up for a moment to look at you, with a cold, thoughtful look. You wondered what was going through her mind, what she was thinking about while her two hands passed over your naked skin, stopping at your breasts, squeezing them in a dominant, but kind, respectful way.

“Il tuo corpo è bellisimo,” she whispered slowly so you could understand her and blush while laughing shyly.

Your smile provoked hers, and without knowing what you wanted, the lady in black stopped being so, taking that annoying dress off her body, staring at you.

“If you say those things to me... I won't be able to control myself,” you said amused, with a mischievous look, grabbing the back of her neck and bringing her lips to their only possible place at that moment, kissing yours.

The kisses heated the atmosphere like a fireplace in winter. Your bodies danced tirelessly, more and more exposed, naked. The caresses became subtle scratches, claims of ownership as you panted on her lips.

Your hands became jealous, they wanted to touch her, to feel her bare chest as it rubbed against yours, to delight in the perfection of her figure always hidden, always ashamed.

No, Donna had nothing to be ashamed of. She was a terribly beautiful woman even if she refused to recognize it. Then, you realized that your frustration must be similar to hers.

Two women in love unable to recognize each other's beauty; you seemed predestined, it seemed that the only thing you could do in your sad life was to be together, to love each other, to kiss each other, to fuse your bodies into one and tell the world that you were both making love with beauty itself.

You protested with a moan when you noticed how her lips left yours, how her silky hair tickled your skin and her hands grabbed your legs, moving them at will.

Your fingers searched for each of the corners that disappeared little by little, they searched for her breasts, to make her nipples stand up like she had done with yours. It was the least that a Goddess like Donna deserved, but she didn’t allow it.

Her lust had other plans, her lips wanted to kiss your breasts, your belly, your thighs… She didn't want to let you think that there was a single inch of your body that wasn't worth worshiping.

“Donna…” you moaned, relaxing your body as you felt her lips on your wetness, her tongue caressing your most intimate area while your hands desperately sank into your hair.

She laughed against your skin without stopping her wet feat, running through your folds, playing with your clit and gently stimulating it so the pleasure wasn't overwhelming. She wasn't making love to you; she wasn't giving you oral sex, no… Donna was worshiping you.

Her kisses weren't fast or anxious, they were slow; they were made to enjoy the taste of your arousal, to get those soft and erotic movements of your hips. You wanted to protest, to demand a place between her legs too, but she didn't let you.

“Shhh, this is just for you, amore mio…” Donna whispered into your skin, adding her hands to the fun, trying to stimulate the parts her tongue abandoned.

You wouldn't feel cold, you wouldn't feel neglected, she was there to make you enjoy as she thought you deserved.

Your childish grunts and protests began to drown with moans of pleasure, with intense shivers, when one of her fingers followed the path of her tongue, impregnating itself in your wet core, playing with your eager entrance.

“Donna, please,” you said without wanting to, involuntarily begging for that pleasure to materialize, to stop being superficial.

The lady heard you, pressing her lips to your skin for the last time and climbing your nakedness, allowing you to taste yourself in her kisses, in a terribly erotic way.

There was barely time to enjoy that sensation, as her fingers entered you without wasting any more time, curling into your trembling core, one that was already unbearably hot.

Her movements were soft, careful, perfectly timed by her kisses and caresses, by subtle moans that came from her lips, by the pure and almost innocent pleasure of giving you that altruistic passion, one just for you.

The moans soon got out of control, causing your imperfect nails to scratch the perfection of her skin, marking her back to cushion the waves of pleasure you felt. Her fingers were harmonious, tireless, tender and passionate, running along your walls in a unique way, entering, leaving, caressing…

“Donna! I’m…!” you screamed when your hips jerked sharply, when your interior kept her fingers still at the same time your entire back tensed, accompanied by a very scandalous moan.

Of course, your release wasn't going to put an end to that pleasure. Without giving Donna time to protest, you threw yourself at her, immobilizing her, not allowing her to embrace you without returning the favor first.

Clumsily, but with desire, you imitated her movements, you sank into her eager wetness, which seemed to call you, to turn you on just with her scent. Your tongue, your lips… everything she gave you came back in the best way you wanted, making the normally shy and silent Donna Beneviento unable to help but scream.

She had her release and the kisses returned, rubbing your bodies tirelessly, brushing your wet core with her thigh while she did the same, hugging each other, looking into each other's eyes, loving each other in a hot, erotic and unmatched way.

“Donna…” you sighed once the action ended, collapsing in her arms after a second orgasm, with your demons far away from you. “I love you…”

She laughed, kissing you on the forehead and rubbing your back, but suddenly she frowned, pushing you away.

“Where are you going? Come here, my love,” you said with a sad look, watching how the lady got out of bed and started to get dressed, with a frivolous, almost dark face.

“Stay here, tesoro, I'll be back soon… I have to talk to three stupid girls…”

[clubsmarties]

Eli smiled against her lips as she returned the kiss he had just given. There was no hesitation in reciprocating it. His hand cupped her face and pulled her close as he deepened the kiss for a brief moment. If this was what people called love, he wouldn't mind falling and break every bone in his body. The feeling was euphoric. Or maybe that was just Laurel. A soft chuckle escaped him as he dropped his hand and opened his eyes again to look at her. "I'm a man of many talents." His head nodded in acknowledgement. "They're the best but she's the one I watched grow up. She was the legit baby of the family. I cuddled her at night when she wouldn't settle. I think a big part of why her parents liked me was that I was the baby whisperer." Not only that but Emma understood him. Isa and Inez did too but they were different. Each sibling unlocked a hidden piece of what made Eli him. "You have a lot more hope for Chicago than I do. I think that is a nice sentiment but I think I'm done there. Visiting them is one thing but having a home, not really. That died with the parents." Again, Eli reverted to himself, the nomad having nowhere to call home. "Yes, really," he laughed. "I'd love to meet them. I am kind of curious to hear stories about you."

