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doitforbangchan · 2 months

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For the long haul - Lee Know

Thank you to @jehhskz for another wonderful request. I appreciate you so much sweetheart

Masterlist

Lee know x Reader (afab)

Warnings: Cursing, angst, smut, unprotected sex but reader on birth control, dom!Minho, mean!Minho, Fingering, kissing, hickeys, enemies to lovers, fluff, pet names

WC: 2.8k

MDNI 18+

This could not possibly get any worse.

“Could you stop breathing so fucking loud?”

Correction, now it couldn’t get any worse.

Your professor just had to pair you with Minho, knowing very well how much he hated you. You both were in the same theater program at your university, and Minho had decided he hated you your very first semester when you got a better score on a dance performance than him. He was a petty son of a bitch and didn’t forget nor forgive, thus had been metaphorically shitting on you almost daily for 4 years.

I guess what he didn’t count on was you could play that game too. When he bit -you bit harder, when he ran his mouth you were right there with a rebuttal. He loved to point out your flaws, trying to get a rise out of you. You would never admit how his words hurt you.

Truthfully you had a crush on Minho back then. How could you not? He was beautiful. Sharp features, dark cat like eyes, lips that looked so soft. Oh don't even get started on his body. The boy had abs that were drool worthy.

Not like any of that mattered when he was a colossal asshole to you. Like he was being right now. Currently you were both sitting next to each other on a plane, on a class trip to London to see Shakespeare's theater. Your teacher had selected trip partners, meaning he was stuck with you for the next week. Here on the plane and in the hotel room when you were in London.

Yippee

“Can you mind your own fucking business?” You rebutted, shutting your eyes tighter and leaning back further into your seat. It was bad enough you were stuck next to him for 6 more hours but he really would not shut the fuck up.

“Maybe I would if you would close your mouth when you sleep.” He was grouchy, probably feeling similarly to you.

“Whatever Minho.” You put your headphones over your ears and your eye mask on, blocking him out completely. Though you knew the possibility of a nap while seated next to him was next to zero. If you hadn’t put your mask on you might not have missed the way he gulped when you said his name. Wouldn’t have missed the effect you had on him.

------------------------------------------------------

After that greuling 12 hour flight you had finally made it to your destination. And just as you predicted, you got zero sleep on the flight. Though you pretended to sleep to avoid the man that was next to you. At least it was night time in England by the time you made it off the plane, around 10pm. Meaning you were headed straight for the hotel and right to bed. In a bed directly next to Minho..

Your one moment of peace came when your group got on the bus to the hotel, you were able to snag a seat away from him. It was at this moment you were able to reflect on the situation. It really was unfortunate that Minho was such a jerk to you, there was a part of you that still harbored that crush on him from your freshman year. You had seen him be kind to others, you knew he had it in him. Just not for you.

Kinda broke your heart a little bit.

Pulling up to the hotel you knew your peace was over. You were purposefully the last person off the bus, grabbing your room key from your teacher - who for some reason seemed way too smug when she wished you a goodnight- and slowly made your way up with your bags in tow.

You stood in front of the room door, bracing yourself for the onslaught you were sure to receive when you entered, took a deep breath and opened the door. Minho was already in there, putting his clothes into the drawers next to his claimed bed. Of course he chose the one next to the window.

He didn't acknowledge you when you walked in and set your stuff down on your bed. You took out a pair of your pjs and waited a moment before asking, “Did you want to shower first or do you mind if I?”

He didn’t offer you a verbal answer, instead just waving his hand at you to go ahead. You guessed that was better than being mean to you so you collected your clothes and went into the bathroom.

You took your time in the shower, the hot water helping you escape reality, though the water pressure sucked. While you were in there you could hear a faint voice talking back in your room. These walls must have been realllllly thin, since you could pick up pieces of a conversion Minho seemed to be having, but you didn’t hear anyone elses voice so he must be on the phone.

You were only getting a few words.

‘I dont know how-’ ‘stuck with her’ ‘fucked up’ ‘control’ was all you were able to get before you realized you may have been in there too long.

As you shut the water off you heard Minho say “I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You dressed and brushed your teeth before exiting the bathroom. Minho let out a scoff when you entered the room “Took you long enough. Did the princess need some pampering?” He was condescending with his words. He grabbed his own pjs before walking past you.

Before he could close the door to the bathroom you blurted out “Why do you hate me so much?” there was a crack in your voice. He seemed to freeze and stare at your back. You were facing away from him when you asked it, thankfully so or he would have seen how your bottom lip wobbled when you asked it.

Minho gave you no answer, only softly closing the door and locking it behind him.

When he shut himself in you let a few tears slip out. You put your dirty clothes away before climbing into your bed and burying your face into your pillow, to hide the tears that steadily leaked from your eyes.

It seemed he too took his time, as it was about 30 minutes before he came out to your curled up form hidden under your covers. He could tell you were crying by the small shakes emitting from your form every few seconds. Minho ran his hand over his face before approaching you slowly, and took a seat on the edge of your bed. You felt the bed dip but didn’t say anything or look at him. Until he spoke first.

“I..I don't hate you.” His voice was soft. The softest you had ever heard, as if he was afraid to speak.

You wiped your eyes before uncovering your face enough to peer at him, “Then why.. If you don’t hate me, why do you treat me like you do?”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair nervously, “It started because I was…jealous. Jealous that such a pretty and well liked girl was doing better than me, better than me at my passion. It came so naturally for you. While I had to work so hard. It drove me crazy.” He wasn't looking at you while he said it. You took a beat before answering.

“You think I'm pretty?”

He spun his head around to look at you in disbelief “ That's what you focused on?!”

You pulled yourself out of the blankets, “I mean, I never meant for you to feel like you weren't enough, Minho.” You brought yourself closer to him but not touching. “ I always thought you were an incredible dancer. I actually strive to be as good as you are. Strive to be good enough for you.”

He looked into your eyes “You are good enough. It’s me that's the problem. I didn’t know how to properly manage my own feelings and by the time I figured it out we already had this hostile dynamic. And I haven't been fair to you with the way I’ve been treating you.” He had shame on his face.

“No you haven’t.” You agreed. “But I havent been a saint to you either. That's not how you treat someone that you.. That you like.”

“You like me? After all we’ve done and said to each other, you like me?” He asked incredulously. You nodded and covered your face with your hands, embarrassed at admitting it to him. “Hey don't hide.” He reached out and took your hands in his, pulling them from your red face. “ I guess now would be a good time to tell you that…. I like you too, have since the day I first saw you in class.”

At his words your brain short circuited and before you knew what you were doing you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his shocked lips. You pulled away quickly after registering exactly what you had just done.

“Oh my god I am so sorry Mi-” He cut you off by crashing his lips back into yours, encapturing you into him.

You moaned lowly into his mouth when he ran his tongue against your bottom lip, as if asking for permission. He shoved the appendage into your mouth immediately claiming dominance over you. He brought his hand up to the side of your neck where he gripped lighty, angling your head to his liking so he could shove himself further into you.

After a few seconds he released you, biting on your bottom lip as he went.

“Tell me what you want, baby girl.” His voice was raspy. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want all of you, Minho. Everything.”

He groaned, his eyes darkening with desire. He gave you a smirk “Oh I’ll give it to you alright. If you need me to stop or if it gets too much for you, say ‘red’ and I’ll stop.”

“Yes minho.” You nodded, ready for him. The wetness between your legs was growing by the second.

“That's a good girl.” He pushed you down onto your bed and climbed over you, attaching his mouth back on to yours. This time it was all teeth mashing against your own. It was downright dirty, the way his tongue bossed its way into you. He wasted no time in finding the hem of your shirt and lifting it up over your head, then he threw it somewhere without a care.

He groaned when his rough hands made contact with your bare breasts. “Mmm no bra?” He mumbled. “Bet if I go lower I’ll find you're not wearing any panties under these dainty shorts huh?” With one hand still groping your chest the other slithered down your waist and into the front of your sleep shorts where he was right- you had no panties on. “Fuck you are a dirty girl huh? Almost like you knew I would wanna fuck you tonight? Hm?”

