Genshin Men Who After Cumming So So Deep Inside You Don't Pull Out Immediately, Instead They Let Out

genshin men and their instagram feeds pt.2

heizou, aether, & scaramouche x gender!neutral reader

notes: modern college au

a/n: it’s been months but heizou awakened something within me like LORDDd that man is so fine so don’t mind me for making his headcanon long

heizou:

✧ he majors in criminology but you both meet because you both rented the same study room

✧ his feed is a lot of reels of him trying skateboarding tricks, game nights with friends, and him using the most obnoxious and weird filters

✧ you had an overdue essay and had rented a private study space in your college’s library bc your roommate was prone to partying

✧ when you’d swiped your ID you were surprised to see another student in there quickly scribbling on the whiteboard

✧ he’d immediately greeted you and apologized for using the room for longer then he’d rented, but it was already late and you were tired so you offered to share it. which, tbh, you only did bc he was really cute

✧ soon after you stalked instagram until you found his handle and followed him and would go to the study room whenever he posted about it and pretended it was a coincidence ^-^

✧ afterwards, usually at 1am, he’d offer to take you to a convenience store for a late night ramen snack

✧ he spams his story with memes and photos of himself in weird filters, but one day he posted a poll

✧ your heart dropped when you saw it, it was on his close friends story, which you weren’t even aware you were on

✧ your finger hovered over the no option before remembering he would be able to see your choice, so you bit your lip and clicked yes and shut your phone off

✧ heizou already had a crush on someone else, so you distanced yourself and stopped going to the study room at the same time as him,,,but heizou being the sweetheart he was thought you were stressed and offered to hang out with you

✧ he was obsessed with the game clue! but instead of forcing you to play it with him he took you to the football field at night and showed you the constellations

✧ it was oddly…romantic

✧ you asked if he had confessed to his crush yet and he said he was planning on it tonight, and looks at you

✧ you swat his shoulder cus ur an oblivious idiot and told him to get going then since the night was almost over and he only laughed, then slyly confessed as you went into shock

✧ since then you’ve been together <3

aether

✧ honestly you only knew of his existence because lumine was your roommate and when you were at class he came over to help her move in and she posted about it

✧ the most beautiful man to exist was in your room and you were stuck in algebra !!

✧ after that you followed him on instagram and after a few hours he completed the mutual >_>

✧ his feed was almost entirely mirror selfies and shots of him on family vacation taken by his sister

✧ according to his bio he was an education major, and you could already envision him being a cute school teacher, it fit his vibe

✧ he did attend the same college but you practically never ran into him until lumine was out of town for a concert and she told you to let her brother in since her packages had gone to his dorm by accident

✧ he arrived in the cutest hoodie with boxes stacked up till his face and a bag of groceries, he finally introduced himself to you, apologizing for it taking so long and how you were never around when he was over

✧ after setting the packages in lumine’s room he offered to make dinner and you watched him make sushi for you,,,which was super sexy he was great with a knife

✧ lumine came home to see you both giggling and she joined in on your dinner, making a comment on how she knew you were her brother’s exact type

✧ aether didn’t deny it

✧ later he started coming around to the dorm more often and waved at you in the hallways when he saw you, going out of his way to walk next to you

✧ he was an expert with hair, so if you had hair on the longer side he’d definitely braid it to match his

✧ you and aether were a real slow burn, even though he let you borrow his hoodies and make you dinner whenever you wanted neither of you confessed and lumine was sick of it!

✧ she locked you guys in your dorm and insisted you guys could come out once you were officially dating,,,

✧ he apologized for her and confessed, saying it was okay if you didn’t feel the same and you were like!?! was it not obvious?!?

✧ aether was a dumb blonde fr

✧ an hour later lumine opens the room to find you two making out

scaramouche

✧ you knew him as the kid in the back of art class since it was the mandatory elective for most of the students and you always saw him there, usually alone

✧ he was too attractive for you to simply walk up to him but since you were also introverted in class the teacher put you two together as partners for the semester project

✧ you didn’t have time in class so he gave you his insta handle, you’d rather have his number but this would have to do smfh

✧ his feed was pictures where you could barely see his face and random ass photos he took, it was oddly attractive to see how inactive he was

✧ he refused to meet in the art studios when everyone else was using them, which you were okay with, so you ended up finishing your project late at night

✧ he was pretty and talented, but also very curt and honest and whenever he didn’t like something you did he’d be brutally honest

✧ he shared his spotify premium account with you bc he was sick of listening to the ads whenever you guys shared earbuds, which was an account he hasn’t even shared with his friends soooo

✧ when you finished your project you thought that would be the sad end of whatever the relationship between you two was, but to your surprise he sat next to you in class the next day…but he didn’t say a word

✧ you knew you’d have to put effort in if you wanted to be friends with him so you did all the talking despite being quite introverted yourself

✧ he’d grace you with a nod or a one-worded answer, which made you think he wasn’t interested,,, but when you stopped talking so much he asked you why you weren’t being as annoying as usual

✧ your art elective was ending in a week and you still hadn’t won the courage over to ask him out or to even hang out, you only saw him out of class at the library or in the halls and he usually had headphones on so you awkwardly shuffled by him

✧ you told yourself this was it, if he rejected you then you’d probably never see him around campus again and you could die in peace

✧ so on the last day of class you waited for him out the door

✧ if he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it, since he matched your pace and let you lead him down the hallway

✧ you confessed really quickly and were about to bolt away when he gripped onto your arm, giving you a strange look

✧ he questioned you on why the fuck you were running and you lamely explained because you were nervous

✧ he didn’t let go of your arm and simply shrugged, saying he accepted your feelings as you guys appeared in front of your next class

✧ he offered you a wave before leaving and you were SO CONFUSED and your questions weren’t answered until you found him waiting for you outside your classroom door

✧ you asked him fifty times if he actually liked you back and he rolled his eyes and kissed you to prove it cus he’s a tease

✧ you guys dated soon after that and dates included watching him paint in the studio or sharing a bowl of ramen late at night with a movie playing

✧ he posted photos of you he secretly took during dates, much to your dismay

✧ that’s how your seduced the emo mf !!

a/n: ty for reading!! this series got a lot of love last time so i thought i’d do it again w more of my fictional boyfriends,, hope u enjoyed <33

read part one here

Ex at New Year

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: a second chance at love. a first chance at happiness. the love of your life is knocking at your door. do you let them in? — sequel to Ex at Christmas warnings/themes: fluff and angst, ex lovers, breakup, new years eve, pining lmao, a lot of flashbacks, slightly suggestive, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au, mentions of: smoking, drinking, vi is DOWN BAD! serenading you with a boombox in the rain? yes please words: 24.7k (hell yeah...?) notes: i swear this is so fking sappy man like a hallmark christmas movie or smth like that... forced myself to NOT pull a 'past lives' ending. nyways my friend told me to listen to "ocean's & engines" just to write an angst so yeah...

The walk to your apartment is a quiet one, neither of you speaking a word. You're both lost in your own thoughts, the only sound being the soft scraping of your shoes on the sidewalk. Finally, you reach your apartment building. You stop in front of the door—the same door she slammed shut and left you behind three months ago.

Your hand automatically reaches for your keys, but your fingers linger, not yet grabbing them.

“So, this is it, huh?”

You nod, your eyes still trained on the door in front of you. “Yeah.”

There's a pause. A long pause before Vi speaks again, “Good night.”

This sucks.

“Good night,” you murmur.

She hesitates, like she wants to say something more. But she doesn't. With a nod, she turns and starts walking away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, finally reaching into your pocket and grabbing your keys. You put the key in the lock and twist the doorknob. The door opens with a soft click, and you're face to face with your lonely apartment. It's dark inside, save for the light that comes in through the window. You step inside, shutting the door behind you.

You take off your shoes, kicking them off to the side. You drag yourself over to your bed, slumping down against the footboard. Your hand fishes into your pocket, pulling out your phone.

Scrolling through your phone, you notice a notification from your mother, sent an hour ago. “How's Vander's Christmas party?” it reads.

You sigh, not really wanting to respond. It's already 1am, but you decide to give your mother a call anyway. After a few rings, she picks up.

“Hello?” her voice rings through the speaker. You can hear the faint noise of a TV in the background.

“Still up watching your favorite show?” 

“You know me,” she replies. “Your father is asleep already,” she pauses before asking, “You're going to come over today, right? I'll cook your favorite dish. You better.”

“Yes, I won't miss it,” your fingers playing absently with a loose thread on your sheets.

She hums on the other side of the line. “How was Christmas Eve at Vander's, by the way?”

You shrug, even though she can't see you. “It was pretty good,” you answer. “Food was good. Mylo and Powder are rowdy as always.”

“Oh, I could imagine,” your mother chuckles. “What about-” suddenly she stops, cutting herself off. “How was... how was Vi?”

You hesitate before answering. “She was... fine.”

There's a long pause, the sound of the TV filling the silence. Finally, she speaks. “And how was it, seeing her again?”

You exhale, staring up at the ceiling. “It was fine,” you say again. “It was just... fine.”

She hums, hearing the lie in your tone. But she doesn't push, not this time. “I see…”

After a moment of silence, you ask, “Mom, can I ask you something?”

Your mother pauses. She senses the seriousness in your tone. “Of course, sweetheart,” she says, the TV shutting off in the background.

You swallow, fiddling with the loose thread on your sheets again. “Hypothetically speaking…” you start. “If an ex asked for another chance... would you give them one? I mean, despite everything that's happened.”

There's a deep breath from the other side of the line, followed by a thoughtful hum. “Hypothetically speaking…” she echoes. “I suppose it would depend on why the relationship ended in the first place.”

“But let's say... hypothetically speaking…” you pause. This is going to sound ridiculous. “You have no idea why they walked away. They just... left, and then they turned up a couple months later, asking for another chance. Would you still let them in?”

Your mom takes a moment to answer. “Hypothetically speaking…” she finally replies. “I think if someone wanted another chance, the least you could do is hear them out. Find out the reason they walked away in the first place.”

“But... isn't that just asking for heartbreak all over again?”

“Not necessarily,” your mom says. “Maybe they finally realized how much they still... care for you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your knuckles against them. “But what if... what if they leave again? what if they change their mind?”

“I suppose that's a risk you'd have to be willing to take.”

“I don't know if I can go through something like that again.”

“Listen, honey,” you can almost hear her shaking her head. “If you don't try... how will you know?”

“I just... don't want to get hurt again,” you say, your voice quivering.

Your mother sighs. “Sometimes taking risks is worth it.” She's quiet for a moment before continuing, “Sometimes people make mistakes. They leave, they come back, they leave again, they come back again... but that's what happens when it comes to love. It's messy, complicated, and sometimes it hurts like hell, but it's also the most beautiful and powerful thing in the world.”

You chew on your lip. “I'm so scared, mom,” you admit. “I don't really know what to do.”

There's another pause, then her voice softens. “Remember when you were six, and you wouldn't go on the big slide at the park?”

You frown, her sudden question confusing you. “Yeah?”

“Remember what I told you?”

Thinking back, you recall the memory. Young you, clutching your mom's hand as the other kids swarmed the slide. You were shaking, too scared you'd fall. Her voice drifts through your memory. “I told you that sometimes it's okay to be scared, but you won't know if you like something if you don't try.”

“Besides,” she had said with a smile. “I'll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You remember how you nodded then, letting go of her hand and slowly making your way up. You're trembling as you stand at the top of the slide, preparing yourself to go.

Your mother's gentle smile, her encouraging words. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

Before you knew it, you were off. You were flying, wind in your hair, laughter bursting from your lips. By the time you reached the bottom, any fear you had was replaced with pure happiness.

True to her word, your mom was there to catch you at the end.

“You loved the slide after that,” she chuckles. “You went down it countless times, right until we had to go home, and I'll tell you now…” Her voice turns serious again. “Even if you're scared and you fall, I'll be right here to catch you, okay?”

“I…” You can feel yourself starting to tear up. “Okay,” you whisper, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

She gives a hum, and you can almost see her nodding. “There's my brave girl,” your mom says, a smile in her voice. “Get some rest, and we'll talk more in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah... okay.” you take a shaky breath. “Thanks, mom. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you. Don't stay up too late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smile, though it fades quickly. “Love you too.”

You hang up, setting your phone down on the bedside table. You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. You push yourself from the footboard and make your way to your bed. Crawling onto your stomach, you bury your face deep into your pillow and groan.

Taking risks, giving second chances, hoping for the best, fearing the worst...

You just wish you could shut it all off and just sleep.

—

3 MONTHS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, THE BREAKUP

You sat at the kitchen table, picking at your dinner halfheartedly. You glanced up at Vi, who sat across from you. Her plate of food hardly touched. She's avoiding your gaze. She's just right in front of you, and yet she feels as if she's millions of miles away.

“We need to talk about what's going on with us.”

Vi didn't even bother to look at you. She continues to push her food around her plate.

You slammed your hand down on the table, a loud clang breaking the quiet room. “Don't ignore me.”

That got her looking up to you. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You know damn well what I want to talk about,” you snap, “this. this." you gesture between you and her.

Vi stands up suddenly, pushing her plate away from her. “I'm tired,” she mutters, avoiding your gaze. 

“Tired of what?” you stand up as well, eyes narrowing. “Tired of this, of us?”

Vi sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Can we not talk about this?’ she says. “I'm just... I'm not in the mood right now, okay?”

It has become a familiar habit. Every time you tried to address the issue, to have a serious conversation about the state of your relationship, Vi would shut down. She would do everything in her power to avoid facing the problem.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. “You've said that every time I try to talk, 'I'm not in the mood', 'Let's talk later', 'Can this wait?'” you mimic her voice. “If we're not gonna talk about this, then when?”

“I don't feel like talking right now!”

“That's the thing! there's never a time that you feel like talking. You always have an excuse, or you brush it off like it's nothing, like our relationship is nothing.”

“That's not true!” Vi snaps back, clenching her jaw. “I care about you and this relationship.”

“Then why do you keep shutting me out?” you interrupt. “You refuse to talk, you distance yourself from me, you dodge every attempt I make to connect. You're pushing me away every chance you get.”

“Jesus Christ, I'm not pushing you away,” Vi says. “I just need some space sometimes, I need to think.” Her tone softens, expression shifting from irritation to something closer to pleading. “Can you give me that at least? just some time to myself to process things.”

“Time to process things,” you repeat. “What things, Vi? see? this is what I'm talking about. You keep everything bottled up, and you never talk to me about it. I can't read your mind, and I can't fix what I don't know. I'm your girlfriend, and yet you treat me like some stranger.”

“What do you want me to say?!” Vi explodes, her voice echoing in the kitchen. “You want me to just pour out my heart and soul to you? spill all my problems and insecurities like some open book? is that what you want?!”

“Yes!” you snap, voice just as loud as hers. “I want you to talk to me! I want you to trust me enough to share what's going on in that head of yours! I can't keep going on like this, walking on eggshells, never knowing if I'm going to say or do something that's gonna piss you off.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk to you all the time,” Vi says. “Maybe I don't want to burden you with all my crap all the time. Maybe I just want some time to myself to deal with it on my own.”

“Of course you don't.” It’s sarcasm, pure and simple. “You're Vi, too tough for feelings and emotions. God forbid you show some weakness. You're so tough and strong and independent, you can handle everything on your own.” “This is why I don't talk to you,” Vi exclaims. “Because I know you'll turn it around on me, you'll make it out like I'm the one that needs fixing. You're so quick to assume the worst in me, to assume that I'm the problem. Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—you're the one who's being too clingy, too needy, too-”

“Too what?” you interrupt. “Say it, Vi. I'm too clingy? too needy? go on, get it out. You've wanted to say it for a while—so say it.”

“You're too much!” Vi blurts out. 

“Too much,” you repeat. “I'm too much.” It came out like a scoff. “I'm too much for trying to get you to open up? I'm too much for trying to save this damn relationship? I'm too much for wanting you to fucking talk to me?! I'm just trying to have a damn conversation, but apparently that's too much for you to handle.”

“Yeah, because everything you're saying is bullshit,” Vi retorts. “All you ever do is criticize me and bring up the same crap over and over again. You don't actually want to fix anything. You just want to complain about how I'm not living up to your perfect vision of a partner.”

“Oh my god,” you rub your temples. “My perfect vision of a partner? really? really? I'm not asking for the damn stars and moon. I'm asking for the bare minimum. I'm asking for basic communication. I'm asking for emotional connection. How's that a perfect vision'? How's that being too needy?”

“I wouldn't have to keep bringing up the same crap if you would just talk to me. I wouldn't have to repeat myself. We wouldn't be having this same damn fight again and again if you would just-” you stop yourself, taking a breath. “You know what? no. I'm done. I'm done with this. I'm done with trying to pull teeth, to drag anything meaningful out of you.”

You pace back and forth. “I've been trying to be a good girlfriend. I've given you space, I've been patient. I've listened, I've supported, and I've tried to give you what you needed. But it's never enough, is it? it's always about your space, your needs, your feelings. But what about mine? what about what I need? or does that not matter, because I'm just the clingy, needy girlfriend?”

“Well, screw that!” you continue. “Screw the fact that this whole thing has been tearing me apart from the inside out. Screw the fact that I'm miserable because I'm not even sure if you still love me. Screw the fact that I've been crying every damn night, wondering what I did to mess us up this badly.” You want to scream, to throw something, to run until your lungs burn. “Screw the fact that I can't even sleep at night because all I can think about is our fights. I can't even focus on work because all I can think about is what's going on between us.” 

You pause, choking on the lump in your throat. “But I guess you don't care about any of that, huh? because I'm just the needy one? I'm just the emotional one, the one who's too goddamn sensitive.” You press your palms against your eyes, fighting to keep the tears from falling. “I'm sick of this. I'm sick of feeling like I'm in this relationship all on my own. I'm sick of feeling like you'd be happier if I wasn't even here. I'm sick of feeling worthless.”

The tears start to fall. You wipe furiously at your face, but it was no use. They were quickly replaced with new ones. “I just want you to want me.” You choke back a sob. “I want you to want to share things with me. I want you to want to open up. I don't want to have to drag things out of you. I don't want to have to beg for your love and attention.”

“I'm so damn tired of feeling like I'm not good enough for you.” You wrap your arms around yourself, hugging yourself tight. “Or maybe…” you say, hiccupping in between sobs. “Maybe I'm just not good enough at all. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm the reason you can't open up, can't bear to let me get close, and maybe—maybe I'm the problem.”

“I just…” you begin, and your voice shakes so much, it's hard to get the words out. “I just want to be enough.”

“I want you to see me,” you continue, hugging yourself tight. Your nails are digging into the flesh of your arms. Anything to keep yourself from falling apart. “I just want you to see that I can be what you need, that I'm enough for you, but no matter what I do, it's not enough. I'm not enough for you. I'm… I will never be enough.” 

You drop your hands to your sides, clenching them into tight fists to stop yourself from reaching for her. You're trying so hard to hold yourself together, but it's not working. You're breaking, you're shattering, you're crying so hard you can barely speak.

“Maybe we shouldn't be together.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. You don't think she'll go there, but here she is, talking about breaking up.

“What?” you force out, voice cracking. “Is that what you want?”

“I don't know,” she says, still not looking at you. “You need someone who can give you what you need, someone who's not so broken and messed up and damaged-” she clenched her jaw tightly, hating every word that left her mouth. “You'll find someone better. I know you will.”

Everything started to spin. You couldn't breathe. You feel like you were spiraling, grasping at straws, doing anything to reach her, to connect with her. This was happening, it was really happening—you were losing her. 

“You're serious,” you whisper. “You really want to break up.”

A part of you had been holding on to the hope that she'd change her mind, that she'd take back what she said. that this is some sort of prank and for her to burst out laughing and say 'gotcha!'.

but with each second of silence that passed, that hope was slowly dying.

You try to steady your voice to keep control. “If that's what you really want, then fine. Break up with me. Leave. Go be happy without me.”

“Okay.” And just like that, the fragile string that had been holding everything together snapped.

Vi walks to the door, her movements so slow. It's like she's in a trance, or maybe you are, because time seemed to slow down. This couldn't be happening. Please, tell me this is just a bad dream. But it isn't. It is real. It is happening.

You couldn't let her go like this. You couldn't let her walk out the door and out of your life without a fight. You had to stop her, you had to, you had to—

Your hand lasts out, grabbing her arm. “Please,” you beg. “Don't do this. We can talk, we can figure it out.”

Her hand paused, hovering over the door. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face you.

“Don't... please,” you plead. “Don't just throw this away. We can work through this, we can fix it. We just need to talk.”

You're not above begging, not if it meant keeping her from walking out that door. You had pride once, but it has shattered into pieces. Now you are just a trembling, broken mess, desperate to keep her with you.

You desperately want her to turn around and look at you. To see that this wasn't what you wanted, that you didn't want things to end like this. “Violet, please,” you repeat. “I love you. I love you, please don't—please don't leave me.”

“There's nothing left to talk about,” she says. “There's nothing to fix. We're over. Done.”

All the hope, all the love, all the dreams you'd had together—it was all falling apart in front of you. Because Vi, the woman you were sworn to spend the rest of your life with, is walking out that damn door, leaving you alone in the silence of the apartment.

This can't be real. It has to be a nightmare. You will wake up, and she'll be there beside you, holding you like she always did.

You found yourself looking around, half expecting to see her sitting on the couch or coming out of the kitchen. But she's not there. She's not here.

Tears start to well up in your eyes. You stumble back until you hit a wall and slide down to the floor. Your hands came up to your face, trying to hold yourself together. You can't stop the tears or the sobs that wracked your body. You can't stop wishing she’s still here with you, in your arms, where she belonged.

You clutch at the thin fabric of your shirt. It hurts, everything hurts. Your head, your chest, your heart. You can't remember ever feeling like this. You can't remember ever feeling so alone and broken. You curl up on the floor, your whole body shaking, your tears leaving dark spots on the hardwood floor.

Every memory you had of you and Vi flashes through your mind. Your first date, your first kiss, your first time. All the happy memories, the laughter, the love.

But all of it was tainted now, stained by the knowledge that it is over.

You thought you knew pain before, but this... this is a new level of hell.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

“You fucked up.”

“Thanks, Powder. Real insightful,” Vi mutters, rubbing her forehead. She's sitting in an armchair, surrounded by her family.

Claggor shifts in his seat, Mylo just rolls his eyes, and Silco and Vander exchange a glance.

“Hey, come on. Don't be so hard on Vi,” Claggor says, eyebrows furrowing.

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, she's already down after ending her four-year relationship. No need to pile on.”

Powder just shrugs. “I'm just saying what we're all thinking.”

Caggor sighs. “Let's just... drop the topic of the breakup, alright? it's in the past. There's nothing we can do about it now.”

Vander nods, a pensive look on his face. Mylo slouches back against the couch. “What's the point of us all sitting here bitching about it? it's not gonna change anything.”

Powder huffs. “I still think Vi should've handled it differently.”

“And I still think you should mind your own damn business,” Vi mutters, glaring at Powder.

Claggor glances at Silco and Vander, silently pleading with them to step in before it becomes an all-out argument. but neither of them say anything.

“What would you have done differently?” Powder snaps. 

Mylo leans forward in his seat. “This should be good.”

Claggor just rubs at his temples. This is going to turn into a shouting match.

Vander leans his elbows on his knees, sighing. “Alright, let's all just calm down-”

“We are calm,” both Vi and Powder say at the same time. They both glance at each other, and Vi frowns.

“Oh yeah, sure, real calm.” Vi scoffs.

Vander rubs his face. “Can we all just chill-”

“No!” Powder snaps. “I'm not gonna chill! Vi just-”

Mylo grins. “This is great. It's like a soap opera.”

Claggor pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you both stop arguing?”

Powder is glaring defiantly at Vi. “No, I'm not going to stop. You need to listen-”

“Oh, I need to listen? you're the one-”

Vander cuts them off. “Both of you, shut your damn mouths!”

The room falls silent. Everyone looks at Vander. Powder huffs, slouching back on the couch. Silco gives Vander a nod of appreciation.

Claggor looks relieved the arguing is over... for now, anyway. Mylo is visibly disappointed. “Man, I was just about to get the popcorn.”

Vander glances around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. “You three, get out.”

“Hey!” Powder protests.

Mylo grumbles, “Why do we-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting Mylo off. “No arguing. Get out. Now.”

Powder grumbles, shooting a glare in Vi's direction before storming out of the room. Claggor and Mylo follow, both of them looking slightly offended. The room falls silent once the door shuts behind Claggor.

Silco sits quietly, his hands folded in his lap. Vi looks at him for a moment before shifting her glare to the carpet.

Vander sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Christ,” he mutters. He looks tired, which is understandable. “Now, can we have an actual civil conversation this time?” No one says anything, so Vander takes that as a yes. He glances at Silco, a silent question in his eyes. Silco looks at Vi for a moment before turning to Vander and giving a slight nod. Vander sighs, sitting back in his armchair. “Alright, I'm just going to say it. Why didn't you tell us?”

Vi glances up, her eyes meeting Vander's. There's a pause before she speaks. “Because,” she starts. “I...I didn't want to deal with all this bullshit,” she gestures around the room. “I knew you'd all react this way, and…” she trails off, rubbing at her face.

Silco chuckles. “You thought you could just avoid dealing with it?”

Vander shoots him a glare.

Vi sighs, sinking into the armchair. “Look, I know I should have told you all sooner, alright? but I was-”

“Being a coward?”

She clenches her jaw, and she snaps, “I wasn't being a coward. I was just…”

“Stalling,” Silco adds, raising his eyebrows.

“Fine. I was stalling. Are you happy now? i didn't want to deal with the questions, or the pity, or the-”

“You didn't want to deal with the support?” Vander interrupts,

Vi looks at the carpet, her hands clenching into fists. “I don't need the support, okay? I'm doing fine on my own.”

Silco snorts. “Clearly you were really fine.”

Vander shakes his head. “Vi, we're a family. You should have come to us-”

Vi snaps, standing up. “And what could you have done, huh? would you have fixed my relationship? found me someone new?”

Vander opens his mouth to respond but closes it.

Vi throws her hands up. “Exactly. Nothing. I didn't tell you all because it'd be pointless. Because it's just a breakup. It's over. There's nothing you can do about it. It's in the past, so why does it-”

Vander cuts her off. “Why does it matter? is that what you were about to say?”

Vi's shoulders sag, and she nods.

Vander stands up as well and stares her down. “It matters because—because we care. Because you shut us out, because you made us think you were fine, when you were not.”

Vi scowls, her arms crossing over her chest. “Why does it matter? why do you all care so damn much?”

“Maybe because you've been moping around for a month,” Silco says. 

Vi looks around the room. “So, wait a minute, you knew?”

“'Course we knew. You think you're good at hiding things?” Silco raises an eyebrow. 

Vander sighs, ignoring Silco's comment. “We just don't want to push you.”

“Well, that explains it.” Vi glares at them both. "That explains why you invited her here."

Vander and Silco exchange a glance. “Vander and I... we both knew your little play,” Silco scoffs, lounging in his chair. 

Vi's eyes widen in disbelief. “What?”

“We just wanted to see how long you'd keep this up.”

Vi is stunned, her arms falling to her sides. “You all just... let me make a fool of myself?”

“You were doing that on your own,” Silco adds.

Vi sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I...it's for the sake of appearances, okay?” she scowls, hating that she has to even explain herself. “Because I didn't want all this bullshit over the holidays. It's Christmas. I didn't want to ruin Christmas for everyone.”

Silco stands up from his chair. “You were worried about us? you had to fake a relationship just to keep us happy?” he shakes his head. “What are we, children?”

Vi frowns. “That's not-”

Vander raises a hand, cutting her off. “No, Silco's right. You do treat us like children.”

Silco scoffs. “You always act like you're responsible for everyone, that you have to keep us all happy. When are you going to realize that we're adults? We can handle things ourselves. You don't have to fake a damn relationship just to make us happy.”

Vander sighs. “You think we can't handle knowing about your breakup? that we'll break if things aren't perfect?”

Silco walks around, sliding a hand through his hair. “You act like everything's your fault, like you're responsible for all of us. When are you going to stop acting like a damn martyr?”

Vi says nothing, just clenches her jaw.

“You do this all the time, hiding when you're not okay, pretending that you're fine. Do you even realize how much damage you're doing to yourself?”

Vander nods, stepping forward to look Vi in the eye. “You're driving yourself crazy. You need to learn to let us take care of you for once.” He gently squeezes her bicep. “You need to stop trying to protect everyone. Start worrying about yourself for once.”

“I just didn't want to burden anyone,” Vi whispers.

“Stop acting like you're a burden. You're not a burden, Vi. We care about you. We want to help you.” Silco lets out a huff, “We're family. You should be depending on us. You can lean on us occasionally without the world falling apart.”

Vander gently squeezes Vi's shoulder. “We'll do anything for you, darling, but you gotta let us help you sometimes.”

Vi closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She hates crying in front of them, hates letting them see her like this.

Silco sighs, leaning over to gently dab the tear away with his thumb. “Stop being so damn stubborn, girl. You don't have to handle things on your own.”

Vander gently kisses the top of her head. “You're not alone, Vi. We're here for you. Always.”

Vi sniffs, blinking to stop the tears from continuing.

Vander pulls her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her. “You're not making us miserable, okay? you don't gotta be perfect. Just be you. You're enough for us, kid.”

Vi nods, burying her face in Vander's chest. Silco rubs her back. Vander pulls back from the hug, holding Vi by the shoulders. “Now, we've talked about you,” he says. “What's going on between you and your girl?”

“We talked,” she mumbles. “I asked her to...give me another chance. To fix things…”

Vander and Silco share a look, a smirk on Silco's face. Vander clears his throat. “And what did she say?”

“She said...she'll think about it.”

Vander nods, while Silco's smirk widens. “Is that so?” he hums. “You finally grew some balls and asked her.”

Vi shoots Silco a glare. “You don't know a damn thing,” she grumbles, her cheeks burning.

“It's a step in the right direction, regardless.” Vander pats Vi on the back. “If she says she'll think about it, then she's considering it.”

“And if they say yes…” Silco says, then he glances at Vander, the two sharing a chuckle.

Vander pats Vi on the back again. “Then you'll get your girl back.” He pokes her cheek. “So, don't give up. Don't lose hope.”

Silco grins, “We just have to wait.”

“Waiting.”

“Which you're not so great with,” Silco snorts. “Anyway, if she says yes, remember to thank us.”

“You guys didn't do anything.” 

Vander and Silco share a smirk, the same thought clearly going through their minds.

Vander grins. “We didn't do anything at all.”

Silco nods. “Absolutely nothing.”

—

1 MONTH BEFORE THE BREAK UP, MARRIAGE

You're lying your head on Vi's lap, enjoying the feeling of her fingers running through your hair. You look up at her, watching her face as you speak, “Hey Vi?”

She pauses, her fingers falling still for a moment. She looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What's up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” she says, her hands resuming at running through your hair.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?”

Her fingers stills, just a tiny flinch that she quickly tried to hide. But you noticed.  “Not much.” Vi shrugs. “What about you?”

You can hear the way her heart is thudding, how her words sound so strained. You reach up and take one of her hands, gently running your fingers across the back of it. You see her reaction. The way her eyes widen and her jaw is tense. It's not hard not to notice—you're literally lying on her lap, looking up at her. The topic of marriage suddenly came up out of nowhere.

“I've been thinking about it a lot, actually... marriage, I mean.”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah..”

You're mentally freaking out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel how your stomach is doing backflips. You want to desperately know what she's thinking. Are you freaking her out? what is going on in her head? is she disgusted at the thought of marrying you?

“Is that so?”

She is trying so damn hard to sound unphased, but you know her too well. You know her body language, the way her ears go slightly red when she is flustered, how tense her muscles become when she is nervous. 

“Just wondering what it'd be like, I guess,” you continue. You shift on your spot. The feeling of her fingers running through your hair is pleasant, but it is so hard to focus on that feeling when your stomach is flipping over itself every few seconds. “I'm just curious,” you add. “I can't help picturing it and wondering what it'd be like to marry you someday.”

Vi is silent for a moment, her fingers stopping in your hair. She licks her lips, trying to come up with a response. “Marriage,” she says again. “That's uhh…” she swallows, trying to compose herself. She starts playing with your hair again, trying to give her hands something to do to hide the way they are shaking. “It's a big deal.” She pauses. “Why—why are you even thinking about that stuff? we're too young.”

The only sound you can hear is the thump of your heart in your ears. You can feel yourself start to feel nauseous. This is the conversation you wanted to have, but now that it is actually happening, you wish you could take it all back.

“I mean.. I'm not saying I actually wanna get married right now.” This is not going well. It is not going well at all. But you continue, trying to make yourself seem uninterested. “It's just a thought... just a daydream, really. We're way too young for that kinda stuff.”

You're hoping that by downplaying it, calling it some silly fantasy, you would ease the tension in Vi's body. That maybe she will just laugh it off, make a joke about how you are an idiot. “Yeah, right, getting married to me?” she'll say, her cocky smirk on her lips, her shoulders slumping with relief.

But she didn't. She didn't brush it off. She didn't make a joke. Instead, the room is so silent.

Vi's fingers continue to run through your hair, but they are trembling, their pace a little slower than before. She's not saying anything, and that is making you even more nervous.

You don't know what to do, so you try to make another joke. “Can you imagine it?” you force out a laugh. “You and me getting married. Ridiculous, right?”

Then again, she didn't laugh. The corner of her lip curls up into a sort of half-smirk, but it looks like it's forced. Her eyes dart to the side, a clear sign she is distracted by her thoughts. She swallows, her hands still nervously fidgeting with your hair. What is going on in her mind? why is she so quiet? The longer the silence drags on, the more anxious you become. You want to reach up and shake her to snap her out of it. 

But you didn't, of course. “It will be a disaster.” You force out another laugh, hoping that she will finally talk. “Can you imagine going down the aisle in a wedding dress?” you continue. “Me, dragging you up to the altar so we can say our vows and exchange rings.”

The smile on your face is strained. Please say something, Vi.

“You will probably wear some suit that doesn't even fit you right,” you continue, the words pouring out of your mouth faster now that the panic is setting in. “You'll trip as you walk down the aisle and then fall on your ass during the first dance.” You want her to smile, to laugh, something. Anything that will give you an indication that your marriage joke hasn't gone completely wrong. But Vi is still so damn quiet.

“Then, when we finally get home for our ‘wedding night,’ you'll just…” You cut yourself off, realizing that you are about to make a dirty joke. Not the time. “Just—you will probably fall asleep immediately, right?” You sound like an idiot right now. “Then what will we do? It'll be like, our honeymoon or something, and you'll be snoring and-”

Shut up, your mind hiss. It's like you can't stop yourself from rambling like an idiot. You are starting to sweat.

“Stop talking.”

The tone of her voice made your heart skip a beat. She sounds anxious... or scared... what is going on in her head right now? is the conversation making her as nervous as it is to you?

Vi suddenly pulls her hand away from your hair, sitting up. You sit up as well to look at her. 

“I'm getting hungry.”

It's clear that she doesn't want to talk about marriage, at least for now. The conversation made her feel uncomfortable... but you don't know why. Is she really that opposed to the idea of marrying you? or is she just flustered by the thought of a future with you?

You try to push those thoughts away, try to dismiss them, and act like the whole conversation didn't just happen. Vi is already changing the subject, so you went along with it, putting your usual 'casual' tone back on.

“You're always hungry,” you tease, forcing a smile to spread on your lips. “I swear, you eat more than a goddamn goliath.”

“I don't eat more than a goliath,” Vi protests. “I just have a big appetite.” Her eyes still weren't quite meeting yours. Why wouldn't she look at you?

“And besides,” she adds. “It's not my fault I need a lot of energy to kick so much ass on a daily basis,” she flexed her arms. “Got to keep these biceps strong somehow, right princess?”

“Your biceps aren't that impressive.”

Blatant lie, you both knew it. Vi's stupid strong, not to mention she's absolutely ripped. She can probably bench press a goddamn elephant. She doesn't even have to respond. Her smirk tells you that she knows damn well she can destroy you in a wrestling match.

“Oh yeah? don't think my biceps are that impressive, huh?” she teases, flexing again. “How about I throw you over my shoulder right now, then? carry you around like a goddamn princess. Then you'll see just how impressive they are.”

“Oh, you wo-,” you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, Vi suddenly lurches forward. She scoops you up, hoisting you effortlessly onto her shoulder. You let out a strangled gasp, your hands immediately grabbing onto the back of her tank top. “This isn't fair!” Your voice comes out as more of a squeak. How does she make it look so easy to carry your heavy ass around like a sack of potatoes?

“What was that about my biceps not being impressive, princess?” she taunts. She carries you around. You're like a goddamn ragdoll in her grip, not that you're complaining...

“I have to admit,” you grumble. “I kind of like this view.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. Shit. 

Vi's smirk widens. “Oh really?” she drawls. “You like the view? then I'll be sure to give you a better one.” With that, she kicks open the bedroom door and carries you inside.

—

2 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi fidgets nervously outside Powder's room. She takes a deep breath and finally knocks. “Powder?” she calls out.

What if Powder doesn't want to even talk to her? She screwed up. Who's to say Powder won't be pissed at her?! Just as Vi's starting to think about backing out, the door creaks open. There, powder stands before her.

“Can I come in?”

Powder hesitates, studying her sister for a moment. Finally, she steps aside and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Vi sighs in relief, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. Powder sits down on her bed, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She doesn't make eye contact. Vi shifts on her feet, standing in the middle of the room. She clears her throat. “So... can we talk?”

Powder hums in response. She slowly moves to sit down beside Powder. She's close, but not too close. “Thought you and…” she mumbles, “are still together.”

Vi shrugs. “The thing we did on Christmas was just for appearance. Dumb decision, really.”

Powder keeps her gaze on her lap, picking at a loose string on her sleeve. “Breakup must've been hard, huh?”

“That's one way to put it.”

“It was your decision, wasn't it?”