He felt for her but it wasn't pity. There was a longing there in her voice that told him that her mom wasn't a subject she liked going into but still would be willing to answer the question. Settling his hand over hers he smiled. "Sometimes people don't realize what type of diamond they have. They just see the dust and assume they're not worth much. Just because your mom had a harsher way to treat you doesn't mean you aren't worth it. Don't feel like you need to tone it down for me. I want you to be your unapologetic self." What he wanted her to take away from this was that he'd never make her change into something else to fit a mold she would never fit. "Mhm. I do like to learn. I like to get into something I've never done before. Cooking is one. Maybe we can come up with a new recipe."

An amused smile took over his features. "Fair enough. Drew you in." Lucky for him she even turned her head. "Pretty green eyes. I like it." Truly just because she said it. "Is that going to be your way to get my attention moving forward?" Amusement danced in his eyes as he leaned forward and chuckled thinking of the way everyone with colored eyes would turn if she did scream that out in the courtyard. "Definitely. I can't stand the heat. It makes me irritable. I don't like heatwaves." Now why did he pick Texas for his home would be something he'd never be able to explain but it felt like there was an inexplicable pull drawing him in to the blazing boot of a state.

"We can go together. Why not right? A cabin in the snow seems like we would both enjoy it." His eyebrows furrowed and a laugh was kept at bay as he realized she'd never had a real vacation. "Maybe we can change that. The winter break is coming up so why don't we head down to one of the National Parks and spend a day with nature. If you want to spend a day with me outside. I am a great nature guide." Eli slowly fanned his eyelashes and smirked. "Good to know you think nerdy is hot. Oh, you don't share is that it?"

"I might be trying to test your knowledge. See if any of those clap clap cheers stuck. Now, see that works well. I've got a few ideas on what we could do and since you're pretty confirmed to try something once then this should be easy." His mind had come up with multiple activities they could do and that already brought a smile to his face. "Company I can give. I'll bring at least one or two facts. It seems sad if there isn't something to learn." He took her hand and lead her out. Bag in the other hand and his hand holding one making sure they were locked. "Favorite color? Don't laugh but green. I like the color. It's nice and pretty. Place? Madrid. It is so vibrant. I'd love to go walk down their streets and eat their good food. You?" The shop wasn't too far from his dorm room which he was grateful for since he didn't want to keep walking so long. They reached his building and as he let go of her hand he took out his keys and opened his door for her to enter first. He dropped the bag of food on his desk, a neat pile of books and a laptop sitting on top and closed the door. 'Make yourself comfortable. If you want something to wear like a sweater take your pick. It gets cold here since I open the window. I'll be back."

He went to his closet and grabbed a blue sweater and sweats and his socks. After a five minute absence he came back out, hair outof his face and comfy clothes now on his person. "It's a thing we used to do. We don't sit with outside clothes on the bed."

Her smile couldn't be contained watching as he stood centimeters from her. Hiding how she felt and what she anticipated was not possible in any way or form. Laurel's eyes fluttered shut upon feeling those soft, lovely lips she had been hooked on from the start. "High praise, and you say I'm the one with the flirting skills," she teased, her hands cupping his face before pulling him in for a kiss of her own. The last two have been initiated by him, it was high time she give one to him. It's all she'd been thinking about for the last two weeks. "Hey, that night was great. No apology needed. I understand family, I just got it all mixed up. That's so sweet, being so close to your little sister." She zipped up her lips, "You're a great brother, and don't worry, I'll keep your secret." He had mentioned that last time, with that same sad tone. Chicago really was home, it seemed. "Well, for what it's worth, Austin is not that bad. It grows on you for sure, but don't say goodbye to Chicago. You never know where life could take you." Laurel was giddy at the thought of him meeting Julia and Aaron. Julia will be thrilled, especially when she was already such a big fan. "Wait, that's great! I love it, I'll let them know meeting you has made it to the itinerary."

It hadn't occurred to her that her answers had a deeper meaning somewhere in there, but she had said she was an open book. "I'll hold you to that," she said with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. His question had thrown her off for a second. "Yeah. My mom, when she was still around. She was always going on and on about being a bit much, which is fine. It makes sense, I suppose. It helped me learned to tone it down." Though, she supposed toning it down was debatable. "Really? You'd learn with me. That would be so much fun, and we'd get a new skill out of it. Hopefully, some good food too." The thought was intriguing - her mind already trying to think of how could they make this work. Maybe borrowing her dad's kitchen, because the communal kitchen in the dorm buildings wouldn't cut it. "True, but it's all you at the end of the day. Pretty green eyes," and just like that - new nickname unlocked.