You shook your head, “Just don’t wear them to bed is all Min, promise.” You gasped when his pointer finger made contact with your clit, the digit starting to rub slow circles on the nub.

“Hmm I don't think I believe you baby girl.” He tutted, “I think subconsciously you are a little freak who wanted me to fuck her. Well let me share another secret with you, so am I.”

Minhos mouth left bruising kisses on your neck while he played with your core, after a particularly hard suck he took the finger that was down there and shoved it into your hole, causing you to moan loudly.

“Min-minho!”

“Shhh babygirl, don’t want anyone to hear you huh? People are trying to sleep.” He was teasing you with his words. He added another finger to your heat, curling them up to find that sweet spot that made you see stars. He kept at this for a few minutes, coating his fingers in your juices.

You could tell he was struggling though, as every so often he would rut against the bed looking for any friction.

“Min..” You were able to get out between squeaks. "Wanna- wanna ride you, Min.”

At your words he bit into the skin he was suckling on your neck, causing you to bite your lip to keep quiet from the scream you would have let loose otherwise.

Minho removed his hands from you and propped himself up, his lips red and swollen. He gave you an almost menacing stare. “Little baby wants to ride me? Think you can handle it?”

You nodded enthusiastically,”Mmhmm please. Been dreaming of it for years.”

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself. “Years huh? Well since you've been so patient I guess I’ll grant your wish.” He stood only to remove the clothes from his own body. When he pulled down his joggers his cock slapped up against his stomach, red and proud. You could feel your mouth literally watering at the sight. He was beautiful. Like a work of art. All those years of dance really paid off for him.

His next words brought you out of your daze. “Fuck, I don't have a condom. Do you?”

You shook your head. “No, but I'm on birth control and I’m clean. I don't mind you going in raw if you’re clean too.”

“I’m clean.” He assured you. His smirk returned, “Take your shorts off.” You did as you were told as he plopped down next to you. Minho took his length in his hand and gave himself a few jerks before motioning you over. “Come on babygirl, climb aboard.”

You wasted no time, throwing a leg over his body and positioning yourself over his cock. For a moment you were worried he wouldn’t fit, he was so big. The biggest you had seen in person. As if he could sense your apprehension he teased “Don’t worry, it’ll fit.” He placed his hands on your hips, and your own hand gripped onto him lining him up to your hole, before you slowly sunk down on him.

You both threw your heads back at the intrusion. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust before he was lifting your body up and down on his cock, your insides struggling to accommodate him.

“Fffuuuckkk, you have the tightest pussy ever.” He groaned out from under you.

You placed both your hands on his chest and began to ride him the best you could, already feeling the burn in your thighs. He could really see all the hickeys he had left on your skin from this angle. You were driving him wild.

Each time you sank on him you let out a squeakish moan. Minho knew your sounds would wake the neighbors if he didn’t shut you up, so with one hand still on your hip the other tangled itself in your hair and yanked you down hard, to meet his face where he once again gave you a bruising kiss. You yelped into his mouth, the pain felt so good you couldn’t help it.

You could feel yourself start to lose rhythm from atop him, your orgasm impending. Minho could tell by the way your thighs shook. He wanted to get you there so he let go of your hip in favor of sliding his fingers back to your core where he rubbed harshly on your bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you came around him, coating his thighs, balls, and lower stomach in your release.

Your orgasm seemed to have triggered his own, as seconds later he was spurting inside of you, painting your insides white.

“Oh my fucking god. Shit you ride me so well baby.” He mumbled out against your mouth, not really kissing, more like just breathing in each other.

After a few moments of trying to catch your breath you rolled off of him, onto the space next to him. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, it was a strange but welcome feeling.

Minho was the first to speak. “That was incredible. I don't think I’ve ever cum that hard before in my life.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Me either.”

He faced you and gave you another kiss on your lips only lasting a second before he pulled away and placed his forehead against your own. “I don’t want you to think this was a one time thing. As far as I'm concerned you are my girl now.”

“Really?” You asked hopefully, eyes shining at the idea of being his.

“Absolutely. I have wanted you for years and now that I have you I’m never letting you go. You’re stuck with me, babes. For the long haul.”

“That's all I want Minho. Just want you.” You kissed him sweetly. “But first I think I need another shower.”

He laughed and hurled himself off the bed and gathered you in his arms, taking you to the bathroom to clean you up.

A/N: as always comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

Requests are open as well! If anyone has an idea shoot me an ask :)

©doitforbangchan

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz smut #lee know #lee know x reader #lee minho #lee know smut #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho stray kids #lee minho skz #lee minho x you #stray kids smut

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s-4pphics · 4 months

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click!: in frame. 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, loss and unhealthy grieving, papa issues, verbally abusive parent(PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY), depictions of therapy and counseling, light discussion of anger management, brief mention of alcohol, bullying, a lil fluff, SMUT!! YIPPEE MDNI, bondage, squirting, bathroom sex, eating out no taqueria, ellie getting sloppy from a hot milf that’s it

You look like your mom.

Your father’s admiring whisper yanks you out of the hazy turbulence in your mind. You shovel a handful of caramel popcorn in your mouth. You don’t dare look at him.

Daughter things, I guess. Your dad simply hums. Silence simmers between the two of you. It’s not comforting. Not like it should be. A bomb is coming.

Honey, I… I love you. Your father sounds like he's crying and it pauses your aggressive chewing. You finally turn to face him and your fingers twitch when you see his globby tears. They’re heavy as he releases his regrets in silence, just like he always does during this time of year.

Me, too, dad.

You’re not sure if you’re lying or not. Some things are impossible to forget, you suppose.

You eat more popcorn with a permanently damaged heart.

FOUR YEARS LATER

FIRST DAY WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“Some people believe that any form of assistance is… insulting. Whether it be to them as people or… specific traits that they hold that others may find unfamiliar or unsettling. I’m not here to judge or anything of that nature. Just here to help you figure out why specific aspects of your life affect you the way they do.”

Your arms cross over your chest. Dr. Brown realizes you’re not taking the bait, so she attempts to get you more comfortable. “I think icebreakers could help ease some of the tension. So… What’s your favorit— “

“My dad died last year.”

Your statement makes her freeze, her smile melting off her face, eyes shifting across her face. She adjusts some papers on her clipboard and clicks her pen. “Alright, hun,” Her gentle tone makes your stomach twist. “Let’s talk about it. What was the relationship with your dad like?” You simply shrug.

Dr. Brown nods and tries again. “Were you and him close? Your notes say you and your mother were inseparable, just like me and mine.”

Your nails sink into your cuticles and tears burn in your eyes, “I… I wanted to be. Close.” You whisper. “He wasn’t around like that, though.”

She scribbles and solemnly nods, “Did he work often?” Your head bobs and droplets stream down your cheeks.

“I didn’t think I’d care that he died… He was never around growing up, so… like, whatever.” You grumble lamely.

“What did losing him feel like?”

The end of your mouth curls downward, the familiar searing you’ve grown to loathe, “Like… the world was burnin’.”

“Elaborate.” She pries softly.

Another bounce from your shoulders. You readjust in your seat. “I wasn’t even sad. Just…” You trail off, fingers twitching under your arm.

“Angry. I was angry all the time.” You rush out quietly, face burning with shame. “Just like he was.” You pause when your breath shakes, “I wish I got some of my mom’s traits. My dad’n I are just alike.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater.

“… You’re not like him— “

“I am— “

“You’re not. You’re trying to put in effort to be better for the future. Could he have said the same?” She’s stern when she speaks.

You’re stumped. You wipe your tears harshly. For the first time, you're at a loss for words.