“Yeah... I was the one who broke things off.”

Powder nods, still picking absently at the string. Vi fidgets with a strand of her hair as she tries to think of what to say. But Powder beats her to the punch. “Can I ask... why?”

Vi sucks in a sharp breath. She's not sure how to answer that… how can she explain how stupid and scared she felt? how she pushes you away as a result? She wants to just give some bullshit answer, but there's something in the set of Powder's jaw that stops her. Powder deserves some form of honesty.

“It's complicated…”

Powder looks up at her. “Complicated, how?” she asks. “Did she hurt you...?”

“No, no. She'll never hurt me. Nothing like that.”

Powder nods.

“It's just... she's good. She's too good for me, Powder. She's always been too good for me.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

Vi huffs. “Hey-”

“You are an idiot if you really think she's 'too good for you.'”

Vi sighs, slouching forward.

Powder continues. “She stayed by your side for four years. She put up with so much of your bullshit, and she still loved you throughout it all. What the hell makes you think you're not good enough for them? seriously, why do you always do that? why do you always have this dumb idea that you're not worth it?”

Vi looks down at her lap. “She's kind, and smart, and beautiful, and strong...and you've seen her. She's gorgeous, Powder... and then there's me.”

“Don't give me that crap, sis. You're just as strong, if not stronger, and you're definitely not bad to look at. So that's not the real reason, is it?”

Vi bites her lip. Okay, powder definitely has a point. But she can't exactly tell Powder the full truth. But there's no way Powder will believe any more of her bullshit excuses.

Powder looks at her. “Stop trying to lie and bullshit. The truth. Why did you push her away? just tell me the truth.”

“I was scared, okay? I was scared that maybe I wasn't good enough for her, or that maybe she'll wake up one day and realize she can be with someone much better than me, or that she'll get sick of my bullshit-” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I'm just so scared, Powder. I'm scared of being a burden, of not being able to keep her happy, of not being good enough, and it just keeps getting worse, and I feel all this pressure building up, and I panicked. So I did what I usually do, and I ran. I pushed them away, just like I always do.”

“You're a coward, Vi,” Powders says again. “A complete coward. You're so afraid of screwing things up that you end up screwing things up anyway!”

Vi winces at that.

“I watched the two of you for four years. I saw how you two were together. What you had was real, and you threw it away because you couldn't get it through your thick skull that she really does want you?”

Vi feels her stomach twist. “It's... it's not that I don't believe she wants me. I know she does, but I just... I-”

“No 'but' here, Vi! Seriously, you're so damn frustrating.”

“It's hard!” Vi says, frustrated. “I feel like I can't be what they need. I'm a mess. I'm always so angry and on edge, and I get into fights, and I've got so much damn baggage. Why would they want to deal with that when they can be with someone stable and normal?”

“Holy shit, you're such a dumbass. Do you think that she is some perfect person? She has her own issues, her own problems. Nobody is perfect, and she knew that. She knew your flaws, she knew what your life was like, she knew everything, and yet she still chose to be with you for four years. Doesn't that tell you anything?!”

Vi swallows. When Powder puts it like that, it does make her feel stupid. She swallows again, looking up at her sister. “I know it probably doesn't mean much now, but... I really do love her. She's all I've thought about...I miss her so much…”

“'Course you do. Because you just did the dumbest thing you could have done. You let the love of your life slip through your fingers because you were just too damn stupid to see what you had right in front of you.”

“I know, I.. I don't know what possessed me to think she'd be better off without me.”

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Your own insecurities? your lack of self-worth? just a guess.”

“Shut it, powder,” Vi grumbles.

“Hey, don't get pissy with me. You're the one who messed up, not me,” Powder quips. “But anyway, I've heard enough of your stupid whining,” she huffs. “I'm not going to just sit here and let you drown in your self-pity. What the hell am I being the mature one in this situation for?”

“I hate it when you're right.” 

Powder snorts and grins. “Then you must hate being around me all the time, since I'm always right.”

Vi rolls her eyes and shoves her. “'kay smartass.”

“I just want you to be happy, sis.”

“I am happy,” Vi mutters.

“You're only saying that to shut me up.” Vi tries to protest, but Powder holds up one finger, cutting her off. “I know you. I know when you're bullshitting.”

“What are you, a mind reader now?”

“Pretty much,” Powder replies.

Vi rolls her eyes, shoving powder again. “Oh, shut up,” she pauses, then looks at her sister warmly. “I love you, Pow… and thank you. You don't sugarcoat, do you?”

Powder smiles, bumping her shoulder against Vi's. “I love you too. You're a pain in my ass, but I love you. Just...promise me something.”

“What?” she asks.

“Promise me you'll be more honest about your feelings. And I don't just mean with me, I mean in general. Stop keeping it all bunched up in here.” Powder taps Vi's chest with one finger. “Don't just throw something good away because you're scared it'll end eventually anyway. If you love her as much as you say you do, then you have to make up for what a dumbass you were and... at least try to make it work. Because she's... she's special, Vi.”

Vi hesitates but finally sighs, closing her eyes. “Fine, I promise.”

Powder hums. “Pinky promise?”

Vi raises one eyebrow. “Really? Are we ten right now?”

Powder grins, holding out a pinky finger in front of Vi's face. “Come on. Do it, loser.”

“You're ridiculous,” Vi tries to bite back a laugh. “Fine.” She links her pinky with powder's. “Pinky promise.”

“Perfect. Remember, you're not allowed to go back on it now. I'll strangle you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, boss.”

“Oh wait-” Powder's eyes light up, then a grin splits her face. “You remember how we'd always have pillow fights when we were younger?”

Vi groans, already knowing where this is going. “Please, no.”

But it's too late. Powder is already grabbing a pillow off the couch and whacking Vi in the back of the head. “C'mon, it'll be fun,” she grins.

Vi rubs the spot on her head that powder just hit. “Oh god,” she groans again.

Powder chuckles, tossing her another pillow. “No getting out of it,” she teases.

She catches the pillow. “Fine,” she says. “But I'm kicking your ass.”

Powder laughs, already readying her own pillow. “As if. I'm more agile than you are.”

Vi scoffs. “You wish,” and thus, the pillow fight begins.

—

2 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST SNOW

You're sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on the TV, trying to find something to watch on another boring Friday day. Suddenly, you hear Vi calling out your name, and you look over to see her leaning against the window.

“It's snowing,” she shouts eagerly. “Babe look!”

You chuckle. You get up from the couch, walking over to the window to stand beside her. You can see the snow falling slowly outside.

Vi glances over at you. “It's snowing,” she repeats. She's practically pressed up against the window, her nose almost touching the glass as she watches the snow fall. She's grinning when she looks at you and exclaims, “It's our first snow of the year!”

She suddenly grabs your arms and pulls you closer, forcing you up against the window too. She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she puts her hands on the window sill and leans out. Snowflakes are falling around her, and she tips her head back, catching them on her tongue.

“Come on,” she urges. “Taste the snow.” Without waiting for an answer, she grabs your shoulder and pulls you towards her, planting a cold, wet kiss on your lips. The snow that was in her mouth is now in yours. “See?” she laughs, pulling away.

Still holding on to your arm, she prevents you from moving away from the window. Instead, she guides your hand up to the glass. “Make a wish on the first snowflake,” she instructs.

“You really want me to make a stupid wish on the stupid snowflake?” you tease.

“Yes,” Vi responds bluntly. She squeezes your hand, her grip tightening around your fingers. “Now come on, make a wish.”

“Alright,” you relent, shaking your head in mock defeat. You tap your finger against the glass, watching as a single snowflake drifts down. You let out a breath and close your eyes, making your wish.

A yacht and a mansion would be nice, and while we were at it, I should wish for no taxes and free college. Maybe I'll even win the lottery. Win a million dollars. No, fifty million. I'm feeling lucky. I'll buy us a house with fifteen rooms. Ten christmas trees, one for every room. We'll even have a room for our christmas trees. I want to find a cure for cancer. Discover a never-before-seen species of shark, maybe a mermaid.

But most of it all, I want to spend another Christmas with her.

“There,” you say, looking back at her. “I made a stupid wish.”

“Good,” she says, grinning. She's satisfied with your compliance, then she releases her grip on your hand. She slides her arms around your waist, pulling you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I hope your stupid wish comes true.”

She stays like that for a moment, her body pressed up against yours as you both watch the snow continue to fall outside. After a few silent minutes, she moves her head slightly and rests her forehead on your shoulder instead of her chin. Her voice is quiet, muffled a little against your shirt. “Promise me something.”

You glance down at her. “What is it?” you murmur, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through her hair.

She lifts her head up so that her cheek now rests on your shoulder. Her fingers twist into the material of your shirt, clinging on tightly. “Promise me we'll spend every day through winter together, even the cold nights. Promise me you'll keep the fireplace going.”

Your hand gently massaging the back of her neck, your fingers playing with the soft hairs there. “I promise,” you whisper into her hair. “Every day. All winter. Even the cold nights. I promise.”

She hums in response, satisfied, and nuzzles closer to you. She pulls you closer, and you can feel her heartbeat—the steady thump thump thump against your chest. She mumbles something against your shirt, the words unintelligible. When you look down, you can see her cheeks are red.

“Whatcha saying?” You tug at a strand of her pink hair before you reach up and trace the edge of her ear with your fingertips.

She shivers when you touch her ear, and a grin spreads across your face. She buries her head further in your shirt, still mumbling something against the material. It's muffled, but you can still hear the last part of what she's saying.

“Love you.”

You can't stop yourself from smiling. You pull her head back so that she's looking up at you now. You want to see her face when you respond. You brush her cheek with your thumb before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“I love you too.”

—

5 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Vi paces back and forth in her room, checking her phone every couple of seconds. It's been five days. Five days, and still nothing. She can wait. Yes, she can wait.

You've kept Vi on the edge of her seat for days. Which is why Vi's heart was practically beating out of her chest as her phone dinged. She practically pounces on it, grabbing it off the bedside table as she checks the notification.

Please say yes. Please say yes.

She taps the screen, opening the notification.

...it's a meme from Powder, another stupid cat video.

She texts back, “Powder. One of these days I'm going to turn off your damn notifications. Stop sending me stupid cat videos.”

Powder immediately replies, a picture of her flipping off the camera. Below it, she's added the text “love you too.”

Vi rolls her eyes, tossing her phone onto the bedside table. She flops onto her bed, sprawling out and glaring at her ceiling.

She sighs. How is it that she's been reduced to checking her phone every thirty seconds, jumping every time a notification goes off?

Pathetic.

Vi looks down at herself, looking at the sweater that she's wearing. It's an ugly-christmas-themed one that you gave her. The colors clash, there's patterns thrown in everywhere, and the whole thing is absolutely atrocious.

and it's her favorite thing in the world.

She wraps her arms around herself, snuggling up on the bed and burying her face into the fabric.

The stupid sweater smells like you. 

She has become a mess these last five days. Not knowing if you will take her back has been slowly driving her mad. She can't even take her mind off you, especially since she's wearing this stupid sweater. It's stupid. This is just a sweater. An ugly sweater made of scratchy fabric. But she can't help clinging to it, desperate to remember what you felt like.

She wants you.

She wants you here, snuggled up with her on the bed. She wants you to wrap your arms around her, pull her close, bury your face in her hair, and sigh into her ear. She wants you to whisper to her, tell her that you miss her too.

Vi wants you back.

She knows she was the one who left you, so why the hell is she the one losing her mind? She's the one who ended things. She's the one who left you. So why can't she stop thinking about how good it would be to feel your lips on hers? She can picture it so clearly. The feeling of your mouth against hers. The taste of your lips

She has become a pathetic pining mess and she hates it.

Vi grabs her phone again, unlocking it and scrolling to her gallery. Swiping through the many photos she has saved of you and her. Pictures of you in her hoodie, pictures of you cooking her breakfast, pictures of you two with your foreheads pressed together.

Her thumb hovers over her favorite picture. It's a candid shot of you wearing one of her shirts and her favorite leather jacket as your hair is ruffled with her fingers.

Vi sighs, heart clenching when she looks at the picture.

If she can go back in time and punch herself in the head, she would. She'll grab past 3 months Vi by the collar and shake her, telling her not to be such an idiot. “You're gonna regret this, dumbass,” she'll say. And god, she does regret it.

She doesn't even have a good reason why she left in the first place. She's just scared and confused. Now look where that ended her. Alone on her bed, wearing an ugly ass sweater, pining over you like some pathetic idiot.

Vi locks her phone and tosses it aside with a groan. She grabs a pillow, burying her face in it and letting out a muffled scream. “This is ridiculous.”

She's a mess. She's angry, she's frustrated, she's hurt, and it's all her own damn fault. She's the one who pushed you away. She's the one who ended everything. She's the one who walked out of the door and slammed it shut. Then five days ago, she had the nerve to ask you if you could give her another chance.

Like that will make everything all better. Like you'll instantly take her back after she treats you like crap.

That's not how life works, idiot.

She wants you to come rushing through the door, push her down on the bed, and pin her against the pillows. She wants you to kiss her until she can't breathe. She wants to feel your touch, kiss, and nibble every part of her body.

And at the same time, she wants to be left alone, to wallow in her own misery. She wants you to stay the hell away from her. 

She hates feeling like this. She hates how her heart beats harder every time her phone buzzes and then immediately sinks when it's not a text message from you.

She hates her dreams—no night goes by that she doesn't dream about you—about your face, your body, your mouth on hers. She wants to feel your skin against hers, hear your voice in her ear, taste you on her tongue.

She's a pathetic, desperate, needy, pining mess.

Vi doesn't even realize she's doing it. Her fingers tangle in her hair, absently toying with the pink strands. Her hand drifts down to fiddle with her ear, tracing the edge of her piercing just like you used to do.

She almost closes her eyes but stops herself.

She misses you. She misses the little things about you.

The way you scrunch your nose when you're confused, the way you bite your lip when you focus, the way you hum songs under your breath when you're alone, the way you get this adorable smile on your face whenever you catch her looking at you.

She misses everything about you.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, FIRST CHRISTMAS

“I should tell Vander to decorate the house like that,” Vi says, her eyes reflecting the Christmas lights as she looks around the neighborhood that looks like it was covered in enough lights to power a small city.

“It would cost a fortune,” you point out. “The electricity bill would be skyrocketing, not to mention the cost of all those lights.”

“Come on,” Vi protests, wheedling. “It wouldn't be that expensive, and just imagine the look on ol' Vander's face when he sees his bill next month.”

“Don't you want to give him and the other old farts in this neighborhood an aneurysm?”

“That would be great, and oh—we could also get lights in the shape of a huge middle finger,” she suggests. “And maybe a giant santa statue right in the front lawn, with a sack big enough to carry a goddamn mountain.”

“Imagine the looks on everyone's faces when they drive by,” Vi continues. “They'll think they're hallucinating, seeing Vander's house covered in every color of light imaginable, with that huge ass santa statue waving a middle finger like a damn flag.”

The snow crunches under your boots as you and Vi walk through the neighborhood.

She doesn't shut up about how much she loves this time of year, from the chilly nights to the smell of pine trees to the Christmas movies and music that seems to be playing everywhere. 

“Seriously,” she sighs, her breath fogging up in the cold air. “This is my favorite time of year. Everything is so cozy and pretty and festive.” She reaches down and takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. “Plus, I get to see all the cute couples out and about, all cozied up in their winter clothes, kissing under the mistletoe…” She smirks, nudging you with her shoulder. “Makes me want to do cheesy cute things with you,” she starts whistling a tune, swinging your hands.

“We could go caroling around the neighborhood, or maybe build a snowman out in the yard, or-” Vi suddenly stops in her tracks.

Before you can ask what's inside her mind, she grabs your hand and starts pulling you along.

“Come on, I have something to show you!”

You stumble after her, trying to keep up with her as she practically drags you through the snow-covered streets.

Finally, she stops running and looks over at you. “Ta-dah!”

You look at the spot she's brought you to. It's a small park, and in the middle of it stands a tree. Not too small, but not too big.

“Look,” she states, looking over at the tree. “Now, stay right here,” she instructs, pushing you to stand under the tree. “And don't leave. I'll be right back, okay?” She winks at you before darting off, leaving you standing alone under the tree.

What is she up to?

You glance around, trying to figure out what Vi has in mind. It's getting cold, and the snow is starting to seep through your shoes. A few minutes pass, and still no sign of Vi anywhere. Just when you're starting to get impatient, you hear a voice behind you.

“Close your eyes.”

You turn around to see Vi standing there, a smirk on her face. 

“Please, close your eyes, and no peeking.”

Reluctantly, you close your eyes.

“Keep them shut,” she warns. “Don't even think about peeking.”

You hear rustling and shifting, and then some sort of...clink? what on earth is she doing?

“No cheating, okay?”

Minutes and minutes and minutes pass by, it feels like you wait for an hour. All is quiet. There's only the sound of the wind and the crunch of snow. Then, you suddenly feel her hands settling on your shoulders, positioning you exactly how she wants you.

“Don't open your eyes yet,” she whispers in your ear.

Her hands slide down from your shoulders, trailing down your arms and then coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay,” she murmurs, adjusting your position. “You can open your eyes now.”

You blink a few times, adjusting from the darkness of having them closed, and then you look up. Vi has strung a bunch of Christmas lights up in the tree. It's almost like a scene from a cheesy Christmas movie. It's so sappy, but it's perfect.

“What do you think?” she asks. “Pretty damn great, huh?” she grins, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. She pulls you closer to her, your back pressing against her chest. She smells like a christmas treat. Just like the cookies you love to eat.

“I figured all the best cheesy Christmas movie stuff needs a perfect, romantic setting,” she says, her fingers absently tracing patterns on your stomach. “And what's more romantic than standing under the tree, with the Christmas lights all around us and the snow falling down?” Vi squeezes you tighter, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a light kiss just below your ear.

“And of course,” she mumbles. “We can't have a cheesy Christmas movie moment without some cheesy Christmas music to go along with it.” Vi steps away, going over and plugging in a set of battery-powered speakers. They immediately start playing a Christmas melody.

You watch as she skips back over to you, her hands immediately settling back on your waist. “Now, let's get in position. I want this to be suuuper cheesy.” She waggles her eyebrows and grins again, moving so she's standing in front of you. “Okay, put your hands on my shoulders, and then move a little closer.”

You follow her instructions, placing your hands on her shoulders and stepping forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Perfect. That's perfect.” Her hands come to rest on your hips. “Now, we just gotta get one last thing…” Her hands move from your hips, sliding slowly up your sides and over your arms. She grabs your wrists and lifts them up, putting your arms around her neck so your hands are clasped behind her head. “And now,” she murmurs, pulling you even closer. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “The mistletoe.”

You look up, and sure enough, there it is. A little sprig of mistletoe is hanging from a branch just above your heads.

“Seems like we have the perfect moment to finish off the Christmas movie cliché.”Her other hand is still on your hip, and she's pulling you so close now that you can practically taste her breath as she whispers, “You know what that means, right...?”

Even though you know exactly what she's talking about, you raise an eyebrow and give her a coy smile. “Oh, I don't know... refresh my memory?”

“Yes ma'am.” She then pulls you tight and leans forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, slow kiss. It's not at all like her usual passionate, fiery kisses. It's gentler, softer, sweeter. She nips at your bottom lip, her teeth pulling gently before her tongue soothes the redness. She tilts your head back, claiming your mouth in a much deeper kiss.

She pushes you up against the tree, pinning you there and claiming more and more of your mouth. You tighten your arms around her neck, pulling her even closer.

After a few more moments, the two of you finally pull away.

Vi rests her forehead against yours, both of you suddenly breathless from the kiss. Neither of you say a word. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the christmas music from the speaker.

“Well,” Vi murmurs, breaking the silence. She lets out a sigh and then chuckles, pulling back so she can look at your face. “That was pretty damn cheesy.”

“Like you weren't loving every second of it.”

“I would never deny that.” Her hands still on your waist, stroking your stomach. “I'd kiss you under the damn mistletoe all day, every day, if I could.”

“You're such a sap.” You move one hand up to her hair, tangling your fingers in it and toying with one of her pink bangs. “Corny, cheesy sap with a thing for Christmas movie romance.”

She laughs, tilting her head back to give you more access to her hair. “I just want to keep doing this,” Vi murmurs. “I want to keep spending Christmas with you, over and over and over,” she continues. “Every. Single. One. Even when we're old geezers with walkers and false teeth and liver spots, spending Christmas together underneath a tree.”

She pulls you as close, resting her cheek against your shoulder. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, mumbling the words against your skin. “I want to watch you open your Christmas presents. Even when we're both pushing seventy, then I want to watch you open mine,” she sighs. “I want us to argue over holiday decorations because you insist that the garland is crooked, and I don't care if it is.”

She tilts her head to look at you once more. Then she moves to place a kiss on the corner of your lips, then the tip of your nose. “I want to fight with you on the Christmas tree lot over whether we're going to buy a real tree or a plastic tree, but end up getting both just because you refuse to back down.”

She lifts one hand to cup your chin, tilting it up towards her, then moves to press kisses to each of your eyelids. “I want to wake up at three in the morning and sit on the end of our bed in our pajamas, our hair a mess and bags under our eyes, and listen to our kids in their rooms upstairs. Hear them whisper and snicker about the big fat man that's climbing down the chimney…”

She pauses, moving to press a kiss to the space between your eyebrows, to the tip of your nose again. “I want us to make Christmas traditions, even if they're dumb traditions. I want us to bake Christmas cookies and put ornaments on the tree together… even if you complain the whole time and say I'm doing it wrong.”

Then she moves her lips to your cheeks, a kiss to one side, then the other. “I want to go to the grocery store on Christmas eve, because you forgot to buy that one random ingredient that you forgot to put on the list and you refuse to cook without it,” she murmurs, her lips moving to your jaw. 

“And then, I want to watch you fall asleep on the couch in the middle of your favorite Christmas movie, even though you've seen it a hundred times.”

She presses a kiss to your chin, then another to the underside of your jaw. “I want to come home from work late on Christmas eve because I forgot to get a present, and I just know you're gonna say, 'I told you so', but you'll still give me a kiss and tell me to sit my ass down and not worry about any damn gift.”

She smirks against your skin, as she moves back to one of your eyes, placing a kiss to the outer corner. “I just want to spend every Christmas with you. From this one to the next, all the way through when we're old and gray. We can even spend Christmas in our damn graves.”

She pulls her hand away and lets her fingers slide down and find yours, intertwining them together, bringing your hand up to her mouth. She brings the back of your hand to her lips, placing a kiss against your skin. Her thumb gently brushes over your knuckles. Her fingers are calloused and rough, but her touch is soft and delicate, careful not to squeeze too hard.

Her eyes then close, placing your hand on her cheek, leaning into your touch. “Only you,” she murmurs. She turns her head to press a kiss to your palm. “Always you.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You're once again standing in front of Vander's house.

It's been a whirlwind of a year—first the breakup, then the Christmas, and now the New Year's eve. You don't know how to feel. Excited? nervous? worried? you're not quite sure which one. Hell, chances are you're probably feeling all three.

Powder has been nagging you about coming for a couple of days, and your parents wouldn't mind anyway. They're spending the night by themselves in a hotel somewhere, doing the tango or some other bs. So, here you are.

You have a feeling that the family already knows about the breakup. Vi had told you she'd tell them after Christmas, and it's after Christmas. You just hope that it won't be too awkward.

You're here for two reasons.

The first is to celebrate new years with the family, and the second is to talk to Vi.

You need an answer. You need to know why she left. Why she really left.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, then head up to the front door. You knock once, then twice, hoping to god that you won't have to wait long. Footsteps approach from the other side, and you can hear the faint sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. There's laughing, talking, and the shuffling of feet, then the sound of the door opening.

You've barely even processed the fact that the door is open when you're suddenly engulfed in a hug. A pair of arms wraps around you. A familiar scent of cherry blossom invades your senses, and you feel yourself stiffening instinctively.

The woman releases her grip on you, pulling away to look at you with a wide grin. “You made it!” 

“'Course I did,” you reply, a smile on your lips. “You were spam bombing me on every social media you could find. Kinda hard to say no to that.”

“Knew it!” she chirps, then grabs your arm and tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you as she leads you into the house. Following Powder further into the house, the sound of Mylo's voice coming from the living room as he sings loudly and very, very out of tune.

Powder stops at the entrance to the living room and glances over at him. She pauses, her fingers still clamped tightly around your wrist. She glances back at you. “I mean, you're still my friend,” she murmurs. “After you and…” she clears her throat. “After everything.” She doesn't finish her sentence, just looks back at Mylo. He's still singing, clearly oblivious to your presence. His voice breaks on a particular note, the sound of his voice scraping against your ears. Powder shakes her head. “He's awful,” she mutters. “Always has been.”

“I'm almost surprised none of you have tried to stuff a sock in his mouth yet.”

Powder snorts. “Believe me, I tried when I was younger, but Vander said violence is never the answer.” 

“That sounds like Vander.” You can almost picture Vander swatting Powder's hands away and saying some sort of fatherly bullshit about not doing something like that. 

“Yeah,” she grins, mocking her father's demeanor. “'Violence isn't the answer, honey. You and your siblings need to find other ways to figure out your differences. Blah blah blah.' Something like that.” Powder lets go of your wrist, letting her hands fall to her hips. “Anyway,” she says, “there's food in the kitchen. We already ate dinner, but there's snacks if you want any.” She pauses, her eyes drifting to the living room. “Vi's in the living room, so uh…” she stops, her eyes shifting back to you. “You know, just so you know. Get prepared for that or something. I'm gonna go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, I think I might walk around first.”

She smiles again and gives you one last pat on the shoulder before she steps past you and slips into the living room.

You take a second, letting your eyes drift over the decorations. Familiar faces are in family pictures on the wall. There's a few colorful Christmas lights still hung up on the walls.

Upon a second glance around the room, you spot Sevika in the corner, casually puffing on a cigarette. You can't help but wonder how she always manages to get away with that. There's definitely a no-smoking rule in the house, especially during events like this. Apparently that rule doesn't apply to Sevika. She's just enjoying her smoke.

She looks up as you approach, grinning. “Hey there, kid,” she greets as she tilts her head to the side, giving you a once-over. “How's it going?” She blows out a stream of smoke that quickly drifts away.

You try not to cough when the smoke drifts into your face. You give her a half-smile. “It's going,” you reply, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I mean, you know how it is.” You nod your head at the cigarette between her fingers. “I'm surprised Vander hasn't kicked you out yet.”

Sevika grins, the corners of her lips curving into a smirk. She places the cigarette between her lips again, taking a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Believe me,” she replies, “he's threatened to do it about fifty times tonight.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “I can imagine.”

She puffs on the cigarette once more. “He's got that whole 'you're under my roof' speech down pat. I've heard it a hundred times.”

“Yet here you are,” you muse, gesturing at the cigarette in her fingers. “Still taking your chances.”

“I gotta get my cigarette fix.” She grins. She flicks some ash off the end before taking another drag. “Vander can lecture me all he wants, but I'm never giving up my vices.”

You're about to reply to Sevika, but you're interrupted by the sound of a familiar laugh. An arm slides around your shoulders, and you're surprised to see Ekko standing beside you. He grins at you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Hey stranger,” he teases.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, bumping him with your hip.

He laughs before his eyes drift to Sevika. He looks from the cigarette in her fingers up to her face, then back to the cigarette again, then back to her face. He gives her a disapproving look, and Sevika just grins around the cigarette in her mouth. “Are you really smoking in the house?" Ekko asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Sevika takes a puff on her cigarette and shrugs. “I already told the kid, I live for the thrill,” she replies, shooting you a wink. “Besides, it helps me relax.”

Ekko rolls his eyes. “Of course it does,” he mutters. He turns to you. “Don't follow in her footsteps, got it?”

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving him off. “I think I can handle myself, dad.”

“Hey!” Ekko exclaims. He places a hand on his chest. “I just don't want you to end up like some people.” He casts a pointed look in Sevika's direction. He then leads you away from Sevika, pulling you into the living room where the karaoke set up is. All of your friends are crowded around it, and Mylo and Powder are squabbling over the karaoke.

Claggor is perched on the floor watching his siblings, and he turns his head and smiles when he sees you. “Hey, you made it!” he says, getting to his feet. He claps you on the back, pulling you into a hug.

“Yeah, guess I couldn't keep away,” you joke, returning Claggor's hug. “I'm surprised you didn't try to stop me, honestly.”

Claggor grins and releases you. “Eh, I get it,” he says. “I know it's a little complicated for you to be here, but still... you're always welcome here. You know that, right?”

You nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah, I do.”

He pats your shoulder again, then turns back to Mylo and Powder, who are bickering again over who gets to go first.

Your eyes dart across the living room. And then, there she is, viola! sitting on the couch, she doesn't notice you at first. Until, a moment later, her eyes drift your way as you and Ekko walk over together.

She sits up a bit straighter as you walk closer, and she's looking at you too long for your liking.

Powder glances over at her older sister curiously when she sits up straighter. Mylo glances at Vi too, his eyes narrowing as he notices the look in her eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but Powder reaches over and smacks the back of his arm, shaking her head.

He scowls at her. “What was that for?!” he growls.

Powder shoots him a look. “Shut it.”

Ekko grins, taking an open spot on the couch. He pats the spot next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. You glance at the spot, and it is...right next to Vi. You reluctantly take a seat next to her, making sure you sit a few good inches away.

Ekko glances between everyone, clearly noticing the strange atmosphere. “So…”

He's about to ask a question when Vi turns her gaze over to him, giving him such a death glare that he immediately stops talking. Powder shoots him a scathing look as well, her expression telling him to ‘keep your mouth shut’. Ekko laughs nervously, clearly realizing that he was just about to ask a question he definitely shouldn't have asked.

Eventually, Mylo clears his throat. “So, who's up for karaoke?” he asks, trying to break the weird atmosphere.

Powder perks up, her eyes lighting up. “I'll sing next!”

Mylo scoffs. "No way, it's my turn!”

Claggor rolls his eyes. “Seriously? you were just up there.”

While the two boys bicker and Powder starts whining that she wants a turn, you glance away, your eyes involuntarily landing on Vi. She feels your gaze on her and shifts her eyes to you, and your gazes lock. She doesn't say anything, and the eye contact lingers just a moment longer than it should've. She opens her mouth as if she's about to say something but suddenly looks away. Her eyes fixed on the floor, staring down at it for a moment. Finally, she turns to look at you again, lifting her gaze to meet yours.

“Happy New Year's Eve,” she says, giving you a strained smile.

“Yeah,” you force out, “happy new year's to you too.” The words feel flat, coming out almost awkwardly. She doesn't seem like she knows what to say either. She just gives a nod, looking away again.

Claggor grins. “Powder's a better singer than you, anyway,” he teases. 

Mylo turns his glare onto Claggor, shoving him roughly with a muttered, “Shut up, asswipe.”

Claggor scoffs. “At least she can hit the notes,” he shoots back.

Mylo scoffs back at him. “My singing is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“It's not. You sound like a cat being strangled,” Claggor points out.

Mylo's jaw drops. “I do not sound like that!”

“You do.” All of you chime in unison. 

Mylo groans in protest. “You guys suck. I'm the best damn singer here.”

Powder laughs at his claim. “You're the worst singer I've ever heard.”

The trio continue to bicker, and Vi glances over again, her eyes flitting up and down your body. Her eyes flick from your hair to your mouth to your collarbones. She glances at the exposed skin of your neck, her tongue suddenly running across her bottom lip. Her gaze lingers on your chest... and then she realizes what she's doing. With a loud cough, she looks down into her lap, her eyebrows creased and her neck flushed. “You look good,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear her over the sibling's arguing.

You look down at what you're wearing, surprised by her sudden compliment. “Thanks...?” you respond, meeting her gaze again. “You don't look bad yourself.”

Mylo, Powder, and Claggor are too busy bickering to really notice what's happening between you and Vi. Ekko notices, his eyes going back and forth between you two.

But even though they're too immersed in their argument, Vi still keeps her voice low so the others don't overhear her. She glances away again so not to draw attention to the way she was just staring at you. “Thanks.”

Meanwhile, Mylo is yelling at Claggor. “I'm better at everything, including singing!”

“You're better at being stupid,” Claggor fires back.

Powder pipes up with a grin. “Oh! I have a great idea!” They all turn to look at her, including you. She grins wider before saying, “Vi should sing!”

Vi seems a bit taken off guard, her eyes widening. “N-no, no, it's fine, I-” 

Powder pushes her forward. “Come on, sing a song for us!”

Reluctantly, Vi allows herself to be pushed forward, standing in front of the microphone. She shoots Powder a glare for pushing her. “You're an ass,” she grumbles.

Powder grins at her. “Have fun, sis,” she teases.

She sighs, then turns back to the karaoke. She hums a tune to herself as she scrolls through the song list, her eyes skimming over the options. There's a few seconds more of searching, and then her fingers stop at one particular song. She glances around the room, checking to see everyone's waiting to hear what she'll sing. Her eyes land on you last, and she locks gazes with you for a moment.

Before she has a chance to chicken out, she selects the song and stands in front of the microphone. Vi clears her throat again and takes a deep breath. she seems...nervous.

At the start of the song, you immediately recognize the opening notes. It takes you a second to name the song, but when you do... you almost choke. The lyrics start, and there's no denying it. It's true. She's singing what you think she's singing.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP, CONFESSION

You're lying in bed, phone in hand, scrolling lazily through random stuff. It's a quiet evening, and the rain patters against your window. Suddenly, you hear a faint melody drifting through the rain. Music. It must be your neighbor who decided to blast music in the rain. but wait...

Did you just hear your name?

You sit up, suddenly intrigued. You place your phone down, sitting up straight as you listen to the music. Your brows furrow, trying to find where the sound is coming from.

It's definitely coming from outside... and it's getting louder. The faint sound of Aerosmith's ‘I Don't Want to Miss a Thing’ reaches your ears. Curiosity now piqued, you slowly get up from your bed and walk over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, you look out into the rainy night, and there, amidst the rain, you spot her. Violet.

She stands under the glow of the street lights, the light rain showering down around her. She's holding something... no. Not something. A boombox. It's an old, weathered boombox. The kind you'd thought had gone out of style decades ago.

She's singing. Singing... for you.

Her face is tilted upward, the rain kissing her face, mouthing the lyrics, “Every moment I spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

It's cheesy, so, so incredibly cheesy. It's so clichéd and almost straight out of a cheesy romcom. The old boombox, the rain, the song. It's something you'd roll your eyes at in a movie. But it's... sweet, in a way. The way her body rocks slightly to the beat, the way the rain glistens on her skin as she sings those lyrics.

You open your window, the rain and wind blow in, and you raise your voice over the sound of the rain. “What the hell are you doing?” you call out. “It's raining! are you crazy, Vi?”

Vi turns her head towards your voice, a smile stretching across her lips when she sees you standing at the window. “I don't care!” she yells back, holding the boombox higher. “I know it's raining. I'm not blind!”

She takes a few steps closer to your house, her rain-soaked hair sticking to her face. The rain and the light from the street lamps bounce off her skin, making her look like a mess. But she's grinning, that smirk plastered on her face as she holds the boombox over her head.

“You're going to catch a cold!” you retort.

“I've lived through much worse than a rain,” she calls back. “And nothing's gonna stop me tonight.” She then takes a deep breath before belting the lyrics out. The smile never leaves her lips. “Don't want to close my eyes. I don't want to fall asleep 'cause I'd miss you, babe, and I don't want to miss a thing.”

You look around nervously, checking to make sure no one is disturbed by her sudden performance. The last thing you need is your parents waking up and finding out that your friend is singing under the rain for you.

“Are you trying to wake up my parents? or the entire neighborhood for that matter?! keep it down, would you?!” you hiss through tightly clenched teeth, leaning out of the window more. “Get inside!” you whisper shout at her.

She continues to hold the boombox above her head, the rain running down her face and dripping from her chin. “Come on, let me finish at least!”

“You're going to get sick,” you protest, “and my parents will be mad,” you try to reason. Although the idea of your parents waking up to the sight of her standing outside, singing a love song to you, is... funny. 

Vi just laughs at your warning, shaking her head. “Eh, who cares about that? I'm having way too much fun pissing your parents off right now!”

“Stubborn idiot,” you murmur to yourself, sighing. 

You head downstairs to the closet to grab an umbrella. As you grab it, you give a quick glance out your living room window. Vi is still there, holding that boombox, continuing to sing in the rain. Grabbing the umbrella, you step out into the rain. The rain instantly slaps your face, and you quickly pop open the umbrella, holding it over your head.

Vi turns around to face you as you approach. Her singing falters when she sees you. Her smile widens, and she lowers the boombox.

“You really are the stupidest, most stubborn woman I know,” you grumble, holding the umbrella over your head as you reach Vi.

Vi is clearly soaked. She looks like a drowned rat, but despite the mess and her wet state, she's still grinning.

“Do you know how loud you are?” you ask. “You might wake up the whole damn neighborhood, banging that boombox at this hour. It's late, you loud, stubborn idiot.” You pause, studying her appearance. Her face is flushed, the redness on her cheeks betraying her. It could be the rain, the cold, or maybe...

“What?” you ask. “Nothing to say? cat got your tongue?”

Vi pauses, her eyes meeting yours. The rain continues to fall, slapping against the umbrella.

“I like you.”

What?

“No,” you watch as she shakes her head, correcting herself, rain dripping from her hair. “I love you. No, I'm in love with you.”

You stare at her, stunned. The words coming out of her mouth are unexpected. Your mind is in chaos. How could she do this, spring this confession on you all of a sudden? Your eyes are wide, your mind whirling. “What are you talking about?”

Her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, the redness spreading to the tips of her ears. “I said I love you,” she repeats. “I love you. I've... I've loved you for a long time.” 

She takes a step closer, the rain continuing to fall around you both. The boombox is still clutched tightly in her hand, the music still playing faintly.