Laurel happily listened to him talk about his family. Usually, the family talk bummed her out, only reminding her of the odd mess she had. But, hearing him was a breath of fresh air. His family just sounded so sweet, full of love. Hearing that kind of love envelop him comforted her, especially when she thought back to the melancholy in his tone now. "Fooled me, or drew me in?" Wasn't it all about perspective? "Both of them like dancing, sounds like I need to thank them for their hard work teaching you. So, you're a snow over heat kind of guy?" Yet, he ended up here. How amusing. "That sounds so relaxing, cabin for holidays. You'll have to let me know how it goes. To Aspen? Unfortunately, no because you make it sound so fun. When we did vacations, my mom was always picking the places, and it was New York or Paris. I was also a kid, so it was a lot of following her around during shopping trips and then spending time with some random caretaker while they went out. Once it became my dad and I, then we tried visiting the Grand Canyon and sprained his ankle, so vacation cut short. But, his job keeps him busy too, so vacations are not too fun." He did try though, and that effort was everything to her. "Oh, true. Nerdy can be hot though, still doesn't matter if it's others' favorite hobby. Just yours. A self-help book, to teach others to flirt with you? No, thank you. I'll politely decline," she joked with a wink in his direction.

Something in common made her feel excited, eager to discover what else they could have in common. The possibilities seemed endless, which only made it better. "Random hobbies, huh? I mean, I'll try anything once really," that was said with a shrug. Her curiosity had a tendency to lead her to the most odd roads. "Are you trying to test my knowledge? Maybe so, or maybe I don't, but I could just throw random moves together and you wouldn't even know the difference. I'd have to dig the pom poms out of retirement," she laughed at the thought, though her attention was drawn back to his words. Laurel had never thought of silence that way, but there was no way to say that without it sounding pitiful. "The first one sounds familiar, but I guess I haven't had much of that second option. It could also be because I can never be quiet." Deflecting with jokes, a fine option. "You are just checking off all my boxes - cooking classes and stargazing, I am too lucky. I will be taking you up on that offer! I don't need the facts, just the company." His company, more specifically. "Yes, sounds like a plan. I still need to see these awesome blankets you hyped up earlier." They'd covered a decent amount of things already in the getting to know you trail, but she was quick to think of other things. "Okay, favorite color and what's one place, anywhere in the world, that you've always wanted to visit?"

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 15 - Heal My Wounds

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 5.6k words. It's the all hurt no comfort chapter.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, VERY HEAVY HURT/ little bit of comfort, miscarriage, medical inaccuracies (omega's body is all kinds of fucked up, more about that later on™), ectopic pregnancy, lot’s of pain, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks, angst, depression, mental health.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy!

You’re running. You don’t know where you’re going as you sprint into the woods, and you don’t care. You don’t care how long you need to run for, you just want to get away, away from your pack. 

They said they would save her. They failed.

You’re running as fast as you can, ignoring the pain burning through your body. You will have ripped stitches for sure, but you don’t care. The rain is cold on your hot skin. There’s a deep pain in your body, throbbing with each pound of your feet on the ground. 

You don’t care. You deserve the pain.

You’re deep in the forest now. You can hear people calling for you. It’s dark and you managed to give them the slip. You trip over some roots putting out your arms to stop you from slambing painfully on the forest floor. Your neck throbs. You use your hands pushing your chest up off the ground. 

Pain radiates through your body. You stand up using a tree to support you. There are voices getting closer, and you can see lights shining. They must have flashlights. You don’t want to see them. You take a step forward. Pain shoots through your body, you push on anyway. 

You can’t keep going for much longer. It feels like someone is stabbing you in the abdomen. You press your hand on it to quell the pain, but it’s not helping. Reaching up, you feel the bandage on your neck is almost ripped off, and now it's catching your hair. You rip it off, your fingers getting coated in blood. You’ve definitely torn stitches.

You keep moving until you’re gasping for air, your lungs burning. The pain is too much, and you collapse against a tree, gripping it for support. You can’t hear their voices any more. Maybe you’ve run far enough. You cry out as you force your body to move. You think you can see a road through the trees. Maybe you’ll be able to find someone to give you a ride somewhere, anywhere away from here.

Each step is painful, and the rain is heavier. The closer you get to the opening you see that it’s definitely a road. You can see the shiny flat concrete. You climb up the embankment on your hands and knees. It takes all your energy, and when you make it up you lean against the guard rail. You take a second to look up. You can’t see stars, there are too many rain clouds. You sit there shivering as your panting becomes shallow breaths again. 

She’s dead. Dr. Piper is dead. 

You don’t have time to mourn. The stabbing pain comes back with a vengeance causing you to cry out, gripping your stomach. It feels like someone is stabbing you over and over again. It can’t be good. You don’t have time to worry about it though. You need to get away. Maybe if you follow the road you might find your way to a building or a person. 

You remember the drive with Kate but you don’t know which direction to start in. You’re all turned around. The road bends ahead of you, and you decide that’s the best way to go as long as you’re not going backwards. You straighten up your body and go to take a step forward.

There’s pain, so much pain. 

You close your eyes, gritting your teeth. You deserve this. John should have done the swap, then Dr. Piper would have been alive. You deserve this pain. You bend forward, your hand gripping the cold metal of the guardrail. 

“Over here!” you hear Kyle's voice shouting. Fuck, you have to move now. You don’t want to see them, you don’t want to be near them. You press forward trying to use the guardrail to support you. It’s going to end soon and then you will have to let go. You let out a pained groan as you force your body to stand up.  

You give yourself a second to breathe. Something's very wrong. This pain is not normal. It’s worse than anything you have ever experienced before. You take a few shaky steps, and you turn to see lights flashing through the trees. Someone calls your name. You have to move. 

You cry through the pain willing your body to go forward with everything you have. Where’s the rush of adrenaline when you need it? It’s too much though. Your body is shaking, radiating with pain and before you know it you sink to your knees. 

You kneel there in the wet mud, “move!” You grit between your teeth, you have to get away. They let Dr. Piper die. You don’t want to see them. You can’t though, your body feeling like a lead weight. You’re drenched and shivering. 