WEEK TWO WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“Think about the first time you saw your dad lash out. You can elaborate on how you felt, how you reacted, how your environment changed… Anything you feel comfortable sharing.” Your eyes stay glued to your therapist’s couch as you recall the day. Every detail and foul verbiage he directed towards your mother resurfaces and falls at your sock-covered feet.

It was the morning of your first day of second grade. Your mother spent the entire morning hot-combing your hair, bumping your ends, littering your locks that were bound to recoil in seconds in bobbles and clips. She could tell by your expression that you didn’t like it, but she completed your bright pink outfit with it’s not for you, it’s for me! Sit still! She never failed to live vicariously through you; Every childhood moment she couldn’t live out was now yours.

Your father wasn’t around much. He was a truck-driver, on a constant voyage to wherever he was instructed to go, hundreds to thousands of miles away from solace for months — sometimes years at a time. He missed birthdays, holidays, family reunions; There was always a missing space for him somewhere in your childhood home, whether it be his customized keychain that he forgot, shoes he didn’t pack, a hug he didn’t give. Proof of him was always scattered around somewhere, but he was a shadow. A blank memory.

So, why were your cartoons interrupted by his booming voice in the kitchen?

You remember turning the television down, only by a couple digits, your ears honing in on every word he screamed at your mother. You were so confused. Half of those words you’d never heard before. Why was he so mad this early in the morning?

You knew it was serious when your mother retaliated just as loudly, the cracks and shrieks from her belts sounding alarms in your brain. Your mom’s in trouble! Help her! But how could you? You were defenseless against him. It felt like the day flew by as their aggression intensified, curses nearly shattering the glass of your backyard door before everything went quiet.

But still, your feet carried you to peek behind the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Your attempts at being discreet were pointless, though. When you saw your mother pinned up against the counter by your father, tears streaming down her face as he spat with every whisper onto her cheek, you gasped. Your memory is washy after that, but you remember your mother wiping her tears and slapping that comforting grin on her face. You wish you didn’t remember how broken she sounded when she said alright, baby! Ready for school? Don’t wanna be late!

You suffered through social studies, language arts, and math. Your mind wasn’t where it should’ve been; You couldn’t shake the fact that your mother could be hurt and she had no one to tell. You just prayed to yourself as your teacher spoke, hoping that your mom would be on time to pick you up at the end of the day.

Your eyes travel over the teal incisions of thread on your therapist’s seat. You’re still not used to the sound of your own voice. “It’s… it’s a funny story…” You sound so weak. You retell what you can, all while following the tip of your therapist’s scribbling pen.

Why did it have to be green? Why are the clicks deafening?

“Ellie, holy fucking — shit, these look fucking incredible!” Yuki whispers, expression impressed as she snoops over the auburn-haired girl’s shoulder, inspecting the aerial shots she’d taken a few hours ago. Editing is a bitch. “I don’t know how you do it. You’re…”

“A genius, I know,” Ellie says dryly, a soft grin hidden behind the hand that holds her head up. It’s almost eleven. “M’almost done— “

“Nope! Not happening!” Another voice exclaims from the black lounge chair on the opposite side of the room. “You’re not the one that has to lock up every goddamn night! I ain’t stayin’ here ‘til two again! You got two seconds to finish up before I drag you up outta here.”

Yuki giggles at Saliyah’s scolding, and Ellie sighs. The pictures look almost perfect. Almost. They’re not there yet! All she needs is an hour… or three—

“What did I say! —“

“Alright, alright, fuck.” Ellie shakes her head before closing all her tabs, pulling her flash drive out of the PC before shutting it down. She stands from her rolling chair and snags her blazer from over the back of it, throwing it over her shoulders and grabbing her work bag, camera already securely inside. She shoves the drive in a random pocket before stretching.

The two girls already have all of their belongings in hand, more than ready to clock the fuck out. Yuki eyes her slyly, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “Oh, wooow, she’s actually taking orders, now? Listening to instructions for the first time? —“

“Can you stop.” Ellie mutters as she follows the girls descending the stairs. “No!” They both say in unison. Ellie smiles. Does she really stay out that often? There’s no way she’s that stubborn.

All three girls crack jokes as they vacant the building, ensuring all the lights and equipment are shut off and prepped for tomorrow. It’s an early day.

“Alright, bitches!” Yuki screams into the darkness, bag swinging as her heels click-clack on the pavement. “I want you bright and bushy-tailed tomorrow! Busy day! No time to fuck arou— “

Saliyah yawns, eyes droopy, “Girl… fuck you.” Ellie cackles and rubs her tired eyes. She can’t wait to get these six hours in. And see her baby. Saliyah wraps her arms around Ellie’s neck, muttering see you tomorrow, stinker into her neck. Ellie hums and holds her before watching her get into her vehicle.

Ellie does the same after both girls leave the parking lot, her head falling back onto the headrest, eyes shutting in exhaustion. Today was insane… Fuck, it was incredible. She's always accepted opportunities to take photos in nature. Landscapes are her prestige, but when she got the offer to take aerial shots of the ocean, she couldn’t say no. Just when she thought she’d never get on an aircraft out of fear…

The shots were mystical, the monsoon winds carrying the waves in all directions as the foams ripple, a scene straight out of her dreams. The second she got off the helicopter, she got to editing. Staying in late to perfect her captures has become a terrible habit, but what can she say? She loves her job. Thank God her coworkers are as sweet as cherry pie and support her bad habit. Besides tonight, apparently.

Days like this keep Ellie humbled… Most times. She deserves to boast every once in a while. She often thinks back on her college days, how out of touch chances like these seemed. The number of times she was brushed off by respected professionals because she lacked “necessary resources” was astronomical. But look at her now. She had everything she could ever want: a career she’s passionate about, healthy friendships, and the means to take care of her father.

Well… she has most things.

She sighs and starts her vehicle, the diamonds in her Rolex sparkling under the street lights beaming in from the window. The streets are calm. Not normally bustling like they would on a regular day. The clouds are coming in; Rain is due. She’s so excited.

It’s a calm drive back to her small home. She pulls into the driveway and exits with all her supplies, unlocking and entering her place of peace.

Meow! Meow!

Ellie clicks her tongue at Pickle, “Hiii, mama. I’m home.” She drops her bag on the small couch near the front door, bending down to pick her up. “You’re heavy, fuck.” The baby purrs and nuzzles into her neck as they enter the kitchen. She sets her down on the counter and opens the fridge for water. There’s soft scuffling from behind her as she sips.

Ellie turns to see Pickle playing with a pen, rolling it across granite. She swallows her last gulp before sighing, picking up the utensil, the one memory she kept of you. Your colorful fucking custom ballpoint pen. Pickle nibbles her fingers, trying to snatch it back to play with, but Ellie clicks it over and over.

“Miss her? Yeah?” She whispers. Pickle licks her index. Ellie will never admit it, but she thinks about you whenever she sees her baby. Yours, too.

She hopes you’re alright.

“You said that going to his funeral was different from your mom’s. Do you mind elaborating?”

You shrug and scoff. “Shouldn’t everybody feel sad when they parents die?” Dr. Brown mimics you, “Not at all. Every reaction to loss is different and not all reactions are symmetrical.”

“I was angry.” Your statement is blunt and abrasive.

“Expound.”

“I wanted to dig him up and spit on him my damn self.” You say, sharp as razor blades. Brown hums, unfazed by your sudden aggression; What the hell do therapists write on those clipboards? “I just… Seein’ all these fuckers I didn’t know talk about how fuckin’… great he was and how missed he’ll be was fuckin’ infuriating. They don’t know shit about that man or the shit he’s done.”

Sympathy washes over Dr. Brown’s pupils. “See, your temper is the reason you’re here. You’re not obligated to forgive anybody that wronged you, but…” She’s simultaneously stern and empathic, “You do not get to use those emotions to inflict negativity onto the people around you. You’re perpetuating the same harm you wanted to avoid in the first place.”