You're speechless, struggling to find the words to respond. Your heart is racing and your mind is spinning. After all the years of friendship, all the ups and downs, all the times you've seen her in all her glory... this is when she chooses to confess? now? in the middle of goddamn rain?

Your gaze shifts on her lips. They're slightly parted, raindrops clinging to them. They look soft, even under the rain, even in this awkward and confusing moment.

Vi speaks again, and her words snap you back to reality. “You don't have to say it back…” she says, her voice shaky. “I just needed you to know.”

“And I know I'm a fool,” she continues, her grip on the boombox tightening. “Singing my heart out in the rain like a dumbass... but I couldn't hold it in any longer. You're all I think about.”

Your hands clench around the handle of the umbrella, her confession replaying in your head. I love you. I'm in love with you.

All the times you've admired her, all the times a simple glance got your heart to race... It makes sense now. The feeling you always tried to ignore—the warmth and the flutter in your stomach.

You don't know what to do, what to say, and those damn lips of hers are not helping at all.

Screw it.

Your brain stops thinking, and you act on impulse. The umbrella clatters to the ground, raindrops drenching you both as you step closer to her. You wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your lips against hers.

Her body is tense, clearly taken by surprise, but after that, she melts into your arms. She drops the boombox, letting it fall into a puddle by her feet, and wraps her own arms around your waist. 

She's kissing you eagerly, hungrily, her lips moving against yours in a way that leaves you breathless. Her tongue slides against your lower lip, seeking entrance. You could never deny her anything, and you part your lips, letting her tongue explore your mouth.

Her hands roam over your body. Touching and grabbing at any part of you she can reach. Her tongue is hot against yours. Sliding and tangling together, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your lips break away from hers, both of you drawing in ragged breaths.

Her forehead pressed against yours. Both of you are shaking from the cold. Her eyes are half-lidded as she looks at you, her lips swollen and red. “That's…” she mumbles, her voice hoarse. “That's one way to respond to a confession.”

Your arms remain around her neck, fingers buried in her wet hair. She's still gripping your waist, holding onto you tightly, her other hand coming up to brush a rain-soaked lock of hair from your face. “You're quiet.” Her thumb traces a path across your bottom lip. “Got something to say, or did I shut you up for good?”

“You always have to be so damn dramatic about everything, don't you?” you mutter, fighting the urge to smile. “Not even a proper date first or anything,” you continue, “just straight to saying I love you, no buildup. Very classy, very romantic.”

Her laughter is a low rumble in her chest when she shakes her head. “Welp, I'm a hopeless romantic,” she jokes, the corner of her mouth lifting in a lopsided grin. “When I see something I want, I go for it.” Her eyes roam over your face. “And I really, really want you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now can we get inside before we freeze our asses off?” You reach down to pick up the umbrella. “I think we've given the neighborhood enough of a show for one night.”

Your eyes flicker from her soaked clothes to her shivering frame. “If you end up sick, my mom will have my ass for letting you stay out here for so long. You know what she's like when it comes to you…” Your voice softens, concern lacing your words. “C'mon, let's get inside before we catch a cold.”

Her shoulders sag when you mention your mother. She glances down at herself, taking in her wet clothes and shivering body. “Alright, alright,” she mutters. “Last thing I need is another lecture from your mom. She's damn scary.” She bends down to pick up the abandoned boombox, shaking off the rainwater.

You usher her to the front door of your house, your hand resting on her lower back to guide her. Her clothes are damp against your touch.

The door swings open, revealing your mother with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. “You sure managed to wake up the damn neighborhood with your display out there.” Her eyes flicker between you and Vi.

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

You remember it all.

She used to hum that exact song to you. All the time. Humming in your ear, wrapping her arms around your waist, watching you clean dishes or cook.

Sometimes, she wouldn't even hum it. Sometimes, she would just sing the lyrics to you, while her fingertips would trace random patterns on your skin. Doodles on your back, swirls on your stomach, sometimes little hearts on your arm.

You'd always tease her. “Do you know any songs other than this one?” She'd just chuckle and hum the song harder.

All the while, she would pepper small kisses on your neck and shoulders.

You'd try to push her off, “Stop, I'm trying to clean,” even if you both knew that it was useless to try and stop her.

Sometimes you'd even start singing along in a loud, off-key voice, just to annoy her.

She'd stop humming and glare at you. “Stop that,” she'd say, pouting.

You'd just laugh at her. “Make me,” you'd challenge.

You always used to laugh and tease her about it at first... but slowly, it started to grow on you.

You'd catch yourself humming the song after she stopped visiting, and you hated that your mind instinctively wanted to hear her voice singing it. Sometimes, you'd hum it yourself, but it never compared to how she sang it. She's so much better than you.

The song continues, you just couldn't take your eyes off her. She's just... breathtaking. The way her eyes closed as she got into the song, the way her lips moved with the words, it made you want to reach forward and...

...what are you thinking? you can't do that. you can't do that. So, instead, you just sit there. You just listen. You just watch.

She's looking at you. You can feel it. Her gaze lingers on you longer than everyone else. She's really singing to you, isn't she? why does she have to make this harder?

Your heart is beating so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone could hear it.

When the song finally ends, you're snapped out of your thoughts. Everyone cheers, clapping loudly.

“That's my sister!” Powder exclaims.

Mylo whistles. “Better than I expected.”

Claggor just grins, giving Vi a round of applause.

While everyone else starts chattering, you just sit there in stunned silence. Your palms are starting to sweat, and you feel sick.

Vi sits down on the couch next to you, sitting close but not close enough to actually touch or bump into you.

The others begin taking their turns singing. Ekko sings first. He starts singing a song you don't recognize, but it's something rap and upbeat. Mylo takes the mic next and immediately starts butchering a love song. Powder laughs her ass off, “You're terrible at this!”

Claggor gives Mylo a glare before taking the mic, and he actually sings a pretty decent song. “See?” he says, shooting another glare at Mylo, “that's how you do it.”

Mylo lets out an indignant squawk. “Yeah, whatever, I'm not even trying.”

“Whatever helps you feel better about sucking.” Powder snickers.

It goes on like that, back and forth. One sings, the others make comments, Powder makes fun of Mylo, repeat.

The whole time, you're just stuck there with Vi. So close yet so far away.

—

4 YEARS BEFORE THE BREAKUP

Vi's cheek rests on the countertop, her fingers mindlessly running over the rim of the glass in front of her. It's empty, having never even been touched. Vander leans on the other side of the bar, still cleaning the glass in his hand. The place is nearly empty now, just a few stragglers sitting here and there.

“You gonna drink that?” Vander asks, raising an eyebrow at Vi's untouched drink.

Vi doesn't lift her head from the counter. “Nah,” she says. “Not in the mood tonight.”

Vander looks at her for a moment, still cleaning the glass. He puts the glass down, resting his arms on the counter, leaning forward.

“Something's on ya mind?”

She lifts her head up, rolling it until it's resting on her chin instead. She doesn't look at Vander. Her gaze on the wall on the other far side of the bar. “Can I ask you something?”

Vander pauses, then he simply nods. He knows what that tone means. The same way he knows the look in her eyes. “Sure,” he replies, “go ahead.”

“How do you…” she starts, her fingers slowly tracing the rim of the glass. “How do you know when you've found the right person?”

Vander knows where this is headed. He thinks for a moment, scratching his beard. “The right person,” he repeats. “Well,” he answers, “you can usually feel it here.” He slowly touches his chest over his heart. “Why are you asking?”

Vi suddenly feels like a little girl again, sitting at the bar, watching her father work. It's so familiar, something she never seems to grow out of. “Dunno,” she says, looking back down at the glass.

Vander smirks, knowing her too well to take that excuse as an answer. “Try again.”

Vi sighs. She glances up at her father, who's still watching her. Vander knows her too well, sometimes too well. Her fingers stop tracing the glass rim. She sits up, her hand resting idly on the countertop. “There's this girl…” she mumbles.

Vander's smirk almost becomes a grin at her words. He rests his hands on the counter, leaning forward. “A girl, huh?” he muses. “A special girl?” He already can tell the answer to that, judging by how quiet she's been this evening.

Vi rolls her eyes, but she can't stop the hint of pink that appears on her cheeks. She can feel Vander's smirk, and she doesn't have to look at him to know he knows. “Just a girl, okay?” she doesn't want to admit she's completely whipped. But she is.

Vander chuckles, seeing the hint of pink against her skin. “Right,” he drawls, clearly not believing her claim. He moves to grab a glass from behind the bar, and he starts pouring himself something to drink. “Got a name?” 

Vi groans, hiding her face in her hands. Of course he'll ask that question. “Why does it matter?” she mumbles from behind her palms.

Vander can see the tips of her ears turning red, and he has to fight the urge to laugh. “Come on,” he urges, taking a sip of his drink. “What's the harm in telling a name? at least a first name.”

Vi peeks at her father from between her fingers. She knows he's not going to drop it. So with a sigh, she slowly lowers her hands, looking down at the counter. She mumbles your name, the tips of her fingers starting to fiddle with the glass again.

“So this girl…” he continues, “you been seein' her?”

His question causes her to snap her head up. He looks back at her, his smirk still present on his face. Vi shakes her head, glancing back down at her hands. “No… she's just a friend.”

Vander raises an eyebrow. “Just a friend eh?” he asks. “That's all?”

She lifts her head, giving her father a glare. “Yes, that’s all,” she mutters, shifting uncomfortably on the stool.

Vander just grins, looking smug. He sets the glass down on the counter. “She got a boyfriend... or a girlfriend? This friend of yours?”

His question makes Vi freeze. She never thought to find out, but now that he says it, it makes her stomach twist weirdly. She bites the inside of her cheek, shifting on the stool again. “No, I don't think so.”

“You don't think so?”

“I mean, maybe she does. It's not like I've asked,” she says quickly, not liking where this conversation is headed.

“You like her, don't ya?”

Vi's sure her face is completely pink now, her eyes avoiding Vander's. “I dont-” she stops, sighing. Her shoulders slump. Her fingers twisting together. “...so what if I do.” 

He knew it. “Nothin' wrong with it,” he replies, pouring himself some more drink. He doesn't look at her for a few moments, sipping on his drink. “She knows ya like her?”

Vi sighs again, burying her face in one hand. She shakes her head. “No, she has no idea,” she mutters. “And she better not find out. I'd never hear the end of it.”

“Why not? afraid she'll turn ya down?”

Vi's head shoots up from her hands, a glare planted on her features. “No!” she snaps.

Vander just lifts both hands in mock surrender. “Then why are you so scared?” 

“I'm not scared,” she counters. “I'm just worried she'll start treating me differently.”

Vander hums in thought. “And that's a bad thing?”

Her gaze drops back down to her hands fiddling with each other. He doesn't understand. She doesn't want to lose what she has with you already.

Vander raises an eyebrow, watching her. “Why are you so scared of confessing your feelings to this girl? how bad can it be?”

Vi's fingers pause. Her eyes shut tight. “What if she laughs?”

Vander snorts. “That's what you're worried about?”

Vi groans again, dropping her forehead onto the counter. It's not as simple as he made it sound. “She might do more than that, you don't know.”

“You're scared to tell her how you feel because you think she'll... what? beat you up?”

“That's not funny.” How does she explain this to Vander? how does she explain the way her stomach turns and twists at the thought of telling you how she really feels? how much does it terrify her that things wouldn't be the same?

“You worry too much, kid.”

Vi leans back against the stool. “I know.”

“Just tell her you like her already.”

“That's easy for you to say,” she says, her eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Then why are you so afraid to do it?”

Vi groans. “Because I don't wanna lose her.”

“She won't disappear if you tell her you like her.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he counters. “Do you really think she'll stop being your friend?”

She knows he's right, at least partially, but she's still scared.

Vander sighs, his eyes narrowing at her. He knows he just needs to give her the final shove. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“For a while..”

Vander hums. “And you still haven't told her,” he states. It's not a question. It's a fact.

Vi starts to fiddle the hem of her shirt. 

“How long are you gonna keep avoiding it?” 

She mumbles something too quiet for him to make out. 

“What's that?” he asks.

Vi grumbles, her shoulders slumping. “I said, 'probably forever, probably.'”

Vander lets out a laugh. “You're impossible.”

“You don't know how hard this is.”

“You're always making things difficult,” he teases, then he suddenly asks, “Do you trust me?” 

Vi lifts an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

He leans in closer to her. “Then just listen to me for a minute.”

Vi hesitates but nods at him to continue. 

Vander leans an elbow on the counter. “Stop being a coward and just do it.”

Vi's brows furrow, ready to argue, but before she can speak, Vander holds up a hand to silence her. “Don't say anything,” he murmurs, his eyes piercing her. “Listen, you're scared you'll lose her. I get it. But trust me, if you really know her, and I know you do, why would she stop being friends with you just because you like her?”

Vi opens her mouth to object, but Vander continues before she can.

“Stop overthinking, stop being so damn stubborn, and just tell her how you feel.” Vander takes advantage of her speechless state to keep going. “Worst-case scenario, she doesn't feel the same. Sucks, but you'll survive. Life goes on.” He pokes her forehead. “Stop being a big sissy.”

“I'm not a big sissy,” Vi grumbles, swatting at his hand.

“Come on, punk,” he teases. “When did you ever let fear stop you from doing something before?”

Vi huffs. She knows he's got a point.

“You've gotten into so much trouble before. You started fights, you stole things. You even stole from me, for gods' sake,” he scoffs. “But you're too afraid to tell a girl you like her?" 

She hates that he's right, and she hates that she's so damn predictable.

“You're being ridiculous,” he scolds. “You've done scarier things than this, and yet you're shitting your pants over telling your friend that you like her.” He always has a way of calling her out. “I'm just trying to knock some sense into your thick skull, pup.”

She shifts on her seat. gaze dropping to the floor. “Don't get me wrong, I want to. Badly. But-” she pauses, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “What if it doesn't work out? what if we just end up hurting each other? or worse… what if she will just hate me in the end?”

Vander's brows furrow. He has a feeling she will say something like this, and once again, she's right. The what-ifs are always scary. He thinks for a moment, his fingers tapping an absentminded beat on the countertop. As much as he likes to, he can't deny that the outcome of a relationship is uncertain.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

Vi hesitantly lifts her head, her eyes meeting his.

“It's true. We can't predict the future,” he starts. “But we can't let fear hold us back, either.”

“What if it ends badly?”

“Life is all about taking risks,” he replies. “You can't always play it safe, not when it comes to love.”

“But-”

Vander cuts her off. “It's never easy. When you love someone, you're putting yourself out there. You're letting her into your heart, and that's scary as hell. There's no guarantee of anything. Love isn't easy. It's not simple. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's messy, sometimes it's even painful.” He pauses, studying her face closely.

“But you know what else?” he continues. “The good parts make all of that worth it. The smiles, the laughter, the feeling of her hand in yours. The little things, like waking up next to her or sharing a moment with her that no one else would have. That's what makes love worth it. The uncertainty, the fear... those are just parts of the journey.”

Vander holds her gaze. “Don't let that fear stop you from experiencing what could be amazing.”

He lets out a sigh. “You feel it, don't you? the way your heart beats faster when you're around her? that flutter in your chest when she smiles? the heat in your cheeks when she laughs?”

“That feeling, that connection,” he continues. “That's something special, Vi. Something rare and beautiful. You can't just ignore that. You can't pretend it doesn't exist. Look, I'm not going to pretend that I can make this choice for you. That's not my place... but I will tell you this.” He reaches out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It's always worth the risk, Violet.”

—

6 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

Everyone makes their way to Vander's backyard. He's standing at the grill, flipping burgers and hot dogs.

Powder is a few feet away, setting up a few fireworks displays that she made in advance before walking over to Mylo and setting up a few lawn chairs. Silco and Benzo are standing near Vander, talking quietly among themselves, occasionally stealing a beer from the cooler.

You find yourself sitting in a lawn chair with a soda in hand, while Claggor is sitting in the chair beside you, laughing at something that Ekko said. You take a sip, letting the liquid slide down your throat. You sigh, slouching in the chair.

“Seriously, have you ever even talked to a girl before?” Claggor says, raising an eyebrow.

Ekko gasps. “I have too! I've talked to tons of girls.”

“Name one.”

“...”

Claggor grins, poking Ekko. “That's what I thought.”

You can hear Powder and Mylo arguing about something stupid, just like they always do. Mylo seems really angry about it. “You never listen to me!”

“It's not my fault your ideas suck!” Powder argues back.

It's like the two of them never run out of things to bicker about, no matter how petty or ridiculous. They can argue about the weather. Mylo could look outside, see that it's raining, and still somehow get mad at powder and vice versa.

Vi is a few feet away, standing next to Vander. She has a cigarette hanging from her lips.

You've seen her smoke countless times. Sometimes she would blow smoke in Powder's face just to piss her off, or she would take a drag and then kiss you, the lingering, slightly bitter taste of the cigarette on her lips. She would even try to blow the smoke into your mouth. It's such a weird feeling, feeling the smoke pass from her lips to yours.

You take a sip of your soda, taking your eyes off her before you could remember anything else.

Across from you, Sevika glances at you from over the top of her beer bottle. She looks like she wants to say something, but she just takes another swig from the bottle instead.

Soon enough, Vander finishes with the grilling. Everyone scrambles to get their food, with Mylo and Claggor passing out paper plates loaded up with hotdogs and hamburgers.

Everyone gathers around in a circle. Silco is holding a bottle of beer in his hand, raising it up. “I have something to say.”

Everyone quiets down, glancing at Silco. Powder is still stuffing her face with food, but Ekko grabs her arm. “Stop eating and listen.” Powder grumbles something but sets her food down, giving Silco her full attention (as much as she can, at least).

Silco clears his throat, taking a sip from his beer. “New years. The start of a fresh year, a new beginning.”

He glances around at everyone, his eye lingering on Vi for a few seconds, and then his gaze lands on you. You quickly look down, taking a sip from your soda and pretending like you didn't notice.

“This year has been a shitshow, we all know it, but we always manage to keep together. No matter what happens, we're all family here. We look after each other. We take care of each other.”

Claggor and Ekko share a look. You notice Powder giving Mylo a nudge with her elbow. Mylo scowls at her.

He takes another sip of beer. “It's a time to forget about mistakes and move forward, to grow and learn, and for some of us…” his gaze drifts towards Powder and Mylo. “It's a time to stop acting like brats.” He continues, drumming his fingers against the side of his beer bottle, “So as tradition, I want everyone to think of a resolution for the new year. It could be as silly as wanting to eat healthier or something bigger like getting a new job or going on a trip.”

It's another one of Silco's traditions. It's something they all do every year. Everyone is thinking about their resolutions, thinking of something they want to keep for the new year.

Claggor and Ekko are still sharing looks, and you can hear Mylo and Powder whispering about something.

He glances around at everyone, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, any volunteers?”

No one makes a move. Everyone is either stuffing their face, or they're thinking about their New Year's resolutions, or they're just keeping quiet.

Silco sighs. It looks like it's down to him. “Jesus. If no one wants to go first... guess I'll go.” He raises his beer. “My resolution for this year is I want to get healthier. Eat healthier, stop smoking so much.”

Benzo chuckles. “A little too late for that, don't you think?”

“It's never too late,” Silco says, sending a glare at him.

He takes a sip of his beer before looking around. “Alright, anyone next? or am I really the only one going?”

When no one volunteers, Vander steps up. He raises his beer. “I can't say I have anything big, but I want to fix up the bar and give it a bit of a makeover. Something different.”

“New paint job?” Ekko asks.

Vander nods. “Might as well. It's needed it for a while.” He looks around. “Anyone else got anything to share?”

Benzo glances around before he finally decides to chime in. “Well, my resolution...hmm.” His hand rests on Silco's shoulder. “I want to convince Silco to stop smoking so much.”

“I just said-”

“Yeah, but you've been saying the same thing every year. Your ass is still here, smoking your lungs to death.”

“I'm trying,” Silco mutters.

Benzo laughs, patting his shoulder. “Sure you are.” Silco grumbles something under his breath but says nothing. Benzo takes a swig from his beer. “Who's next?”

Claggor is staring down at the beer in his hand, swirling it and watching the liquid move around the bottle. His eyebrows furrow.

Vander glances at him. “You got one, boy?”

Claggor snaps out of his thoughts, looking over to his father. He hesitates but ends up nodding, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I actually have one.” He hesitates for a second before speaking, “My new year's resolution is... well, my goal is to pass my final exams so I can get my certificate for being a certified mechanic, but... it'll take a lot of work.”

Vander beams. “That's a good resolution. Hard but achievable.”

“Yeah, it won't be easy, but I really want to get it done. I just-” Claggor suddenly looks down at his beer again. “I just don't know if I can do it.”

Vander places a hand on his shoulder. “Don't doubt yourself. You've got the potential. We're all rooting for you, kid.”

“Yeah, you'll make a great mechanic,” Ekko chimes in, “and all of us will be in your garage for free car services.”

That gets a laugh out of Claggor, and he gives Ekko a punch on the arm. “Sure thing. I'll give all of you free services once I pass.”

“Now you're speaking my language,” Mylo grins. “Once you're a mechanic, you better make sure you don't overcharge me.”

“I know you can't afford me, Mylo,” Claggor teases. “I'm going to make you pay double.”

There's a collective chorus of ‘oooh's,’ and Mylo rolls his eyes. “Okay, smartass.”

Claggor laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “Who's next?”

Everyone goes quiet again. No one else is saying anything. The only sounds are the clinking of Claggor setting his beer down and Ekko opening a bag of chips.

Powder is sitting quietly, staring at her hands. Her fingers are picking at a loose piece of skin on her thumb.

Silco glances at her. “Powder?”

She looks over, suddenly blinking out of her own thoughts. “Oh—right, my turn.” Powder pauses for a second, staring down at her drink. She clears her throat and raises her soda. “My resolution for the new year is... I want to get into MIT. I know it's a long shot, but I really want to get in.”

Everyone is quiet for a few seconds, processing the words that just came out of her mouth. Then there's a sudden barrage of questions.

“MIT!”

“Really?”

“How?”

“Are you serious?”

Powder almost loses her balance when everyone starts talking over one another. She grumbles, waving her hands around to try and get everyone to be quiet. “Okay, okay! Shut up and I'll explain!”

All of them immediately snap their mouths shut, Powder sighs, and sit up straight. “Thank you. Now if you'll let me continue. Yes, my new year resolution is to get into Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Everyone knows MIT is one of the most competitive schools out there, right? Hell, it's one of the best schools out there. It's... it's really selective. It's a place for brilliant people, but I've been studying a lot, really going hard at it, and I actually think I have a small chance at getting in. I've already looked at their application-”

Mylo interrupts her. “But how are you going to get in? we don't have the money to afford that Pow…”

“I know! I've looked into grants and scholarships, and they do have a few financial programs for students who need help paying. If my applications go through, I can get a partial or even full scholarship. I really want to get in. I know it's a lot of work, but I'm up for the challenge.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak but Silco cuts him off with a look, ‘Let her finish’ Mylo snaps his mouth shut again, glaring at Silco.

Powder continues. “And honestly, I didn't just wake up one day and decide I wanted to get into MIT. I've been working hard for a while. My grades are great, I have tons of extracurricular activities, a few teachers have agreed to do recommendations for me, and-”

“If you get into MIT, you'll be moving away, right?” Vi cuts in. She pushes herself off the wall, tossing her cigarette into the nearest trash bin, then making her way over to her sister.

Powder's face drops at the question. “If I do end up getting in, I probably won't be around here a lot. MIT is nowhere near here.”

It's an honest answer. There's no sugar coating or beating around the bush to make it seem less harsh. Hearing the words come from Powder's mouth makes it all suddenly seem real. If she does end up getting into that school, she'll be gone. She'll be hours away in a completely different state. 

“I'll probably be busy studying a lot anyway, on top of clubs and stuff. It's a lot of work, honestly, and besides, I can always video call you or something.”

Vi ruffles Powder's hair. “Well, if you are going to be way up there on the east coast...don't forget about me—I mean us,” she looks around. “Yeah?”

Powder sighs and swats at her sister's hand. “I won't forget about any of you. You guys don't have to worry. Once I get into MIT, I won't abandon you all or anything.”

Silco says, “If you think you've got it in you to get into a place like MIT, then go on, kid. Try it.”

Claggor agrees with Silco, nodding. “You can do it, pow-pow. You're smart. You can make it into MIT.”

You give a supportive smile and a nod. “If you really want it, I think you should go for it. If you get in, you'll be going to a place for brilliant people, and you're definitely smart enough to be one of them.”

“Jesus, you're gonna be a long way away,” Mylo says, sighing.

Benzo adds, “Yeah, but it's good for her. Getting into somewhere like MIT is no small feat. Go for it, kid.”

Vander looks over at Powder and smiles. “That is a big place for big things. If you think you can make it, go for it. We're always here for you, Pow-pow.”

Ekko grins. “And if you get in, you'll have to show us around the campus.”

“Thanks… thank you guys. I didn't think I'd be so nervous about saying all that, but…” Powder glances around at them. “Now you guys have to share your resolutions now.”

Everyone's heads collectively turn to Mylo. He groans in response. “My resolution is, uh... to get laid and have a... girlfriend maybe,” he mumbles out, not really putting a lot of effort into his answer.

Claggor snorts. “That's what you said last year too.”

“Hey, things change! It's going to happen this year!” Mylo huffs. “And it's gonna be an actual girlfriend this time!”

“Like you had a fake girlfriend before?” Powder teases.

The group goes quiet, a few awkward glances going around. You notice a few people look at you, then at Vi. You can't count how many people clear their throat at that.

After a few seconds, Claggor speaks, “Well, that's... that's a resolution, I guess?”

Powder clears her throat again. “Yeah... guess so.”

Mylo looks over at Ekko. “What about you? what's your resolution?” he tries to distract everyone from the awkward silence.

Ekko glances around, then shrugs. “Dunno, figure things out, I guess. I think we all have stuff we need to figure out, so that'll probably be my resolution, to just... figure it out.”

“Figured out anything yet?” Powder teases him.

Ekko chuckles. “Not yet, still working on it. It's complicated.”

Mylo snorts. “Yeah, we could tell. You've had the same crush since middle school.”

Ekko opens his mouth, but Silco cuts him off. “Enough about the kid's love life. What about yours, Sevika?”

Sevika, who's been quiet the whole time, leans back in her chair. “I haven't really thought about it too much. I'm not a big resolutions kind of person.”

Benzo laughs. “Always living life on the fly. What about you, Vi?”

Vi looks at you for a few seconds, then looks away. “Work with myself more, I guess.”

“Work on yourself? in what way?” Claggor asks.

Vi shakes her head. “In a lot of ways, I've got a lot going on. Stuff that I should fix or just figure out,” she says, avoiding any eye contact with anyone but mostly avoiding eye contact with you.

Vander and Silco share a look, silently speaking with their subtle eye movements and raised brows. But neither of them say anything.

“What about you? You haven't shared yours yet,” Powder prompts, turning the conversation to you.

You never really thought too much about your own resolution, but now that they're all looking at you, you're starting to wish you did. You can feel Vi's eyes boring a hole into the side of your face, and you can't bring yourself to look at her.

You take a few seconds to think about your words, then you just decide to go with what you can think of on the fly. “I guess mine is just… taking more chances and risks.”

Powder nods. “Taking risks, yeah, that's good.”

Mylo raises an eyebrow. “Risks? what kind of risks? like skydiving or bungee jumping?”

You're starting to regret your response. You just said the first thing that came to mind, and now they're all going to be asking questions. You glance in Vi's direction, and your eyes meet for half a second. She quickly breaks the eye contact, looking away. 

You swallow hard and turn your attention back to the group. “Yeah, just...yeah, like that.”

Mylo scoffs, and it's obvious that he doesn't believe that. But he seems to decide not to pry into your answer too much. “Skydiving is definitely something I'll be interested in trying someday.”

Powder smirks. “You'll have a heart attack before the parachute even opens.”

“What? I'm in great shape. I could do it.”

“The only way you could skydive is if you were pushed out of the plane yourself.”

Mylo scowls and flips her off. “I could do it if I wanted.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh, sure you could.” Powder then checks her phone, checking the time 11:50. “Almost midnight!” she exclaims excitedly, jumping up and running over to the fireworks she was preparing. 

The rest of the group starts getting up, grabbing beers, and setting up for the upcoming countdown. 

Mylo and Ekko begin helping Powder, adjusting different fireworks, and making sure everything is in order. Powder is making some last-minute adjustments, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth in silent concentration. Ekko notices this and laughs. “You look stupid when you do that.”  Powder just sticks her tongue out more in response, flipping Ekko off with a free hand as she continues working.

You look around, suddenly realizing that Vi is not where she was a few moments ago. You hear a noise next to you, suddenly you feel a presence beside you. You expect to see Vander or Silco. You look up to find Vi standing beside you.

She notices you noticed her but doesn't say anything, just kind of hovering beside you awkwardly. Both pretending to look around at everyone else's preparations for the new year's countdown, but neither of you is paying attention.

After silence and silence, the countdown begins, everyone in the group yelling out the numbers.

“10”

Mylo has his arm around Claggor's shoulders, ready to shout along with everyone else. Sevika raises a beer in the air. Benzo is recording the countdown. Silco and Vander are standing next to each other.

“9”

Powder is bouncing on her toes, her hand on the igniter, ready to fire the fireworks into the air. Ekko is standing beside her, a smile on his face as he watches her.

“8”

Mylo's head is thrown back as he yells the countdown. Benzo raises his phone up higher, trying to get a better view of the fireworks for the video. You glance at Vi, and this time your eyes meet, she's already looking at you.

“7”

Her eyes snap away as soon as your eyes meet, acting like she's not been looking at you in the first place. You're left wondering if she even wants to look in the first place. Maybe it's just a coincidence. 

Her cheeks have a faint dusting of pink, but it can easily be blamed on the cold.

“6”

You swallow hard, your heart starts to pick up its pace. Your eyes flick back to her, and this time she's staring off somewhere to the side, refusing to look at you. You start to get a nagging, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you push it aside.

It's not like she's looking at you because she wants to. Right?

“5”

Suddenly, you feel a touch against your knuckles, causing your fingers to twitch at your side. It's a subtle touch, one that you could ignore. But you don't. You don't dare look down at her hand, you don't even move your hand away. 

“4”

Vi's fingers are still touching your knuckles, and neither of you are moving away, neither of you are saying anything, and neither of you are looking at each other.

“3”

Just 6 days ago, she held your hand tight on her own, but now it feels like a simple brush of fingertips over knuckles is almost too much to handle.

“2”

Slowly, almost cautiously, you feel her pinky fingers touch yours. They brush against your skin, trying to intertwine your fingers with her own. It's hesitant and slow, but after a few moments, you take the chance and slowly move your fingers over hers, intertwining them.

“1”

Her fingers twitch when you intertwine your fingers with hers, like she's shocked that you're letting yourself do this. She doesn't pull away though, her fingers just tighten, locking yours together. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The group erupts into cheers and celebration, shouting out the words loudly and fireworks and whistles going off all around. Powder is shouting and smiling and laughing, launching fireworks into the air. Mylo and Ekko lift Powder up, settling to their shoulders, shouting happily. Benzo raises his phone, getting the whole scene on film.

Vander and Silco glance at them, then shake their heads with a smile. Silco murmurs something quietly, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Vander snorted at whatever he said.

Claggor nervously glances at Mylo and Ekko, worried that they're going to drop her sister accidentally. Powder notices him looking and grins cheerfully. “It's fine, it's fine!” she reassures him, then throws her hands up in the air. “WOO! Happy new year!”

Sevika downs the last of her beer, then tosses the can aside. She raises her eyebrows at the scene of Powder being lifted up in the air, a smirk crossing her face.

You turn to look at her once again. The fireworks light up her face in a kaleidoscope of colors.

She looks so... soft like this. Relaxed. Peaceful. You drink it all in. You want to remember this. The way the colors play across her face. The way the fireworks light up in her eyes. The way her eyes look so much more blue under the colored lights. 

It should be illegal for her to look this good.

You've seen her make a hundred different expressions, every one of them just as beautiful as the last. But somehow, the way the light plays across her face is making her look downright ethereal.

You've always loved her hair. The way it frames her face, how you always want to bury your fingers in it.

You want to reach up and brush her cheek, to run your fingers over the little bumps of those freckles. You want to count them all, and you want to make sure you don't miss a single one. Maybe even kiss each one, if you're feeling daring.

You think about her lips. The pouty, pretty, perfect curve of them. How pink they are and how soft they look, how much you want to kiss them or watch them say your name.

You want to kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw. Maybe whisper something in her ear, just to watch her shiver.

The way she talks. The way her voice can be so gravelly but also so smooth at the same time. The way she laughs, her eyes lighting up as her body shakes. The way her voice gets breathless when she's riled up.

You love the way she says your name, how it sounds so different on her tongue than anyone else's.

You want to hear her say it again. You want to hear her say it over and over, so many times that it starts to lose its meaning. You want to hear her say it until you forget how to breathe without her name in your lungs.

You want a thousand more moments like this one. Moments where the rest of the world faded away, moments where you thought there might someday be more to your relationship than broken glass and sharp words.

You want the domesticity of sharing a space with her. The quiet evenings and the stupid, petty arguments. Being able to come home after work and share a bed instead of coming home alone and trying to silence the aching in your chest.

You want the stupid things. Like cooking together, doing laundry, going shopping. You want to walk through the rain together and laugh at the stupid, soggy-haired look on her face. You want to hear her sing in the shower, complain about the weather, and have her crawl into bed with you when it's cold outside.

You want the dumb little arguments about who's turn it is to do the dishes, what movie to watch, and who forgot to fold the laundry. You want stupid, mundane things like the annoying morning alarm she sets that she hates and the dumb coffee mug that she drinks out of every morning.

You want the little things. The way she would leave the bathroom door open when she's brushing her teeth just so she can continue talking to you. The way she'd pull you to her side when you're watching movies. The way she'd steal your food even though you're both sitting at the same table.

More than that, more than the stupid fights and small annoyances, you just want her. You want all of it. Every stupid, messy, frustrating, wonderful thing. All of it. You just want her, every part of her. The soft parts, the hard edges, and the broken bits.

And there it is. There's the realization that makes your chest tighten.

You're still in love with her.

Somehow, that thought shouldn't surprise you. The way you've been acting around her, the way you've watched her without even realizing, the way you've ached to reach out and pull her against you. It should've been obvious.

You think of all the days you've spent apart. The sleepless nights spent waiting for a call or text that never came. The countless times you'd wished you could see her, touch her, kiss her, love her. The times when you'd told yourself over and over again that you were perfectly fine being single, that you didn't need her.

You'd been wrong. You'd been so, so wrong.

Because no matter how much you'd tried to deny it, no matter what you'd told yourself, nothing could change the way you feel. There's no way you could get rid of the way your heart stutters every time you look at her. You can't change the way you still crave her. You don't think you'd ever be able to forget the way her smile makes you feel like you're coming home.

You're still so goddamn hopelessly in love.

You're so focused on her that you don't even notice Vander looking at the two of you.

Vander glances over to Silco, shooting him a look. Silco's eyes flick to the two of you, then he grins, raising one eyebrow at Vander. Vander rolls his eyes, returning the expression.

—

7 DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS, PRESENT

The celebration has died down now, the clock striking past 1 am. Everyone is finishing up, cleaning up the trash and any unwanted mess.

Vi is in the middle of picking up a few empty cans lying on the ground, throwing them into the overfilled bin. Her head is bowed forward, her hair falls over her face, her body bent at an angle to reach the ground, her skin flushed warm from the cold air. 

There's so many questions floating through your head. You need to talk to her. You need to ask her so many things. Why she ended things, if there was a reason, if she wanted it to end, if you somehow did something wrong. You need to know. You deserve to know.

You watch her for a moment, then take a breath and step forward. “Can we talk?”

She's still bent over, picking things up off of the ground. Her fingers pause in their movement, and she straightens up slowly, her head raising and turning toward you. “Huh?” She blinks a few times before replying, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we can.” She sets the can in her hand down into the bin with a rattle, wiping her hands on her jeans when she's done.

“Can we go somewhere more... quiet?”

She glances at the rest of the group, but they're all mostly focused on their own tasks. “Yeah, yeah, come on.”

You walk across the yard, passing Powder and Ekko, who are teasing each other as they pick up trash, making a game out of it. The two of you walk silently, with no destination in mind. Neither of you quite knows where to take this conversation, but you have to have it eventually. You walk in a mostly awkward silence for a few more minutes.

Vi glances in your direction, noticing how your hands are stuffed deep into your pockets. “Are you cold?” she asks. 

You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. “It's fine.”

She hums in response. Her eyes trail down your body, then back up to your face. Her eyes linger on your hands shoved into your pocket. After a moment, she sighs, then stops walking. “Give me your hand.” She doesn't give you much of a choice as she steps closer to you. She holds out her own hand, keeping it there like she expects you to just place your hand in hers.

But you hesitate. Sure, you're holding her finger just minutes ago, but this feels so different now, so much more real. You know if you put your hand in hers, you won't want to let go… and yet you do it anyway.

The second your hand touches hers, she laces her fingers with yours, pulling your hand toward her. She closes her fingers around your knuckles and tugs your hand closer, lifting it and inspecting your skin, her fingers tracing small circles. She doesn't meet your eyes while she examines your hand, but her gaze is focused on it. 

“You are cold,” she mutters, tracing her fingers over your knuckles and the back of your hand. She lifts your hand, turning your wrist to reveal your palm, then touches your fingertips with hers. “Your hands are like blocks of ice. Christ, you really are an idiot sometimes.” 

Her eyes stay down, but you know her well enough to know that she's smiling. Even she can't keep the smile from her face. “So… what do wanna talk about?”

Her eyes flicker up to your face, but she quickly looks away again, turning to watch her own fingers still tracing over yours. “I just wanted to ask why.”

Her fingers still for a moment, lingering in midair just above your hand. “Why what, exactly?”