Maybe this is it. Maybe you deserve this. Karma or something. You hear noises behind you, and you can see lights shining as you sit back on your knees. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kyle says as he kneels down next to you. You turn using the last of your energy to fight him. He’s pulling his jacket off trying to throw it over you while you push him back. He’s stronger than you and you’re in pain. You scoot backwards trying to kick him.

You don’t want to see anyone. A surge of adrenaline hits you and you jump up on your feet.

“Go away!” you snap. Your head is starting to swim. You walk backwards looking at them. You can hear a car, and then next thing you know the truck you took with Kate is here. 

“Take it easy,” Kyle says, trying again to grab you. Another pain radiates through you and you cry out, falling back to your knees. You hear more voices and boots in the mud as you double over in pain again. 

“What’s wrong?” That's Johnny’s voice. He kneels down too, his hands pressing on your shoulders. More lights, and you see John jog over. You don't have the energy to fight them, you relent looking between the lights up at Kyle.

“Kyle,” you sob, reaching for him. He grabs your hand, and you fall into his chest. 

“Yeah, you’re okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“Hurts,” you sob, gripping your stomach. You don’t get time to register his reaction before another pain shoots through you. More voices, more lights. You grit your teeth moaning out as you’re lifted up off the ground. Your body is shaking as you’re carried into the back of a truck and laid out on a bench. 

“That’s a lot of blood,” someone says. You feel movement, the truck is moving. Your head is swimming. 

“Where does it hurt lass?” Johnny asks as you start to lose your grip on consciousness. Someone presses a bandage to your neck. There are other hands running over your body, pulling your shirt up, pressing on your legs and arms. Everything hurts.

You move your hands down your stomach to your lower body. You don’t have the energy to talk. You press your hand on your abdomen, and it makes you yelp in pain. Someone's hand is on your head brushing your hair. You can smell beta in the air. 

You're rolled over onto your side. Warm hands running down your back. Something feels wrong. Something deep inside you. Maybe you're dying of a broken heart. You’ve read about that in stories, when people lose someone they love. 

It doesn't matter anyway. You don't deserve to be here. Dr. Piper is dead. John should have done the swap. Then she would still be alive.

“Shite,” there’s a fist banging on metal that makes you jump. 

“Price, she needs a hospital!” Johnny calls. You close your eyes, you're in too much pain. 

“Don’t close your eyes, c’mon stay awake.” Kyle shakes your shoulders. You open your eyes again as you're rolled onto your back. Kyle looks down at you. You smile at him, your eyes feeling heavy again. He shakes you again calling your name. Your eyes snap open for a second, but you can't stay awake though. You close your eyes one last time and drift into unconsciousness.

…

When you wake, there’s beeping. There are bright lights above you, and there’s something on your face. It’s cold. You reach up to pull it off, even that hurts. In your whole body there's a deep throbbing pain. The beeping makes your head pound. 

There is so much pain, in your muscles, in your chest. You take a breath and it makes you wince.

Something is wrong, something's very wrong. You’ve never felt like this before. 

“Leave it on, love. You need it.” It’s Johnny. His hand comes up to yours pushing the mask back over your nose. Cold air blows on your face. You look around the room. Everything is just a blur of colours and shapes. The voices are echoing, as Johnny’s warm hand rubs your arm. You look down, you're in a bed. You can smell the disinfectant, and there’s a tube coming off your hand. You’re in the hospital.

You see Kyle standing in the doorway of the room looking out into the hall. You feel the dull throbbing get stronger.

“Where are we?” you ask, your throat raw. It’s barely words. 

“Canada, we’re at a hospital.” You’re getting sleepy again. Canada is above the US right? You can’t remember. You let out a sigh closing your eyes. 

“Just rest, we’ll be out of here soon,” he says.

…

When you open your eyes again, Simon is by your side. There is still a dull throbbing pain, and your body feels heavy. Your neck hurts as you turn it, gritting your teeth, and a groan leaves your throat. Simon seems to hear you straight away, opening his eyes and leaning forward in the chair.

You don’t know what to say. 

"How are you feeling?” he asks. You don't say anything. He lets out a long sigh.

“Is she really dead?” you ask. Maybe it was just a dream and you made it all up. You know Simon will be straight with you. He looks at you right in your eyes. He looks sad. You don’t think you have ever seen him sad. He just nods. Tears come and you turn away. 

It’s not a dream, it's a horrible reality. You’ve been here before, but this time it's different.

Your alpha did this. He promised he would save her. He lied. The one person who is supposed to protect you and be there for you through everything. He let her die.

“I can get John,” he says. You hear him shuffle in the chair. 

“No,” you sob. “I don’t want to see him.” 

He promised you he would save her. Now she’s dead. You squeeze your eyes closed. 

You can’t believe she’s dead. 

…

The next time you wake you hear quiet mumbles. You look up seeing John talking to what looks like a doctor. You turn your head. Johnny’s holding your hand. 

“Hey, how ya feeling, lass?” he asks with a smile on his face. You don’t know how you feel. Numb? Pain, you know you’re in pain, you feel it. Your stomach hurts but you bring your hand up to your neck. There’s no bandage anymore. The wound is healed. You can feel the small raised scar. 

You take your hand from Johnny pulling the blanket down. You’re in another hospital gown, you don’t care, you pull it to the side. There’s a scar just above your hip. You sit up, looking at John who’s stopped his conversation to look over at you. 