You instantly know what she’s referring to and guilt radiates all the way down to your toes. Amaya… Oh, you miss her. Another good person caught in your violent crossfire. Your last conversation was vile, and you hate yourself every day for the things you said to the only person who unconditionally cared about your wellbeing. Tears brew in your ducts, but you blink them away.

“I didn’t… know what to do…” You didn’t, so you screamed and shouted and told her to never call your fucking phone again. The last thing you berated was the final nail in the coffin for your relationship. You left me, you’d said over and over until the line went dead. You left me alone! I fucking needed you!

“No one has the answers for these types of situations. Why we react the way that we do to traumatic events will always be a mystery.” She adjusts in her chair, leg crossing over the other. “What I do know is that… you’re fighting grief. You’re choosing not to experience it, and it’s making you lash out on people who don’t deserve it.”

But how does one grieve the person that made their life… unlivable? Through rage. Rage in its purest form: unfiltered, erratic, sizzling. It’s unrelenting and unforgiving and holds no bounds, prepared to be released at any moment, no matter who’s present. Your father’s home has seen it all at this point: glass shattering on walls, screaming into the closet where all his clothes hang, punching the pillow he slept on every night.

Everything was exactly where your father left it, and instead of crying, you relinquished hell on the home he left in your name. You’re still surprised it wasn’t engulfed in flames after his funeral.

“I just…” Harsh sniffles from you, desperately wiping your tears with damp hoodie sleeves, “I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels… real anymore.”

“You’re real, baby.” This is the most delicate Dr. Brown has ever sounded, tone hushed. “Your feelings are real, your pain is real, but so is everyone else’s. You have to remember that.”

You’re listening so intently, “What I'd suggest…” You already know what she’s going to say, and you’re petrified. You sag into your seat.

You owe those two girls an apology.

Flashes of green race across your memory. The meadows are back, and they’re haunting.

“Three.” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“I owe…” A heavy exhale. “Three girls an apology.”

OCTOBER, 2013

Ellie’s officially fifteen. She’d give anything to be home right now.

She was so happy before she left that morning. Her dad woke her up with a heaping stack of iced chocolate chip pancakes that were the size of her head and happy birthday candles. Laughter echoed through their household, following as they cascaded down the stairs to blast music. Neighbors be damned. Everything was perfect. Up until she was dressed and ready and in the car.

Ellie’s dad held her hand the entire drive. He didn’t comment on her white knuckles as she gripped his digits when he kissed the back of her hand. It took her a second to exit the car when they arrived, so he said the usual. You got this, kiddo. The extra encouragement provided a boost, for sure. She was able to get to class on time.

Every time a wad of paper or a sharpened pencil hits the back of her head, she regrets not begging her dad to let her stay home. She’s grown used to the snickers, the shoulder chucks in the hallway, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

English concludes and she’s silently packing when her bag gets yanked out of her hand.

Missed you, stalker, A kid who Ellie doesn’t fucking remember snarks with a dark grin. Where’s that book you always have—

Tyler! The teacher’s voice booms, the class filling with oooh’s, That's enough. Give her stuff back now.

C’mooon, I can’t talk to my girlfriend? The remaining students burst into laughter and Ellie’s face burns, swallowing the lump that’s forming in her throat.

How about I call home? Tyler sucks his teeth at the threat while his friends laugh, dropping Ellie’s things on her desk with little care. She wastes no time to flee, shoving her earpods in and synching each trembling breath with the heavy percussion.

Her dad comes to pick her up an hour later.

A light tap on your shoulder tears your attention away from the lengthy equations on the board. Numbers and letters? Your fucking ass; Absolutely not!

You turn to Amaya, who’s smiling wide, shoving a folded note in your hand, rushing you to open it. Your brows crease as you face forward, unraveling the nest crevices and met with… hearts? Glitter? Pretty penmanship? No man wrote this, thank God.

Hi. You’re really pretty and nice. Would you like to sit with me during lunch?

Ceniyah

… Ceniyah? … Thee Cece? The person you’ve been obsessed with since middle school? What the fuck is going on!

You turn back to Amaya who’s giggling into her palm, catching glimpses of a shy Ceniyah, who keeps her head down, her beaded braids shielding her face. Your face burns and you jerk back forward. It’s not a fucking prank, what the fuck, what the fuck—

Class drags like a bitch, but the bell finally rings, and everyone hustles, shoving books in their bags, running to the cafeteria. You refuse to move, though. Your iron is low and the person you’re in love with asked you to crunch on celery sticks with her. Alone. You're bound to pass out the second you breathe wrong.

Hi.

You nearly fly out of your seat at her soft tone. She sounds like an angel. You’re going to die. You jump out of your chair and… take in the beauty that she is. She smells like heaven and her skin is perfect, not a blemish in sight. You hope she can’t see your acne scars… and she’s shorter than you. Are minors allowed to get married?

H-Hey, You hold up the pink piece of construction paper, I, uh, got your note… It’s beautiful. Her smile shines brighter than the sun. She shakes her head and the chains locked on her clips tinker like fairies.

Are you kiddin’ me! That mural you helped create was crazy. That was beautiful.

I love you.

Your eyes go wide. Did you say that? You don’t think you said that… Her smile turns confused and you realize you said that. You almost stab yourself with your pencil. I mean, like, I love how you appreciate art! Like, not m-many people… do that, and stuff…

She smirks and your heart squeezes with delight, And stuff? She inquires with an arched brow.

I’d appreciate it if you ladies headed to lunch so I can enjoy mine. Your teacher interrupts, And the next note that gets passed earns a detention.

A soft, floral-scented hand closes around your wrist, over your beaded bracelets and charms. You grab your bag with your last remaining strength and follow her like a puppy, her flowy skirt brushing against the bottoms of your jean-clad legs.

Best… day… ever.

PRESENT

Ellie needs to start doing finger stretches. Her hands are starting to hurt every time she clocks out.

She’s sitting at her desk, re-editing the infant photos she took earlier today. The twin girls from earlier were absolute angels, smiling and cooing up at the camera behind their matching pink pacifiers. She's never thought about having children… ever, but it might not be so bad—

Meow! Meow, meow! MeowMEOW—

… Nevermind. Kids are not for her. She can barely get this one to act right. The pictures are cute, though.

“What’s the matter, mama?” She coos down at a doe-eyed kit-kat. “Hungies?” Pickle jumps up and into her lap, staring at the bright screen that displays Ellie’s editing software. Ellie smirks down at her, “What, you wanna try?”

Pickle blinks up at her. No thoughts, just kibble.

She decides to save her progress on the photos and give her munchkin some love. The few minutes of head pats and runs are cut short when she gets a pop-up from her email. She pays it no mind at first, but she zeroes in on the subject with furrowed brows. It simply reads hi… an overdue apology. Ellie blinks a couple times before suspecting spam… But who the fuck names a spam email something that cryptic? What the fuck?

Ellie opens it… and her body goes numb as her eyes follow each word.

hi, ellie. i’m not sure how to start this off, but i hope it’s decent enough to sit through. i apologize in advance.

you probably don’t remember me, but we had statistics and used to live together in college. it was only for two months (i think, kind of a blur) but… yeah. i hope it semi-kinda rings a bell. hi again.

this is a very random time to reach out, and i understand any confusion, but i just wanted to apologize for everything. i was terrible to you. i'd never thought i'd become a judgmental person, but i did. i mocked you, i spoke behind your back, and probably ruined your last year of school, and i carry that regret with me everywhere i go. i’m not sure if i'll ever be able to express my remorse properly.

i’m trying to do better. i want to do better, but i can’t unless i express it.

you never have to talk to me again, and i understand if you don’t, but if you ever want to have a conversation with me, i’d be more than willing to come wherever you are to do so. or we can exchange numbers if it’s less of a hassle. i see how busy you are.

thank you if you took out any time to read this jumbled mess of thoughts. i’m very nervous. i hope you continue to live beautifully.

sincerely, someone trying to start fresh.

(p.s. i swear i'm not a stalker. you’re really popping on instagram. congratulations on everything.)