“Why did you end things so suddenly? like…” you pause, licking your lips as the question sits on your tongue. “You never gave me a clear reason, just... left. No second thought. No explanation. Nothing.”

Vi's fingers go back to tracing soft lines over your skin, her head still bowed, staring at your hand. She doesn't answer at first, then sighs again. “It's not that... it's not like I wasn't happy. You made me happy. So happy. It's…” she pauses, her teeth catching the inside of her lip as her fingers freeze and she lifts her head finally. “I got scared.”

Her words take you slightly by surprise. Scared?

Her head turns toward you, but she won't meet your eyes. She glances to the side. “I got scared. We were fine. You were fine. I got scared. I got scared that you would change your mind, that you would realize that I wasn't good enough for you. I got scared like a damn coward.” She takes a breath before continuing. “I convinced myself you would be better off without me, so I ended it... to protect you, I guess... it sounds stupid out loud, doesn't it?”

“It sounds like bullshit.” 

Her head snaps up to look at you. Her fingers curling around yours just a bit tighter. 

“You can't just... I thought—I thought I did something wrong. I thought it was me.”

She shakes her head, eyes now locked on your face. “That's not it. God, no, it's not you. You were—are—perfect. Too perfect. You're more than enough. I just didn't…” she pauses, her tongue darting out to lick over her lips. “I'm a mess. I'm just a mess. I was so damn scared of ruining you.” Her eyes darts away, staring at the space between you. Her fingers loosen from where they're squeezing your hand, but she keeps her hold. “I'm sorry.”

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound you can hear is her quiet breathing and the distant voices of everyone else.

Bullshit. You think to yourself. Bullshit, bullshit.

Bullshit, because she let you go. bullshit, because she didn't talk to you. But all of that is swept away when you notice her head slowly dip forward, her forehead landing on your shoulder.

Your hands move before your brain even has a chance to think. Your fingers slide into her hair, letting go of her hand so one hand can tangle in the pink strands. It's just a muscle memory, you try to convince yourself.

She turns her face into your neck. You hear her sigh, then she shifts forward, melting into you and closing what space was left between you. Her arms wrap around your waist, her fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes. She's holding on like she's scared you'll slip away, even though she's the one who let you go.

Your other arm down to rest of her hip, keeping her close, keeping her here. She sighs again, her breath ghosting over your skin, your stomach tying itself in knots.

“That night... I hate that night. I hate it so much. I hate that you were crying. I hate that I was the reason. I really never wanted you to feel that way, but I couldn't... I couldn't fix it. I didn't know how to fix it, and I was making everything shitty.” She mutters into your shoulder.

“I would have helped you, if only you'd let me.” Your fingers slide over the back of her neck.

You feel her shake her head against your shoulder, her short hair tickling your neck. “I know. I know you would have. I just... couldn't. I wasn't.... I wasn't in a good place, and I was scared of bringing you down with me.”

“You could have told me.” Your hand moves to trail feather light touches through her hair. “You could have told me you weren't alright. That you weren't in a good place. I would have helped you. I would have been there. You didn't have to push me away.”

“I know. I know.” Her grip tightens around your waist, her hands almost shaking as she holds onto you. “I shouldn't have pushed you away. I was being selfish, and I didn't want you... I didn't want you to deal with my crap. I didn't want you to have to deal with... me.”

“Oh, Violet,” your arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. “I wouldn't mind having to deal with you. I never minded.”

“Shit, I was so stupid. I was stupid,” she whispers, burying her head into the crook of your neck. “I pushed you away because I was a damn idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” you murmur, “stupid? Maybe. A damn coward? Yeah, for sure. But an idiot? no, not an idiot.”

“They're the same,” she mumbles.

“No, they aren't. An idiot wouldn't have ended things out of fear, would they? An idiot would keep going until either both of you messed it up or you fell apart. A coward,” you correct yourself, “would end things because they were afraid of ruining something good.” You brush the tips of her hair away from her face, gently tucking the loose strands back.

She's quiet for a long moment, her face still pressed against your neck. “You make me sound smart.” 

“Well, you can be sometimes.” Your hands return to her hair. “...you made the dumbest decision possible, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” She tilts her head enough for you to see the side of her face. “I know, I know I did. It was so damn stupid. So... dumb.” She lifts her head higher, her nose bumping into the underside of your jaw. “I'm so damn sorry.”

“I... I forgive you. I do. I do forgive you. But-” Your fingers tighten their grip on her hip. “—you can't do that again, please. Just... don't push me away like that again. Don't be a damn coward again.”

“I won't, I promise I won't.” Her hand releases your shirt, rising to cup the side of your face, her thumb brushing across your cheek. “Not again, I swear. I was a damn coward, but I... I won't be like that again.”

“You're going to have to prove it.” Your own hand comes up to cover her's. You hold her palm against your cheek. “After pulling something like that, you're going to have to prove to me that you won't be a damn coward again.”

Her fingers curl against your skin, thumb tracing shapes over your cheekbone. “However I need to, I will. I'll prove it to you, I will. I'll do it a thousand times over.”

You tilt your head into her touch. “You'd damn well better. I'm not going through that again.” You pause, taking a breath. “You have a lot to make up for, you know.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I know I do, and I will. I'll make it up to you, any way I can.” Her fingers move across your cheek, tracing gentle lines along your jaw, until they come to rest against the underside of your chin. “Every day, if that's what it takes.”

“Every day,” you repeat.

A smile tilts the corner of her mouth. “Then I guess I better get started, hm?”

notes: genuine question tho, would u go back to your ex? ...asking for a friend :D

taglist: @just-levyy, @padsfirewhisky, @jinxjinxjinx12, @writtenbyhollywood, @cottoncandyclouds-stuff, @eilishxo, @wlwdottcom, @lia-winther

Hello luv💕

I really enjoy your stories, they just really brighten up my day! (even the angsty ones) may I request a oneshot version of zhongli being the only one who recognized God! Reader? Like,,, he found her all bruised up running away from Mondstadt/Inazuma and long story short, they end up together cuz wHo wOulDnT lOvE hIm 😩😩 imagine zhongli showing her his horns and tail and reader is so enamored with them and all. Sorry I think I'm having a zhongli brainrot rn😔

THIS IDEA IS SO GOOD ANON <3 I love it!!! Zhongli brainrot is big and I am affected by it too- sure, he can be nice to write as being cruel at times, but soft, gentle and loving Zhongli is alo *chefs kiss* I hope you like it!!! cw: mention of injuries, cult like behaviour length: 3,1 k

The dragon, the knight, the lover

The winds and storms around Inazuma had apparently been getting worse. The harsh, angry winds whirring remnants of lightning with them carried over even the seas, creating an electric feel within Liyue. Zhongli was no longer officially the archon of Geo, but his concern for Liyue would never cease nonetheless.

He had heard whispers of a criminal - a godless villain who dared to wear the face of the creator of Teyvat. From what he knew, said imposter was found in Inazuma, and expectedly, it caused quite a stir within the closed off nation.

An official hunt for the imposter had been set in place by the archon of Electro - Zhongli figured he might have done the same were he in her situation. He was baffled by how someone would even have the abilities or boldness to mimic the face of his beloved God.

The streets of Liyue were beautiful at night, lanterns casting a warm glow upon the streets, flickering off of the waves crashing against the shore of the harbor. Zhongli quite enjoyed an occasional walk along the shore at nighttime, when all other life was long asleep and it was only him, his slumbering city, and his thoughts.

The song of the sea was usually soothing, a gentle hum as it made contact with land and as waves played with each other, rocking the boats in the dock upon doing so.

This night, however, was different. The waves were more restless and dark clouds hid the golden moon and stars from view. The winds were picking up speed, an angry vengeance simmering within them as they thrashed around, hurling waves against the rocks of the shoreline. Zhongli’s brows furrowed at the sight. His long strands of hair were tousled by the winds but he paid it no mind, instead slowly approaching the rebellious shore.

As he slowly approached, the seas seemed to calm a little. Clouds above parted, allowing a single cold ray of light from the moon to illuminate the waters.

The sight Zhongli saw shook him to the core.

Upon a worn piece of shattered wood, a figure lay, clothes drenched and torn and their hair a soaking, tangled mess.

Reacting quickly, he tossed off his coat, rushing into the cold waters to attempt to save the mysterious figure, his heart rate picking up. There was no chance he could allow someone to drown in his very own harbor.

He ignored the cool water seeping through his fine clothes and waded closer, eventually breaking out into a swim, thankful for the moonlight that shone upon the figure almost like a spotlight, guiding his way through the dark waters.

Once close enough, he pulled the limp figure of the person close, a determined frown settling onto his face as he dragged it back to the shore, slightly out of breath as he finally rested the body on top of the rocky beach and sat beside them, taking a moment to regain his strength.

Finally, he turned his attention back to the figure - to you. Despite the darkness of the night, there was a strange familiarity in your features, a familiar pull towards you as he moved closer.

But now was not the time to ponder over it. You were shivering like a leaf in the wind, still unconscious and clearly injured, though Zhongli couldn’t tell to what extent in the darkness of the night.

So, he acted quickly, sweeping up your weakened form and hurrying towards his current abode in the city, thankful for the empty streets with no one to question him about the curious position he’d so suddenly found himself in.

With no time to waste, he stepped into his living quarters, gently laying your body down upon the plush divan in the dark room, before wiping his brow and turning to light up the lanterns quietly. He ignored the droplets of water hitting his hardwood floor and moved to shrug off his drenched outer layers. When a warm, dim light finally illuminated the room, his heart almost stopped. A diluted liquid gold covered his strong hands, shimmering weakly under the lights of the room.

His heart dropping, he whipped around to face your unconscious figure, only to fall to his knees.

There, on his sofa, laid the broken, bleeding figure of his very Creator. The one he worshipped above all else, trembling still from the cold seeped into their bones from the rough waters of the unforgiving seas.

His breath hitched, feeling crushed under a sea of emotions - crushed as the many he had slayed during his thousands of years, hurling pillars at them as the almighty god Morax.

Now, he was just Zhongli - weak before the wounded body of his god. With shaky hands, he approached his beloved Creator, his vision blurring as he eyed every bruise and scrape visible on their once perfect face. He took in the sight of their disheveled clothes, dripping with the salty waters of the sea - stained with dirt and golden nectar from his God’s veins.

He thought himself a sinner, as he carefully peeled away the layers, trying to keep his gaze from wandering too much, focusing only on the wounds.

The wounds.

Oh.

The wounds.

Deep gashes and surface level scrapes, blotches of blues and purples. It’s a painting of pain and suffering.

Zhongli felt an anger long forgotten and suppressed begin to rise in the pit of his stomach, a burning sensation tearing up his insides ravenously as he thought of anyone daring to harm the Creator.

His beloved creator.

But now was not the time for revenge.

That would come later.

For now, he needed to act quickly - to heal his God. His hands shook, the sharp talons threatening to tear out from them - he took deep breaths to calm himself, desperate to keep himself from any activity that might accidentally mar your skin some more.

It took a long time, but with his millennias of knowledge, he was able to clean and bandage you up to the best of his abilities. He would find the best doctors in Liyue to aid you once you awoke - for now, he just wanted to revel in your divine presence, to stay by your side in guard. To fight off anything that may wish to seek out to harm you.

He pressed his forehead against the edge of the sofa, taking in deep breaths - breathing the same air as his wonderful, kind, beautiful god. He cared not for the dampness of his clothes, all that mattered was that you were safe and as comfortable as you could be - so he darted into his bedroom, lighting the fire in the fireplace and setting his warmest covers onto the bed, before returning to you and gently - as though carrying glass - he moved you there.

Now, he could allow himself to kneel on the floor beside you and wait. He was a patient man - but seeing and sensing you did not make it easy. His lips moved in silent prayer all night, his body still as the stone he commanded so masterfully. He would protect you til his very last breath.

You awoke to something you hadn’t felt in a time far too long for your liking.

Warmth.

The air around you was so warm, carrying hints of a spicy, yet floral scent - notes of wood and honey lingering within it. You sunk further into the divinely soft bed beneath you, keeping your eyes closed. You refused to let go of this wonderful, cozy dream just yet - only to be faced with bitter disappointment upon waking up hiding in some cave yet again.

“Your grace?” a smooth voice, silky like honey, yet deep and mature - catches you off guard. Your eyes snap open, feeling the panic rising in your chest.

“Good morning,” the voice speaks again, gentle and soft, even sounding concerned.

Were you still dreaming?

You slowly wake up, finding yourself in a traditional Liyue-styled room, soft light of the morning sun peeking in through the paneled windows and illuminating it. Shelves filled to the brim with ancient books line the walls - a small sandwood desk and chair in one corner with organized piles of papers upon it.

Finally, you turn to face the other person in the room.

It was Zhongli - the geo archon himself - albeit wearing only an ivory dress shirt and dark dress pants. Upon a closer look, you notice the disheveled look of his hair and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Zhongli…?” you ask carefully, your voice quivering ever so slightly. If he was anything like the other two archons you’d faced - you should be running by now.

He smiles, sinking to his knees before the bed you were sat upon, an adoring devotion in his rich honey-colored eyes that seemed to have time to focus on you, and you alone.

“How did you sleep, your grace?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly in concern over your wellbeing.

“Better than I have in a long time,” you admitted, not failing to notice the flicker of anger in the man’s eyes.

“Do you have me mixed up with someone else, perhaps?” you ask sheepishly, recalling what he’d referred to you as earlier.

“How could I ever fail to recognize the Creator - my one true master?” he asked, standing up once again.

“The creator?” you mumbled to yourself more than anything, “the one I got chased out of Inazuma for supposedly impersonating?”

Zhongli froze in his spot, his eyes focused on yours for a moment, before sliding to the bandages covering your body.

“Impersonating?” he asked, his voice unreadable, but judging by the golden glow beginning to emit from his eyes, he was not pleased.

“I promise, I’m not trying to impersonate anyone!” you whimpered, covering your face with your arms instinctively.

Noticing your sudden fear, his breath hitched and he walked briskly towards the bed again, his brows furrowed, but the glow gone from his eyes.

“I know that, your grace. Why would you need to impersonate yourself?”

You stared at him in shock.

“What do you- I’m no creator - I mean look at me! I’m just…me,” your voice fell at the end, a bitter sadness seeping into your thoughts,

“Your grace!” It was his turn to be shocked now, as he rushed to kneel before you.

“Of course you’re the creator! You look just like them - and your body weeps rivers of gold when you’re hurt. You have the aura that I have only ever distantly felt while being your vessel - there is no doubt about it!”

You frowned, slowly processing his words. Your hands slowly slipped to the bandages on your wounds, lifting them up expecting to see the dark brown remains of dried blood, only to be met with pure, glittering gold coating your injuries.

“I…how?” you whispered to yourself, feeling so confused and lost all of a sudden.

“Your grace,” Zhongli spoke quietly, calmly, as he hesitantly stroked the back of your hand.

“I fear you may have lost memories of who you truly are in your current form…but that’s not a problem for now.”

His fingers slowly slid off of your hand, and you could not help but miss the feeling of them upon your skin.

“Who did this to you?” Zhongli suddenly asked, sounding stricter as he referred to the many injuries covering your body.

“W-well the people of Inazuma…the Shogun…most people there were after my head,” you admitted, trying to sound casual, but Zhongli was quick to notice the faint bitterness and anger behind your words. Bitterness at being not recognized. Anger at being treated so unjustly.

“I will strike them down. All of Inazuma.” he stated, a fierce fury burning in his eyes. You looked shocked.

“Wait! No!” you scrambled out of bed, not caring about being barely clothed. Zhongli was already summoning his polearm, when you gripped his arm tight. He froze on the spot, not daring to face you.

“Zhongli…” you whispered, sensing his sudden anxiety.

“I would rather not have you see me in this form,” he spoke quietly, turning his back on you and allowing the polearm to clatter to the floor. You couldn’t help but feel a tug of pain pulling at your heartstrings when you heard him.

“No - Zhongli, you’re…my hero!” you tried to come up with words that did not sound too silly and would strike a cord within the man.

“I would be quite a cruel creator if I didn’t appreciate my creations in all their forms,” you chuckled, playing into the idea of being this strange Creator - just this once.

He turned around hesitantly, before slowly sliding off his shirt, keeping his eyes downcast. You watched in awe, seeing the golden lines running through his darker arms, ending in long, sharp talons. You admired them in silence, your eyes trailing up to his disheveled hair, from which two sharp, curved horns peeked out, shimmering like his talons, coated in an amber hue.

Not thinking about it, much too fascinated by this form you’d never seen of your beloved character, you reached out to stroke his horns. His eyes dashed frantically to meet yours, a faint blush upon his usually composed face.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered softly, your expression melting from curiosity into admiration.

He was silent for a moment.

“You think so, your grace?” he asked hesitantly, gluing his gaze back to the floor once more.

You nodded, smiling gently.

“Why would you want to hide this from me?”

He inhaled sharply.

“I…this is my form as Morax, destroyer of gods,” he admitted, straightening his back in an attempt to look more composed.

“I didn’t think you’d approve of the form that has destroyed so much.”

You bit your lip.

“Well, no matter its history, I quite like it,” you reassured him, carefully taking his hand in yours, brushing your soft fingers across his talons.

“I…I have a tail too.”

You perk up, managing to let out an airy laugh despite your injuries.

“I would love to see it - if you’re comfortable with it, of course!”

He smiled, bowing his head. “For you, your grace, I’d do anything.” With a snap of his fingers, a long, scaled tail appeared behind him, swaying majestically.

You smile in awe.

“This form looks very graceful,” you mutter, fascinated by his dragon-like features. You supposed it made sense - he was a dragon, after all.

His breath hitched at your words. His Creator could see beauty in the ugliest parts of him - the parts of him that had blood on their hands and destruction beneath its feet.

“Thank you, your grace,” he replied quietly, a content warmth spreading in his chest. If there was a way he could admire you more than he did before, he supposed it had happened now.

For that day, the destruction of Inazuma was called off.

Time passed, your wounds were healed mostly, leaving golden scars in their place and more scars under the surface, ones that would take much longer to heal. Zhongli had made sure you would be accepted as the Creator in Liyue, and soon enough you were wearing the most beautiful clothing tailored for you, in a palace built in your name, and able to have access to anything you might have desired.

Through all this, Zhongli stood by your side as your loyal acolyte, bravely showing off his less human form now - partly as a reminder for anyone with ill intentions, and partly since…you had liked even those parts of himself. Oftentimes, when the two of you were alone, you would stroke his horns or tail and occasionally make a comment about the beauty of them. In a way, Zhongli began to see the beauty of them too - they pleased you - and seeing you smile was the most beautiful sight the archon could ever imagine.

Of course, word spread fast, and apologies arrived in hordes - gifts from all that had wronged you, invitations to visit Inazuma or Mondstadt. It angered Zhongli - that they thought they could so easily try to win the honor of your forgiveness with a few foolish letters and gifts.

“Your grace, do you hold no malice towards those that harmed you, at all?” he had questioned one day.

You’d turned to look at him, the window you were standing by casting a heavenly glow behind your figure.

“Of course I do,” you replied, a sad smile on your face as your gaze trailed to the sky above, watching the golden hues of the setting sun paint beautiful streaks upon it.

“Then I would gladly punish them for you,” he fell to one knee, ready to be your dragon, your knight - anything you needed of him.

“There’s no need,” you replied gently, walking closer to him, your golden robes encrusted with cor lapis and amber flowing behind you. You kneeled before him, a gentle smile on your face as you stroked the side of his face.

“Living with the knowledge of their deeds will be punishment enough, Zhongli.”

God, he lived to hear your voice, lived to hear it utter his name so gently.

“Zhongli, I don’t care for their apologies or invitations - I care for you,” you confessed quietly, leaving a stunned silence hanging above them for a moment as Zhongli’s mind went blank.

“I…I’m honored to hear you think so highly of me,” he attempted to reply in a composed manner.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” you asked, eyes filled with determination as they met his.

Once again, you left him stunned.

“I don’t want you to say yes out of obligation before your Creator - I would only wish to hear you say yes if you truly, earnestly wanted this,” you added, your cheeks covered with a pink glow that made you look oh so radiant in the golden light.

“Yes,” he whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes. “Yes, would always be my answer. I live and breathe for you, your Grace. I adore you more than anything else in the world. That you would think me worthy of such an honor-”

You smiled and cut off his rambling by pressing your lips against his in a chaste, gentle peck.

“I adore you too, Zhongli. And I owe you my eternal gratitude for saving my life.” Your gentle hand intertwined with his clawed hand that had seen much blood upon it, embracing every part of him, accepting him just as he is.

“I love you, Zhongli,” you whispered, resting your face in the crook of his neck as he slowly, carefully, wrapped his arms around your figure.

“I love you too, your grace,” he whispered, barely breathing as he felt your wonderful, loving aura envelop him.

He would be your dragon, your knight - even your consort should you so desire. He worshipped you with all his being, and you adored him in return.

There was no greater joy in the world than that for the archon.

Inspired by @//wake-uptoreality!!

I can't find the artist of these adorable images so plzzz tell if you know <//3

• Kaeya, Itto

•Aether, Thoma, Venti, Gorou, Bennett

•Zhongli, Kazuha, Diluc, Xiao, Albedo, Razor, Chongyun

•Ayato, Childe, Heizou, Xingqui

▻ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘

CW/ TW. Explicit, Fem!Reader, Implied Gang Bang, Possessive Behavior, Rough Oral Sex, Bath Sex, Exhibitionism, Aftercare, Praise, Reader has a kid, Slightly Yandere Behavior (???)

AN. Hi! This is a repost because my old account broke...SOBS. All comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated, thank you :)

M. List

Bonten!Mikey who first sees you when you're walking in front of a sweets shop with a little boy holding your hand—a chubby little hand pointing at a lollipop in the window.

Bonten!Mikey who never cared to get involved with anyone, suddenly found interest in your shining smile and bright eyes.

Bonten!Mikey whose chest aches because he wants you to be his.

He watches as you shake your head at the pouting boy, a sad smile on your lips. "Maybe next—"

But you're cut off by a gentle hand on your shoulder and a pair of expressionless eyes looking down at you.

"I can get it for you."

You blush furiously at his kind gesture, eyelashes fluttering in awe. "I can't—"

"It's okay," Mikey insists until you relent with a shaky smile and glance down at your son.

"Baby, what do you say?"

"Thank you," the boy says shyly, his smile just as bright as yours when he takes the lollipop from Mikey's fingers.

Bonten!Mikey who meets you again in a place where he never thought someone as bright as you would end up.

He walks into Bonten's meeting room to find his men passing you around, shoving their dicks in your face and groping you roughly. Tears stream down your face, but you can only mumble out raspy complaints as you're grabbed by a man with wild eyes and scars marring his mouth.

"You're such a nasty slut," the man sneers, guiding your mouth to his leaky cock and pressing the head between your swollen lips.

Nobody seems to pay attention to Mikey who takes his seat at the head of the table, their predatory gazes focused on you getting ruined in the middle of the room. But for a split second, your glassy eyes meet his and they grow round at the sudden realization of who he is—at what he is.

And although his men ignored him at first, they're suddenly aware of his overwhelming presence once you're passed onto Mikey's lap next—the room falling quiet because their boss never got involved with their leisure activities.

He reaches one hand up and wipes your tears from your face, bringing your shiny gaze up to his.

"Hey, pretty," Mikey says, covering you with his jacket. His usual soulless eyes are soft when you smile down at him, his heart beating hard against his ribcage at the breath-taking sight. "There you go."

The Bonten executives watch quietly as their boss picks you up in his arms and carries you to the door, their jaws dropping a bit.

"Find someone else to fuck," is the last thing Mikey says before leaving the room.

Bonten!Mikey who runs both of you a bath once you're in his apartment, usually destructive fingers now delicately stripping you out of your soiled clothes and tossing them somewhere across the floor.

He places you between his legs, washing your hair and body of cum and spit before massaging your sore muscles in his strong hands—paying special attention to your jaw after seeing how rough Sanzu was with you. You relax against him, head on his shoulder while you feed into the warmth and safety of his touch.

"Are you scared?" he asks, now that you know who he really is.

You shake your head. "No."

He hums, pleased with your answer. "Then let me take care of you, hm?"

Soft lips brush against your temple as his hands smooth over your supple breasts and down your stomach until his fingers trace over the soft puffy lips of your cunt.

Mikey's mouth quirks ever so slightly when you slowly nod, arching into his touch with a whimpered "please" bouncing off of the steamy bathroom walls.

You keen when two of his fingers brush through your slippery folds, his other hand coming up to pinch and rub at your nipples.

Every delicious sound you make has blood rushing to his cock, and he can't stop himself from slowly rutting against your ass, grunting into your neck from the friction—not caring about the amount of water and bubbles that splash over the lip of the tub.

Your body trembles a little when he slips a finger into your gummy walls, his pace slow to ease you open before another finger joins the first.

His lips travel up from your shoulder, teeth nipping a sensitive spot behind your ear—putting his mark on your skin—before he asks: "Did they fuck you here?" Slender fingers thrust into your clenching hole with an emphasis on his question.

You take a moment to answer from the amount of pleasure clouding your brain, but you manage to shake your head. "N-no, not ye—"

Mikey's hand firmly clasps around your throat, drawing your head back so you're looking at him. "This cute little pussy is mine now, m'kay?" he tells you, tapping your sensitive clit lightly.

This time you nod with a choked whimper, not completely taking into consideration that you just offered yourself to the devil—too dizzy from the fire burning at the pit of your stomach.

The wide pad of his thumb applies firm pressure against your little nub, his fingers speeding up at the feel of your legs quivering against his.

"Ah," you whine, hands holding onto his arm between your legs. "I-I'm—"

"Come on, cum for me," he rasps into your neck, littering it with more small splotches of blue and purple.

"Oh—"

You break off into a stream of garbled sounds when his fingers rub against a spot inside you that has you twitching in his arms. A series of strained little curses leave your lips, your lungs trying to take in big gulps of air as you tip over the edge.

"You were so good, pretty," Mikey coos into your ear, trying to bring you down while his fingers go back to pumping into you lazily. "Hm, one more time. You deserve it, after all."

Bonten!Mikey who learns you were selling your body to pay for your son's medical bills after he fell very ill the year before.

Bonten!Mikey who insists you let him take care of you and your little family.

"You wouldn't need a job," he tells you when you argue that you'd never be able to pay him back with your current earnings. "I'll give you and your son anything you may need."

Bonten!Mikey who rewards you with his head between your legs for hours when you say yes—not that he'd ever let you say no.

Bonten!Mikey who's possessive of you and refuses to share you with anyone because they can't treat you as good as he can.

Bonten!Mikey who wants to show his men that you're his.

Bonten!Mikey who has you spread out on his lap in the Bonten meeting room, all of his executives watching with envy as their boss's fingers play with your dripping hole.

Bonten!Mikey who knows all the sweet spots that make you pliant in his arms until you're gushing a steady stream of fluid all over the table and his pants.

He hears a few faint groans of his men around the room, their eyes turning greedy when you shy away from how they're staring at you. But Mikey shoots them a cold look, his message clear that none of them were allowed to touch you anymore. You're his and only his, and he'd kill anyone who even tried to look at you the wrong way.

"Now get the fuck out," he tells them before focusing his attention back on you.

GOJO SATORU / F!READER KEEP STILL (19+)

SYNOPSIS

Internationally revered artist Y/N has been invited to paint the Crown Prince, Gojo Satoru.

CONTAINS

explicit content [minors/ageless blogs do not interact], royal au, prince!satoru, artist!reader, (forced?) voyeurism, masturbation, multiple orgasms, face riding, oral (f+m), overstimulation, exhibitionism (?), cum play, choking, squirting, facial, degradation, ooc satoru is a brat…

word count: 12.4k+ note: satoru has ZERO shame. srry i kinda went overboard w this . okay enjoy / also i just changed the layout lol

“…you have been invited to paint the Crown Prince, Gojo Satoru—” 

“Crown Prince?”

The trickles of liquid being poured into glasses ends with a foolish clatter, hands clambering to collect them as they tip over. Dusk arrives, a peaceful ambience accompanied with light crackles of your fireplace. With the belief that it would be a simple, quaint evening, you hadn’t prepared yourself for the news that would arrive at your doorstep. The sound of his name makes your ears scorch, overwhelming news that could put you in cardiac arrest if you weren’t so stubborn about appearing composed. The invitation sent in the form of a white card, sealed with a golden stamp, weighs heavy on your heart—a bizarre combination of stress and elation running through you, until your ears have finally made sense of your friend’s words.

You’ve painted many important individuals—internationally revered and demanded by numerous pretentious, rich assholes, so it should come across as a normal invitation to you, but it was anything but that. It felt more like a leap than a step forward, an endgame to your years of hard work, knowing that a royal had been eyeing your work, wanting you to perceive him. Ironically, you had just come back from exploring the world, attending the showiest parties and exhibitions, displaying yourself for demand and being invited by opulent guests that had implored you to paint them from across the sea.

Why wouldn’t they? Even your most unassuming subjects were enamoured with your work, posing to perfection, and keeping as still as they could because they know you can portray them the best.

From your work alone, you have a long list of subjects waiting to be painted by you, quietly observing in awe as you hone your craft. Painting the Crown Prince was long overdue. Though you had a problem—your passion wavered. The demand wore you out, how much time and passion you were willing to put into your work has kept you bed-ridden and drained of inspiration, mostly relying on commissions personally made by your clients. It’s noticeable by the lack of pieces you were putting out—the name you’ve made yourself hanging by a thin thread. Still, despite your insecurities, you couldn’t pass up on this opportunity because of a cluster of reasons—sitting on top laid one.

The Crown Prince is a sight to behold. His white hair resembling wispy clouds falls delicately on his forehead, smooth skin that anyone could mistake for porcelain if they’re not too careful, and blue eyes that held the seas and skies entirely.

You’ve only been able to observe him from afar; the mere sight of the prince being too much a phenomenon to let you get any closer. His presence alone is a rare occurrence. No one really knows why, but it only makes him the embodiment of mystery, trivial rumours are not good enough to gather what kind of person he might be, and it only makes you even more curious. Whenever he is seen, it’s only ever accompanied by some sort of ball or parade dedicated to him and his family. 

Merely visiting a friend, your first sighting had been on a balcony overlooking the marketplace, and the royal family’s return from their short retreat required an audience. The sizable fields were empty, but the streets were congregated with residents, white confetti falling dreamily on their carriages and horses.

You weren’t actually interested in the royals, forced to engage in the proprieties by your friend, staring into blank space and slumped against the balcony with your chin resting on your hand, sighing when the cheers became deafeningly louder.

Then you saw him peak through the obscurity of his carriage, nudging velvet curtains to the side to look at the crowd. No one could miss the collective gasps that fell from the mouths of the residents—a stunned silence took the section that was greeted by his face, staring in awe of the prince. He looked slightly taken aback by the reception, gazing upon the unmoving crowd with an unreadable expression, never gesturing with a smile or a wave.

You were guilty of it too—the grip of your fingers loosening from the balcony, your lips parting in discreet shock as you marvel at the sight of the prince, wondering how someone could even look like that. Almost engrossed, you fixated on remembering every feature, absorbing the memory so you could somehow translate it onto paper. 

It's unfortunately short-lived when he closes the curtain.

Now you’re going to see him again—no—paint him. Perhaps, in some dramatic, life-changing way, Gojo Satoru could revive your passion. In fact, you’re sure of it—the one sighting of him became a plethora of false memories you made up in your head, imagining the way he’d look in all of your pieces and that desire to make him the purpose of all your paintings was probably the reason beneath that void in your heart, it’d only make sense for him to fill it.

“The prince—I can’t believe it.” Your friend says in awe, nimbly taking one of the glasses you prepared for the both of you. She goes on to ramble about what you’ll wear, how you’ll greet him, and the most pressing question of them all: how on earth were you going to paint him? It only makes you anxious.

What if he hates it?

“I guess I’ll have to figure that out.” You sigh, the insistent thoughts sending a chill down on your spine. Self-doubt can't get the best of you just yet, reminding yourself that it’s your hard work that’s put you here, so to paint the Crown Prince, you couldn’t have imagined anything better.

The drawing room is clean—awfully clean, resembling every other royal room you came across as you toured around the palace, admiring the grandeur and spotlessness that brushed every corner of each room. There is some sort of expectancy to see messiness accompany the drawing room, knowing that the royals could not go a day without having their portraits painted and possibly spent most of their time sitting on that chair if they weren’t hosting some sort of inessential ball to showcase their endless opulence.

Your eyes first land on the wooden stool that sits in front of an easel holding a large blank canvas, beneath and beside it is art equipment meant for your usage—oil paint, palettes, and numerous paintbrushes, all ready for you.

As you saunter further into the drawing room, your eyes are greeted with a couch—one of splendour, encased in gold and embroidered floral patterns sewed onto the seats, cushions and backrest, a velvet sheet loosely falls on top of it. Oddly enough, you expected a simple chair.

Behind it is the Great painting, the regular backdrop used for most of the royals’ paintings, though there is nothing truly regular about it, having been made by one of your favourite artists. To see it in person has you gaping like a fool. Entranced by the large piece that spans across the entire wall, a sensation building up in a chest that awfully resembles the feeling of someone twisting your heart in their hand, promising yourself that you’d make something like this one day and it’ll be your backdrop that every snobbish individual of prestige will want.

So, when the faint chatter and shuffling footsteps progressively becomes louder, your ears unconsciously tune out the sound, engrossed so deeply in the painting that you’re unaware of the people that have entered the room. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A gruff voice suddenly rips you from your reverie, causing you to stupidly stumble on your own feet, only just noticing the presence next to you. It’s not him—not the prince, but a man almost as intimidating as him (almost…just almost) and you waver under his stoic gaze.

“Yes, it’s really beautiful,” you mindlessly say, cursing under your breath as your wavering confidence makes itself obvious. Respectably gesturing at him, an urge to conceal your expression from him begins to hurt your cheeks, an eager smile itching to spread across your face. He awkwardly clears his throat when you perform such a profound gesture. The shadow of his figure keeps you grounded on your curling toes, pondering on the prince’s whereabouts. If he’s here, then the prince must close, right? 

When you look back up, your eyes suddenly peer at the white hair that peaks from the man’s shoulder, gradually making himself known when he finally stands beside him. 

Oh. 

Tall and broad, the prince towers over you, surpassing the man next to him in height, and looks down at you with the same unreadable look that started this voyage of curiosity. You hope he misses the way your breath hitches in your throat, the figure next to him becoming hazy when you stare at the prince, all of the admiration you have towards him washes over you tenfold, the closeness accentuating his features in ways you couldn’t have imagined. His eyes are so…blue.

How on earth are you supposed to capture his beauty in a painting? You can’t even remotely describe what you’re looking at, overawed and overwhelmed, you almost forget to greet him. So, when you do, it’s in a state of a momentary panic, feeling as though you just committed treason for doing it a second later and your frantic actions earns a raised eyebrow, clearly amused by your uneasiness.

“Nanami, this is my painter for today?” He asks, tilting his head to the man now known as Nanami, who doesn’t seem fazed by the likes of Gojo Satoru. His voice is perfect too, you think. You wonder what he must be like behind closed doors, how Nanami must either endure or indulge in the prince’s company, what kind of conversations they might have, if he’s even likeable to begin with.

Nanami nods, the dullness in his facial expression making it hard to read the room, especially when a mischievous glint washes over the prince’s eyes as he turns his head, rendering you speechless once he unexpectedly closes the space between you. The exasperation from his shoulder only shows that the prince’s forwardness is something to expect, though you had never imagined that he’d be this… bold.

Satoru (…felt like you were committing treason for even saying his name in your head) leans forward, bending down to face you at eye-level, hovering so closely that it makes you even more nervous, so you briefly turn to Nanami in hopes that he could explain this unusual interaction. He doesn’t offer you comforting reassurance, so you look back at Satoru, taking a deep breath as you stare in his eyes.

It’s as if he holds the entire earth in them, an unusual pattern of various blue shades that swirled in his eyes, an instrument of hypnosis. He finally decides to break the silence, indulging well enough in your nervousness. His formalities are short and it’s obvious he doesn’t like wasting time. “I’m the Crown Prince, Gojo Satoru. Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are, I mean—” you stutter thoughtlessly, “…I’m Y/N L/N.”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t, Y/N.” He responds, a faux frown appearing on his face. It feels undeserving to have your name come out of his mouth, but it hails your ears like a symphony. But, despite his regal nature and otherworldly appearance, something about him cries bad news, a ball of uneasiness rising in the pit of your stomach telling you that he’s up to no good.

What an odd feeling—you’re not sure where it’s coming from. 

You almost forget to tell him how grateful you are, though it’s not quite like you to shower someone with such compliments, given your absence of care for the royal family. “I want to thank you for this opportunity. It’s an honour just being in your presence.”

“Of course, I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s about time I met the revered painter.” He says, weighing you down with his gaze. You wonder how he’s heard about you, strangely caring about how he perceives you. 

Your heartbeat won’t slow down. “Well, I’m glad you think that of me. I’m certain that I can provide the best piece for you.”

His smirk grows, sensing your wavering confidence and relishing in your need to make the best impression. He’s practically anchoring you to the floor with his eyes. “I’m sure you will.”

Nanami sighs, breaking the odd tension that settles between the two of you, “…would you like me to oversee the first session?”

“No need.” Satoru quickly interjects, smiling passively as he continues to stare down at you. You could shrivel up into a ball right now with how intense his gaze is, an invisible force weighing you down as the fireplace crackles behind you. “The world’s renowned painter doesn’t need anyone breathing down her neck, right?”

Nanami sighs again, rolling his eyes. The two men await your response, and now you border between needing his presence because of Satoru’s peculiar nature and agreeing with Satoru because…he’s the Crown Prince. You mindfully choose the latter, fearing that you’d only make him unhappy by going against something that sounded more like his request, than your own. 

“Please leave, Nanami.” Satoru abruptly stresses, clearly bothered by your inability to quickly answer him. He hastily turns to Nanami, placing a lingering glance on him.