Johnny’s hand is on your back, the doctor—nurse—you don’t care is looking at you with sympathy in her eyes. The pain is dulled. They’ve been giving you pain killers. Your wounds are healing. You look at Johnny. You can smell him trying to comfort you. Your lip quivers. You know what’s happened. They don’t need to explain it.

“I'm sorry,” Johnny says, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. You let him pull you into his arms as you sob. 

You failed. Your only job is to have babies and you can’t even do that. Your body throbs. You feel sick but Johnny doesn’t let you go, holding you tight and shushing you through the sobs. You hear the room door close and you break from his arms.

John is standing at the end of the bed. You don’t want to see him, you don’t want him to even be in the same room as you. Johnny seems to sense the tension in the air as he looks between you both. He picks your hand up again. 

“I’m so sorry—” You put your hand up stopping him. You don’t want to hear his apologies. He lets out a sigh hanging his head. You force yourself to look up at him, you force yourself to hold back the tears. You look at him until you can’t hold back anymore, and you hang your head. 

He let you down. He let Dr. Piper die. Now you’ve let him down. Maybe it’s what you deserve. Karma or something. 

You lay back in the bed looking at the ceiling. Tears run down your face. You’re so sick of crying. Johnny squeezes your hand. You turn your head looking over at him. He looks at you with those wide blue eyes. You hear the room door open and close again. Johnny’s hand comes up to stroke your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.

You close your eyes again. You try to imagine the house on the hill, the pies, the warm summer evening, the lake. You can’t, your mind goes blank. There’s no safe space anymore. No place you can go in your mind anymore. 

It’s just empty. 

There is no light, only darkness. There’s nothing. It’s like being back in the bunker. 

There’s no time anymore. You don’t move, you can barely think. What do you think about? The fact that you had a miscarriage or the fact that Dr. Piper is dead. 

There’s pain, dull throbbing, the methodical thump of your broken heart. The pain down your spine you get from each turn of your head. The deep ache in your abdomen.

You don't remember much from the hospital. You do remember never being alone. You would wake up to someone always by your side. The bewildered doctor tried to explain what happened on the day you were discharged. 

Ectopic pregnancy. You had never heard about it before. The working theory is that your forced heat caused the embryo to implant near your cervix. You didn't understand much but you listened as she did her best to comfort you. 

She was blonde too, like Dr. Piper, soft spoken with cool hands. She kept telling you it wasn't your fault. You didn't believe her. Who else’s fault would it be? You failed as an omega, and now you have to endure the pain.

At least with the pain it's something physical, reminding you that you’re still alive. Not like the dreams, nightmares, the blood, so much blood. You didn’t think it was possible to lose that much blood. Dr. Piper covered in blood, you covered in blood. You can smell it. When you wake up thick with sweat you could swear for a few seconds it’s real and you’re dripping in blood.

You don’t remember the miscarriage, you only remember the pain. When you think of the blood you remember the images of Dr. Piper, tied up and beaten bloody. 

You remember John let her die.

You don’t know where you are exactly. In a safehouse in Canada is what John said when you all arrived there. Kate is not here. She stayed in the US. You hope she’s okay. Johnny told you she has a wife, and she wanted to stay for her. If she had run with you, she’d be a fugitive. 

You haven’t left the bed you’ve been in since you got here. You sneak out to use the bathroom when everyone is fast asleep. You feel numb. Numb to everything. The only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the burn in your chest. Your wounds healed almost immediately after the miscarriage. You still ache though, your body heavy, throbbing in pain. 

Johnny or Kyle will be in soon. They’ll try to get you to take pain medication. You’ll refuse; you want to feel the pain. You deserve to feel the pain. They’ll try to get you to eat or at least drink. You try. You take in as much as you can stomach. 

Johnny likes to talk about what’s going on outside and how everyone is. Kyle keeps quiet. He just gives encouragement to keep you eating. You prefer Kyle. At night, sometimes Simon is with you. You don’t sleep, you can’t sleep. It’s like you’re there watching her die over and over again. 

You wake screaming covered in sweat. He’s there gripping your shoulders almost trying to shake you awake. The betas rush into the room soon after. You hate their scent. It reminds you of Dr. Piper. You would rather smell beta than alpha though. 

Alpha makes you think of John and you hate John right now. 

You see him sometimes, his head poking through the door, especially after you’ve woken screaming. You can smell him. His scent lingers through the apartment. It lingers on you and it always will since he claimed you. He tried to talk to you when you were more aware. Every word he said made you sob. 

Dr. Piper said pack threads are fragile things. It’s your job as an omega to keep them together. It’s almost like you can see them laid out in front of you. It’s like strings coming from you and out to each person. They’re intertwined too, connected to each other. It always comes back to you though. You keep the strings tight, keep the pack together. 

Johnny opens the door to your room. He used to knock, but they’ve stopped caring as much. They leave the door cracked open, never fully letting it close. Maybe they care too much. He’s always smiling, he never seems upset about anything. It makes you jealous. You prop yourself up on your arm as he comes over placing the tray on the bedside table and turning on the light. 

“How are you feeling today?” he asks. You don’t say anything, sitting up against the pillows. You feel tired. From the small amount of energy you don’t spend on crying, you use it to force food down your throat. He hands you a bottle of water picking up the bottle of pills. He rolls the bottle round in his hand like he does every time. 

“You don’t have to be in pain,” he says. You can hear the sadness in his voice. You open the bottle of water.

“I’m fine,” you say before taking a drink. He smiles and puts the bottle back down on the tray. You wish they would stop asking, at least they’ve stopped hovering or asking how you are every 30 seconds. Johnny sits on the bed, and you move your legs for him. 