Ellie wastes no time and unplugs her entire PC, the screen going black. Her heart is racing and water surfaces above her pupils. Pickle purrs in her arms as she backs her rolling chair from under the desk and scurries into her bedroom. She sets the kitty down on her bed and clutches her chest. She forgets to count, forgets to breathe as detailed images of you scatter in her head.

You… what the fuck.

Ellie feels her hands start to shake, so she squeezes them in a fist as she paces. Her gasps are choked and she’s spiraling into panic; She can’t unsee your teary, brown eyes, how you tried to mask your sadness when she stated she was leaving. She was able to convince herself that she’d never see you again, and it took her so long to be okay with that. She’s grown to be okay without your presence.

The burnt trail she left behind has reignited again. She's sinking, drowning, just like she did years ago.

WEEK FIVE WITH DR. BROWN

“How do you feel now? Be honest.”

“… Still shitty… but alright, I guess.” You’re hoarse when you speak.

“Elaborate. What does alright mean for you?”

You pick at your fingers, “I’m not… I don’t wanna, like, kill myself… if that’s what you’re asking. The ball’s in their court now, I guess. I’m… I’m just alright.” Your shoulders bounce in a shrug.

“Has anyone answered?” Your head shakes in denial. “Don’t let that jeopardize your progress. However they react to you contacting them is not on you anymore. They either accept it or they don’t, and they’re valid in both options.”

Dr. Brown pauses and eyes you skeptically, “What?” You ask.

She shrugs, “One person isn’t on your making amends list.”

Your reply is immediate, “Probably for a reason.”

“Do you remember what you told me during our first meeting?”

Irritation boils under your skin. “I see where you’re taking this conversation and I’m not messin’ wit’ it… Respectfully. Next topic, please.”

Her hands raise in surrender, “Ay’, I’m not here to make you do diddly-squat. Merely providing perspective.”

“Right.”

“You did beat that girl to a pulp, though. I will say— “

“It’s what she deserved.” You say flatly. “She… humiliated me, and when her bitch left, she tried to come back to me. Get me pregnant— “

“Chile, I’m not tryna hear all that— “

You scoff and fall back in your seat, cushions and pillows molding with the curve of your spine. Dina bringing her happy ass to your father’s home after his death was one of the most infuriating experiences of your entire goddamn life. The second you opened the door, you were met with wildfire and permanently scarred. The least you could do is give her a fucking black eye.

What you did after that… you’ll never regret. Ever. She can blast you on Twitter all she wants; She’s dead to you.

Dr. Brown sips on her black tea with a pointed stare, “Yes, ma’am?” You say sarcastically.

“Watch that tone,” That look in her eye… she meant that. You’ll be quiet. “She was wrong for what she did, but you ain’t innocent.”

“I’m sorry, but I disagree. That one… she can choke. I don’t care.” Dr. Brown is disappointed by your answer, but frankly, you don’t care. That ship sailed and sank like the goddamn Titanic.

She seems disappointed in your answer, but she lets it go. “… Alright, then.”

On the brink of a heart attack perfectly explains how Ellie’s been feeling for the past week. The number of times she’s reread your fucking email is genuinely embarrassing, but she’s weighing her options: she either blocks you or accepts your offer. She's never been so conflicted in her life. She desperately needs a fucking break.

She never takes Saliyah and Yuki up on their offers to turn up on Friday nights, but her rampant emotions backed her into a corner… and now she’s tipsy on the dancefloor of some rinky-dink club. One night of release wouldn’t hurt.

Ellie really wishes she had a grilled cheese. They’re quite delicious… Probably not the thoughts she should be having with a hot older woman pushing back on her to fucking T-Pain, but she’s hungry! Liquor gives her the appetite of a fucking rhinosaurous, what can she say!

Saliyah and Yuki are handling business for her, though, giving the lady’s ass very encouraging slaps every time their hips connect. Ellie probably looks like a fucking dumbass as she pumps her fist in the air like an old man, but she can’t remember the last time she partied. Sue her!

It’s not until the woman stands upright, her sweaty, nearly bare back pressed against Ellie’s button-up, an arm coming up to loop around her neck, slightly shifting her bow tie that Ellie freezes, her fists clenching even tighter in the air. Her core gives a sharp squeeze when she feels sticky, glossed lips imprint on her throat. Her eyes bulge as she frantically searches for guidance from her friends, but they’re no fucking help, as usual! What the hell is miming sex and eating pussy going to do for her? She can barely breathe.

Her friends shoot her finger guns in encouragement before heading back to the bar. A tongue darts out to lap up her anxiety-induced sweat, and her body tremors, her hands untwisting to land on the girl’s jean covered hips for leverage. She feels teeth beam on her neck and her entire body flushes.

“You’re adorable!” Ellie hears her scream over the blasting music. Her tongue jumbles as she searches for a reply, but nothing leaves. She just drops her head onto the woman’s shoulder… and nearly flat lines when she eyes the cleavage sitting taut in her halter top. Her heart’s pulses synch with the ones from her clit when the woman giggles. Ellie’s ninety-five-point six percent sure that her nipples are poking through her shirt.

Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek when the woman spins to face her, chest to chest, noses almost touching. The woman’s gaze drops to her neck, cunning as a fox as she undoes the first button of her shirt before unraveling the loop of her bow tie. She leans in, wafts of cinnamon flooding Ellie’s nostrils.

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Ellie’s nodding before the lady can conclude the purr in her ear. Her hand gets snagged and she’s being dragged through the hot crowd, all the way to the back of the club and shoved into the giant restroom. She finally takes in the goddess in front of her: dark hair, plump lips, pretty lashes. The wrinkles by her eyes and laugh lines are sending dopamine alarms in her brain.

Ellie receives one gentle kiss that makes her hips

grind forward before she hears, “You ever been tied up?” The raven-haired woman mumbles against her mouth. She whines, cheeks burning, “N-No,” she whispers.

Her perfect teeth shine, “You wanna be?”

Does she? “I — yeah, I guess?”

“Put your wrists together,” she hums and Ellie does. Her own bow tie gets looped and twisted around her nimble hands. The woman drops to her knees in front of the trembling girl, massaging her thighs over her jeans, planting kisses all over them, “You gotta name, honey?”

“Ellie… M’Ellie…” The woman’s hands creep up to unbutton her jeans, the soft hiss of the zipper, “What’s yours?” She only receives a shrug. “Whatever you want it to be.” Her jeans are yanked down seconds later, her… fucking Cartoon Network boxers drenched all the way through. The woman giggles and calls Ellie a cutie pie and her clit jumps.

Her manicured nails hook under the band of Ellie’s boxers, slowly inching them down until her soft, sticky hairs are on display and her boxers are around her knees, “Gonna let me eat this pussy out, angel?”

Ellie’s vision whites out. Only for a second, “Y-Yes, ma’am…”

Ellie’s sopping lips and pulled apart, her red, throbbing clit on display for the fucking witch in front of her. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. Anybody ever play with this pretty cunt?” Reality crashes down on her like a boulder as images of you touching her, kissing her flash before her eyes. Her jaw slacks as her words flurry.

“Just — fuck, just one time.”

“Yeah?” She coos, massaging gentle circles on her clit, “I'm your lucky second?” Ellie nods frantically. Her knees buckle when a sharp slap lands on her pussy, “Ffuck—“ The strokes on her clit are punishing, fast and non-stopping, the woman’s teeth gritted when she asks, “Steppin’ out on your girl, huh?”

Ellie moans around her denial while her cheeks glow, “N— agh, s-shit, wasn’t m’girl—“

“Yeah? She touch you like me?” The woman snickers, and Ellie burns red. She’s already so close and she can’t fucking think, “Think m’cummin’—“ Ellie slurs, her tongue thick in her mouth as her walls squeeze down, desperately trying to pull something, anything in as deep as possible.