“The session will end at sundown. I’ll make preparations for your departure, so don’t worry about that.” Nanami concludes, slowly walking towards the door.

Luckily, it’s a summer afternoon, so while the skies were still bright, offering the room a mix of white and golden hues, you’d be able to pinpoint every single one of his features. Though, it means that you’re incredibly aware of Satoru’s expressions, who seems awfully eager to get Nanami out of the room and won’t stop staring at you.

When he leaves, the large doors softly shut with a thud and now the air suddenly feels tighter, the crackling of the fireplace gets louder and you’re sure Satoru can hear the force of your beating heart. “So, shall we begin?”

Your nerves keep you cemented to the floor, but his sudden suggestion snaps you out of your trance.

“Yes. Please, sit on the couch.” You faint-heartedly respond, gesturing for him to follow you to the couch. You’re suddenly immersed in finding the best position to put him in, wondering if the velvet sheet is a deliberate prop meant for you, but the initiative is taken by Satoru, who rests his back carelessly on the couch. Confused by his sudden action, he disrupts your train of thought.

“I’d like a painting where I’m lying down against this couch, something a little extravagant,” he says mockingly, savouring your surprised expression.

You’ve painted many things, a lot of them consisting of people with many poses and props, but you assumed that this regal painting would only entail of a simple portrait of him sitting up, and staring. You’re not sure if this idea was even approved by anyone. This is your first meeting with the prince and yet you can’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. Adorned by his face, you almost didn’t notice what he was wearing—a simple white blouse and black pants, something that would normally be used as an underdress for regal wearing. Suppose this is more of a personal painting.  

“Is that a problem, Y/N?” He asks, gouging out your expression.

“No, we can do that.” You respond, grimacing at the thought of this session already being controlled by him. There’s a reason why you never really cared for the royals—this is one of them. “Okay, you can rest your arm and back on the armrest, lift your legs up and look towards me.” When he follows your words, as you slowly walk backwards to envision the appropriateness of his pose, he gets it exactly right.

“Like this?”

“Yes, perfect,” you nod, adjusting the velvet sheet to loosely cover the opposite end of the couch. The vision was settling in, a perfect picturesque that truly showcased his allure and so you hurriedly make your way to the canvas, plopping down and begin observing his proportions. Your eyes scan his body, noticing his slender legs, broad chest and wide shoulders—even his proportions felt designed. 

Satoru surprisingly doesn’t speak when you’re firming his proportions and perception onto paper, letting you immerse yourself into work as his gaze never wavers. The canvas isn’t transparent but even in the split seconds when you’re hiding behind it, you can still feel his blue eyes pierce through the paper, turning your nimble fingers to trembling ones and even the open window can’t prevent your body from overheating. It’s not supposed to be intimate—you’ve never been compelled to feel anything for someone you’re painting, too engrossed in creation and much too concentrated on who they are on paper, than in real life. 

He’s jerking his leg against the couch, and it’s distracting. “Could you keep still, please?” You ask politely, hoping that he doesn’t take offence to it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t.

You’re not sure why you even asked—the slight movement shouldn’t be a cause for concern, but there’s something about this entire situation that’s pestering you. This is a strictly professional job that your precarious future depends on and yet it's far from that, it’s personal. He’s making it personal. Perhaps, it’s just overthinking—the prince is idolised by everyone, having a charm that only a few can attain, and he’s probably used it to his advantage many times.

This is all in your head, a momentary lapse of judgement that is clouded by your enduring admiration for him. Or at least, that’s what you try to tell yourself. Despite your inner conflict, you remain professional. Your concentrated expression never fluctuates, and you focus on getting his proportions right, hastily looking away whenever you accidentally meet his gaze. It’s unnerving, as if he’s refusing to blink, gradually breaking you down with his stare, until you turn to stone. When you finally finish the outline of your piece, your main focus is finding the right scenic feeling for him, slowly gazing upon the backdrop that accentuates his otherworldly features.

“So focused…” Satoru unexpectedly states, ending your trance and pressing you to pay attention to him. 

“I’m just really passionate,” you respond, practically lying through your teeth—it’s a partial lie, somewhat regaining some of the passion you lost in these few lingering moments. 

“Hm. Do you normally shake your legs that fast when you lie?” He observes, gazing down at the way you subconsciously shake your knee in a frantic manner, jittering against the wooden stool. You don’t realise how much noise you’re making, abruptly stopping your legs when he points it out. It unnerves you but Satoru is still a stranger—how could he even come to that conclusion?

“I’m not lying.” You mutter.

“I don’t know, do you always look at your subjects like that?” He asks, a playful smile etching across his face as you shuffle uncomfortably against his gaze. You decide to play dumb, feigning confusion and hoping he’d take your silence as an answer. He doesn’t, sighing heavily as his head slumps against the armrest.

What exactly are you supposed to say? How are you looking at him? The silence becomes unbearable, every millisecond becomes a long list of possible ways that you could be seeing him—how he sees you.

Your curiosity breaks your resolve, asking the poised man coyly. “How do I look at you?”

When you ask, he turns his head towards you, a smile insinuating that he’s won something—the next few words that come out of his mouth are much more definitive in that case. “Like you want to undress me.”

A moment of surprise stills on you, the forwardness of his accusation making you uncomfortable. “That’s quite the assumption.”

“Is it?” He persists, raising an eyebrow at your statement. “Don’t be shy, I don’t mind.”

You don’t know how to respond, he’s flirting with you—intentionally making you flustered, and there’s an urge to just pack your things and leave. You couldn’t find yourself tied with someone worlds apart from you. Though, only twenty minutes have passed, and you still have much longer to go. You can’t deal with him crossing numerous lines like this, especially when he’ll always have the upper hand. 

“I’d like to continue this painting.” You respond, attempting to change the topic. 

Amused, he huffs, suddenly sitting up. “Do you? I’ll undress if you’d like.”

You breathe heavily. Perhaps, in a completely different setting, you wouldn’t be so willing to deny him but you’re in his home, a place you don’t belong—it doesn’t make sense to let yourself go so easily. “That’s not really appropriate.”

“What’s inappropriate is your gaze.” He retorts. How can a stranger read you so easily?

“I’m painting you, that's kind of the point.” You retort.

Satoru is a charming man, but he’s also someone that gets easily impatient. He admires your composure, understanding that you’re harder to deal with than all of his other toys.

“I’ve been painted enough to know the difference between concentration and desire. Do you want to fuck me?” He bluntly asks, looking bothered by your ignorance. Maybe he was making it up. Maybe, just maybe, it was true. 

You’re speechless. The audacity of this man. “We should continue the session, please lie back down.”

“You’re not denying it.” He says playfully, standing up.

“I don’t. There, I denied it. Please lie back down.”

“Your knees are shaking again.”

You lie again. “I do this all the time.”

“Admit it.” He says, slowly walking towards you. A blockage sits in your throat, gazing upon the towering man devouring you with his eyes. When he finally closes the space, he bends down, just as he did earlier, except his lips are almost brushing against yours—close, but not close enough to kiss you. Your eyes momentarily flick to the pink of his lips, almost feeding into your subdued desire and yearning for what his lips might feel like against yours.

“I don’t.” You whisper, trying to resolve your harboured breathing. It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself now.

“Will you tell the truth if I admit that I like it?”

Fuck. 

An ache builds up between your legs. He’s just teasing you—why are you feeling like this? “I—…I can’t.” He almost breaks when he hears you stutter.

“So, it’s I don’t first, now it’s I can’t…which is it, Y/N? Sounds like you’re fighting with yourself.” He asks, the tilt of his head implying that he’s sympathetic and it’s annoying, making a mockery of your nervousness. “Say what’s on your mind.” 

You recover your composure, straightening your back and your nonchalant expression refuses to falter. Though, your voice almost gives you away. “Lie down.”

“Only if you’ll follow me.”

Now, you’re visibly annoyed, glowering at him. “Then this session cannot continue.”

“Why? Am I too out of reach?” He says, relishing in teasing you. A moment passes, Satoru realising that you’re not backing down. 

“Let me guess. You like to play with unassuming visitors like little toys right? Do you fuck anyone that walks through this palace?” You say vehemently, trying to dimmer your heavy heart from controlling your feelings. His eyes widen, the glint in his eye is almost…playful, elated that you’d say such a thing to a man like him—it terrifies you. He’s insane. 

“I don’t know, do they all have such wandering eyes?” He teases, hooking his hands to the underside of the stool, closely hovering over you with comfort. It startles you, and your mind doesn’t process the backless nature of the stool when you try to create some distance. You almost fall back but the prince is hasty enough to catch you. He roughly brings you closer to him. 

“I wouldn’t know.” You faintly whisper, falling into his eyes again. “Please—let’s not do this right now.”

“Then, I’ll lie back down.”

“Thank you.” For a few moments, he stares into your eyes, observing carefully. He doesn’t really plan on listening to you. 

“Only if you promise to watch me.” He says, a wave of inspiration washing over him. 

He really is up to no good. 

“What?”

He sends another ingenuine smile before walking back to the couch. Briefly, hiding into the large canvas to pick up your paintbrush again, you tune into the loud shuffling, a relaxed groan escaping his lips when he slumps against the couch again. As you revert to your old task, you look back up to see his shirt is gone. Your eyes subconsciously scan his body, in awe, but utterly shocked at the turn of events. Your shock worsens when he unzips his pants, causing you to hide behind the canvas again. 

You don’t peek from the canvas, refusing to believe the possible sight in front of you but there’s some more shuffling, and then faint lewd noises that reverberate in the drawing room. Was he? As if you couldn’t be any more surprised, you overhear the impossible, a noise you never thought you’d live to see, even if you wanted to—he’s moaning. The ache returns, and it washes over you tenfold, like a wave compared to a tsunami and no matter how hard you try to tune out his lewd moans, it only gets louder, until he’s ringing in your ears. The Crown Prince is touching himself and he wants you to watch.

You muster up the courage, continually convincing yourself that this is just a dream—you’re not actually hearing the prince moan, he’s not actually touching himself right—no, no, none of this is real, it’s just a figment of your imagination. That curiosity, the persistent one solely dedicated to Gojo Satoru returns, and now the ache speaks for you, telling you to look, to confirm your lingering thoughts. It’s an impulsive thought and while a part of you is convinced that nothing about this is right, the other part…well, she wants to look. Just one look. So, when you eventually peak to the side, a sight beholds you.

He is. The obscene sight of Satoru relishing in his own pleasure, eyes fluttering closed while he fists his cock in his hand, arching against the pillows. Your drifting eyes can’t help but follow his movement, the lewd sounds that come with it and how pretty he looks. He doesn’t notice you looking, completely and utterly immersed in bringing himself to his own climax, and when you finally come down from your state of disbelief, realising what you’re watching, you get an even more indecent response.

“My Prince…”

A faint, beautiful groan falls from his moist lips and his eyes flutter open, gazing lustfully at yours, “…say that again.”

The paintbrushes clutter when you loosen your grip on it, a heavy gasp cemented in your chest when he squeezes the tip of his cock harder, and his back arches further into the cushions until his head falls back against the gold arm of the couch. Your fingers have lost purpose under the weight of your thoughts, turning to the cuffs of your dress, and fiddling anxiously as you hide your frame behind the canvas. The ache between your legs feels like your heartbeat has fallen into your pelvis, and the restricted gasps you fail to let out has completely disrupted your breathing.

You can’t bring yourself look again—the worst-case scenarios running through your head to convince you that if you entertained his impulsive actions, you’d be punished severely. Fuck—he’s so annoying. The prince you saw that day was nothing like the one that’s in front of you now. Perhaps he’s a clone? A twin? Or maybe it was just your false perception that made you believe the prince could be somewhat normal. Instead, he’s standing in the way of your future. The prince, the reason behind your possible future, is now standing in front of it.

He’s infuriating.

Completely flustered and almost riled up by his action, you occasionally glance at the door, terrified that someone will walk in. He probably wouldn’t care—he’s shameless enough to do this in front of a complete stranger. An odd thought pops up, telling you that this is somewhat something you should be grateful for. He’s passing his madness onto you. So, you contemplate simply leaving but before your toes can even touch the floor, he stops you.

 “I never said you could leave, Miss L/N.” Satoru demands.

Your actions falter and freeze under his command, wondering if either choice—running away or keep painting—is the right one. Your eyes flutter ridiculously, slowly picking up the paintbrush, noticing how your hands still tremble. “Could you cover up, please?” 

He’s insane. Literally insane. 

The faint sounds of lewdness trickle through your ears—he’s still touching himself amid this conversation. “You don’t want that, do you?” 

You let the silence take the lead again, unable to come up with a comeback for his bold words. He’s right, but you didn't want him to know that—he’d win. He’s completely moved from his original position too. “Don’t…”

“Don’t… what?” Satoru teases, openly letting out moans whenever he could, shuffling messily against the sheets. You adjust the collar of your dress, inconveniently feeling feverish against the heat of the room. There is a cold breeze that seeps through the window, slightly open to let the fumes of the oil paint escape but it doesn’t help. It definitely isn’t the room that’s making you feel this hot, or prickly… or nervous. He interrupts the silence again, and this time with a favour that makes your blood run cold, “…could you look at me, Y/N, please?” 

Does he crave attention? Why did he need your eyes? Hesitantly, you place the paintbrush down against the canvas brush holder, shuffling your seat to the left so you could slightly peek past the canvas without revealing yourself too much. His swirling eyes caught yours far too quickly, and it caught the way you briefly watched his large hand smoothly motion up and down his cock. Hastily, you move behind the canvas again, hands covering your face in embarrassment and there’s a faint laugh that escapes his mouth. A pretty laugh, it’d be prettier if you weren’t so puzzled right now.

“Fuck—look at me,” he demands more sternly, his voice becoming hoarser as he continues to pleasure himself. You’d break too fast if you take another look. The same bizarre thought that this sight alone is another blessing placed upon you appears again. He looked so pretty, stroking himself and you were cowering behind your canvas. You shake your head—despite his titles and otherworldly appearance, he isn’t someone you’d ever see again. “Y/N.” 

But does your name need to sound that beautiful coming out of his mouth? 

The ache between your legs throbs even more, and you subconsciously clench your thighs as if your body is no longer in your control. Hesitatingly, once again, you shuffle to the side to behold the sight of him almost nearing his orgasm. His cheeks flushed red, eyes fluttered closed and his back arching against the cushions. His cock, pretty and sensitive, leaking and hard against his hand is a sight that you want to memorise desperately.

His chest, long and firm, moves so fluidly and you want nothing more than to run your hand across it. You breathe heavily, almost as heavily as he is, and when he looks down to stroke faster—he catches your stare. Despite his flushed state, he still manages to smile smugly when he notices you haven’t looked away. 

Your head immediately falls, at your fiddling hands, unsure what to do when he’s caught you doing such a blatant thing. This is humiliating. 

“I’m close—… fuck—”

You look up as if he urged you to, but this time you feel the eagerness run through your veins when he proclaims his imminent orgasm. The way his back arches, a beautiful groan falling from his lips and cum spurting out against his stomach, lewdly slathering it against his cock. Your hand subconsciously presses against your chest, a poor attempt at trying to control your heartbeat and Satoru lazily smiles when he notices that. 

“Can you clean me up?” Satoru suddenly asks, resting one of his arms behind his head as he waits for you to follow his words. The luxuries of being a Crown Prince. Slightly irritated that he would command such a thing after making you watch—you get up to find tissues laying around. As you walk towards one of the many tables that greets you with a golden tissue box (…everything was golden in here), avoiding the filthy sight of his pose, Satoru interrupts your actions. “Uh, uh.”

The tissues are barely in your grasp when he tuts in disapproval—your choice is to look at him. When you do, his eyes are wide and blue and they’re staring at you with faux innocence.

He’s truly something else. 

Satoru points to the mess on his stomach, “…not with tissues. Come here,” he commands, with one of his hands motioning you towards him, gesturing how close he wants you. Your mind can’t fathom what he means, not until he says it so brazenly. When you’re close—he tugs you down on top of him, legs on either side of his thighs and there’s a certain proximity that worsens the ache between your legs and the irregular beat of your heart. You’re sitting on top of the prince. “You have a mouth don’t you?” 

For some reason, you can’t use it. He’s surpassing all your expectations and laying down completely new ones. You can’t believe what he’s trying to hint at. Though, his gaze penetrates you and when you try to look away, you notice the cum sitting on his stomach and it’s calling to your tongue. The request makes you feel lesser than him and yet, you want to. “Are you serious? You want me to use my mouth?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Satoru responds, staring at you in disbelief. You almost scoff, but hold back, not knowing what he could do if you were to disobey him with such confidence. You don’t know how many lines you’ve crossed just to create some sort of boundary, but you fear that he’ll only tolerate so much.

Still hesitant, you rest your hand against the backrest of the couch before your tongue peaks out to lightly lick against his stomach. Satoru doesn’t say a word, so when you look at him to wonder why, you realise how intensely he’s staring at you. The palm of his hand finds the back of your head, brushing your hair as you lick with prolonged kisses. With a flat tongue, you lick a long stripe against his stomach, eliciting a throaty moan from Satoru.

For some reason, there’s a passion behind your actions—the way you kiss after you lick, or the way your eyes meet his when you stick out your tongue. Just to hear more from him. Satoru aches again and he wants nothing more than to put his cock in your mouth.

“You can touch me if you want,” Satoru breathes out, leaning forward to firm the press on your head. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at his request. Does he know you want to? Do you know that you want to? You were just resenting him moments ago—so what makes him think that you wanted to touch him? That resentment fades when you look at how flushed out he looks, as if roses have been painted all over him and there’s an urge to keep them there. “I’ll stay still after—paint me all you want…just touch me.”

The way he begs—it’s a sound you’d never expect to hear from someone who demands so often. But your hand suddenly wraps around his wet cock, causing his head to softly crash against the cushions. You motion up and down, slowly releasing a long string of spit that lands on his tip, before spreading such fluids all over his length. He curses under his breath, hips faintly rising to chase your touch and your fingers press against his nipple. You marvel at the way he responds to your touch, and you feel like you’ve barely done anything. You’re not necessarily experienced, but he makes you feel like you are. 

When your mouth finally wraps around his cock, the strain of his moan worsens and the press of his hand sends you further down—so far down that your eyes begin to water. A brief, terrifying thought of being caught like this strikes a fear in your heart, but Satoru looks so heavenly when he chases the vulgar sounds of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your hands boldly brushes against his chest, pinching and tugging at his nipples.

Satoru probably foresighted your desperation, he knew that you’d break like this. Humming against the way he tries to gag you, your fingers fondle him, massaging his nipples in a circular motion and it sends him further down your throat when his back dramatically arches against the couch.

“That’s enough,” Satoru suddenly says, pulling you back by your hair and the lecherous sight of you catching your breath makes him effortlessly aroused again. Your eyes can’t seem to focus on a single thing, watching your tremulous fingers, glancing at him every now and then and eventually, you close them to avoid his gaze from your peripheral vision. You nimbly wipe the corner of your mouth before he demands again. “Stand up.” 

You stand up from the couch, doe-eyed and confused to what his intentions are. The fact that he’s almost naked still makes you nervous, and now you’re hazy from such an intimate situation. You’ve truly gone insane. “I should finish the painting.”

“Hm,” he barely mutters as he spryly fiddles with the cuffs of your dress. You feel as if someone fixed your feet to the ground because Satoru’s wandering hands are doing so much more than just fiddling. 

“Wait—I,”

“Y/N,” Satoru sighs, looking up at you with a clear stern look. He looks genuinely bothered by your hesitance, as if you owed him the virtue of standing still for him. “I’d really like you to serve your prince.”

“I need to finish this painting,” you attempt to say confidently, but your words dry out when his hands don’t stop moving. “You promised you’d keep still if I…”

“If you…?” 

“Just stay still,” you huff, removing yourself from his proximity and walking towards the canvas again. When you turn around, he’s tilting his head, clearly vexed and still very much aroused but you remain true to your words—picking up your paintbrush and waiting for him to return to his position. “Please—let’s finish this.”

He’s completely ruined you. Why does he have to be so shameless? Satoru rolls his eyes, amid taking his pants off and laying against the cushions, earning a sigh from you. He looks like a painting in motion now. He takes his pose in clear annoyance but doesn’t speak another word. Though his pose is not at all similar to what you were creating and he’s now completely naked—he’s completely and defiantly ignoring you.

Your patience thins, wondering how the prince ended up being such an immature subject and you unexpectedly stand up—following his gaze and standing in front of him. Anger builds up against his defiance, and you’re still heavily flustered and aroused, not sure if you can leave this place feeling satisfied that you didn’t let him touch you.

Your hand grabs his chin and forces him to look at the side that he was originally looking at. “Just keep still, okay?” 

His hand suddenly grabs yours, dragging you down so that you sit on the space that he’s left for you but his eyes are blazing with fury and fear runs through your own. “I could get your hand cut off for that.” 

Noting his influence—you nod slowly, hoping he’d loosen the grip on your wrist. “I’ll be sure to remember that.” 

“I don’t know,” Satoru sighs, “…why should I let you off now?” 

The tension thickens, even a saw couldn’t wedge its way through it and Satoru still doesn’t release the grip on your hand, instead he marvels at it, playing with your fingers until he does the unthinkable. His mouth slowly envelops your middle finger, eyes daring to keep staring at yours as he motions back and forth, adding another finger and another … and your heart is back at your throat, fingers resting in the heat of his mouth. Completely frozen, you succumb to the feeling of his tongue swirling around your fingers. “I…”

He lets go of your hand, causing it to fall to his chest just slightly and an abrupt move disrupts your inner afflictions. His hand grabs the back of your head, pulling you much closer and he doesn’t let you think before he’s licking your lips, urging you to open your mouth. You do—eyes wide open, refusing to melt into his kiss, but his tongue is carefully pressing against yours and it’s making every part of your body throb.

He presses even harder, to a point where saliva coats your lips, and there’s a brief moment before you’re reciprocating, almost pushing him back with the way you press against him. It only excites him further, leaning back to pull you further down and now you’re hovering over him, kissing him like you’ve been craving it for eternity.

He briefly parts from you, tugging at your hair softly and it only makes your desperation known when you struggle to pull apart from him, breaths mingling as you try to catch his lips between yours again. “To think you were just going to continue painting,” he says, grinning smugly against your lips—your eyes closed in embarrassment, “…I didn’t even have to do much to make you do it. It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” 

What the hell can you say to that? Why on earth did you succumb to his orders so easily? You’re barely showing you had a mind of your own but fuck—you can’t deny how badly you want him. 

“I think you’re crazy.” You mutter honestly, and he senses the tribulation behind your words, his grin widening.

“I’m crazy?” Satoru responds, suddenly getting up and pulling you up with him—this time, he sits you on top of him. He hunches your dress up to give himself room for his hands to glide across your bare thighs, until he reaches the outline of your panties—just at your hips. It’s futile to convince him that the painting needs to be done, because his fingers were so delicate when they brush against your underwear and rough when they’re hooked underneath, to yank them to the side. A gasp escapes your lips. His fingers trail along your slit, revealing your wetness with the utmost satisfaction. “Says the one who’s already fucking filthy.” 

The vulgar words only send shocks of arousal down to your pussy, clenching around nothing when two fingers begin circling on your clit, soaking in your wetness but it’s so much that it coats his fingers to his knuckles. Your voice shakily responds to his touch. “This is a really bad idea.” 

Satoru flippantly laughs, burying his head into the crook of your neck, softly puncturing his teeth before he sucks against your skin. “Then who’s going to clean you all up?” He says, lifting his fingers to suck the arousal off of them, a plop sounding noise erupting when he finishes indulging at the taste of you. You don’t stop looking, shocked and overwhelmed, and frankly unsure on what to do. 

When he nudges your dress down, your eyes flutter closed, slightly flustered that he’s seeing you bare. When he doesn’t make another move, an eerie silence taking the room and its ambience, you slowly look down, wondering if this majestic being isn’t satisfied by your vulnerability. It scares you. But his fingers resemble the same way you touched him, softly tugging at your nipples, ogling as they harden under his fingertips. He plays with them in circles, intently cupping them with his large hands and letting you sink into them, making you press your chest into the warmth he’s offering you. 

“Cute.” He murmurs, flickering his gaze from your breasts to your eyes, then he leans down, his mouth gently closing around your nipple. It’s an immediate reaction, the way you arch your back against his mouth, relishing in the way he flicks his tongue against your nipple. As his tongue moves devotedly against your nipples, two fingers return to your pussy, rubbing languidly against your clit. “...and needy.” 

“This isn’t right.” You absentmindedly mutter to yourself, refusing to believe that the prince was between your legs, touching you like this. 

“Oh, but it is.” He mocks. It’s right for him. It’s right for someone as desperate as you. “Did you like watching me that much?” He asks, continuing to brush two fingers against your sodden slit, parting your lips before bringing them up again, observing his damp fingers. This is beyond humiliating but your hips can’t help but raise to find more of his touch. 

You did—a bit too much for your own liking. 

“It’s only fair that I get a taste too, right?” He amusingly whispers, falling back into the backrest as his large hands tightly grip your hips, nudging you to sit up properly. Satoru relishes in your dishevelled state, barely comprehending his words without being on the brink of a single orgasm—he has you wrapped around his finger. You couldn’t deny him the opportunity, enamoured by his pink lips, wondering how it’d look completely worshipping you in the filthiest way. “Take it off.” 

You hastily nod, listening to him when he tugs at you to remove your underwear, which you hurriedly do, letting it slip down before you sit on him again. Nervously waiting for his next move, you brace yourself as he slides down, disappearing between your legs as the entirety of your dress hunches around your waist. 

Worried that someone might walk in, you hold back from removing your dress. But the urge is there, solely for the sake of seeing Satoru resting between your thighs, running his hands across your quivering thighs. You wonder if he can breathe. Your eyes deliberately glance up at the grand painting, barely immersed, a poor attempt at distracting yourself from the man heavily breathing beneath you—tightly gripping the couch, noticing odd details, wondering how the hell you ended up here.

Then he grabs your hips and presses you down against his face, and licks.

Your back instantly arches, a sharp gasp escaping you when his tongue softly swirls around your clit, sucking noisily before his mouth desperately moves against your slit. The lewd sound of his huffing reverberates from the confinements of your dress, accompanied with filthy sucking and the stickiness that makes a mess of your thighs. His hands are kneading your ass, forcing you to sit further down to a point of near suffocation. But he keeps sucking and licking and kissing all the right places, and it doesn’t help that you’re doing a poor job at keeping your moans in, dispersing with the ambience of the evening. 

You can’t deny it—he’s good. Really good. Fucking amazing. The cleanliness of this room doesn’t amount to the filth that’s occurring between your legs, and he resorts to shamelessly moaning again, consuming you like you’re meant to be devoured. It sends shudders down your spine and the epitome of mystery is no longer mysterious, but a cruel, charming being with a drive to get what he wants. His hands are tightly keeping you in place, seamlessly telling that you were no longer the sole owner of your body. You have to see, to see how you’re making a mess of his perfect face, but your body shrinks into the couch, face buried in your arms as you try to level your heartbeat with his motions. 

“How are you so good at this, fuck—” His tongue prods at your entrance, eagerly raising himself to twirl his tongue inside of you, prompting you to ride his face. Absentmindedly, you do—chasing the sensation of his wandering tongue, feeling it rise at the bottom of your stomach, rushing over that heat that complements your prickly goosebumps. While your head lolls back, you wither against the odd vibrations accompanying his fluid motions, losing grip of the couch. 

“Off—take—mph—it off,” Satoru mutters, never once slowing down, switching from sucking your clit with the utmost desperation to letting you ride his tongue. You so badly want to ignore him, terrified that you won’t have time to compose yourself if someone were to walk in but it’s getting so hot—so suffocating, and he must look so delectable right now, a sight you needed to see. Desperately, you take your dress off, throwing it across the backrest and letting your bare body succumb to his touches because he’s immediately sliding his hands upwards, kneading your breasts, and pinching your nipples as he hastily slurps at you. Your hands finds his, holding it as he works at your chest.  

His tongue flattens against your slit, moaning lustfully as you glide across it, making such a mess of his face. Slick messily coats his lips and chin, sliding down the corners of his mouth when you lose control, using him to chase your high. Satoru senses it—the way your thighs are trembling next to him, grabbing you to halt your frantic movement, sucking your clit unrelentingly. “Oh shit—shit—!” 

When you finally look down, you peer at the unabashed prince between your legs, whose lidded eyes return your gaze and you’re convinced you’re done. He looks divine. So divine that the feeling of his tongue washes over you tenfold, until your hand instantaneously grips his fluffy hair, wincing when the sensation reaches its peak—a long, shuddered whine escaping when you finally come, which he desperately chases with his tongue, slurping and sucking with no intention of stopping. You try to relax, slumping against the backrest when you twitch around his face, but he’s still relentlessly going at it.

“That’s—that’s enough,” you manage to breathe out, withering uncontrollably over his overstimulating motions, thighs tightly closing around his head. Satoru merely hums, grabbing your thighs to keep you pressed against him. “Please—fuck!”

Your pleas run on deafened ears, twitching wildly against the rapid tongue flicks to your clit, the feeling of a second orgasm rising, bordering on discomfort because he doesn’t want to stop. This time, Satoru momentarily removes his mouth, slipping a finger inside until he’s nudging towards your spot, uttering breathlessly. “I don’t know…seems like you want more.” 

Satoru laughs when he notices you sniffling against tears that seemed to have conjured up, shuffling from under you to remove himself from your thighs. He hovers over you from the back, slapping your ass before burying his hand in your hair, forcing you to press against his front. His lips brush your ear, while his hand nimbly massages your breast, the other sliding down to find your clit again. He languidly rubs when you try to catch your breath, holding onto him as he presses prolonged, wet kisses on your neck. 

“I’ll give you more,” he whispers, creeping the hand on your clit behind you. One of his fingers prods at your entrance, a light wet noise eliciting from the way he teased you, so deeply enamoured by your state that he doesn’t bother taking in your desperation.

When he finally slips a finger inside, he looks at you, observing the way you wither and freeze up at the slenderness, immediately sinking knuckle deep.

He mimics the sharp gasp that falls from your lips, loving the way you succumb to his movements. “I’ll give it to you again, and again, and again, until you’re too fucked out to even blink. So, don’t tell me to stop.”

And you wouldn’t dare to. How could you? You've never been touched like this in your life, unfortunately known for having a tedious love life for two reasons: one, you were always working, and two, every single romantic partner of yours had really poor lovemaking skills. Your first orgasm with him feels more like a revelation than a simple sensation, opening your eyes to new scopes of pleasure and pain—if Satoru wasn’t so unattainable, you’d do anything to keep him around.

No matter how badly he tries to hide his lustful desperation, he can’t help but settle comfortably behind you, immediately accompanying his finger with another, stretching you out and nudging towards a spot that makes your legs close around him again. Your lidded eyes can’t open, it can’t witness the obscene sight of him shoving his fingers inside of you, relentlessly smacking as his other hand continues to massage your nipples. 

His fingers stretch you out, curving to hit that sensitive spot until you’re crawling to slump against the backrest. But he’s already dragging you back by your hair, keeping you fixed against his chest, adoring the way your damp skin presses against his. He warns you. “You’ve been really rude—don’t think you can start running now.”

The hand on your hair trails down to your sensitive clit, simultaneously moving with his fingers to draw your orgasm. It almost hurts, still recovering from his unyielding tongue. 

The sun is setting, and you’re not sure how much time has passed since you walked in. What if Nanami walks in? Is it time to leave? So many questions running through your mind, anxiety and arousal concurrently rushing through you. You tiredly voice your concern. “S—someone could walk in.” 

“So?” He retorts, accelerating his pace when he rubs your clit. “What are they going to do? Every single person in the palace belongs to me. That includes you.”

You want to agree, perhaps convincing him that you believe it would make him a consistent figure in your life but news of this would do irreversible damage to your name—clients would see nothing but someone who uses people in power to get what she wants. They’ll probably assume you accepted the invitation just to fuck him. If you’re caught—you would be ruined.

You absentmindedly whisper. “But my reputation…” 

“You should be honoured,” he utters, “Don’t assume such things about me… I don’t just fuck anyone.” 

He’s driving you insane. 

The filthy sounds of his fingers inside of you resound the room, heavy breathing from the both of you lingering in the air and there’s no time to even think before he’s speeding up. He wants another. Satoru messily licks and sucks your neck, cheek until he’s momentarily forcing your chin to the side, overlapping his tongue over yours and muffling your loud moans. Unsure on where to put your hands, you settle with holding his cheek, keeping his lips pressed against yours—treasuring a moment you’re not sure you want to get out of.

“The moment you walked in, you belonged to me.” He whispers against your lips.

A sensible part of you wants to believe that he’s speaking too soon about you belonging to him, but as every moment passes, you start to believe he’s right. No one is safe from the wonders of his character. 

“Oh fuck—wait—!” 

“Don’t be shy, you can come again.” He mutters, slipping his fingers out of you to wrap his hand around your throat, rubbing your clit with the utmost swiftness. Your hand desperately reaches out for him, tightly holding his wrist as he rubs relentlessly. Deliberately tightening his grip, he lowly curses at the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching under his fingertips. He doesn’t want to stop—melting in the way you wither against him, shaking fervently when you come, clamping your thighs together to try to stop him from continuing. His sodden fingers trail across your abdomen, your chest until he clasps your chin in his hand, slipping them through your parted lips. 

Messily, his tongue joins you, meshing your coated lips together while his fingers continue to layer yours with your cum. He shares the thrill of sucking his fingers with you, having no intention of keeping anything remotely clean between the two of you, relishing in all of your flavours. He loves making a mess of you, and it’s the last detail that destroys everything you thought you knew of him. That same man you saw in that carriage is not the same man touching you like this. The messiness of this scene only worsens the unyielding throbbing in your body, craving more and more of him until you pass out. You can’t let him know—terrified that he’ll cruelly test your limits. 

He notices your apprehension, laughing again when he loosens his grip on your neck, letting you fall drowsily against the couch. “What?”

“Too…–tired…” You mutter incoherently.

“Too tired?” Satoru repeats, a hint of shock underlying his words. He doesn’t bother bringing you up again, following you onto the couch and sitting comfortably on his knees behind you. Lewd sounds return but you don’t sense it coming from your body, so you tiredly turn around to see him stroking himself, gazing on your pussy with such determination. Despite your fatigue, you can’t help but stare in awe as he preps himself. He smiles lazily at you when he notices your stare, then he slowly rubs his tip against your slit, lathering all of your wetness. “Too tired to take me?” 

Your mind doesn’t register what he’s saying, shuddering at the sensation of his tip slightly stretching you out, a curious urge to just push back into him. But you’re a mess, embarrassingly cowering into the embroidered cushions, dried tears settling on your cheeks and there’s no care for the smell of oil paint drying up.

Satoru tuts at your lack of response, pushing further in with no intention of letting you adjust, and your shuddering gasps repeat one after the other, until he’s pushing you back into him entirely. The cushions slightly tear when you grip tightly, scratching against the material as he finally sinks as far as he can without hurting you just yet—paying great attention to the way you react. “Satoru…”

“Satoru?” He repeats, chuckling at the informality. You’re too wrecked to even understand why he’s amused but you mindfully tell yourself to never repeat his name out loud, scared that he’ll draw a line, despite jumping over every single line you’ve drawn for yourself. He doesn’t move any faster, sinuously fucking into you with a slow, agonising pace and leans forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, placing an enduring kiss that stings. “You can say my name all you want, only if you promise to scream it for me.”

When he abruptly slams into you, those shuddered gasps turn into croaked moans, hands clambering to the cushions to balance yourself as he relentlessly fucks into you. He feeds off of your responses, but he’s losing himself in the warmth of your walls, chasing the filthy, lewd noises that reverberate when he pounds his cock into you. Satoru is lost—in a world of his own, murmuring how he fits into you perfectly, how your pussy creams around him and calls you all sorts of names, playing with every part of your body as you attempt to stifle your own moans with the cushion. “Satoru—fuck—!”

“Louder,” he groans, bracing himself against the couch for a better angle, shuffling you so that he can place his foot on the floor. His pace fastens mercilessly, the resonances of his hips smacking into yours gets louder, consistently ending with an obscene squelch and he’s fucking you so good that you’re senselessly crying into the cushions.

Unimpressed by your attempt at muffling your moans, his hand slides up your back until it’s slipping around your neck, forcing your head up and he thrusts in—hard. 

“Satoru!” You embarrassingly moan—nearly screaming the palace down and he couldn’t be any more satisfied. 

“That’s right. Let them know who’s fucking you like this.” He responds, leaning forward to lick your neck–an inhumane sense of stamina he has, never slowing down to even let you recoup, tightening his hand around your neck to earn choked gasps from you while his tongue licks a strip against your cheek, tasting the saltiness of your tears. Completely and utterly destroyed, you turn to face him, surprised with a wet kiss being placed on your lips, tongue playing your parted lips as he continues to draw out your orgasm.

The fullness of his cock pounds into all of your clenching, the tip slowly—just slowly sinking in further, until he’s brushing into corners that edge towards a soreness you strangely like. He keeps teasing you, making fun of your reactions, enjoying the way you wince and give into him. Mockingly, he asks. “Am I really fucking you that good?” 

He knows he is.

“Ye— yes, so good,” you stupidly murmur, lapsing into the way his hand on your hips slips in front of your clit. You want more—so much more. “Fuck—it’s so good.”

 Then the door opens. 

“Oh—”

A loud gasp escapes you, briefly looking up to see an unfamiliar man holding beverages standing by the door, completely horrified by the sight. Satoru’s momentarily distracted, slackening his grip on your neck, allowing you to cower into the cushions again, and you try to move away from him. He only pauses, unmoving—his cock twitching inside of your clenching walls, causing him to groan when you lose control around him and pulls your hips back. The random individual stills, unsure of what to do and the silence irritates Satoru.

“Can I help you?”