“Simon and Kyle are going to the store tomorrow. Anything you fancy?” He brings the bowl of what looks like pasta on his knee. Guess you’re staying here for longer than you thought. Last you heard from Johnny you were still laying low until John could get a flight to the UK. 

You shake your head. You don’t want to leave. It’s going to make you feel further away from Dr. Piper than you already feel. You still feel close to Johnny and Kyle. The threads are strong with them, they’re good betas. They’re good people. 

Johnny spoons some pasta up bringing it to your mouth. You can do it yourself but you think Johnny likes playing caretaker. That makes him a good beta. Besides, you’re not going to complain, it's nice to have their company sometimes. The pasta tastes good. If there is one thing you have come to look forward to, it’s the food. 

Kyle’s been cooking. You can sometimes smell the food before someone brings it to you and it’s never disappointing. Today is no different, pasta and meatballs, ‘spag bol’ as Johnny calls it. You listen to him as he talks about what’s been going on. It’s Wednesday. The weather is nice. He offers to open the curtains and window, but you shake your head. 

Simon’s going a bit stir crazy which is why they’re going shopping tomorrow. By your fourth or fifth spoon of food you’re feeling full. You hold your hand up to stop Johnny but he bullies you into a few more spoonfuls. You lay back in the bed. Eating always makes you tired. Johnny sighs, giving up. 

At least you’re eating something, and something is better than nothing. You lay back down as you watch Johnny leave the room. The door is almost fully closed, it’s just a crack left. You reach over, turning the light off. Now the only light is coming in, through the crack in the door. 

The next time you see anyone will be if Simon inevitably wakes you from your night terrors. He’s got into the habit of sleeping in the recliner conveniently placed in your room. He doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to sleep quite comfortably anywhere. 

He does such a good job at hiding his scent.  He never smells of alpha, he never smells of anything. There are times where you crave John’s comfort, where you crave his touch. Then you remember why you’re mad at him and it makes you upset. 

Your dreams are almost always the same. You’re running through the bunker looking for Dr. Piper. The only thing that changes is what happens when you find her. Sometimes she’s already dead, sometimes you have to break into a room slowly filling with water. Sometimes you get there and John is already in the room standing over her body as he does nothing to try and stop her from bleeding out. 

The Professor is always there too. He creeps in the background, always just out of view, as if he’s stalking you. You can always hear him though, his voice echoing in the barren bunker. Then he grabs you, pulling you back from Dr. Piper so you’re always just out of her reach. You never save her. She always dies either in the room she’s been held in or at the bottom of the steps to the exit. 

So close but she never sees sunlight again. 

It’s always your fault. You can never save her.

You hear your own scream as you shoot up in bed. There are hands on you, gripping your shoulders tight. It’s always Simon, he’s holding your body as you try to calm down. It’s not long before Johnny and Kyle are running into the room. Johnny gets to you first and Simon steps back as he comes over, wrapping his arms around you. You hold him tight as he tells you everything is going to be okay and it’s all just dreams.

It’s not though because she really did die, and she really was tortured. Just like you had been, you knew what she was feeling. You hate the fact she died suffering. You hate the fact that you didn’t get to say goodbye. You hate John for making that choice. 

Johnny stays with you for the rest of the night, holding you in his arms. You never really get back to sleep. You watch the sun come up through the closed curtains. Maybe you want to go outside, although from what you’ve heard you’re in a city and not the countryside. You close your eyes letting Johnny squeeze you in his arms. 

Beta will always remind you of Dr. Piper but for now you breathe Johnny’s scent in letting it lull you back to sleep.

When you wake the bed is empty. You sit up swinging your legs out. You’re hungry, and you’re craving tea. The wooden floors are cold on your feet. You walk out of the room slowly. The apartment is an open floor plan and from your room you walk straight into the kitchen. Simon and Kyle are sitting at the table. Their eyes lock onto you as soon as your door is open. 

You look around, but you can’t see John or Johnny anywhere. You swallow the lump in your throat away. Maybe you’re not ready yet. Maybe you can’t talk to them yet. They sit up straight watching you as you take a step out the room. You wrap your arms around your chest. It’s cold; there’s a chill in the air. 

“You okay?” Kyle asks. You take a step over to the table. 

“Can I have a cup of tea?” you ask. Your voice is quiet, and you feel a lump rise in your throat. You swallow it away as you watch Kyle get up off his chair. He walks round the table to you, his hand resting on your back. 

“Want me to bring it into your room or…?” 

“Here,” you say, reaching out and pulling the chair in front of you out. He smiles as you sit down and he goes into the kitchen. You look over at Simon. He’s not wearing his mask. You realised a few days ago but you were too upset to pay attention. 

He’s handsome just like the rest of them. Not what you were expecting but you’re not sure what you were expecting. He has fluffy blonde hair, and you can see stubble coming through on his face. They’re all looking a bit rough. It feels like that’s your fault. You’re not sure what's going to happen. Maybe you’ll be staying here for longer than you think. 

“Why do you wear a mask?” you ask Simon, looking over at him. You don’t know if he’s going to answer you honestly—you don’t expect him to. You keep eye contact watching his face. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked. Maybe he’ll get mad at you.

“I like to keep anonymity in the field,” he says. You smile at him as Kyle puts a mug in front of you. You breathe in the steam letting the mug warm your hands. Kyle sits down next to you. 

“Where are John and Johnny?” you ask no one in particular. 