“Can feel it. Tell me when.” But Ellie couldn’t. Her orgasm crashes into her like a fucking truck and her body falls forward, legs trembling as it wracks through her in harsh waves. The thighs that try to close are forced open, sharp stings radiating off her skin from the nails that pierce them. Strong suctions attack Ellie’s clit and she sobs, practically riding the woman’s face. Vibrations from satisfied hums stimulate her further, and she swears she’s going to pass out.

The pleasure builds all over again and her eyes squeeze shut, her hips thrusting forward and into the woman’s mouth. Her optics cycle into her skull when the space right below her clit gets stimulated just right and she rides that edge all over again, but this time, it’s stronger. The woman’s groaning in her pussy like she’s starving, and Ellie can barely garble her warning of another orgasm.

She squeaks when a gentle finger slides between her walls and she wishes it felt like yours did. Ellie’s bound hands entangle in the soft locks and pull, pushing her head any which way to guide her where she needs. She doesn’t register that she’s whining your name until the woman asks, “Tha’s your girl?” Right on her pussy, and Ellie tips.

She’s so loud when she explodes all over this stranger’s face, wetness coating her inner thighs, dripping all the way down to the bottoms locked around her ankles. You take refuge in the nasty side of her brain as she envisions you between her legs, you making her feel this good. Something about the way you touch her… She thinks it's impossible to replicate till this day.

When Ellie comes down, she falls against the door, relishing in the steady kitten licks on her twitching bud. One last gentle kiss, and the woman separates from the mess between Ellie’s thighs, chest wet with her juices.

“Good, honey?”

Ellie blinks like she’s risen from the dead, short hair clinging to her forehead. She shoots the woman two thumbs up and she chuckles, untying Ellie’s hands and helping her back onto her feet. The woman helps her redress after she cleans herself up, and Ellie’s nose twitches when her own stickiness latches onto her clothes. Her arms fall back to her sides when her belt gets secured.

She’s winded when she finally speaks, “Um… thanks…” How the fuck does Ellie say goodbye to someone who sucked her soul out?

“No problem…” The woman’s warm hands are soft as they push away damp strands from Ellie’s forehead. The freckled girl nearly purrs. Call her Pickle at this point.

Ellie steps away from the door so that the fucking seductress can exit. The woman backs away and unlocks the door with a gentle smile. “You should text her.”

Ellie’s stomach churns. “… What.”

“The girl that’s not your girl.” That’s the last thing she says before stepping out. Ellie’s heart plummets when her eyes lock with Saliyah’s, then Yuki’s. Her friends gawk at her disheveled appearance, lipstick stains littered all over her button up. Ellie’s not nearly as embarrassed as she should be; All she can think about is you.

“I think I’m in trouble.” Ellie states mindlessly.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Yuki snickers and pulls Ellie out of the bathroom. She hides her face when she’s met with the long line of people desperately needing to piss.

WEEK SEVEN WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“You look bright.”

You feel brighter. Just a little bit. You’ve finally gotten your locs retwisted.

“Amaya texted me back.” Dr. Brown seems impressed at your statement, happy for you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“Yeah? What’d Ms. Producer say?”

“She, um… She wants to have dinner.”

“Oh? And what’d you say?”

“I said of course and then sobbed until I got here.” Dr. Brown chuckles, “When’s the big meal?”

“In two days. I got a hotel near where she’s at, so… Yeah. Probably won’t see me for a little.”

“Good for you, honey.” She says proudly, “Heard from any others?” Your head shakes. It’s not surprising that Abby and Ellie haven’t reached out to you. They don’t owe you any closure, even though it took you a while to accept your karma.

“Progress is progress, nonetheless.” Her tone reverts back to stern, “Remember… when you see that girl, don’t expect anything to come from it. She’s going out of her way to speak with you, not the other way around.”

Your head bows shamefully. You're incredibly nervous to see your best friend… if you deserve to call her that anymore. Anxiety isn’t foreign to you, but you’re anticipating the worst for your meeting. You’d give anything to mend your relationship with Amaya, but how’re you going to be able to overcome the guilt of abandoning her?

You can’t remember the last time you went to the campus coffee shop.

When Amaya sent you her new address in the middle of your old college city, you sobbed for half an hour. You’re not sure why considering the entirety of your graduating class is gone (hopefully in hell); It’s a mix of emotions coming back here. The baristas that used to work here have been replaced with new bushy-tailed freshmen with under eye bags. The coffee isn’t the best, but it’s oddly nostalgic. You feel fucking old just looking at their bright customer service smiles.

Your attention gets snagged away from your steaming cup when a sharp gasp echoes from behind you, nearly spilling your drink all over your flannel when someone calls your name. Anxiety spikes in your gut when you see…

Who is that?

“Oh my goodness! Sweetheart!” An older woman with gray hair and a cardigan places her hand on your shoulder and your eyes bulge out of your skull. “It’s so good to see you!”

What the fuck is going on? “You... You, too, uh… ma’am!” You put on the most believable smile you can. Is your memory really this fucking bad?

“Students don’t usually stick around after this long! Our major was pretty small, you know how it is.” Major… Students… Graphic design… Professor! Your memory clicks but her name doesn’t. What the fuck is this woman’s name! You feel like a cunt all over again!

“I’d love to catch up if you’re sticking around!”

“Um… yeah, of course.” Her smile is bright when she enters the line. Relief floods through you when she gets to the service counter and one of the baristas says good morning, Professor Meyers!

You silently thank the Lord.

“What brings you back to town, honey!” Professor Meyers asks excitedly.

“Um… just missin’ school, I guess.” You lie. Fuck this school.

She swallows her sip of tea before pausing, “Wow. First time I heard that. I didn’t see you at graduation!”

Your chest concaves and your face burns, “I, uh. I didn’t graduate. I dropped out.” Professor Meyers' expression drops, pity written all over her face.

“Wh— Why?”

You shut down her interrogation, “I just… stuff happened. I couldn’t handle everything all at once.” Her eyes sadden and she places a comforting hand on top of yours.

“I’m so sorry, honey. Whatever it was… I hope it’s okay, now.”

“Getting through it.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. The air is suddenly suffocating.

“Y’know… if you’re interested…” Professor Meyers’ tone is suggesting. Your brow quirks at the woman plotting in front of you.

“Some of the art profs are always looking for some extra help for the introductory courses. Your rough drafts were always pretty spectacular.”

Your body burns. “Thank you.”

She smiles and reaches into her bag in the other chair, pulling out a small card and handing it to you. “This is my contact information. I can set you an interview with Professor Ronson if you’d wanna join the little alumni support team.”

You accept her card, “But I’m not… I didn’t graduate— “

“Oh, hush now! If you go to college, you’re an alumni! These exclusive rules are outdated!” Professor Meyers stands with her bag and tea. “I gotta run, but please consider it! It could be a great marketing opportunity for you!”

You're left to simmer in your thoughts as she rushes out of the cafe. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her that you haven’t touched a canvas since your father’s funeral.

You waltz into the upscale restaurant with tied lungs. Prepping an outfit for tonight was a hassle; You were forced to rummage through your father’s closet for suitable attire. You can’t remember the last time you made a purchase for yourself.

You feel out of place standing here with the… upper class. They’re dressed to the nines and it’s incredibly intimidating. Your eyes cast downward to your wrinkly shirt and blazer; Why didn’t you bring a fucking iron?

“How can I help you, miss?”

Your eyes bulge when they lock with the host’s and gut churns with discomfort. Your legs wobble closer to the counter, “I— there’s… reservation…”

The host stares at you with utter confusion, “Oh, sure! What’s the name?”

“Um… Amaya— “

“Ms. Robinson?” The host’s eyes fill with glitter, “Oh my gosh, when I saw her walk in earlier, I was like, no way she’s actually here. This is crazy! But it was really her! I couldn’t believe— “

Another host interjects, “My apologies, ma’am! She’s a bit, uh, excited. Your table is right this way.” The host begins walking, and your feet move on autopilot, “Would you like a menu?”