“I have some beverages for you,” the servant nervously utters. Satoru instills a fear in him—it seemed like his character is nothing like you imagined. You also never imagined you’d be caught with his cock inside of you. 

“You can place it on the table.” Satoru nonchalantly responds, running his large hand across your sweaty back. Amused by your embarrassed state, he begins playing with your clit, eliciting muffled moans from you again, with no care that the servant is still in the room. The servant attempts to hurriedly walk out of the room, but an incoherent noise escapes you, utterly horrified that he’ll tell everyone about what he’s seen. Satoru oddly senses your apprehension again. “What’s wrong?”

“What if he tells everyone?” You softly whisper, refusing to show your face. 

“He won't say anything…will you?” He says, slowly motioning his hips until he’s so far deep. 

“No—no, of— of course not.”

“Good. If I hear even a whisper within this palace, I’ll know who to blame.” He says, sternly. He’s insane. Everything you hate—using his power to get whatever he wants.

Gojo Satoru always gets what he wants. 

“Unless you plan on watching like a pervert, get out of my sight.” 

The door quickly thuds, and you’re too humiliated to even understand what just happened. You wonder how Satoru must’ve looked, if he looked stern and almost murderous, but you’re too busy recoiling into the sheets, overstimulated and embarrassed that he has you like this. 

“Now…where were we?” He says, stretching out your cheeks to watch you clench against his cock. “Oh right—” 

His hand returns to your neck but this time he’s pressing your head into the cushions and his thumb carelessly slips into your mouth, making you drool against it, resuming his unremittingly fast pace. Your incoherent moans are muffled by his thumb pressing on your tongue, almost blubbering against your excessive drooling and he falls back into his mean words, slamming his hips into you so hard that it hurts.

You can feel it—it’s coming, his cock is fucking into you so good and you want nothing more than to come all over him, but he won’t let you breathe. You’re so embarrassed, succumbing to the way he fills you up even when you were just caught. 

“It’s funny, isn’t it? How quickly people lose themselves.” He rambles on, frequently groaning when you tighten around him. “I really thought you had some self-control, but you’ve ended up right here, drooling over my cock like a whore—”

“Satoru—” you manage to muffle.

“I knew from the moment I saw you,” he utters, insistently rubbing your clit to draw your orgasm. “Do you want to be my whore? I’ll keep you. Use me all you want for your little projects, and I’ll use you too.”

You must be going insane, but the idea doesn’t sound remotely bad to you at all—if it means having him fuck you like this, you’ll take it, you’ll take it all. Then he slips out of you, yanking you back by your hair to make you fall against the backrest and you gape upon his fucked-out state, watching as he strokes his cock, but it’s nothing compared to the mess he’s made of you. Your legs are still spread out for him, aching as he momentarily rips your orgasm away from you. 

“Please…”

Satoru smirks, leaning his arm next to your head as he continues to stroke himself. He brushes his tip along your clit again, in awe of all the excessive cum that you’ve produced for him. “Please fuck you? I’m not usually this nice, but I suppose you’ve finally realised your place.”

When his tip falls upon your entrance again, his arms rest under your knees, placing your legs in the air, and slams into you with a loud, lewd squelch. His damp forehead, white strands sticking to it, lightly thuds against yours, hot breaths mingling as he thrusts so profoundly that it completely ruins you. This angle, that strains your legs, lets him sink as deep as he can and he moves so fluidly that he repeatedly hits against your spot just right.

You can’t help but observe his concentrated look, focusing on fucking you so good that your thighs shake fervently against his arms. He notices, flashing you another lazy smile, and the sight hurts your heart, almost overriding the feeling of him pounding into you rigorously.  

“Has anyone told you how good you fucking feel? It’s like you’re sucking me in,” he says, panting as moments go by, utterly losing his mind. You’re too delirious to even respond, but he takes your silence as an answer. “Maybe you’re just meant for me, hm? All for me.” 

“Oh…—!” 

The sensation creeps up on you like an unwanted guest, an odd cry within you that doesn’t want any of this to end, because every now and then, he’ll slow down to keep you from coming.

“Won’t you wait for your prince?” He teases breathlessly, slipping out to play with your cum, making a mess before thrusting into your pulsating walls again. He decides teasing you is enough, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him too and as much he wants to come inside of you—he can’t risk such a careless action. His hands anchor your legs to the backrest, propelling into you as fast as he can.

The obscenity could be heard from the servants walking around outside—slapping, squelching, blatant moans and the couch, no matter how finely anchored it is to the floor, creaks against his fluid motions. 

“Hold your legs up.” He softly orders, and you listen, replacing his hands and uncomfortably holding your legs up, much to Satoru’s content. He slows down, intensely observing the cum that leaks out of your entrance, gradually slipping back inside, eliciting an intense shudder from you when his hand glides across your neck, tightening his grip. 

“Satoru!” You embarrassingly choke through his hand squeezing your neck, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm cruelly washes over you and he’s using his free hand to messily rub your clit, little spurts of cum splashing over his stomach when you come.

“So messy…” He tuts, but you both know, he loves it. The way you frantically tremble against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your constant clenching doesn’t save you from the way he bullies your sensitive spot, forcing you to spill over him excessively. You fear his urge to keep going as he fucks you through your orgasm, clambering to grab at his hand that tightly grasps your neck, voicelessly urging him to stop. 

Your voice fails you, unintelligible moans leaving you until he finally slows down, slipping out and caressing himself again. Looking at you with the greatest intention of devouring you. He looks ethereal staring down at you as you convulse against the most overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had. 

Then he coarsely speaks. “Open your mouth.” 

You thoughtlessly listen, parting your lips as he buries his hand in your hair, bringing your mouth to his tip as he continues to lewdly lather all of your cum on his cock. You’re embarrassingly eager, but you lay out your tongue when he taps his tip against your bottom lip, staring as he readily chases his own orgasm.

Cursing under his breath, he stares in awe of your unkempt state, so eager to take all of his cum and he does so, all over your tongue, and your face, and chest—until he’s spilled all of him over you, noisily groaning. You mindlessly curse at the messiness, but you’re too gone to even complain, still twitching from your orgasm.

“Huh, the sun’s gone.” He nonchalantly mutters. You don’t even notice the dark skies, the quiet chirping and the odd shuffling that occurs outside of this room. Satoru suddenly kneels down, letting your head rest on his shoulder while your fatigued state tries to recover, running his large hands across your back. 

“Have to… finish…– painting.” You mumble against his shoulder. 

“You’ve done enough.” He responds, grabbing your chin to make you look at him. You never fail to fall into his eyes, wondering what it would be like to actually drown in them—you wouldn’t mind at all. He collects the tissue box that you previously tried to give to him, placing it on your lap. “Clean yourself up.” 

“What… you won’t lick this off me?” You manage to muster sarcastically, earning an amused chuckle from Satoru. “I guess chivalry really is dead.” 

A knock disrupts the comfortable silence. It must be Nanami, drawing a long sigh from you, tiredly wiping all of the mess that’s on you. “Same thing tomorrow then?” 

You look at him in disbelief, momentarily forgetting that this is just the first of several sessions. “Will you promise to stay still this time?” 

He doesn’t answer, an impish grin etching across his face. 

extra

It had been months since those sessions. You remembered less of the actual painting because the mere sensation of his cock had clouded all of your memories. So, when your several guests are asking you about your piece, besotted by the details and the interpretative messages, you can’t help but observe the man in it.

Was it odd to miss him? Or was it his touch that had completely shackled him to your memory? You don’t know, but looking at this piece over and over again, constantly reminded of his character and his touch was taking its toll on you, unable to explain the process or the meaning to your engrossed guests. 

The sensible chatter among the guests in the royal exhibition suddenly ends, turning into hushed whispers as they collectively turn towards the large entrance. 

You follow their gaze, after being so stupidly absorbed in your own piece. The royal family walk through the cleared-out path elegantly, gesturing towards the guests that are so entranced by them, but your eyes are already trying to look for Satoru, whose white hair effortlessly peaks through the numerous guards momentarily surrounding them.

He’s so grand, tall and alluring that the sight of the royal family immediately blurs when he steps into your line of your vision, he doesn’t notice you just yet, clearly bored by the entire ordeal. His drifting gaze looks among the crowd, a clear hint of disdain directed towards them until his eyes land on the painting.

Your painting. 

Following the details, a small smile creeps on his lips, and slowly his gaze falls upon you, a delicious smirk etched across his face. 

Your breath senselessly hitches at his gaze, cowering and fretfully making sure that no one could notice the way he was looking at you. You immediately turn away, not allowing yourself to repeat the same thoughts that landed you under him on several occasions in the first place—focusing your attention on the interested guests when the family disperses.

Satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s creeping up behind you, mindfully listening to the way you explain the piece to the observers, but his appearance alone is enough to distract everyone, causing them to direct their attention towards him. Slowly, you turn to face him, greeting him calmly and hoping he doesn’t sense your uneasiness. 

He does. 

“It’s quite the piece, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. I think it’s beautiful.” A random observer quickly responds, clearly keen on getting his attention. You have to remind yourself that you’re not the only one he has wrapped around his finger. 

“All thanks to Y/N.” He says, staring playfully at you. 

“Thank you.” You reply timidly, shrinking at the fact that you’ve reverted back to forming boundaries. Though, it has been months and you’re mindfully hoping he’ll cross that line again. 

“I’d like to discuss something with you,” he asks, cutting the discussion short way too early, almost suspiciously even—feigning interest over the topic of art, but really, he just wants to get you alone, so he looks up in contempt at the group of guests still weirdly staring at him.  “—in private.” 

The guests silently disperse, leaving the both of you alone. His stare, no matter how familiar, still manages to make you uneasy so you turn to the painting, Satoru shortly following your action. He’s amused at your attempt to look as discreet as possible, but his hand is already trying to tug at your fingers, craving some form of contact after such long, tedious months. You’re both still quite immersed in the piece, pretending that there’s nothing strange going on.

“Have you explored the rest of the museum? It’s beautiful.” He says, feigning ignorance to his suggestive tone. 

“Is it?” You reply casually, pretending that your heart isn’t about to jump out of your chest. 

“Yeah, I could show you around.” He says cheekily, looking down at you but you refuse to part your gaze from the painting, afraid you’ll raise suspicion among the guests. 

Biting your lip, you momentarily give it a thought. You eventually muster up the confidence to look at him again. “Only if you let me use you again—for my little projects of course.” 

His grin widens. “I can’t say no to that, can I?” 

a/n: ending things r like the hardest part lol . thank u for reading <3

Synopsis: Four university students have been murdered by a Ghostface killer. With the murders getting more vicious and frequent, you and your best friend Jungwon decide to spend the weekend indoors. He insists you stay over at his apartment with him and his two roommates;you would just be safer there.

Pairing: Ghostface!Heeseung x Female!Reader x Ghostface!Sunghoon

Warnings: DARK CONTENT. YANDERE HeeHoon. NONCON. Violence, murder, descriptions of murders, slight knife play, blood, slight blood play, degradation, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral (m+f), face fucking, choking, size kink, slapping, spit, breeding kink, angst, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 11k+

Author Note: Does this look familiar?! Yes! Have you read this before?! Probably. This was posted on my original blog "HH" (You may know me as "Honey", "little ducklings") This is a new start on a new blog, I'm sorry I left you so abruptly (especially since we had just hit 1k followers!) But, I hope you all find your way to our new home! See you there little ducklings baby bats!

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. YOU CAN HIT THE BACK BUTTON AT ANY TIME. MIND THE WARNINGS.

"There’s always two," Jungwon mumbled, watching the reporters swarm the Dean.

There was another murder Friday night. Still no leads, no clues, just a sighting of someone in a Ghostface mask.

You looked up from your textbook and saw his weary face staring in the direction of the press conference. You were supposed to spend the morning with your best friend Jungwon prepping for an English midterm. But his focus is on the media circus that’s invaded the University campus.

"Two what?" You asked highlighting a sentence from your textbook.

"Two killers. The reporters keep saying the murders have similarities to the Scream movies but no one is talking about how there’s always two Ghostface killers in the end." He sighed, picking at the dry skin around his fingernails.

After 10 years of friendship it was always easy to tell when he was nervous, he always fiddled with his fingers and chewed holes into his bottom lip. You put your highlighter down and gently grabbed his hand to distract him from his nervous picking.

"Not necessarily", you shrugged. "The third movie only had one killer." you smiled trying to joke but his worried expression didn’t falter. He just rolled his eyes and swatted your hand away from his.

Damn, he really is nervous. You had only seen Jungwon this rattled with nerves after his parents divorce when you were kids. That was also around the time your friendship really bloomed into a type of dependency on each other. You hadn’t left each other's side for more than two days at a time, switching classes to match schedules in highschool and now you were at the same University together. Platonic soulmates you two always say. 

"Why are you so worried Won? If this is really like those movies we are safe! The killers always targeted one friend group and not to be super insensitive but the people that have been murdered weren't our friends."

He looked at you while he chewed his bottom lip watching you as you spoke. "Wonnie, we don’t go to those parties and we aren't friends with people that do. We’ll be okay."

You grabbed his hand again, rubbing circles on his palm to help ground his nerves. Skinship always calmed him down. The situation was scary, but you weren’t worried. The first two murders took place at frat parties, the third one was after a football game, and the recent one was at make out point. Places you or Jungwon don’t frequent.

"But isn’t it kind of weird?" he asked, scooting closer to you. He looked around making sure no one was in an ear shot of your conversation. Before bringing his face closer to yours and staring into your eyes.

"Keeho, Mark, Yeji, and Winter were all murdered."

"Yeah and? What’s weird about that? They’re all in the same friend group like I said." You tried to focus your attention back on your textbook ignoring the loud yelling from the reporters signaling the press conference had begun.

"The same friend group that has been tormenting us since day one of university." He said shutting your textbook and turning your body to face him fully. He grabbed your hands and held them in his, he wanted you to take him seriously. 

That was true. Those four were pretty notorious for having a mean streak. But it wasn’t just targeted at you and Won. Lots of people were constantly on the end of their mean words and cruel jokes. They were the typical rich kids who thought their parents' money made them better than everyone else, partying and drinking every weekend, with the mindset that rules didn’t apply to them. 

"They tormented lots of people Won, stop overthinking or you’ll get stress wrinkles." You mused, smoothing his brown hair down and kissing the tip of his nose. He smiled showing off the dimples you loved so much. He bumped his forehead against yours, "I’m just saying,"

He looked back at the reporters as they started to talk about what they knew about the latest murder victim that happened over the weekend, Keeho.

"I hope no one we know is Sydney fucking Prescott in this scenario." 

“Don’t worry Wonnie, no one we know is that exciting.” you joked tapping his knee, “come on cutie, we’ll be late for class.” Standing up from the courtyard table you stuffed your work into your backpack and extended your hand out for Jungwon to take. 

“As if I can focus with all this going on.” He grumbled wrapping his larger hand around yours. 

Walking into the classroom you found your usual seats next to each other and started prepping for the lecture. Out of your peripheral you saw Choi Yeonjun take the empty seat to the right of you. “Hey, bunny” A small smile gracing his pretty face and pouty lips. The cute nickname he had given you the first day you moved into your dorm. You had accidentally knocked into him with a box of your belongings causing your favorite item from home to tumble to the ground. He didn’t tease you, despite Keeho being there and making fun of you for bringing a stuffed animal to college, Yeonjun only smiled and picked up the white plush bunny from the ground and kindly offered to take the box up to your dorm for you. 

“Hey Junnie, how was your weekend?” You smiled, turning your chair to face him.

“Kind of boring actually, did you hear about Keeho?” He asked, adjusting the black rimmed glasses on his face. Such a cute nerd. 

“Of course, everyones talking about it.” They news said they found him hanging from a tree limb in the woods behind the campus at a known make out spot. He was supposedly disemboweled like Drew Barrymore’s character in the first Scream movie. He was a jerk, but no one deserves to die like that. How can someone even stomach doing something like that? 

“Yeah..my little brother Gyu tried to tell him not to go out alone so late at night but he was too egotistical to listen.” He sighed leaning back in chair. Gyu and Keeho were best friends from what you heard, which was odd considering how many times Keeho stole Yeonjun’s glasses and tripped him in the halls.

“He’s always been one to do..whatever he wants.” You say trying not to come off a little bitter at the end. He chuckled softly, knowing what you were trying not to say. “He was an asshole, it's okay to say it.” He mused nudging your arm playfully. You cracked a soft smile, “no comment.”

He smiled and scooted his chair closer to yours. You spent the last few weeks since the ‘bunny’ incident getting closer to Yeonjun. You had a few study sessions together, and texted each other everyday. He was an absolute sweetheart and never made you feel uncomfortable. He was also incredibly shy, the one time his hand accidentally brushed against your thigh he couldn’t even look you in the eye. He was a blushing stuttering mess the rest of the study date. 

“So I was thinking..maybe we could hang out this weekend. How about we go out Friday night?”

Younjun’s cheeks were tinted pink and he was fiddling with his fingers in his lap avoiding looking into your eyes. He was afraid your answer would be no, or even worse you would laugh straight in his face. 

Jungwon scoffed and mumbled something under his breath, his face never leaving his laptop as he overheard the conversation. You mentally reminded yourself to kick him for that later. Jungwon was definitely the protective brother figure in your life, no guy was ever good enough for you according to him. He took care of you after too many loser guys broke your heart, and he didn’t want that happening again. 

“Oh? What would we do?” leaning toward him propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin in the palm of your hand staring at him playfully. “We can keep it classic? Dinner, movie, and see where the night takes us.” He smiled, “but we can do whatever you want. I’d be fine with whatever you decide Bunny.”  

You scooted your chair closer to him and grabbed his fiddling hands the same way you do for Jungwon. You were close enough to smell his cologne and see the cute beauty mark he had under his right eye beneath his glasses, it was making you dizzy. He was so undeniably cute. “Well..”

Professor Jang walked in and started his usual morning greeting. You pulled apart from each other and straightened your chair to put you back facing the front of the classroom.“I get to pick the movie.” you whispered to Junnie keeping your eyes facing to the front of the classroom. You saw the grin spread on his face out of the corner of your eye, “of course bunny.” 

“You shouldn’t be alone with him..” Jungwon whispered as you left class waving bye to Yeonjun. “Why not? Junnie’s a sweetheart, and your bestie is in a dry spell.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. He wrinkled his nose and laughed, “TMI..but seriously. With Ghostface running around killing people, it's not a good idea.” He was shaking his head. “I mean, what if he is the one...”

“Won, don’t finish that sentence. Yeonjun is a sweetheart, he could never do anything like that..” you huff growing slightly annoyed at what he was insinuating. How could he even think that? Yeonjun wouldn’t even step on the flowers outside, much less butcher someone.  He picked up on the shift in your demeanor quickly, he didn’t want to upset you but he doesn’t trust anyone right now, especially with you. 

“I’m sorry babe..I just don’t think it's safe.” He opens the exit door for you letting you walk out first. “I don’t want you mad at me Y/N, it’s just..I couldn’t live without you.” You stop walking at his soft voice and sighed. You wrap your arms around your best friend's waist, “I couldn’t live without you either, Wonnie.”

He rests his chin atop your head and hugs you back. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your potential new relationship, he just didn’t trust your safety in the hands of someone who couldn’t even throw a punch. Jungwon wasn’t a fighter himself but he’s never been afraid to get his knuckles bloody for you. He’s done it four times. 

 “I just want you to be safe.” He whispers in your hairline. You nod understanding his reasoning, you pull away to look up at him, “I’ll take your concerns into consideration Wonnie, but I really like Yeonjun..” He sighed and ruffled your hair, “I know. You have that dopey lovesick grin on your face everytime you see him.”

“I DO NOT!” You very much do. 

Thursday morning was only good for one thing, treating yourself to pastries and lattes before an obnoxiously early history class with Jungwon. Whoever decided to teach history at seven thirty am was a menace. But these early morning meetings with Wonnie at seven am to eat sugary foods and get loaded on caffeine were moments you wouldn’t trade for the world.

When you arrive at the coffee house he’s already sitting at your usual table with his nose buried in his book when you arrive. Your usual latte waiting for you as well as three chocolate chip scones to share. “Good morning sunshine!” He beams as you sit down across from him. “Way too early for all your energy Wonnie..” you grumbled drinking the warm latte. He just smiled knowing this version of you all too well. 

“HE DID IT AGAIN! GHOSTFACE KILLED AGAIN” a loud yell startles you. Looking out the large window, students are running out of the science lab screaming. Panic started filling the coffee house, not knowing what the man that yelled meant, people started to assume Ghostface must be lingering around.

Jungwon stood up quickly and grabbed you by pulling you to him, backing you against the nearest wall, “people are panicking and you could get hurt.” 

He was right, people were running around and knocking into each other to get out of the shop. The small courtyard outside was a mess of students running and crying. Police cars and ambulances were speeding in and the loud sirens only added to the loud chaos. “Do you think he's here..” you asked, watching the scene of chaos unfold in front of you. “I-I don’t know..Let’s get out of here, before it gets worse.”

He wraps his arm around your waist pulling you with him, you both leave the coffee house, “let’s go back to your dorm it's closer.” He’s pulling you tightly against him maneuvering you both around the mass of running students. 

“Y/N!!” 

You snap your head to the familiar voice of your roommate Jen. “Wonnie wait, it’s Jen.” You stop him from walking and point to your roommate running toward you. She stumbles in front of you both, crying as she throws her arms around you. You catch her and look at Won giving him a look signaling you weren’t sure what to do. Jungwon wrapped his other arm around her and moved you both away from the center of the courtyard. He dragged you two behind the coffee house to let her catch her breath. 

She looked at him and cried into his chest, “I saw-I saw the room..there was so mu-much b-blood..who could do this..” she was wailing as Wonnie held her tighter, shushing her softly to try and soothe her. 

“What do you mean..What happened Jen..” You latch onto her side to help comfort her. Jen also had an early class on Thursday, Chemistry. The building everyone was running and screaming out of was the same building your roommate was in.

“The professor found him in the science lab..his throat was slit..they said he was ne-nearly decapitated..and st-stabbed..as if it's not horrible enough to almost decapitate him but to stab him over and over..”She sobbed harder against Jungwon. 

“D-did you see the body Jen..”you asked, rubbing her back. 

“I didn’t see the body..but there was so much blood Y/N..so much of it..it covered the whole room..” Her eyes were frantic and she couldn’t focus, it was as if she was searching for the killer around you three. 

“Do you know who it was?” you ask, brushing the hair stuck to her wet cheeks away from her face. She was quiet and gripped Jungwon’s shirt tighter and tried to ground herself. “Jen?..” Her face was apprehensive and she swallowed hard before grabbing your hand. 

“Yeonjun..” she whispered looking at you knowing the pain it was about to cause you.

Jungwon tenses up and you could see the color leave his face as he looked at you. The tears started to pour out of you before your brain could process what Jen just said. There was a loud ringing in your ears, and it felt like everything around you froze for just a split second. 

Choi Yeonjun..was..dead…?

Your breaths became shallow as you started to sink to the floor unable to hold your weight.

“Whoa, baby breathe..you’re okay. I’m here and you’re safe..breathe baby..” Jungwon gently detached from Jen and caught you in his arms before your knees hit the gravel.

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, “match my breathing baby, come on. You’ll make yourself vomit if you keep crying like this.”

You hadn’t realized how hard you were sobbing, hiccuping as you struggled to breathe. You just saw Junnie yesterday..and now..now he's gone? Just like that? No goodbye..no final hug..no more comforting smells of his cedarwood cologne..he was dead. Someone murdered him..he must have been so scared..Junnie…

You clung harder to Jungwon, he let you break down in his arms. Your loud wailing hitting straight to his heart, he knew how much you liked Yeonjun, it‘s killing him to see you this way. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you cry this hard before, and it terrifies him. Jen slumped against the wall covering her face with her hands, she couldn’t handle your wails only making her sob harder. 

Jungwon let you both cry for a few more minutes before deciding he needed to get you both away from this mess. Being around here would make it worse, not to mention the large van labeled ‘Coroner’ was just arriving on the scene. He couldn’t let you see Yeonjun get taken away in a body bag. “Come on, let's get you guys back to your dorm. You both need some space away from here.” 

He helped you up and grabbed Jen’s hand and led you away keeping your back turned away from the scene. He supported both of your weights as he walked you to your shared dorm, which thankfully was only half a block away. He watched you struggle to keep your composure for a few minutes before deciding to send Jen ahead to open the room. He lifted you carefully into his arms and carried you the rest of the way back to your room. 

He placed you on your small twin size bed, taking your shoes off and wrapping you in one of your soft blankets. Your sobs died down, but your tears never stopped. You were barely blinking and it scared the fuck out of him. You looked broken. He kissed your forehead. “Take a nap baby, I’ll stay with you..you need to sleep. Your body needs to rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He stayed repeating soft words to you, running his fingers through your hair. Your little whines and hiccups dying down as you let the mental exhaustion take over. 

This was a nightmare. 

You heard soft movements and whispers breaking your dream state. Opening your swollen eyes you adjust to your surroundings. You slept the entire day away, seeing the sun starting to set from your window. The reality hitting you again of what happened a few hours prior. This wasn’t a nightmare and Yeonjun really was gone.

You looked around the room and saw Jungwon was packing your duffle bag and Jen was on her side of the room packing a suitcase. “What’s going on?” Your voice is sore and hoarse. You sit up from your bed confused. 

“I can’t..I can’t stay here. I want to see my mom..I need to get away from here for a few days.” Jen whispered, zipping her suitcase shut. She looked at you sadly, she didn’t want to leave you in your state but she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t even take care of herself right now.

You nod understanding, “yeah, you should go.” Even though it pained you. It was selfish of you to want her to stay, you knew she saw the mess of the crime scene and she needed to get far away from this fucking University. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone..you’re staying with me until Jen comes back.” Jungwon smiled softly while packing your favorite sweater. What? You shook your head and frowned. “Won you have roommates, I don’t think they want some girl crashing at their place..”

“Heeseung and Sunghoon are fine with it, I called them while you were sleeping. And you're not some girl, you're my best friend” He cut you off while grabbing your toiletry bag and shoving it in the duffle and zipping it shut. He grabbed your sneakers and sat on the floor at the foot of your bed grabbing your legs to help put your shoes on. 

“I don't want to intrude, Wonnie..”

“You’re not an intrusion, Y/N.” He sighs, tying your shoes tightly. He rests his forehead on your knee and takes a deep breath. “I’m not taking any risks, not with you..you’re not staying here. I’ll throw you over my shoulder if I have to.” He looks up at you and his eyes are glassed over and his bottom lip is quivering. He is trying so hard to keep it together for you, but he’s terrified. 

“Go with him, Y/N..please. It’s not safe here..” Jen sniffled, grabbing her suitcase from the bed. 

You didn’t want to worry either of them unnecessarily. Maybe a change of scenery would be good. You needed space and you needed to heal away from this place. “Are you sure it’s safe?” 

“Y/N,we have an off campus apartment. It's safer than here, baby..” 

“Are you sure they're okay if I stay?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome.” 

“Alright, I’ll go.”

You both walked Jen to her cab, Jungwon insisting on making sure she got into it safely. You hugged her tightly. “Text me when you get there, I love you.” You mumbled into her hair. You were both lucky that housing roomed you two together, you had been inseparable since move-in day. Only having been friends for a few short weeks you had grown to love and care for her. You wanted her safe, and she needed to get out of here.

“I love you too..stay close to Jungwon until I get back.” She whispered and kissed your cheek. She parted from you with a final hand squeeze and got in her cab and shut the door. She rolled down the window, “Keep our girl safe Wonnie.” 

“With my life.” He smiled softly, waving her off. 

You watched her cab drive off and wanted to cry again. A part of you felt like she wouldn’t come back, she packed for way more than a few days. But you couldn’t blame her, you couldn’t imagine what she had seen. You only hoped this wouldn’t be goodbye and you’d be reunited with her eventually. Jungwon grabbed your hand, breaking your thoughts, “come on.”

He tossed your duffle bag into the backseat of his car and opened his passenger door for you, helping you in and even buckling your seatbelt for you. He was treating you like glass, afraid you could break at any moment. You felt like glass, all you needed was one more thing to hit you and you’d break. Maybe you should go home too, but you could never leave Jungwon behind. You were the only family he had, aside from his roommates Heeseung and Sunghoon, and you didn’t know them well.

Jungwon met the two older guys in his computer class the first week of University, all three hitting it off instantly bonding over videogames. They offered their spare room to him after finding out Jungwon was sharing a single dorm room with three guys thanks to a housing mistake.

“It's been a while since you’ve seen Heeseung and Sunghoon. Heeseung is excited, he’s making your favorite for dinner, pasta.” He smiles starting the car. “At least he likes me, Sunghoon hates me..” You murmur leaning your head against the car window. The two times you met him at Jungwon’s apartment he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but near you. 

Sunghoon was polite, but he didn’t smile at you and he seemed tense the entire time, with his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. And any time he did look at you he had this unreadable hard expression on his face, it was unsettling. It made you feel like he didn’t want to be around you which is why you made every excuse to not hang out at Won’s place. 

Heeseung on the other hand was a sweetheart, his big bambi like eyes caught your attention first and he had you laughing all night. His infectious smile and dorky humor had you laughing all night. He was warm and inviting to be around. Also, very affectionate like Jungown, hugging you and ruffling your hair, even kissing your cheek goodnight on the way out. 

“He’s just shy, I promise he likes you. He just has to get to know you better is all” Jungwon smiled pulling out of the campus parking lot. You hummed softly and watched the traffic as Wonnie drove. You felt numb, at first you didn’t pay mind to these killings but now it was close to home..Ghostface took Yeonjun from you. It was personal. 

Thankfully, Jungwon’s apartment was only a twenty minute drive from the dorms. He grabbed your duffle and held your hand as you walked up the steps to the door. It was a cute little complex, Jungwon definitely got lucky to live in a place like this as a first year University student. You walked into their shared apartment and nervously smiled at the two tall boys in the living room playing a random video game on their flat screen.

“Hey Y/N! Welcome!” Heeseung stood up, pausing his game to wrap his arms around you tightly, “it’s been a while!” He was much taller than Jungwon, his body engulfed yours with his hug. It was comforting, something about Heeseung and Jungwon’s hugs felt safe. 

“Thanks for having me…” your eyes land on Sungoon who was sitting on the sofa still, manspreading with his phone in his hand texting. “It’s nice to see you Sunghoon..” you try to break the tension with the quiet boy.  “Hey.” his voice was monotone as he shifted his eyes from his screen to you, but only for a split second. 

“I'm glad you’re here. The University dorms aren't safe right now.” Heeseung sighed, rubbing the sides of your arms soothingly, “I’m um..I’m really sorry to hear about your friend..” 

You tensed and met his worried gaze, tears stinging your waterline. “I have to go to the bathroom..sorry..” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze and walking to Jungwon’s room before they could see you cry. You could hear Jungwon talk to Heeseung before you shut the door. Sitting on his bed you covered your mouth with your hand and cried trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. Fuck, this hurts so bad.

You stay like that for a few minutes trying to calm yourself, you knew Heeseung meant well, but hearing it makes it real. You weren’t ready to deal with it. 

The cell phone you keep in your pocket starts to vibrate, Jen must have made it home. Pulling it out you see the UNKNOWN NUMBER flash on your screen. Maybe it’s Jen? She’s notorious for letting her phone die and was always quick to use whoever's phone that’s around her. It could be her parents phone she’s calling from. 

“Hello? Jen?”

There’s a light static sound followed by a deep distorted chuckle, “hello, Bunny.”

The nickname had Yeonjun’s face flash in your brain before feeling the uncomfortable churn in your stomach. You were shaking, you clutched the phone harder in your hand turning your knuckles white.  

“I-I think you have the wrong number.”

“Oh, Bunny, bunny, bunny. What am I going to do with you?”

You felt all the air leave your lungs and your chest felt like it was caving in. Shaking your head, you hang up the phone and throw it on Jungwon’s dresser. No fucking way. This was not happening. Was that..Ghostface? That couldn’t be Ghostface. No way. 

Replaying the distorted voice saying ‘bunny’ over and over in your head was sending you spiraling. The once sweet nickname rolling off the tongue of the boy you wanted so badly was now being tainted by a monster. Choked sobs racked your body, how many more times could you break down before it was enough to kill you? How would he know that nickname? Nobody but Yeonjun ever called you that..was someone stalking you? Why is this happening? Oh, god..were you..next? 

Panic. 

“Wonnie?! Won?!” you yell sprinting out of the bedroom. Sunghoon watches you from the same spot on the couch with furrowed eyebrows as you frantically search the apartment for your best friend. Heeseung emerges from the kitchen in an apron and a mixing bowl full of salad in hand, “are you okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost..” Sunghoon says, cocking his head to the side with a small humorless smile. Wait..what? 

Jungwon walks into the apartment holding an empty laundry basket, "what's going on?" he asks as he sees your worried expression. He must have been in the laundry room. You run to him and wrap your arms around him tightly making him drop the basket, “please don’t leave me alone..” you softly beg still crying.

“Never baby, what’s wrong?” He asks gently, patting your hair and rubbing your back. You shake your head and bury your face in his neck. He doesn’t push it, he knows you’re vulnerable right now. He assumes your tears are for Yeonjun.

“Dinner is almost ready, Y/N. You should try to eat something and you can sleep, you need it.” Heeseung softly says walking back to check on the food he’s cooking. “He’s right baby, you haven’t eaten all day and your body must be exhausted.” Jungwon whispers kissing your temple. How could you eat? After that? After everything? Do you tell Jungwon about the call? 

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble looking up at him. 

“Oh come on, Y/N. You need to eat something,” Sunghoon’s voice startled you. You looked at him walking toward the kitchen, smirking at you, “you’ll need your strength.” 

A loud vibration disturbs your slumber. You groan and try to ignore it, but it keeps going. You reach over to feel for Jungwon but he’s not in bed. Opening your eyes and squinting at his alarm clock, 2:47 a.m. Looking at his side of the bed, it's empty. Where was he? You fell asleep together..

The loud buzzing catching your attention again, it's your phone on his dresser. It stops only for a few seconds before ringing again. Standing on shaky legs to walk to his dresser and pick it up but it stops ringing again. 7 missed calls. You jump when it starts vibrating again.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

It was obvious whoever this was wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. You weren’t going to be a part of this. You powered the phone off and shoved it in the top drawer. You couldn’t deal with this, you were going back home first thing in the morning. Fuck this school, fuck these shitty detectives that couldn’t find this asshole, just fuck everything. 

A harsh vibration startles you, causing you to jump and yelp. “Fuck!” 

Jungwon’s phone on his nightstand lights up and starts ringing. There’s no fucking way..But panic creeps up your neck. Where is Jungwon? Does Ghostface have Jungwon?...Why else would he call both your phones..

UNKNOWN NUMBER

You take a deep breath, you have to find Jungwon.

“Hello..?”

“Hello, Y/N. I want to play a game.” The voice distorted laughs. Your stomach drops, this is real. 

“I’m hanging up..”

“If you hang up, I’ll slit your precious Jungwon’s throat.”

“W-wonnie?!” Your voice came out shaky. Your worst fears become reality, Ghostface had Jungwon. 

Clutching the cell phone, you try to keep it together. You have to be strong. 

“Wh-where is he?”

You step out of the bedroom into the living room in hopes he's there and this is some cruel prank. But, it’s not. The living room is dark, only the street lights giving a warm orange glow around the quiet home. 

“I want to play a game, dumb baby.”

Your eyes land on Heeseung and Sunghoon’s closed bedroom doors, were they in danger too? Stepping forward to Heeseung’s door you reach out to grab the door knob. “If you touch that door I’ll kill your ‘Wonnie’ right now.” The distorted voice spat, making you freeze in place.

The realization that Ghostface could see you made you panic more. Frantically looking around the dark home for any sign of him. Walking in circles in hopes to see something, anything. “What do you want from me!?” You yell into the phone sobbing.  

“I told you dumb baby, I want to play a game.”

There was no getting out of this, but you had to try. Jungwon wouldn’t abandon you and you wouldn’t abandon him. “F-fine. But..but only if Jungown is safe.”

“He’ll be safe, as long as you win the game.”

“What game?” your voice barely whispers as you stand in the center of the living room. A loud creak from Won’s bedroom catches your breath in your throat.“...it's called catch the dumb baby”

Pure fear and adrenaline courses through your body carrying your feet faster than you could think and you run toward the front door. Throwing it open and screaming, there he was, Ghostface stood hovering over you. In his classic black robe and the famous scream mask covered in dirt and speckles of dried blood. His head was tilted to the side, he had a syringe in hand, he shook his head looking at you.

“Dumb baby, you lose.”

Taking a cautious step back, you bump into a hard figure, turning your head only slightly only to see another Ghostface mask out of your peripheral vision. Standing just as tall as the one blocking the front door. 

Fuck

It all happened so fast, before you could blink or open your mouth to scream for help, the one behind you grabbed you, covering your mouth and pinning your arms to your side with one of his long arms. He maneuvered your face upward harshly exposing your neck to the Ghostface with the syringe. You felt the pin prick in your neck and your body slumped against the one holding you. Whatever they gave you was fast acting and you lost all movement in legs and arms. You slump against the Ghostface holding you, unable to stand on your feet. 

I failed you Wonnie..I’m so sorry.

Your sobs are muffled behind his gloved hand, feeling yourself slowly slip away from reality.

Cold, that’s the first thing you felt. Your limbs feel heavy, mouth dry and head full of eye burning pressure. Everything is blurry and the only thing your vision can make out is the mattress on the floor you’ve been placed on, laid on your side. Realizing you’re also fully nude you try to move your limbs to cover your body and give it some warmth but they’re too heavy to move under whatever sedation they gave you. 

“Our pretty girl is finally awake.” 

Snapping your head to the bottom of the mattress your vision can make out the two figures standing at the edge. Their voices are no longer distorted but the masks are still on. 