“Securing a plane for us, they’ll be back later,” Kyle says. You nod. Kyle’s hand comes up to rub your back. You like feeling the betas near you. Maybe you’re healing. Maybe this is what healing feels like. You can’t help it though, your mind goes back to Dr. Piper and tears well up in your eyes. 

You know they can smell your sadness in the air as you bring the mug of tea up to your lips. You don’t care that it’s still scalding hot, taking a sip and letting it burn your tongue. 

“Are we going to the UK?” you ask, putting the tea down.

“Yeah, Scotland,” Kyle says. 

“You’ll like it there. Lots of greenery, and a loch by the house,” Simon says. You look past him out the open window in the living room. You can see buildings across what you assume is the road. You look back at Simon and nod, bringing your hand up to wipe the tears away. You keep sipping the tea sitting in silence as Kyle and Simon pick their conversation back up.

You’re not really listening to them as you enjoy feeling Kyle’s hand rubbing your back and letting the cup of tea warm your body. Before you know it the door to the apartment opens. You’re holding your breath as you see Johnny and John walk in. 

Johnny smiles when he sees you coming over to the table. 

“Hey lass, finally got you out of bed.” You look down at your mug and you can see your reflection in the tea. You don’t want to be out here any more. You want to crawl back into bed and sleep. You let out a sniffle before looking back up at Johnny. 

He still has a smile on his face. You see John moving behind him. You don’t want to see him; you can’t see him. The scent of his alpha fills the air. You let go of your mug, Kyle's hand dropping from your back as you push yourself back from the table, getting up. 

You walk back into the bedroom. The bed is the only place you want to be. At least when you’re in the room, there’s a barrier between you and John. Your hand rubs the back of your neck. You feel the indents of his teeth. You can’t avoid him forever. He’s your alpha. 

You don’t want to see him right now though. You can’t even look at him without imagining Dr. Piper. He should have saved her. She deserved to be saved. 

You get into bed pulling the duvet over your head. You’re crying again, you can’t help it. The throbbing comes back deep in your chest. She should be alive. He should have saved her.

It’s after Kyle has been bullying more food into you. Someone else steps into the threshold of your door. The door opens slowly, and you can smell alpha in the air. You know it’s John before he even walks into the room. You don’t move; your body freezes up. You’re reacting like he’s a threat. 

He’s not a threat, he's your alpha. You have his mark. 

He walks into the room, the door squeaking behind him. He walks over to the recliner Simon sleeps in. Your eyes move up to watch him as he sits down, slow, keeping his distance. It’s the first time you’ve really seen him since coming here.

You swallow the nerves away trying to keep the crying at bay. You don’t want him to see you cry. All you’ve done is cry. You’re sick of crying. 

He just sits there like he’s trying to think of what to say or do. He shifts in the chair reaching into his pocket. You watch as he pulls out Piper's silk scarf. Your lip quivers as you see it. 

“I should have saved her,” he says eventually. You watch him run the scarf over his palm. He reaches over, putting the scarf on the bedside table. It’s bundled up. You can see all the colours merging together. You want to reach out and grab it. 

You look back at John as he leans forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees. You don’t have anything to say to him. 

“I know you don’t want me to say sorry. I know you hate me right now. I should have done better. I should have been a better alpha. A better person. You deserve better. I should have acted differently,” he sighs, hanging his head for a second before looking back up at you. “All I want is for you to be safe. You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to. But I'm going to be here, we all are. We’re going to take care of you.” You look right into his eyes taking all his words in. 

Of course they're going to be there for you. They’re your pack. John is your alpha. You can’t avoid him forever but you can be mad at him. You’re going to be mad at him for a long time. He let her die. He sits there as tears leak over your eyes. You blink them away each time. 

You wish you weren't mad at him. You wish things could go back to normal, or at least this new normal with your pack and Dr. Piper, outside of the bunker without the Professor. It felt like your chance to start new, your chance to have a new life. 

A life without Dr. Piper doesn’t seem possible right now. You want him to leave and leave you alone. You need to mourn, and you don’t need him trying to apologise or tell you everything is going to get better. All you hear is empty promises. 

“Go away. Please,” you say, holding the tears back. He hangs his head waiting a few seconds longer, but he doesn’t say anything, he just sits there. You watch him. He’s controlling his scent but you can still smell it heavy in the air. The ground after rain and smoke. Eventually he gets up and moves to leave. 

“John,” you choke on the sob. He stops at the door turning back to see you. “If you could choose again. Would you still let her die?” 

“She loved you, she knew what she was doing. She did it all for you, to protect you,” he says. He sighs, gripping the door. It’s not the answer you want. You look over at the scarf. 

“I should have saved her,” he says. You wipe the tears away and look back over at the door. He’s gone. 

You reach out, picking up the scarf and pulling it up to your nose. You close your eyes breathing in her lingering scent. 

The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. You close your eyes. You let her scent go straight to your head. 

The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. And Dr. Piper stood in the window of the house, looking over at you smiling. She’s safe, and you're happy. A sob rises inside you. You let it come out but it comes out with a smile. You hug the scarf closer to your chest. 

You need to mourn. You can’t do that with the person who killed her. 

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[mrschristensen]

okii so i have idea- so older hayden with like a younger reader like in her early twenties blah blah blah. theyre dating and he says i love you and reader gets scared because of her past relationship with her ex which was toxic and then he reassures her and everything and then maybe some soft love making???