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You won’t be able to keep anything down anyway.

You move through bustling walkways, ears filled with bouts of obnoxious laughter and corny jokes with each table you pass.

Your heart stutters in your chest when you see the isolated leather and rosewood booth where Amaya sits, her back to you. There’s two glasses and a bottle of… something on the table.

“Ms. Robinson! Your guest is here!”

Amaya, filled glass in hand, cranes her neck and meets your flitting gaze. Her eyes are stagnant, unmoving, and your nerves wrack. She looks fucking immaculate with the slit in her black dress, smokey makeup, heeled

shoes. She’s dressed down for a fucking funeral. Yours.

You’re actually not ready to see her. You’re not ready at all.

“You want a glass?”

Amaya’s tone is cold. Colder than the dripping neck of the bottle right in front of you. “N-No thank you.”

She scoffs laughter around the rim, “Shocking.” You scramble for a reply, anything to say to the woman oozing impatience in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. She sets her glass down with an unsteady clink.

“You said that already.” She states, brown eyes sharp. “Why are you?”

You scratch at your ear, trying to mask the tremors in your fingertips, “Because… I — I wasn’t…”

“I don’t hear from you for months,” She spits, “And then I get a phone call from my drunk best friend screamin’ at me, tellin’ me that I fucking left her to grieve by herself… because I’m selfish and money hungry… Right?”

Angry tears sizzle in Amaya’s eyes as she continues, “And I still come and visit you… only to get a door slammed in my fuckin’ face.”

You’re completely frozen; You can barely look her in the eye. Your hands are clenched together under the table, nausea creeping up your throat. “I… there’s no excuse for what I did— “

Amaya’s eyes are void, “Why did you do it.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you rush out, desperate. You’re losing her, “He — I was just — I couldn’t control myself and I screamed and yelled and blamed everyone for what happened. I was just so mad and I couldn’t stop— “

“Abby called me two days ago.”

You gasp, “S-She did—?”

“She told me she hated you.” Amaya says plainly. The remaining shards of your heart dissipate like dust, leaving your mouth when you whimper, “O-Okay.” Tears stream down your cheeks and neck, harsh sniffles filling the small corner of the restaurant. “She hasn’t, um… never mind.” That’s why she hasn’t reached out, you suppose. Well deserved.

“I don't… hate you, you know that, right?”

You sob, palms in your eyes, “S’okay if you do. I deserve it.”

She shrugs, “I don’t. I’m just very disappointed in you.” You nod in agreement, in understanding. You accept that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see someone you considered a sister.

“I’m so sorry, May— “

“M’gonna head out. I’m,” She wipes a tear and grabs her bag, throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “I… I don’t hate you.” You cry as you watch Amaya gather herself, stand, and leave without another word. You heave and attempt to dry your face with the fresh napkin but they won’t stop flowing.

It’s difficult, accepting that you’re undeserving. That you’ve dug yourself into a hole that you can’t escape. It’s dark and cold and you’re desperate for comfort but it never comes because you chased it all away. You eye the tall bottle that sweats; Very tempting, but you leave it where it stands. The blame for your downfall is yours to take; The only reward you can receive now is from your upkeep. To dig yourself out from beneath the maggot-infested dirt. To resurface and recover what you can.

You’re unsure how long you sit here crying. Devastation sets hard in your tummy when you stand to leave the restaurant, ignoring the judgmental stares from the annoying, old fuckers that wouldn’t stop glaring at you.

The air outside is fresh and soothing as you walk, right past your parked car. Past the young people mingling and taking pictures. Past the girl doing graffiti on the old building across the street. Something beats in your chest when you eye her spray paint cans, brushes in her hand, the bright colors all over her bare arms. Her passion is evident, even from a distance, and you miss that. That feeling that takes over when you create something that no one else can replicate. Her style is unique to her just like yours is to you.

Color sparks in your soul for the first time in a year, and you know what you have to do tomorrow morning.

taggiesss yasss n slayyyy @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl

#in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams angst #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #black!reader #black!oc #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

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sturniolo-writing · 2 months

Text

M.S. Just a taste

Summary: In which you’re enemies with Matt, but he helps you fall asleep…

Warnings: smut! dnr if you don’t like. one bed trope, oral (fem receiving), subish?!fem reader x domish?!matt, sort of praise?

a/n: tbh i hate this trope LMAO just a random one shot i thought of. i’m not the best at writing so stick with me here..

read part two here

I’m over at the triplets house right now. It’s getting late, and I don’t wanna be irresponsible and drive if I’m this tired. So, I just decided to spend the night.

Chris, Nick, and Matt all already went to their respective rooms. I search around the living room for a blanket, which you’d think would be easy. But there’s none in sight. I don’t wanna go upstairs and walk through the mess of Nick’s room to dig for a blanket, or go downstairs to Chris’s room in risk for a spider to be in the blanket…yes I’m paranoid. So, alas, I’m stuck with going to Matt. Yippee.

I gently knock on his door and hear a faint “come in” before i turn the knob and slowly poke my head in.

“what to you want?” he snaps at me, standing next to his bed in flannel pajama pants. He’s shirtless, with a shirt in hand. But I’m not sure if he had just taken off his shirt, or was about to put it on.

“i just need to borrow a blanket.” I say back to him and shrug my shoulders.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. I walk more into his room, a little awkwardly. He grabs a blanket on the bottom shelf of these bookshelves he has near his bed and tosses it to me.

“thanks.” I say, catching the blanket. I turn to leave his room.

“wait.” He says with an annoyed sigh. “you’ll be too cold, even with a blanket. Plus the couch is really uncomfortable to sleep on. Just…sleep in my bed.”

I raise an eyebrow in surprise and suspicion. Why was he inviting me to sleep in his bed?

“uh…you sure? the couch is fine by me-“ I say back to him, pointing my thumb at the door.

“Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is. Just lay down.” He says with a sigh. He tosses his shirt in the laundry hamper and lays down in his bed. Maybe just cause he’s an ass to me, doesn’t mean he’s not still a gentleman…

I shyly walk over to his bed, setting down the blanket on the end of it. I crawl in on the other side of him. I lay on my side facing away from him, my mind racing on what this could be about.

After a few moments pass, I feel the weight shifting on the bed. Almost like…he’s getting closer to me. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and turn my head slightly to look at the boy.

His eyes are closed, but I can tell he’s not asleep. I move to lay on my back, one hand on my stomach and one on my forehead as I look up at the ceiling.

“what’s wrong, baby? can’t sleep?” He asks in a teasing manner. baby??? I look at him with a confused expression.

“excuse me?” I say back to him.

“I can make you a little tired, help you sleep..” He says back, opening his eyes and smirking at me.

Part of me wanted to deny that I kind of wanted it. That I was curious. That suddenly, I felt a small little ache from between my thighs.

No. No, I can’t think like this. He’s my enemy. I can’t do this.

“C’mon, it’d be fun…I’d get you exhausted real quick, too…” He whispers before leaning over and leaving a few kisses on my neck.

I hum softly in response. I’m so close to just giving in.

“No. You’re disgusting, Matt.” I say back. Why was I pushing him away when all I wanted was for him to do whatever it was he wanted. I turn my back to him again, laying on my side.

I feel his hand slither onto my waist as he keeps kissing my neck.

“Just a taste.”

He whispers into the soft skin on my sensitive neck. I swallow nervously before letting out a sigh of pleasure at feeling his soft lips press and lightly suck on my neck.

With his hand on my waist, he pushes me again to be laying on my back once more. I don’t even try to fight against it, instead I just comply.

He slowly moves to be hovering over me, moving his lips to my collarbone. I feel his hands trail up my sides under my shirt as he starts to peel the tight fabric of my long sleeve shirt off of my body.

I lift my body up to help him with the small act of lifting my shirt off. Once it’s over my head he just takes in the sight of my body. My white bra and my belly ring are now exposed, tempting even just to stare at forever.