“Dumb baby made it too easy,” 

Wait..that voice..He took his mask off first, shaking his hair out of his face. Bambi eyes fully drinking you in. It was terrifying how quickly the doe eyes you trusted narrowed darkly. No signs of innocence, just wild, black, and hungry. Heeseung..Heeseung was Ghostface, he’s the one that drugged you.

Looking at the other Ghostface figure, you already knew who it had to be..He took his mask off, throwing it to the side, a wide smile showing his fangs to you. The first time you had actually seen him smile with his teeth. The smile was anything but friendly. It was deranged and held no humor or comfort behind it. Sunghoon.

“What the fuck..” Your voice cracked and raw, it hurt to talk “Why..I trusted you..Won-wonnie trusted you.”

“Why? God, I hate that fucking question.” Sunghoon snorted, removing the black Ghostface robe off his body, leaving him shirtless and in black denim jeans. He really did, it pissed him off. They all sounded the same when he killed them, why me? What did I do? Why are you doing this? Blah, blah, blah. 

“Does there really have to be a reason why?” Heeseung smiled, nose wrinkling. How could someone that looked as sweet as Heeseung do something like this?

“Stop teasing her Heeseung. We had a good reason to kill each one of those assholes, pretty girl, do you really want all the gory details?” Sunghoon smirked, cocking an eyebrow. You shook your head, you were already on the verge of puking. You didn’t want to know. 

“Are you sure? Because...there was a special one in particular.. we had a really good reason why he had to die.” Heeseung said in a sing song voice. 

Sunghoon dropped his smile and glared at Heeseung, they agreed not to bring him up. Not that he cared about him, or regretted it, he just didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be. Heeseung could feel Sunghoon’s glare on him, he didn’t care. It broke his heart when you agreed to that date, Heeseung spent the whole day crying and screaming when he found out. Really? Choi fucking Yeonjun.

You hurt him, and he wanted to hurt you back. 

Heeseung dropped his body on the mattress and crawled down next to where you were laying and caressed your face gently, “you definitely should have turned down that date with that loser Yeonjun.” Heeseung said in a whisper. Despite the soft voice he used he was boiling in anger at saying that fuckers name. Heeseung took great pleasure in slitting that motherfucker's throat. He never liked getting messy, letting Sunghoon take most of the credit when it came to the murders, but when he heard you were going on a date with Choi fucking Yeonjun he wanted that kill. He craved it. You signed that poor bastard's death warrant when you said yes. Dumb baby. 

God, the way his eyes looked when his blade went into his neck sent him on the most euphoric high he had ever been on. He didn’t mean to cut his neck so deep, but fuck, how dare that motherfucker even think he had the slightest chance to have you. Even watching him bleed out and choke on his blood wasn’t enough, he had to suffer. Driving his blade into his chest over and over until Sunghoon had to physically pull him off of that stupid fucker. 

“You killed him..you killed Yeonjun..” you cried. You were the reason he was dead, it was your fault. “Oh god..Junnie..” You wanted to die, you didn’t deserve to live. You wanted to trade places with Yeonjun, he didn’t deserve that..How could Heeseung do something so vile?

His nickname has Heeseung seeing red. You dumb baby, are you really crying in front of me over him?! He grabbed his knife. “Heeseung,” Sunghoon warned. He wasn’t listening. He pushed your body flat down on the mattress and straddled your waist in a matter of seconds. He held his blade against your neck, the same one he used on him, he was shaking with anger. You had never seen this side of him, the snarl on his face, his eyes wild and black, his honey skin turning red, he was terrifying.  

“What the fuck did you call him?” He pressed the knife harder against your skin, you cried out feeling the blade break skin. He watched his knife tear a thin layer into your skin, blood seeping out. Not enough to cause any major damage, just barely tearing through the first layer of skin. “Do I have to carve my name into your fucking skin so you know who you fucking belong to?!” He was screaming at you only inches from your face. 

“Enough, Heeseung! Get off of her.” Sunghoon grabbed him by the back of his neck, shoving him aside. Heeseung always got a little too emotional when it came to you. Sunghoon had to keep him level headed or else any person who even accidentally looked in your direction would end up dead. 

“Forgive him, pretty girl.” He kneeled next to you, “he’s just protective of you” Sunghood smiled wiping your falling tears. His fingers grazed the line Heeseung made on your throat, coating the tips of them with your blood. He brought them to his lips and licked them clean. He couldn’t resist, his body and soul desired to taste every part of you. The scene makes you want to gag in disgust. 

Heeseung rubbed his temples and sighed, he didn’t mean to scare you. He looked at you apologetically. “Sorry sweetheart..I just don’t like you saying his name. You belong to us…and the thought of any guy touching or looking at what’s mine..makes me insane.” He leaned down to your neck and placed soft kisses on the cut he made. “Seungie will kiss it all better.” He mumbled against your skin. 

You laid there emotionless. Had you missed the signs of their obsession? Did you ever say something that gave them the wrong idea? You barely talked to them, why? Why is this happening?

You were trapped here, Yeonjun was dead because of you and Jungwon is missing because of you. It was all your fault.

“You know, pretty girl, I heard from a little bird that you think I hate you,” Sunghoon mused, twirling pieces of your hair around his fingers. He pushed Heeseung’s face off of your neck and climbed on top of you, caging you with his arms on either side of your face. You looked so scared and helpless underneath him and it was only turning him on even more.

“I don’t hate you, pretty girl, in fact I love you. I love you so much it's scary. I crave you. I want every part of you. I want to fucking break every part of you so we’ll be the only ones you’ll ever need.” 

You just stared up at him as he spoke, you had never seen this side of him before. The stone features he always gave you were replaced by lustful eyes and a giddy smile on his face. “Do you know how hard it was to watch you all this time and not act on all of the things I dreamed about doing to you?”

Heeseung was lying next to you on his side, propping his head on his hand while watching Sunghoon stare down at you. Finally, you were here, they had you right where they wanted you. Everything they did was for you, their girl. “It’s true, we’ve talked about this for so long and now you’re finally here. It’s almost like a dream come true.” Heeseung hummed tracing your delicate facial features with his fingers. 

“Wh-what are you going to do to me..” your broken voice going straight to their cocks. 

“Now that..pretty girl..is a good fucking question.” Sunghoon smiled leaning down rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Their “affectionate” touches felt anything but sweet. “What are we going to do with her Seung?” his voice condescending. 

Heeseung chuckled softly and placed wet open mouth kisses on your shoulder down your arms, “I don’t even know where to start..but I’m growing impatient here..” Heeseungs’s hips grinded against your bare thigh and you could feel his hardening cock in his sweats. Fuck, he needed to calm down or he was going to cum before they even got to the good part. 

“Me too..our pretty girl has kept us waiting long enough.” Sunghoon smirks and kisses the corner of your mouth. Licking the streaks of wet tears on your cheeks. Reality hits you like lightning and your fight or flight finally kicks in at the realization. They’re going to rape you..

There was no way in hell you could take on two grown men, especially in your state, but you couldn’t go down without somewhat of a fight. You couldn't control your limbs, you could only twitch the tips of your fingers but you could roll your head, maybe that would be enough. Maybe.

You jerk your head as hard as you can toward Sunghoon’s face since he was closest to your head, it wasn’t a lot of force. But your forehead made direct contact with his nose, not enough to break but enough that had a few drops of blood trickle out and land on your cheek, he let out a slight groan from his throat. 

Heeseung scoffed a laugh and shook his head. If you thought he was bad when he was mad..you weren’t ready for Sunghoon, “dumb baby, that was stupid of you.”

Sunghoon wiped the blood from his nose on the back of his hand before making eye contact with you again, his gaze was unreadable which made it more scary. His hand shoots out at you and harshly grabs your neck and squeezes, cutting off your air supply abruptly. He brought your your face closer to his, “I was going to be nice and take it slow with you pretty girl, but you fucked that up..” His voice is low and slow as his demeanor shifted.

You couldn’t breathe and your face was turning red from the lack of oxygen, your choking sounds and wet cheeks only turning Sunghoon on more. Wet gurgling sounds, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t even lift your arms to try and pry him off of you. Fuck, he needed to get his cock into you fast. He let your neck go but before you could catch your breath he slapped you, with so much force it jerked your head to the side.

“Hoon, we agreed not her face!” Heeseung scoffed, grabbing your face softly placing soft kisses against the cheek Hoon backhanded you on. Heeseung was all for forceful punishment to keep you in your place, but never on your face. He told Sunghoon that, never your face, any other part of your body was fair game.  

“I didn’t agree to shit Heeseung, if she’s going to act like a fucking brat I’m going to treat her like one.” Sunghoon moved his body up, carefully placing his knees on both sides of your arms hovering over your chest, careful to not drop any of his weight on you. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them low enough to release his aching cock from its restraint. 

You turned your head to the side in a panic and squeezed your eyes shut refusing to look at him. “Please..please Hee-Heeseung..don’t let him..don’t let him do this..please..” you sobbed. It was clear Sunghoon was the one in charge and Heeseung would be your only chance at a saving grace. If you could, you wanted to reach any remorseful part of him to help you. 

He smiled softly and stroked your stinging cheek turning your head to face him. You opened your eyes hoping to see him take your cries and begs into consideration. “Dumb baby, you were a bad girl. We don’t want to punish you but you’re going to have to learn the rules. And rule one is to be a good girl for us. You were naughty for hitting Hoonie, after everything he’s done to keep you safe. You're going to have to make it up to him.” Kissing your sore cheek he looks up at Sunghoon with his big doe eyes and nods.

Sunghoon grabs a fistful of your hair and jerks your head straight forcing you to look up at him, “I’m going to train you to be a good obedient girl…you bite me, and I’ll slit Jungwon’s throat in front of you.” Bottom lip trembling you nod. They knew you would do anything for Jungwon’s safety, and they were going to use that to their advantage. Letting go of your hair his hand runs down your face softly taking in every beauty mark, eyelash, and the smear of his blood on your cheek. So fucking pretty.

He taps your bottom lip with his thumb, “open.”

Closing your eyes, you refuse to even look at him while he does this, you obey. He leans forward positioning himself over your open mouth, tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. Steadying himself with his right hand he uses his left to guide himself into your mouth. A long strained groan rumbles in his throat, your mouth felt better than he imagined. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He drags the underside of his cock on your tongue slowly before quickly forcing his full length in your mouth. 

He’s careful to not slam his full weight onto your face with each drag of his cock. The amount of spit and precum forced down your throat made you gag around him struggling to breath, but your noises made him fuck your face faster, salty fat tears pooling into your ears. 

He continued to pull out and thrust his aching cock back in, making sharp painful jabs down your throat. The way your mouth gagged and struggled around him only had his orgasm approaching quicker. His pace grew more unsteady and quick as he felt his high approaching. You tried your best to relax your throat around him, but it was too uncomfortable and the way his stomach hit the tip of your nose with each hard thrust only added to your misery. “O-oh fuck,” he grunted and forced himself even deeper into your throat, your nose completely smushed against his stomach blocking all your airways. 

His cum spilled from his cock and down your throat as you struggled not to choke. You swallowed as much as you could in a panic trying to find a way to breathe. Some of it seeped out of the sides of your mouth and down your chin. His body shuddered at the tight contraction of your throat around him, he stilled himself for a few seconds to catch his breath.

He pulled himself out of your mouth slowly, watching the strings of spit and his seed connect his softening cock to you. What a sight for sore eyes, he can’t imagine an even more perfect vision of you as he watched you cough and choke trying to catch your breath. He climbs off of you and lays beside you to really take a minute to admire how perfect you look right now. Your face is red, spit and cum dribbling from your chin, tears still falling. He wanted to burn this image of you in his head forever. He tapped your mouth with his index finger, “open.” 

You open your mouth. Sunghoon smiles, you’re listening. Maybe breaking you in was going to be easier than he thought. Leaning in he licks his cum and your spit from your chin before sticking his tongue in your mouth, making sure every part of your mouth tastes entirely of him. 

“You did good, pretty girl,” He mumbles, “made me feel so fucking good..”pulling away and pecking your lips softly. He smiles and looks at Heeseng on the opposite side of you. “You can reward her.” 

Heeseung smiles brightly and practically jumps on top of you. Immediately latching his mouth to yours, Sunghoon notices you’re not kissing him back and clicks his teeth. “Pretty girl, don’t be rude, Seungie is trying to reward you. Do you want to be punished again? Or should I go grab Jung-”

You don’t let him finish, squeezing your eyes shut you kiss Heeseung back, you need to. You needed to for Jungwon. You can feel Heeseung smile against your puckered lips. Lightly nipping your bottom lip before he slips his tongue inside and gently massages yours. Unlike Sunghoon, Heeseung was softer and took his time exploring your mouth. Not even caring Sunghoon’s cum was just in there he happily slurped everything his tongue swiped. 

You kissed him back like your life depended on it..because it did..Jungwon was your life.. 

He pulls away with a small hum, a string of spit still connecting your mouths together. “I wonder if every part of you tastes as sweet as your mouth..” He kisses your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. His eyes locked onto yours as he moved lower, his face hovering over your left breast. He lightly traces your nipple with the tip of his tongue and smirks at the way your body shivers underneath him and how your back slightly arches off the mattress, Sunghoon catches it too. 

Heeseung smiles at you sweetly before moving even lower. “I’m going to make you feel so good..” He slots himself between your legs and places your legs over his shoulders. He kisses the inside of your thigh, “I love you..so much..” The “loving” act only adds insult to injury in the situation. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t force you to do this. 

Hesseung dragged his tongue along your folds and you squirmed. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed against your core. The amount of times he's snuck into your dorm and stolen your dirty panties to shove in his mouth while he jerked off couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. Only a few seconds in and he was already pussy drunk on your taste and smell.

You bit down on your bottom lip hard as he worked slowly through your folds; teasing you as he flicked his tongue across your clit. Your fingers dug into the mattress, your knuckles turning white. You refuse to make a sound..you won’t give them the satisfaction. Heeseung watches you as he takes your clit  into his mouth and sucks hard. The first moan accidentally slips past your lips at the sensation. You couldn’t withhold the pathetic noise you made and you felt shame. Your breath hitched and your eyelids started to flutter as his tongue skillfully worked its way through your folds licking and sucking every crevice before dipping into your hole. He grounds loudly, as he starts to tongue fuck your hole feeling you clench around him. His hips started grinding against the mattress aching for some relief on his cock. 

Sunghoon studies your face, he knows you're holding back. “It feels good doesn't it pretty girl..let him hear more of those pretty sounds.” You glare at him, but you know your body is betraying you. Your face is flushed, legs shaking around his head, stomach caving in every time he hits that special spot. “Let Seungie…” He grabs a handful of Heeseung’s hair and presses him harder against your cunt, “hear you.”

You screw your eyes shut and moan at the newly applied pressure of Heeseung’s nose on your clit. Heeseung’s hooded eyes watch you as you arch and moan out. He pulls away slightly and spits on your pussy, adding more moisture before running the pads of his fingers through your folds making you shudder harder and throw your head back. He collects his spit and your arousal around his pointer and middle finger before shoving both of them inside of you.

“Ah!”

“Stretch her nice and good Seungie..”Sunghoon smiled, leaning down and capturing your lips in another dirty kiss of tongue and teeth. The room filled with the disgusting squelching sounds of your pussy around Heeseungs fingers. Heeseung’s tongue went back to sucking your clit as continued to finger fuck you at a fast relentless pace. He could feel how close you were by the way you were gripping him. You tried to hold it, you tried to move your hips away, he just held your waist down with his free hand and sucked harder. Against your will, it happened, your stomach concaved and you cried out in Sunghoon’s mouth feeling your forced release gush out of you. Sunghoon pulled away from your mouth so he could watch your face when you cum.

So pretty.

The way you sounded was enough to make Heeseung cum in his pants. “Fuck, I need to be inside of you right now..” Loud sobs rack your body, this was it..”do-don’t do this..” Heeseung stripped quickly, not bothering to wipe your arousal off of his face. “Hee-Heeseung, please..please don’t..”

Sunghoon sighed and kissed your forehead, “pretty girl, Seungie let you cum, don’t be rude. Be a good girl and let him cum too..I don’t want to have to kill Jungwon because of you. This is supposed to be a special night.” 

Jungwon. You had to for Jungwon.

“Not-not inside. Don't cum.. Not inside..please..”

He looked at Heeseung, and they shared an unspoken conversation through their eyes. “Okay, pretty girl. Seungie won’t cum inside of you..tonight.”

Heeseung ran his hand up and down his length, lubricating himself with his precum. He placed his thick cock head at your entrance and you whimpered from sensitivity from your orgasm. He pushed into you sharply. You gasped, screwing your eyes shut as he forced himself all the way to his base, allowing no time for you to adjust his large size. 

“Oh my god…” He panted, closing his eyes. His self control is no longer present, he pulled out of you slowly and slammed back in setting a pace. He was thrusting into you just as violently as he had entered you, his pace was unrelenting as he worked into your tight gummy walls. You whined with each jolt of force from his thrusts. Your back arched in pain, fingernails clawing helplessly at the mattress. You could hear the change in his breathing signaling he was nearing his own release. At least he was fast, this would be over soon. 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, of course Heeseung was going to cum already, he didn’t know how to pace himself. But more annoying, he was going to finish before you, treating you like some quick random hookup. He was going to have to talk to him about that later. To Sunghoon, your pleasure came before theirs, unless of course you were being punished. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on the bud and slipped his hand down to your cunt.

His skillful fingers found your clit and he rubbed the nub tenderly, applying the perfect amount of pressure. The pain from Heeseung’s cock quickly turned into pleasure. Your pained squeaks and whines tuning into soft moans and pants. Heeseung’s hands went to your waist as he held your hips in place rutting against you faster. Your eyes fluttered shut as you started to shake under him, unable to fend off the building orgasm, thanks to Sunghoon. Small grunts escaping his parted lips, the only sound he was capable of making. He was too lost in the feel of your pussy. 

“Cum on Seungie’s cock pretty girl..” Sunghoon smiled, releasing your nipple from his mouth. He rubbed your clit harder causing a loud moan to bubble from you. Your back arched off the mattress as you were suddenly overwhelmed with white hot pleasure, his fingers helping draw forth your second orgasm.

So fucking pretty.

You clenched hard around Heeseung as you came, he snapped his hips forward harshly and a deep whine escaped his lips. He hung his head back and pulled out of you quickly, he hissed wrapping his hand around his red sensitive cock and jerked himself off above you. His cum spurting out of the red tip, strings of his seed coating your stomach, and reaching your breasts. 

His chest rose fast and hard as he collapsed next to you, sweat gathered on his forehead, he smiled softly at you. “Thank you baby..so good..so good for me..” He mumbled kissing your lips in soft little pecks. Sunghoon grabbed one of their discarded Ghostface robes and wiped Heeseung’s cum off of you. “Excuse him, pretty girl, he apparently doesn’t know how to be a gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” Heeseung grumbled. “I couldn’t help it, she’s so tight and warm.” He hummed relishing in the way your sweet little pussy gripped his tongue, fingers, and cock. He wasn’t phased by how quickly he came, he has all the time in the world to learn your body and how to pace himself. All the time in the world. 

You felt disgusting at the way they have your body reacting to their touches. 

Sunghoon discarded the rest of his clothes away and took his position on his knees in between your aching legs. You blinked a few tears away, you already knew he was going to have his turn with you but it didn’t stop the fear. You had to do this. They had Jungwon and you were his only chance at making it out of this alive. 

You made the mistake of looking down at him and let out a shaky breath. He was ready for you; he was fully hard and throbbing, from the way your mouth struggled to accommodate him you knew this was going to hurt. He saw the worried look on your face and cupped your cheek, “it won’t hurt after a while. I’m going to train your little pussy how to take it pretty girl. Hoonie’s going to take care of you.” 

He kissed you tenderly, “I love you.”

He feels your legs twitch around him, and sees your arms twitch at your sides, only meaning the drug will be wearing off soon. He didn’t want you to realize that and start acting out again, he smiled at Heeseung, “Seungie will you hold our girl for me? She’s a little nervous and maybe you can comfort her.” 

Heeseung was more than happy to oblige. He moved to the side of the mattress and sat with his back against the wall. Sunghoon picked your body up and moved you over to Heeseungs awaiting arms. He sits you with your back and head pressed against Heeseung’s firm chest, Heeseung hooks his hands under your knees and spreads your legs open wide for Sunghoon. He bites his bottom lip at the sinful sight of you sprawled out like this waiting for him. Your wet and swollen pussy only looks more appetizing for him when you're being held like this.

“Keep her there Seung,” He smirked watching Heeseung hold you in place for him. He gripped the base of his cock as he moved closer to you. He rubbed the tip along your folds, coating it in your juices. Your body jerks at the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms.

“Be a good girl for Hoonie, he’ll give you a special treat.” Heeseung whispered, kissing the crown of your head. Unless the treat was Jungwon you didn’t care. You wanted this over fast, you prayed he’d be as fast as Heeseung. 

Sunghoon watches you intently as he slides into your tight cunt. A low rumble in his chest feeling you suck him in and tighten. “Fuck....” He bottoms out and it hurts how full you are. More tears spill from your eyes, your mouth dropped in a silent scream. He can see the outline of his cock in your stomach and it fuels his fire.

“Look at that, I'm all the way..” He presses down on the bulge of his cock under your belly button, “in here.” You involuntary moan at the pressure and you clench around him.

He chuckles as he starts to move. Every movement has him deeper inside you. Your walls unwillingly cling to him and you close your eyes not wanting to see him. You want so desperately to mentally check out and forget where you what's happening to you, but you can’t as he brings you back to reality with each burning thrust.

“God, pretty girl, you feel so good..” The sounds of your flesh clapping together, the disgusting sloppy squelching sounds of your pussy only fueling his animalistic desires. He wasn’t gentle with you, each thrust inside of you jerked your entire body and had you sliding up and down on Heeseung’s chest. You were still sore from Heeseung’s assault on you and the pain of Sunghoon’s thick cock ramming into you had your entire pelvic region burning. Whimpering louder each time as he rocked into you.

“Look at me,” He growled. 

You hesitantly open your eyes and look at his sweaty face, he watches you with hooded dark eyes, he has an odd look in his eye. The same one Heeseung sees when Sunghoon has his blade buried in someone. He was gone. 

“Say my name.” 

“W-Wha-”

He slaps you, the action splitting your lip open. You cry out and try to move but Heeseung’s grip on your legs is firm, keeping you open for Sunghoon’s assault. He thrusts into you harder, gripping your hips hard, digging his fingers into your flesh, bruising the skin. “Say my fucking name. NOW!”

“S-Sun-Sungho-hoon..” Blood is dribbling from your wounded lip down your chin.

“Again!”

“Sunghoon!”

“Keep saying it..or else..” He grunts.

Lowering his face to yours he licks the blood from your chin. Watching you shake and write underneath him had his orgasm nearing. He guides your hips up and down on his shaft, impaling you deeper on him with each painful thrust on his thick cock. Groaning at the sight of your creamy essence coating him, he wasn’t going to last long. He gave a particular hard thrust that had you squealing and kicking your legs, a cheshire grin taking over his face.

He found it. 

He keeps hitting that spot with all of his strength and watches the way your eyes cross and roll back helplessly. You’re screaming his name over and over, it was happening again. The band in your belly is ready to snap. “Cum for me..cum for me and I’ll breed you..” He breathes reaching between your bodies and rubbing circles on your clit with the pad of this thumb.

“NO!” you screamed, “you-you said-” 

He laughs breathlessly, throwing his head back. Heeseung gave you the appropriate nickname, you really were just a dumb baby. He rubs your clit harder, “pretty girl, I said Seungie wouldn’t cum in you..I never said I wouldn’t cum inside of you..cum for me..come on baby..let go for us..” 

The tip of his cock hits your spot and you squeak loudly, unable to stop it, throwing your head back on Heeseung’s chest letting your orgasm hit you hard. Your body convulses as you clench around Sunghoon coating the entirety of his cock in your release. He chokes out a moan, thrusting only a few more times before he stills, painting your insides with his thick white cum. Sealing your fate to him, to them. You’re theirs and you weren’t going anywhere. 

Heeseung held your shaking body as you tried to catch your breath. He was whispering sweet praises in your ears and kissing your wet cheeks, “such a good girl for us. So perfect..tell Hoonie thank you for your treat..”

“Th-thank you..Ho-Hoonie..”

Sunghoon smiled widely at the nickname rolling off your tongue, he gently pulled out of your sore cunt and smirked looking at the creamy mess leaking out of your gaping hole, “you’re very welcome pretty girl.” He kissed you tenderly, lightly licking at the remaining blood left on your busted lip.

A few minutes had passed and the post orgasm brain fog was finally clearing and you gasped remembering Jungwon. Lifting your head off of Heeseung’s chest and searching around the dark room panicked. Sunghoon was still kneeling in front of you and Heeseung, he was watching your panicked gaze with an amused smirk. He wasn’t stupid he knew what you remembered.

“Where is he? Wh-where is Jungown? Can I see him..please..” You asked slowly, afraid of the answer. 

A small breathless laugh left Heeseungs lips, Sunghoon moved from his place in front of you and sat next to you and Heeseung. He grabbed your chin forcing you to look to the side of the room at the dark corner. 

“Ah..pretty girl, why don’t you see for yourself.”

The big “finale” was finally being unveiled. He wasn’t lying earlier when he told you he wanted to break so all you would ever need is them. 

What? What was he talking about? Jungwon was here? Squinting your eyes to adjust to the darkness you saw him. Sunghoon smiled widely watching your eyes slowly widen with realization, your mouth dropped open and you screamed. The room was spinning, all the air knocked out of your lungs as you felt the bile rise in your throat as you cried and wailed against Heeseung, but he kept his grip tight on you. 

You wish they would have just killed you, death would have been better than this. 

Jungown sat in a wooden chair smiling in your direction softly, holding a camcorder. His eyes trained on the tiny camcorder screen before finally looking at you. 

“What’s wrong bunny, aren't you happy to see me?”

🦇Every like/comment/reblog gives Jungwon a chocolate covered strawberry!🦇

Unwanted attraction // e.w

coworker!ellie ✗ fem reader

cw/wc: 11k ; tried to proofread it but im blind asf and i need glasses so!! smut, swearing, strap on sex r!receiving, oral r!receiving, also mention of ellie receiving it but i was too lazy to write that part (possibly gonna make a few drabbles about it in the future, who knows) fingering r!receiving, angst. enemies to lovers trope :')

a/n: i'm well aware my silly goofy goose is the sweetest baby ever but imagine if she hated you, what would it be like? (besides trying to kill you and hunting you down ofc, let's remember this is AU) idk been daydreaming about it.

highly inspired by a bot on Chai ( *︾▽︾)

¡! daily click・palestine masterpost・do not buy any game from naughty dog, neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks. ¡!

☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆・・・・☆

Rough sex on the bedroom floor

Hop in the shower, she begging for more

Do not disturb on the hotel door

✩ coworker!ellie made sure to make your life a living hell at work, whether it came to messing up with the neatly organized files on your computer or desk, complaining about everything you did, talking shit behind your back, stealing your coffee (and she didn't even like coffee, but she'd do anything to piss you off), calling you names, make fun of your clothes but at the same time checking you out whenever you bent over your desk or to pick up something from the musty floor. Such a delight she was.

✩ coworker!ellie absolutely hated how everyone seemed to love you, except her, of course. She despised how you always wore a stupid smile on your face as if nothing could ever bring you down, not even her. Your mere presence was enough to light up the whole room. She couldn't figure out what about you instantly attracted people.

✩ coworker!ellie hated how you always organized everything by color, name, and date like a freaking maniac, and obviously, she couldn't help but tease you about it.

"OCD much, baby?" "You should get this obsession of yours checked. it's not normal."

✩ coworker!ellie works as a photographer while you are a writer. Your job is to write anything that your boss asks you to write. However, Ellie often sends you the pictures you need for your works in the middle of the night or past the deadline, making sure you work overtime to finish your project. This often results in you getting yelled at by your boss the next day (which was exactly what she wanted)

✩ coworker!ellie always found something to complain about when it came to you. She disdained you and didn't even try to hide it. She would criticize everything about you, from your clothing choices to your makeup and hair. It was as if she were looking for flaws to point out and would not rest until she found something to complain about. She never seemed to give you a break, and you always felt like you were walking on eggshells around her. Despite your efforts to be friendly towards her, Ellie never reciprocated. But what she hated the most was how she couldn't actually bring herself to hate you; she hated how her body reacted whenever she let her eyes linger on your ass and tits for too long. She absolutely hated the skirts you wore almost every fucking day; it was a curse cause she couldn't despise your body.

✩ coworker!ellie hated how you talked, the sound of your voice, and how obnoxious it sounded when you spoke or giggled but secretly wondered how you'd sound beneath her, whimpering and moaning her name.

✩ coworker!ellie deeply dislikes when you gesticulate while talking and how your dimples show when you laugh at someone else's jokes in the office, especially when it's one of those stupid man. Because how stupid could you be? It was obvious that he was flirting with you with the only intent of getting into your panties.

✩ coworker!ellie gags around you whenever you walk by, and she makes sure you know how fucking disgusting you smell. How your flowery scent disgusts her; she's so pathetically disgusted by it that all she wants to do is bury her nose into the crook of your neck.

"Who the fuck is wearing this perfume? smells fucking disgusting" "Smells like shit in here"

✩ coworker!ellie always finds a way to put the blame on you when she screws up, especially when her boss is pretty pissed at her and is complaining about how she's not responsible enough and doesn't pay attention to detail.

✩ coworker!ellie will talk over you during meetings, even when she had been quiet the whole time. The moment she decides to speak up is when you take the initiative to do so. What a coincidence.

✩ coworker!ellie would often mock and make fun of you whenever you mispronounced something.

"You hear yourself? Like, ever?" "Princess' forgetting grammar today, isn't she?"

✩ coworker!ellie constantly makes rude and disrespectful comments about your ideas and contributions saying shit like

"That sounds like a stupid idea. But what were we expecting from you?" "Do you ever make yourself useful?" Your boss and everyone else in the room had enough of the ongoing rivalry between you two and they would always tell her to suck it up and take it outside. That's how things usually went: she'd say something mean, and you couldn't let her have the last word. You were always nice to everyone but you eventually grew tired of her ugly attitude and how unmotivated it was. Cause why the fuck was she so snappy about everything? What have you ever done to her? Easy. Absolutely nothing.

✩ coworker!ellie has never invited you to any of their coworkers' hangouts. She always came up with excuses to avoid inviting you, and the best part was that you knew nothing about it; she'd make excuses like

"She told me her grandma is sick" "I dunno, she said she already had plans" "She's dogsitting this weekend" Imagine how worried your coworker Dina was about your grandma. The poor girl was so concerned that she had to reach out to you and ask about it. What if you needed a friend to talk to? You knew she would always be there for you no matter what, but that's beside the point. Ellie most likely didn't consider Dina walking up to you to ask about your grandma, or maybe she did; it's not like she cared. Her sole purpose appeared to be provoking you anyway. "yn, how's your grandma doin'?" she had this soft, worried tone going on "My…grandma?" you looked puzzled and tilted your head slightly, trying to make sense of what was going on cause what the fuck was she talking about? Your grandparents weren't even around anymore. "Oh, but last Friday Ellie said…" she trailed off, finally connecting the dots. "Y'know what? I think I misunderstood." she quickly brushed off the awkward situation with a chuckle, realizing that adding more fuel to the rivalry you two had going on was pointless. she decided that from now on, she would be the one to invite you to their girl nights out. Imagine Ellie's surprise when she saw you enter the restaurant Dina had chosen, the brunette giving Ellie a mischievous smile from across the table.

✩ coworker!ellie can't help but look at your ass whenever she'd get the chance, the way you walked, the sway of your hips. She had always wondered what kind of underwear you wore and of what color. As much as she despised you, she wanted to know everything about you. What made you icky, what didn't. What was your type, what made you horny and desperate. Those kinds of things, ordinary things, basically. And she really couldn't stop fantasizing about you, imagining herself fucking you from behind, smacking your ass hard enough to leave marks on it, all five fingers.

✩ coworker!ellie couldn't quite figure out your sexuality. You were so friendly to everyone and she couldn't count on her gay-radar at all. She claimed that thing was pure bullshit cause she always ended up pursuing straight women. (such a loser)

✩ coworker!ellie felt like she had won the lottery the moment she caught you checking out your new coworker, who happened to be a girl. She couldn't pinpoint why she felt that way, she hated you after all, right?

✩ coworker!ellie spilled your pumpkin spice latte all over the scattered papers on your desk the same day out of…jealousy?

"Why the fuck would you do that?!" you raised your voice at her and promptly grabbed some paper tissues to fix the damage she had done. "Do what, princess? it was a mistake, chill out." she flatly said, veiny hands stuffed into her pockets, doing absolutely nothing to help you. She just stared at you with a cocky grin on her face, feeling proud of herself "It tastes like burnt shit anyways, dunno why you drink it." her nonchalance was making you even more furious than you already were

✩ coworker!ellie unconsciously licks her lips when you cross your legs and your skirt moves up just a bit enough for her perverted mind to think of all the filthy things she'd do to you if she didn't hate you so much.

✩ coworker!ellie who whistled whenever you bent over. And as soon as you straightened up, ready to go off on her, you noticed that she had this poised and confident look on her face. It was evident that she had anticipated your reaction and had an answer prepared for whatever you had to say to her, and to be quite honest, she mostly did it to get on your nerves.

"What do you expect me to do? You clearly bend over like that for me to notice." "Think I don't know you doin' this just to put on a show f'me?" "You bend over like a slut every single time I walk by. Thought I wouldn't notice?" and she wasn't even wrong. Despite claiming not to like you, you noticed the way she looked at you and you liked it, loved it even. It was quite entertaining how she tried so hard to convince herself that she did not like you one bit. Pathetic.

✩ coworker!ellie completely forgot you were on a business trip the moment she realized you had to share the same bed.

You were both sent on a 'business trip' by your boss and were assigned a hotel room to share for the duration of the trip. The hotel your boss sent you to was not of the best quality, to say the least, and to make matters worse, you realized that you had to share the same bed with Ellie. The situation caught you off guard, and you could sense the awkwardness in the air. You knew that sharing a room was part of the trip, but neither of you expected to have to share the same bed.

He must be out of his mind, was the first thing that crossed your mind.

When you called him to complain about his terrible choice, his dismissive comment made you even more furious "You're both women, I don't see why this is an issue."

Don't see why this is an issue my ass. Working with Ellie was already the worst thing ever, but sleeping with her? the universe or whoever must be playing a cruel joke on you because what were the chances? Plus, Ellie was being her usual self with that attitude, which obviously wasn't helping at all; you weren't gonna have any of it. "Just fucking great, I gotta share the bed with you" emphasizing the 'you' just to make you feel like a disgusting piece of trash that she absolutely despised. you couldn't care less; her petty comments didn't amuse you anymore. In all honesty, you were used to her ugly attitude. When you first started working with her, her hateful comments really got to you. You would break down as soon as you returned to your cozy apartment, making you feel like something was wrong with you. However, your other coworkers reassured you that she was like that with everybody, so you learned to accept it. Kind of. She still made your life miserable whenever she could, but you honestly loved this job. You had worked hard to get where you were, and you didn't see a point in giving up just because little miss hated you a bit too much. She dropped her suitcase by the door and slammed the door shut "You can always crash on the floor," you said back, mimicking her annoyed tone.

As you stood there, she turned to face you, and you could see the anger in her eyes. She shot you a death glare, and her lips were pressed tightly together. "I'm not a fucking doormat" she snapped, her voice laced with frustration and anger, like always.

You couldn't help but huff and roll your eyes at her behavior "Then shut your fucking mouth and stop throwing a tantrum like a little kid" Despite her scarred brows furrowing in anger, you couldn't resist the urge to call her out on her tantrum. Just as she was about to snap back at you, you cut her off with a simple "I'm gonna shower." You walked over to the bed, unzipping the suitcase you had thrown on it earlier. Your fingers searched for your pink cherry-patterned pajamas, which you had smartly placed on top of all your daily clothes for easy access. It was just one of the many small things you calculated and organized in your daily life. And, of course, she despised this aspect of your personality too; she hated how organized you were, everything you did, every gesture, every word; it always was so calculated, while she was more spontaneous (another word for impulsive) and never cared enough about how unorganized she was. As you disappeared into the bathroom to shower, she couldn't resist the temptation to rummage through your suitcase, hoping to find something interesting. An amused smile appeared on her face when she found sexy black lingerie; it was just what she was expecting you to wear underneath those slutty skirts you wore almost every day at work. Being the sneaky little mf she was, she put everything back the way you left it so you wouldn't suspect a thing. "Borrowing" a pair of your panties, a souvenir.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you noticed that she had already changed into her comfortable pajamas. She was wearing a pair of black boy shorts and a t-shirt from what seemed to be a band she loved. The shirt looked worn out, the colors faded, but you could still make out the logo of the band, it was a casual yet charming sight. Despite her best efforts to control herself, she found herself unable to resist the urge to stare at you intently, your soft curves, and how the cherry-patterned shorts hugged your ass as the top fell loose over your boobs. It didn't take her too long to notice that you weren't wearing a bra, nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your top, but she forced herself to look away.

"D'you ever take a shower?" you quipped as you strolled to the right side of the massive bed "I took a shower earlier today. Besides, I don't smell bad, so there's really no reason to," she walked to the other side of the bed while trying her best to avoid making eye contact with you. "You gotta shower before getting into bed, it's just gross not to," you scolded her in a mom-like tone, making her roll her eyes in response. "Don't boss me around. I don't need a shower. I smell just fine." she said. You were getting on her nerves again, and you could tell from her annoyed tone; she never liked feeling judged or being told what to do. So, you decided to drop it — too tired to start another argument. You let out a sigh and collapsed onto the soft mattress, feeling instant relief in your back. Your gaze was fixed on the ceiling, "Well, at least it's comfy," you muttered to yourself, as she climbed in next to you and grumbled, "I guess so" and turned away from you, yanking the covers over her head.