It's Amazing How Strong Love Is When It's True

WARNINGS: eventual smut/porn w plot/sexual content (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK), piv sex, protected sex, angsty (does have a good ending), implications of age gap, trauma from previous toxic relationship, mentions of sexual assault/harassment and abuse, confession of love (though already in an established relationship), pet names/name calling (baby), praise, lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: Though haunted by her dark past, Hayden's girlfriend realizes what might be the most important thing in her life: She is truly, unconditionally loved.

-> note: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭 I HOPE YOU ENJOY LUV <333

WC: 726 words

"I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, hesitating. Then memories flickered and collided with her vision, recalling the trauma from being with such a vile man before Hayden. It was the worst time of her life, and she couldn't be more grateful to have someone who she actually, truly loved.

However, that wasn't her case right now. What if he was lying? What if he was trying to give her a false sense of security so he would just get his way in the end? It wouldn't surprise her, given that he was older than her; he had more experience, maybe he was just trying to get rid of her quicker. What the hell was going on here?

"I-I can't do this right now," she managed to blurt out, and she quickly hastened towards their shared bedroom, ignoring his sudden shock and pleas for her to come back. She couldn't take this, she needed time to think. But did she really?

She had never felt this way before, not even for her ex. That was all forced; this was voluntary. But it was so unclear, the black and white becoming blurry and colliding with one another until it formed into this plethora of confusion. Her heart ached, longed for his touch, his scent, his everything. But did he truly feel the same way?

"Baby, please," he begged on the other side of the door, not knocking or trying to force his way in unlike her former "lover" had done in the past. He was being patient, though he was desperate. He was being respectful, though his emotions were in overdrive. But he then realized. "Is it about him?"

She stopped once more, seeming like an eternity before she responded ever so quietly. "...Yes."

She could hear his sigh from against the wooden barrier between them, and she kept overthinking once more. Was he disappointed? Angry? Distraught? Was he going to do things to her she'll never forget, but in ways that weren't so ideal?

"...Can I please come in?" he asks gently, and though she was hesitant, she shakily unlocked and opened the door. He noticed her trembling form, the pained expression on her face even though she tried to hide it the best she could. All he could feel was guilt.

"Oh, baby," he whispered, opening his arms slightly as to not scare her further. "C'mere."

She was in his arms in seconds, burying her face in his neck and on the brink of tears. She hated crying, so she tried to hold them in, but they ended up falling anyways. He had a way with her that was indescribable, internal, that she could just let her guard down and let all her emotions spill out without feeling even a drop of remorse.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers shakily to him, feeling so bad that she had simply shut him out like that. All he wanted to do was let her know she was appreciated, that she was loved, by him. Not that wretch they call a man, not anyone else in the universe; him.

"You shouldn't apologize when you did nothing wrong," he murmurs, pressing an ever so gentle kiss to her temple and embracing her gently yet firmly.

They were simply there for what seemed like an eternity, holding each other in their arms and being together. She eventually calmed down, realizing he was indeed telling the truth. Of course he was, why would she deny it in the first place?

And then they were on each other in the blink of an eye, eagerly ridding the other of their clothes and rolling hips against hips.

He let out a low moan, keeping her in his hold as he gently thrust in and out of her tight heat. "Wanna take my time with you," he pants, "show you how much you mean to me."

He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and face, as if worshipping her for who she was. "I can't believe you're mine,"

It was passionate, romantic, and the best thing in the world at that moment. Soft music hummed in the background, the sunset from outside peeking through and setting the atmosphere. Gentle, beautiful, euphoric. And they knew that they would be there for each other through anything, no matter what it took.

[blu3-ja3]

What 141 listens to over speakers when working out alone... I think next maybe civie clothes? Probably!

Soap: European Rap (Northern Boys and Shogun) and he plays loud, the boy got some hearing loss due to all the explosions. He mostly listens to them for the beats and less the lyrics much to the chagrin of the 141. He refuses to not listen to them but does add more variety to his play list.

Ghost: Classical Music, I just love the idea of Simon going hard, weight lifting and solo boxing, blasting Bauq. He's like the most intimidating soldier on base and most everyone avoids the training room when he's in there. So no one believes Roach when he yaps about Ghost listening to Mozart while beating the shit out of him in the ring. Only the 141 knows the truth.

Gaz: British alternative, The Muse and Gorillaz, he likes the rhythm and it's easy for him to get into a good groove while training. He's been to as many concerts as he can big or small, the man enjoys music and often goes to see local bands. But at base he deals without his live music fix by listening to his favorites.

Roach: White girl pop and cunty rap, like full on Megan Thee Stallion and Kesha blasting as loud as possible. His play list is called Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. He likes to feel powerful and what better hype music is there than the hype music meant for American women. He likes setting up karaoke nights so he can convince Soap and Gaz to screech the lyrics with him drunkenly.

Price: Old man country, Johnny Cash and Marty Robbins, he likes his cowboy country and who can blame him its the best kind of country. He absolutely loves American westerns and is part of the reason he joined the military, to become a Western hero. It's why he often goes off the rails and does what he believes is right. Gaz likes to tease him about his slight obsession but truly thinks it cute.

O'Connor: Rock but like Horny Rock, she's absolutely blasting shit like Closer by Nine Inch Nails and Bad Touch by Bloodhound Gang because she knows she'll have the room alone. The few times one of the boys came in to work out they seemed to be red as hell. O'Connor finds it extremely funny, she's a raging lesbian listening to mostly straight men singing about sex and fucking. The fact that it can make even Ghost squirm just the smallest bit helps fuel the continuation of the habit. She knows the main reason she does is so she doesn't force herself to wear long sleeves to hide her scarred body.