The room fell silent, both of you trying your best to ignore each other's presence. You shut your eyes, and so did she. Over 10 minutes passed, and you were still wide awake; why were you suddenly struggling to fall asleep? You were convinced that the little stinky beside you was sleeping, but she wasn't. The little cunt scooted closer to you, secretly enjoying the heat radiating off your body, making sure to keep her eyes shut in the process so you'd think she was sleeping.

She pressed her back against yours, and as much as it felt nice, you shifted uncomfortably and moved again. Your attempt to create distance between both of you turned out to be a complete failure; she kept scooting closer each time you moved away. "You're gonna make me fall out of bed, Ellie," you whined, shoving her away from you. Her eyes shut open, she muttered, "Oh, sorry," and tried to move away from you. But she found herself unable to do so for some reason. She longed for your touch and warmth, realizing that it was a pathetic situation to be in because she hated you; she couldn't feel this way towards you, so why was she? Instead of moving away, she inched closer to you, seeking comfort in your warm body against her cooler, freckled skin.

You huffed again in annoyance and turned onto your side to look at her, realizing how close you two were. "What" you asked flatly; she slowly rolled onto her other side to face you. She blinked slowly, her emerald green eyes taking in your features. You weren't so ugly after all, she thought to herself. She could feel your breath on her face. "Uh, nothin'." She didn't want to admit how comfortable she was with the closeness, feeling your soft skin against hers. "We are not gonna cuddle," you stated firmly. "No, of course not," she agreed quickly, not wanting to push things further either, deep down yearning for something more than just cuddles. She settled back into her spot, trying to ignore the slight disappointment that fluttered in her stomach "Stay on your side of the bed, s'not that hard." the tone of your voice was firm and slightly irritated, "Fine," the auburnette girl muttered under her breath, rolling onto her other side again. She shut her eyes, trying to ignore your presence as you both lay there in silence.

You faced away from her, your eyes shut, trying to focus on something other than the tension you felt in the pit of your stomach. You considered facing the pillow or lying on your side, but your legs felt restless. You wondered if there was a solution to ease your discomfort. The girl beside you groaned softly, annoyed with your constant shifting, her eyes fluttering open as you kept tossing and turning. You heard her sigh heavily, rolling over onto her back and facing the ceiling again "Look, I know you're not used to me or anything-" she started but you were quick to cut her words off "Yeah, I am not" you sighed frustrated and mimicked her position, your eyes glued on the ceiling that seemed to be the most interesting thing ever at that moment.

Ellie turned her head slightly to look at you, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, I guess we could try something different then," she softly said, her voice conveying anything but innocence. A subtle hint of mischief seemed to accompany her words, indicating that she had something specific in mind. Your head turned as soon as she spoke, brows furrowing at her words, "What do you have in mind, Williams?"

"I could help you...relax," she replied confidently, a sly grin never leaving her face. She moved closer to you, her green eyes are fixed on yours. Her heart raced a little faster as she waited for an answer, your consent, anything. Was she fucking out of her mind? Was she suggesting what you thought she was?

You scoffed, "What the fuck, Ellie? 'm not gonna fuck you." you replied sharply, squinting your eyes at her; she groaned softly and hovered over your body, propping herself up on her elbows. "C'mon angel, scared you'll like it?" a cocky grin glued on her face as she spoke confidently almost as if she knew what she was doing. She chuckled softly when you didn't reply, leaning closer until your bodies were pressed against each other, her hand gently stroking your waist "Just let me try," she whispered. Her cold hand sent shivers down your spine when she slid it under your tank top, your warmth seeping into her skin, igniting a fire within her. She had always wanted to touch you like this, even if she hated your guts. She leaned in slowly, eyes locked on your moist, plump lips. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would kiss the girl who pissed the shit out of you daily, let alone fuck her.

Your lips met hers, you felt a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach and chest, like a fluttering feeling. It was as if every fiber of your being was electrified with the touch, and soon, soft and slow kisses turned into a whole makeout session. Her tongue slid into your mouth, and you gladly let her explore every inch of it, her callous fingers gently exploring every inch of your skin and your fingers grasping her messy bun, you still fucking hated her. A series of conflicting thoughts ran through your mind, making it difficult for you to focus on anything. Part of you wanted to pull away, while the other part was eager to explore this, whatever it was. Your grip unconsciously tightened into her auburn locks, slightly pulling her hair. "You little bitch" she muttered under her breath when she pulled away from the kiss, your lips mere millimeters apart, only connected by a string of saliva, "You're a little bitch" you were panting slightly from the intense makeout session "You're fucking obnoxious" she replied without missing a beat. However, this time, no hint of annoyance laced in her voice; her voice was husky and sultry, and she looked at you with such a desire, one that you've noticed before, but she was acting on it this time. Her hand began to tug at your shorts, pulling the soft material down. "And you're not?" you scoffed, your eyebrows raised as you stared back into those green orbs of hers. "Keep talking like that angel, see what happens," she warned you with a sly grin. "Why, what are you gonna do?" you challenged, but she seemed to ignore your question, for now at least.

She didn't waste time, calloused fingers pressing against your clothed cunt as she discarded your favorite pajama shorts somewhere in the dimly lit room. A soft sound escaped your swollen lips, making her smirk in amusement. "I barely even touched you," she teased you, her fingers tracing your soaked and still clothed slit. Your pussy has never been wetter, and you hated how skilled she seemed to be with her hands, how wet you became as soon as she touched and kissed you; almost as if your body had been craving for her touch. "Shut the fuck up," you hissed, only causing her to press her digits on your throbbing clit; she observed you; it was like she was analyzing your every move and reaction. She watched you squirm beneath her. "Aww look at you, baby. Want more?" she purred, her mocking grin taunting you, making you pout and nod frantically. You needed more. Your cunt was starting to hurt and clench around absolutely nothing, you needed her fingers and you couldn't help but feel extremely embarrassed by it. You needed her fingers. The fingers of the girl you hated the most. fuck.

She let out a dry chuckle and slowly shook her head, a few loose auburn strands falling onto the sides of her face "That's not how it works, you can do better than that, I know it." she encouraged you. it was all she needed to hear, all her ears craved to hear, you begging for her, begging for her to destroy your pussy.

As stupid and absurd as it sounded, you were only hers in her mind. She had never laid a finger on you before, but you belonged to her. She wanted to be the only girl in your life, the one you relied on; the worst part was that she couldn't even explain why she felt that way towards you. Why you out of all people? she didn't have the answer to that. She loved getting reactions out of you, getting you all riled up and fuming red, that's what she knew. But tonight, she was lucky enough to explore a new side of you. She wanted to absolutely destroy you. She wasn't gonna be gentle; after all, she still despised you.

You let out a soft groan when she pulled her hand away from your core, leaving you wanting more "Please?" you mumbled. Your voice was soft, timid almost. You hated that she was putting you into this position, and that it had to be her out of all people. She had you wrapped around her finger already and you couldn't even understand why. She expressed her disapproval with a subtle clicking sound of her tongue, shaking her head just enough to convey her dissatisfaction. It wasn't enough. She needed more, better.

Her faint smirk suggested that she found the whole thing quite amusing. "Please, Ellie..." you tried again, you could see the irritation build on her face, she let out a long sigh and rolled her eyes in frustration. "Cat got your tongue, or what?" she asked, her voice tinged with impatience "I need you to be specific. Tell me exactly what you need from me."

Despite your usual confidence, you found yourself letting out an airy huff, almost as if to release some of the tension you were feeling. Beneath her, you felt so insignificant, so vulnerable. How her green eyes studied you made you feel so exposed, you needed her more than anything. Your underwear was damp, and the uncomfortable throbbing was getting worse by the second "I want you to fuck me, Ellie," you blurted out, a mischievous grin spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with amusement and desire. "Is that any better?"

"Good girl," she praised you. You could feel her fingers pulling your underwear down, leaving you bare from the hips down, you still had your tank top on but she was planning on taking it off soon, she was yearning to play with your tits, it was all she ever fantasized about. "Relax, okay?" she whispered due to the closeness, her face dangerously leaning into your neck. You could feel her taking in your scent, the same scent she claimed to hate so much, and soon attacking your neck with damp kisses. You tilted your head to the side and let her, as her fingers began to rub your aching nub, making you gasp at the contact, her hands were so cold, it almost made your hips jerk away, but she held you in place with her other hand, pressing her weight onto you to keep you down. Every little movement you made encouraged her to continue. Soft and small gasps left your lips. You quickly bit into your lower lip to keep yourself quiet, suddenly feeling pathetic for letting her do whatever she wanted to you.

"You know how long I've wanted to play with you like this, hm?" she purred into your neck, her fingers drawing slow circular motions on your clit, tracing your slit just to tease you "Fuck, you're soaked..." she murmured under her breath, more to herself than to you, taking note of every reaction you had to her touch. "You're a jerk, you know that right?" your voice came out softer than what you expected, it was impossible to be mad. How could you even be mad at her? She was making you feel so good. "Am I?" she slid a finger inside you, she could hear a few stifled moans coming from you, almost as if you were too proud to show her that she was touching you just in the right places, still struggling to believe you were letting her touch you. "Y-yes. I fucking hate you" you continued, trying to sound as mad as possible, she inserted another finger and began to pump them in and out of you "Why are you letting me touch you like this, then?" she had this sarcastic and taunting tone that would've usually made you mad if she wasn't fucking you right now. "Cause— can't sleep," you stammered out, and she chuckled at your words, amusement etching across her features "Yeah, that's obviously why you're letting me fuck you" She couldn't help but find this funny. You were always so confident, acting like she had no power over you and had her believing she couldn't bring you down no matter what, that whatever she did to you was useless...until now. So finger drunk, you needed her; it only served to boost her ego, making her realize that you weren't so bulletproof and unreachable after all.

"You dress like a fucking slut. Why do you even dress like that, hm? So that Luke guy can drool over you?" It was as if a floodgate had opened, and all her pent-up thoughts suddenly came pouring out as she kept finger-fucking you, her thumb teasing your clit every now and then. "L-luke?" You echoed her words perplexed, wispy brows furrowing together as you struggled to keep yourself quiet. You couldn't even fucking remember a guy named Luke, yet, there she was, acting like a jealous girlfriend while fucking you. "Yeah, Luke —fuck. you have an idea of how bad I've been wanting to bend you over your stupid desk and fuck you hard?" Her tone was rough, her voice dripping with jealousy and perhaps possessiveness, not that she had any right to act that way. "I thought you hated me" She snorted at your words, her eyes darkening with desire and a small grin on her face. "I still fucking hate you, don't be pathetic" she snarked out, pumping her fingers harder and deeper into you, curling her digits ever so slightly; she had your legs trembling like crazy and whining like the slut you were. "Hmm—fucking hate you back" you managed to say between a few whimpers. "Y'know what?" she abruptly pulled her fingers out of you, earning a small groan from your part "No no no" you complained, your voice laced with desperation as a small frown appeared on your features. "Take your top off," she commanded without giving you a further explanation "Your bra too." she added. You watched as she rose from the bed, and made her way over to where her backpack lay, discarded on her side of the bed. You followed her movements with your eyes, curious about what she was looking for. She rummaged through the bag's contents for a few moments before pulling out whatever she needed. A fucking purple strap. "Let's see if I can make you hate me even more." You could not look away, keeping your eyes glued on her as the auburnette stripped down her clothes with a purpose. Your eyes remained locked on her body as she moved and shifted, removing her clothing one piece at the other. You watched her put on her strap-on, her body was more muscular and toned than you expected, her well-defined abs making you almost salivate at the sight. "And you expect me to take that shit?" you blunted out, pointing at the long silicone dick standing erect, attached to her body, her v-line prominent "You're gonna take every inch of it, pretty," her tone was demanding, leaving you no room to argue with her decision.

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen." you firmly retorted, completely reluctant at the idea, but she was already straddling your lap, spreading your legs wide to adjust you into the position she wanted. If anything, your reluctance only seemed to spark a playful glint in her eyes. She was clearly intent on having her way with you. "You gonna be a good girl f'me." She hushed you, holding the shaft still and licking her lips hungrily as she peered at your wet entrance. You squirmed and tried to close your legs but she wouldn't let you. She quickly spread them apart again, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs as she pinned them down to the mattress. "Nah-uh. Spread 'em open f'me, princess. I won't hurt you, promise." Her tone slightly shifted into more gentle one, and her eyes hungrily glazed over you. You let out a shaky breath and tried to relax all the tensed muscles in your body; she made you feel so vulnerable in that position. "Ready?" She asked before pushing the tip in, slowly, stretching your pussy out so good "Ahh, shit" you hissed, eyes shutting immediately at the new sensation, you weren't prepared for it. "Hurts?" you shook your head to reassure her. "Hurts good." She smirked, enjoying the feeling of power that she had over you. She started to thrust in slowly, only pushing an inch in every two minutes, allowing your cunt to adjust to it. She groaned softly, watching you squirm under her, enjoying how much you wanted it from her. "You're so fuckin' soaked, it's going in so easily" she commented, chuckling at your state. You were indeed fucking soaked, your juices dripping down your pussy, making a mess on the sheets. You arched your back when half of her strap was in, pushing your hips down to allow the strap to slip deeper into you, your cervix suddenly yearning for it. You gasped when the slight pain immediately turned into pleasure, your legs were shaking like crazy, so fucking pathetic; she loved the messy state she got you in. "Look at you, god" her voice above a whisper as she took in your naked body and the glistening strap that was sliding in and out of you. "Oh my god," you moaned, wrapping your legs around her waist to push her deeper into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; all this pleasure was almost unbearable, but it wasn't enough for her. Her head lowered just enough to take your neglected hard nipples into her mouth, sucking on them. You could feel the tip of her tongue circling the hard nub before releasing it with a pop, switching to the other nipple to give it equal attention. Your boobs were better than she had imagined, so fucking beautiful.

"Always bending over when I walk by. Was this what you were trying to achieve?" she rasped out, slamming her dick into you hard. "Ellie!" a muffled cry escaped your lips as the corners of your eyes filled with unshed tears began to glisten, seeing you like this was one of her favorite things. You were so pretty and desperate, she couldn't get enough. The tip of her purple cock was hitting your cervix just right; obscene moans, a symphony of lustful ardor flooded the air filling the hotel room. "I asked you a question, baby" She grasped your chin firmly and forced you to meet her gaze. Your head swiveled back and forth, your brows quivered under her unrelenting gaze. A soft sniffle emanated from your nose as you attempted to produce a clear response "N-no," but both of you knew that wasn't the truth. You were acutely aware of how she gazed at you with unbridled desire and hunger. The way her emerald orbs scrutinized every inch of your body left you flustered, almost as if she could devour you with just her gaze and you couldn't help but like it.

The strap sliding out as she said "Dunno, sounds like a lie to me" only to slam it back in even harder than before, causing you to squeal. Tears welled up, their weight unbearable on your eyelids. "P-please, I can't…" you pleaded with a feeble voice; it was almost imperceptible to the ear, but she could hear it loud and clear. Her ears were enhanced, honed in on the sound of every little gasp that escaped your mouth, each breath you took, every moan of pleasure. "Can't what, huh?" She appeared to be playing dumb, fully aware of the intense feelings coursing through every fiber of your body. As she moved in and out of you faster and faster, she could not help but feel the heat radiating from every inch of your skin, making her own body burn with desire. She knew that she had complete domination over you, that she had reduced you to nothing more than a helpless puppet at her mercy; she had you crying and moaning like a porn star. "Feeling good, angel?" Your cute whimpers only added fuel to her desire, fueling her to go harder and harder. Her fingers dug into the soft, warm fat of your hips, and her nails sank into the flesh, leaving small crescents behind on your skin. She was not being soft or gentle anymore. Instead, she was rough with you, enjoying her domination and relishing in the feeling of having her way with you.

"Gonna cum on my cock, yeah?" she purred, sending a chill up your spine as her words penetrated your ears, your body was completely at her mercy, and it seemed as though she was the only thing that existed at that moment "No one's gonna fuck you better than me," and you knew she was right. She could feel your walls clenching around her, almost as if you were trying to trap her in. She could tell you were about to cum. The familiar sensation of the knot snapping overcame you, causing you to cry out her name. Your polished nails dug into her back, drawing faint, pink-ish lines that would remain there until the next morning. For some reason, she loved the idea of having a small reminder of what you two had done together on her body. Like a souvenir, one which would bring back fond memories each time she looked at it; Ellie was secretly a sucker for that kind of stuff. Her body pressed closely against yours, her heartbeat as frantic as yours. You could feel every breath she took as she panted on your bare shoulder, the heat of her breath filling your senses and your skin tingling under her touch.

As your high began to fade, she pulled out of you, bringing you back down to earth and back to reality. "Fuck" She breathed out, slowly sinking down next to you on the mattress. You just stared up at the ceiling, completely exhausted and out of breath "Best ride of your life, huh?" both of you were exhausted, but of course, she couldn't resist the urge to tease you a bit more, "Yeah, not bad" You tried to retain the facade of being unemotional and cool, but you were still feeling the aftereffects, your body still trembling "Not bad? I think you have a hard time admitting your feelings" You scoffed at the words; you didn't want to boost her ego and risk her teasing you even more the following day. Your voice stayed calm and composed, but your body language was betraying you. "My feelings for you? I hate you. Nothing more"

"Hate me so much you came all over my dick" She taunted you playfully, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Her eyes never left yours for a second, a gaze that was intense and tantalizing. Eventually, you turned to your side to face her, the side of your face sinking into the soft pillow, still blushing from the previous activities, a display of your vulnerability and sensitivity that was hard to hide. Her playful demeanor and teasing were making it difficult for you to keep your cool. "Why do you even go around with that thing?" You couldn't help but ask her the question that had been lingering in your mind the moment she pulled it out of her backpack. "Was planning to use it, obviously," She gestured with her hands as she explained herself. "Not with you, of course." She was quick to add, as if she had predicted the questions that were going to come next from you and you raised your eyebrows at her, your body language showing some skepticism about her answer. Such a fucking liar she was. Sure, she brought it everywhere she went just in case, but she totally dreamt of using it with you, her dirty mind filled with fantasies about the ways she could use it with you. "Such a dick," You rolled your eyes and turned away from her. You could hear her snicker at your words. Unexpectedly, she pulls you closer, her bare chest pressing against your back. Both of you are still sweaty from the night's activities, and you can feel her body heat radiating onto you, her arms wrapped around you tightly. "What're you doin'?" You groaned in protest, trying to get away from her grip. You wanted her to let you go, but at the same time, you couldn't help but feel the urge to lean into her touch, a contradiction between your internal feelings and your physical body's reaction. She ignored you and kept hugging you, pulling your body against hers. Your breath hitched as you felt her touch and her body against you. "Spoonin' the shit outta you," She was so nonchalant about it that it drove you crazy. It was almost as if she never really tried to make your life miserable every day. But you couldn't help the flutter in your stomach, your cheeks getting warmer and hotter by the simple gesture. Your body was reacting to her touch without you even realizing which was an unexpected yet welcome feeling. You were thankful for everything that she couldn't see your flushed state. "Yeah, whatever," you grumble, trying to sound pissed off although you're actually feeling quite the opposite. "Sleep well, pretty," She mumbled tiredly, sending a wave of confusion through your body as her lips brushed your shoulder. It was a small gesture, one that should not have warranted this level of reaction. But your body had other ideas. A wave of butterflies erupted in your belly, making you feel a bit dazed for a moment and smile like an idiot.

The following days were filled with unspoken tension and the usual bickering. But this time it was different. There was something more lingering in the air, as though that night you had together had changed the feeling between the two of you. Although the change was subtle, it was there and could not be ignored. She started to think that maybe, she didn't despise you as much as she thought she did, and she started to put up with your behavior as if it wasn't that annoying after all, but she never dared to share that sentiment, as she was afraid you would reject her or not see her in the same way. She would always find any excuse to touch you briefly, grope your ass or your tits, and to her surprise, you would let her; her hands would brush against your body, her grip lingering just a bit longer than necessary. And she seemed to be getting clingier, she hated not being the center of your attention, even for a second. Even though she knew you were writing an article and had a deadline to make, she could not stand it when you were so dismissive of her need for your attention. She tried distracting you by cupping your breasts, hoping to get your focus off your work, but you would just push her away each time. "i really, really, need to finish this." shooing her away like a stray dog with a wave of your hand. She took advantage of your distracted state to sneak under the small hotel desk, one of her tactics to get your attention. The warm palms of her hands gently rubbed both of your knees, a sudden contact that caught you off guard. You jolted at the sensation and pushed your chair back slightly in response, your eyes following her hands as she moved them to your knees. "What're you doing?" You asked her, perhaps with an edge of irritation in your voice, your tone tinged with annoyance and trying desperately to maintain your focus. It was the third time she tried to distract you, and although you found it cute, you needed to finish your article. "What do you think I'm doing?" She looked up at you, raising her eyes to meet yours, as she spread your legs open. She pulled you closer, her hands now roaming freely over your thighs, touching you in ways that made you tremble. It was clear that she had no intention of leaving you alone, and was willing to go to greater lengths to get your entire attention. "Ellie, I seriously need to finish this stupid article," You protested weakly, trying desperately to retain your focus and not give in to her charms. However, the way she was looking up at you from under the desk was more than enough to make you fold the slightest bit. The way her eyes glimmered with desire, the way she was holding your legs and pulling you close to her, it was all taking its toll on your body, making your pussy throb with anticipation and excitement.

"Just wanna help" She shrugged in a playful manner and acted all innocent and cutesy, but the mischievous look in her eyes said otherwise. She was teasing you, knowing full well what she was doing and how she was affecting you, she was enjoying the power dynamic and knew you would not be able to resist her. You sighed and rolled your eyes at her "Fine" You eventually gave in, unable to resist her; an expression of triumph appeared on her face as she knew that her teasing efforts had been successful. "Lean back, beautiful" She demanded softly, her hand reaching up to press on your abdomen to push your back against the chair. You helped her roll up the black skirt to give her better access to your core, making her grin even wider at your willingness. Her fingers immediately hooked onto the waistband of your panties, sliding them down slowly, revealing your pussy to her. "So fucking pretty" She couldn't help but voice her thoughts, her obsession with your pussy was clear, and she had been dreaming of tasting you ever since that night. It was a shame that she hadn't had the chance before, but she was more than determined to make up for lost time. Already two days had passed from that night and she felt like she was going crazy already.

Her soft lips kissed your inner thighs, sending shivers up your body as they brushed near your sensitive flesh. You could feel her breath as her lips touched your body, and it was an incredible sensation, driving you utterly insane. She loved driving you crazy and she was great at it. "Ellie, your teasing is getting old" You huffed trying to hide how worked up she was getting you. Every touch of her lips on your skin made your body twitch uncontrollably, every caress of her hands sent shivers through your body. Your breath was getting heavier, you could feel your body start reacting to her exploration. "Doesn't seem like it to me, especially judging by your pussy — God, so wet." Before you could even open your mouth to reply, she gave you a small, catlike lick, almost as if she was testing the waters to see how you would react. You felt a jolt through your body as she explored your wetness, sending shivers down your spine and making you squirm in your seat. When she tasted you, she could have sworn her head spun from the sensation, nothing came close to the taste of you. In a quick movement, her arms wrapped around your legs, pulling your dripping cunt closer to her face as she devoured you hungrily. The sensation of her mouth on you was almost unbearable. Her tongue flicked expertly, teasing and tasting every inch of you. The cute sounds she made against your cunt barely audible over your high-pitched moans.

She loved how responsive your body was, how wet you easily got at her touch. It made her stomach do pathetic flip-flops, feeling like a schoolgirl in love. She loved having such control over you, and it made her feel powerful. Your hands gripped the edges of the desk tightly, your breaths becoming more ragged as she continued her work. "Fuck...need—need more, please."

She knew exactly what you needed and was more than ready to provide it. She slid two fingers inside you, curling them enough to reach your g-spot with such ease that you nearly screamed. You were already struggling to keep your legs open, you could feel your orgasm nearing and she could sense it too. She continued to finger you mercilessly, her other hand holding your hip firmly in place; you always moved a lot whenever you were close; that's what she learned in the last few days. Your head rolled back, your legs tensing up as you felt a surge of pleasure coursed throughout your body. Everything was tense, and your breath heaved slowly, and your mouth hung open. Your entire body was in a state of pure ecstasy, your mind barely able to think clearly as you tried to process the overwhelming sensation. "Guh-od," you choked on your own words, the sounds of your breathing getting heavier and heavier as you came in her mouth, the slight slurping noises she made were absolutely disgusting.

When she pulled away, she was gasping for air, and you could see the satisfaction on her face as she had taken care of you. It was clear that she had enjoyed herself as much as you had, and she had absolutely no regret or shame about what she had just done. Feeling you cum on her fingers and in her mouth was even better than fucking you senseless with her strap. "You taste so fucking-" But you cut her off, grasping her hand still gripping into your hip. The sudden movement made her freeze for a moment, taken by surprise as she was still trying to process the intensity of the moment. "I wanna taste you too." You got up from your chair, pulling her up with you. You held her close to your body, your feet moving slowly towards the bed. As you walked backwards, you kept her just an inches away from your body, your grip tight around her waist. "Oh really?" She cracked a playful smile, amused by your statement, clearly in for whatever you had in store for her. When the back of your knee hit the bed, her hand gently pressed on your chest to push you down onto the bed. Everyone knew how the rest would go, you were bound to continue where she left off.

✩ coworker!ellie acted like nothing happened when your little business trip ended, and things went back to how they were. It was as if all the conversations and moments between you two never existed like she had never touched you. She went back to her usual routine of barely talking to you, and when she did, it was usually something negative. You didn't know what to make of her behavior. You expected some kind of reaction from her, but not...this.

✩ coworker!ellie would seem completely normal when you were alone, but when you were in your work environment, she became distant and aloof. She would occasionally take you out on dates and be affectionate after your hookups, but it was such a confusing situation to be in; her actions seemed to contradict each other. She'd act like a jealous girlfriend if someone approached you but she wouldn't commit to you.

She always ensured no one was around before touching you or even saying something remotely sweet to you. She'd sneak behind you and wrap her arms around your waist while you were too busy with something to notice. Her breath would hit the side of your neck, and when you tilted your head to give her easy access, she'd attack your neck with kisses. Or she'd compliment you, but it'd be in her own style and all. "You look like a slut in that" followed by a "Can't wait to fuck you tonight"

✩ coworker!ellie gave you the silent treatment for an entire week after confronting her about her confusing behavior. You couldn't help but feel frustrated by her lack of communication, and you wondered if it was worth pursuing a relationship with someone who couldn't express her feelings properly. One day, when you arrived at work, you found a beautiful bouquet of red roses sitting on your desk, accompanied by your favorite coffee.

She was leaning against your desk, patiently waiting for you to arrive. You couldn't hide your surprise, and you asked her what it was all about. "Got you a lil somethin'," she said, handing you the roses. You tried to remain calm, but you were still hurt by her previous behavior. How could she ignore you for a whole week and get you roses like nothing happened? "I'm tired of your stupid mind games" You frowned slightly "What do you want?!" You let out a frustrated sigh. "No weird shit this time, I promise" she said. "I want to make it official between us." You were skeptical, but a part of you wanted to believe her. You had strong feelings for her, and you couldn't deny that you wanted to take things to the next level, but you needed to be sure that she was serious about your relationship, so you didn't accept right away. She needed to earn it.

✩ coworker!ellie spent weeks trying to make amends and apologize, but you initially remained distant and unresponsive. She tried to win back your affection with small gifts and kind gestures, but it seemed like that wasn't enough. You only wanted her to publicly demonstrate her affection and show everyone how much she truly cared. Eventually, she seemed to get the hint and adjusted her approach. The way she asked you out was...romantic.

You were way too engrossed in organizing the papers on your desk and you failed to notice her walking up behind you. You could hear her footsteps as she entered your shared office, but you didn't expect her to approach you. You heard the door close, but you were too deep in thought, standing before your desk, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you sorted through the papers. Suddenly, you felt her arms wrap around you from behind, and you let out a small yelp of surprise. Her lips hovered over your neck, where she left a few gentle kisses that made you instinctively tilt your head to the side.

Her hands lowered to your hips, pushing your butt into her crotch; you pushed back slightly, trying to get away but she was just too tempting, and the feeling of her body pressed against yours was too much for you to resist. "What do you think you're doing?" You sighed, trying to sound annoyed. "I want you." Despite your body craving her touch, you knew better than to fall for her emphasis on the word 'you'. Every part of you was trying to resist, calling you to give in to the temptation of her sweet words, of her tender lips on your necks, but the rational side of you knew that this could not end well. But god, the way she was touching you, her hands fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, it was driving you crazy, she was driving you crazy.

You took hold of her hands and held them firmly to prevent further movement. "You're too much of a pussy to actually treat me right in front of other people" The moment your words left your lips, you could see them reach her and resonate with her in a way that you didn't quite expect. She was visibly taken aback, but she didn't stop what she was doing. "I told you I want you. I'm more than serious," she insisted, her tone serious and unwavering. Her hands lifted your skirt slightly, causing you to immediately glance towards the locked door. "Here? Now?" you internally panicked, and she could feel your body tensing up in her hands, but she hushed you. "Everyone's on a break, no one will walk by," whispering tantalizing words into your ears that set your body on fire and made your heart race. "Just keep it quiet, we'll be quick" so you gave in cause how could you not? the way she kept pushing your ass closer to her pussy was just enough for you; her body language screamed desperate, and honestly, so did yours.

Her lips kept kissing your neck, and she knew exactly where the sweet spot was; she knew your body like the back of her hand. Her hands slowly trailed over your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing them, massaging them in circular motions through the fabric. A stifled whimper echoed in the small office and you could feel yourself getting wet, your pussy throbbing like crazy already. "Y-you can't just...do this and act distant when we're in public" she already had you stuttering and struggling to keep your breath even, your voice coming out a lot softer than intended, making her smirk against your soft skin. "I want you" She repeated, her tone serious and sultry, like a serpent tempting you with her words, luring you in with her touches; you sighed at her words. "What kind of I want you are we talking about?" You watched her hands roam all over your body, and they seemed to have a life of their own. She pressed your back into hers, her tattooed arm trailing down to your skirt, sliding under it and inside your panties. "I want to fuck you, I want you to cum on my fingers, and I want you to be mine," you gasped when her fingers found your clit with such ease, rubbing it "Be yours?" You uttered weakly, trying to contain your whimpers. The sensation of her touch was too intense for you to keep quiet, and every little sound you made felt like a confession; you wanted this, you wanted her hands on you, and you wanted her lips. She hummed back in response. "Be mine."

"Ellie, I want to be your-" You let out a slight moan as she rubbed your throbbing nub faster, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your hands reached out to grip the edge of the desk to support yourself as your poor legs were starting to give up. The feeling was overwhelming, almost as if she was controlling every inch of you with her touch, and your body was telling you that you had no control anymore. "What was that, huh?" Her tone was mocking, and she loved seeing you squirm and twitch in her grip. Every tiny movement of your body was like a sign that she had that control, that you were her puppet and she was the master in this little game of hers. She loved playing with you, making you lose control, and watching you react to her touch, her words, everything she did. "Girlfriend," you gasped out, finishing your sentence. "You wanna be my girlfriend, baby?" to which you responded with a moan and nod. Without warning, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pushed you down onto the desk. Your whole torso was pressed against the cold surface of your desk, accidentally scattering the papers you were organizing earlier. The girl wasted no time in pulling your skirt up, her green irises focusing on the wet spot she had created — fucking soaked; she licked her lips hungrily, pulling your pink underwear down. "Tell me what else you want, pretty" her fingers tracing your slit teasingly, collecting all your slick and messily smearing it all over your pussy. You shut your eyes, remembering yourself to keep it quiet.

"So ready for me—nice and wet, just how I like it." Before you could give her a proper answer or anything, she smoothly slid two fingers into your hole, sounds of pleasure filling the small room, hoping no one could hear you. "Want you to...fuck...treat me better," Her fingers picked up the pace, pumping in and out of you faster, almost giving you no time to adjust to them, she was so fucking desperate to make you cum on her fingers and god if anyone walked by, they would've been fucking traumatized, it was fucking obscene. Ellie finger fucking you from behind; she had you bent on your desk, just like she had always dreamt of.

"Treat you better, got it — Keep talking, princess." She just loved teasing you. She had you wildly writhing on your now messy desk, struggling to keep your mouth shut, yet she loved it. She loved the tremble in your voice as you tried to keep those cute little whimpers of yours at bay. So dreamy, such a slut you were for her. "I was so- mmph…upset when you…ignored me for a week." Each moan, each gasping breath, told her exactly how close she was bringing you to the edge. And oh, how Ellie loved being in control of that. "Yeah? I made you all sad?" her tone was mocking again, and her fingers moved faster and harder with each word that came out of you just to make it extra harder for you to hold your moans, such a cunt she was. You moaned in response, but apparently, that wasn't enough for her. "No, princess. I wanna talk it out. Use your words."

You whimpered and pushed your hips backward, meeting her thrusts. "I was...Ellie, please..." but she clicked her tongue "Was what?" She urged you, demanding that you finish your sentence. You couldn't see her face, but you knew just by her tone that a cocky grin lingered on those freckled features you loved so much. "Upset, con- confused" you stammered, bucking your hips against her hands as she kept fingering you mercilessly. "Why?" she knew exactly why, it was just an excuse to keep you talking. "Cause I couldn't understand, I just- 'm close." slutty moans echoed in the small office, no longer caring if anyone who passed by would hear you, you were far too gone for that, far too gone to think and use your brain. "I know angel, just tell me how you felt." all your juices making a mess of her hand, not that she cared, you were dripping all over her fingers and hand; completely enamored with the way your body reacted to her touch.

"I just wanted you and- oh my god!" and just like that, you exploded on her fingers; she hovered over your body, bending down over you just to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, her fingers still buried deep inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm. Your breathing was ragged, panting like a dog. "Wanna be my girlfriend?" she whispered in your ear, leaving a few kisses on your neck. "Yeah," you breathed out. "Yeah?" she echoed with a cheeky smile creeping up her face, though you couldn't see it. "Yes, but I'm not your fucking secret." you tried to sound threatening and she couldn't help but chuckle dryly at your words, wrapping her arms around your waist. "Not gonna be my little secret."

And she kept her word.

✩ coworker!ellie went from your biggest hater to your biggest fan. Could you imagine it? Well, no one could. She would bring you up in any context or situation, always speaking so highly of you. Your boss was taken aback by the sudden shift in her attitude. The same-room-same-bed mistake was indeed just a way to help you resolve your issues but never he expected that the two of you would hit it off so well, let alone dating. Safe to say that no one saw it coming.

"Could you give this to y/n?" "Who?" "y/n" "Ohhh...my girlfriend? Sure, will do." throwing 'the bomb' like that so randomly, obviously left your boss thinking she was just joking. No one actually believed her until you confirmed it.

✩ coworker!ellie couldn't stop yapping about you to everyone in your workplace (and outside), it was almost nauseating how much of a lovesick girl she became overnight, shocking. No one could stand her ass for more than two seconds. Constantly talking and rambling about how perfect and beautiful you were, how good you were in what you did — basically acting like a proud girlfriend, showing you off at any chance she got.

✩ coworker!ellie wears one of those customized 'i love my gf' shirts with your face just to embarrass you.

"Ellie, what. the. fuck. are you wearing?" you wanted to be mad, pissed, but it was genuinely funny and you found yourself unable to contain your laughter. She looked utterly stupid in that but you couldn't help but smile. "Told you, not gonna keep you a secret. Everybody needs to know." and she was so dramatic about it, making a bunch of customized things with your face. Shirts, boxers (which you really liked), mugs that she'd keep in her office, either to use them or to just put all her pens in, jackets, anything.

✩ coworker!ellie was always sticking to you like glue, never leaving your side no matter where you were. She would follow you around the office like a puppy, her hands always on your body. You couldn't have a conversation with anyone without her hovering nearby, listening in. She would steal quick kisses from you whenever she got the chance, be it in a meeting or in the presence of others.

Dina stood casually leaning against the doorframe, her eyes fixed on the scene in front of her. Jesse, her boyfriend, emerged from his office with a broad grin on his face, looking a little bemused. Dina couldn't help but smirk "You owe me 50 bucks," she announced, her voice ringing with the sound of victory. Jesse looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You saw it coming?" he asked her incredulously, raising an eyebrow. The brunette shrugged, the smirk still firmly in place on her face. "It was bound to happen at some point," she stated "and I won, so...50 bucks." She held out her hand, waiting for Jesse to hand over the cash. He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at his girl's enthusiasm. "Fine, you win," he said, handing over the money. "And you're taking me out for dinner tonight," she added with a grin, her tone smug. "Anything for you, my love,"

VIOLET TWT LINKS

INCLUDES— wlw, making out, usage of strap, clit play, breast/nipple play, fingering, finger sucking, grinding, pussy slaps, groping, spanking, cunnilingus.

WARNINGS—21 links, all of these videos are for afab readers, don't like don't read/watch, make sure to be logged into twt/x beforehand, if some of the links stop working please lmk !

making out with vi

vi rubbing your clit

vi finger fucking her fem gf

being pinned down by vi as she sucks on your tongue

pussy spanks from vi

vi playing with your pretty tits

vi making love to you

slicking vi's fingers up with your mouth

fucking yourself on her juicy strap

vi playing with her gfs pretty pussy

she loves your tits pt2

being noisy while vi has her mouth on your cunt

vi forcing you to ride her thigh until you come

pitfighter!vi taking her frustration out on you after losing her latest match

vi letting her pretty girl grind on her

vi taking care of your needy pussy with her strap

more boob lover vi agenda

she knows just how to eat her girl out

she doesn't care that you've already come twice, she'll keep going until you're shaking

vi groping your butt

more of vi loving on your boobies + teasing your pussy

ffiolette

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”