He reaches his hands underneath my body and with ease undoes the clasp of my bra before sliding it off of my arms and hear the quiet noise of the fabric hitting the ground.

My nipples are hard from him and the cold air surrounding us. My heart is pounding against my chest. I’m still so confused on the situation, but I also can’t complain. I can’t lie that I’ve always found Matt hot. And not gonna lie, when he was angry at me, it was even hotter. So if anything, I should be thanking the lord that my dream was coming true.

He kisses my collarbone to my right tit before leaving a lick on my nipple. He takes the left one into his hand, gently massaging it as he swirls his tongue around my right nipple.

My breathing increases and I let out a soft sound, my eyes closing as I just try to focus on what’s happening.

He then starts to kiss his way down to my waistband of my sweats. His fingers curl into them, grabbing them at my hipbones before sliding them off with my panties.

“Look at you. being such a good girl, letting me do what I want…” he whispers to me as the sweatpants agonizingly slowly get pulled to my ankles before joining my shirt and bra on the floor.

The wetness in my cunt meets the cold air of the room. I need to squeeze my thighs together to get a little friction but with where he is I can’t.

I keep my eyes closed, my chest rising and falling with my irregular breathing; thanks to him.

I let out a moan when I feel his warm tongue glide along my wet folds.

“shhh…don’t wanna be caught, now do we?” He whispers again. I shake my head, opening my eyes and looking down at him.

He smiles before repeating his previous action, lapping up my wetness.

“mmm….you do taste good…” He whispers against my clit before his tongue starts tight circles around it.

I softly whimper when he does, keeping in mind that we don’t want to be caught. My hand moves down and pushes his hair out of his pretty blue eyes so I can’t look into them. His eyes twinkle and he winks at me as he keeps his movements.

It’s not long before he starts sucking on my clit and humming against it, causing my to use my other hand to cover my mouth and muffle my moans.

One of his hands reaches up, my leg then over his shoulder, and grabs my tit. His other hand holds my waist firmly.

He licks intensely against my clit before his tongue moves down to my entrance and starts to fuck it with his tongue.

I moan into my hand, my back arches slightly. It hasn’t even been that long and I already feel my orgasm approaching.

His hand on my tit holds tighter, his thumb playing with my stiff nipple. My hand tightens in his hair and pulls him closer to my pussy.

He moves back to my clit and whispers against it again: “come all over my face, ok, gorgeous?”

God those words on their own could make me come. He flicks his tongue rapidly against my clit which earns a bigger muffled moan from me, biting my hand and squeezing my eyes shut.

Just like that, I couldn’t take it any longer and did as he said, releasing all over his lips and chin. He smiles up at me and loosens his hands.

With pleasure he licks me clean, making my sensitive pussy even more sensitive and my body twitch lightly. I remove my hands from my mouth and his hair.

“tired now?” he asks me with a devilish smirk as he looks up at me with my mess on his face.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut

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jet-teeth · 2 months

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Finally got caught up on that funky Bravern show the other day and omg. It's so much fun. Have some scribblin' More yelling under the cut (and also mild spoiler alert if you haven't seen any of it:)

Loved seeing more of the other Deathdrives, even if they were kinda short-lived on-screen and all (guess that's what happens when a buncha story stuff needs to get compressed into just 12 episodes)

I'm enjoying the hell out of this silly show it's fucking BUCKWILD. I can't remember the last show that made me laugh this much I am just constantly chimpanzee screaming at the screen Wasn't super sure at first because I was a bit "???" about where this was going in the first few eps but oh my god. It's def become a fav now. It's for sure meant to be a parody of itself/commentary on the entire mecha anime genre and all the tropes that it's loaded with but then the story actually gets interesting too. The TWISTS. IDK it just seems like they had so much fun making this Also, sentient robot characters yippee! (That stuff just seems to be super rare, I've always kinda wondered why, but it's like the mecha genre is allergic to the concept unless you go full into Transformers territory (which is its own whole thing at that point.) Like idk maybe I'm the weird one for loving that idea, but I do wish more of that existed outside of the context of parody or "for little kids" or whatever. Anyway I'll take whatever I can get on that front. I'm adopting all of these idiots) Cupiridas is my fav, Extremely Silly Guy. Kunus (Cunus?) is completely off her shits but I actually love that super wingy design. Pessimism has some really cool silhouette nonsense going on, can def approve of straying from the usual humanoid look. I could throw in some sketches of the main mechs (Bravern, Superbia) but they already get most of the fan art, so I wanted to doodle some of the others..

#bang brave bang bravern #bravern #Cupiridas #Pessimism #Kunus #robots #mecha #anyway def worth a watch #also that the transformers fandom collectively adopting Bravern was enough to convince me that I needed to give this show a chance #Jet art #jet squawkings

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toastsnaffler · 7 months

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tried going to bed early bc ive just been sitting staring at the wall or my phone all afternoon but it's been 3 hours now and I can't stop crying. :(

#I dont even know why im so fucking sad. this last week has felt like getting hit by a train repeatedly for no reason whatsoever #and it fucking hurts so bad and i cant fix it because i dont know whats wrong!!!!!!#i think thsts why its been so hard sleeping lately like my brain is problem solving but theres nothing there to be solved #and i dont even have anyone to talk to about it and even if i did i wouldnt have anything to say bc i dont know im just fucking. sad #like yeah ive gotten upset abt other things but thats me projecting my mental state onto everything. theres no original cause #unless it really is just pms and some hormonal shit which is likely but kinda insane to think abt. like yeah my body has decided #to flood the entire fucking system with Kill That Egg™ for a straight week except its too effective and makes me want to kill myself also #but apparently not fucking effective enough to start my actual fucking period. yippee #i want a thousand year long hug and to cry rly snottily into someones shirt and then to fall asleep and wake up feeling rested #man. nothing makes me feel any different. exercising and sleeping and socialising and eating and showering and reading #and i can feel my interest in things trickling away like i havent been able to do a lot of shit i rly want to bc of this barrier #and ive been trying to make myself do some things regardless bc inactivity will just make it worse. but nothing works!!!!!!!#i dont even know anymore man. i do everything right and im still as depressed as i was like 8 years ago #and i know thats just the depressed brain talking like i know i dont constantly feel like this but its hard to see outside of it man #u spend ur whole life drowning but its ok bc sometimes u get ur head above the surface long enough to take a breath or whatever #insert overused mentally ill metaphor here etcetcetc #ok i think ive run out of things to say im gonna try sleep again. day 1 billion of making longass vent posts sorry everyone #gn #.vent

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lonely-cowboy · 4 months

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without you

pairing: connor (rk800) x gn!reader

summary: it's been almost three days since you last saw connor. with the ongoing revolution, you're concerned about his whereabouts. and if you'll ever see him again.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: occasional cursing but that's it

author's note: let me paint a little picture for y'all. it's currently 1am and i'm sitting on the couch in the dark sobbing like a baby bc i just finished my very first playthrough of dbh and didn't even realize i was near the end and i hate that it's over (i'm just gonna play again). anyway! my solution to stop (worsen) my sad lonely thoughts was to write this! yippee! healthy coping!

masterlist ⟡ requests

You were never a fan of staying home all day and lounging around in your pajamas doing absolutely nothing. You felt unproductive, like you were wasting time. And if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was wasting time.

But– like anything– there were some exceptions. The most common exceptions were the days after an intense investigation, mostly those involving considerable physical exertion (which really just meant any form of running). Those days, your body was so unbelievably sore that it was almost necessary for you to stay in bed and do nothing all day. Besides that, the only other exception was the occasional rainy day.

And now. Now was an exception too.

It was nearing three days since you had last seen Connor. Usually, that wouldn’t have bothered you. Three days was nothing. It was always possible that the two of you were just far too overwhelmed with work to see each other. But with the rising android revolution that threatened Connor’s life– and that of any android– you immediately assumed the worst.

Huddled on your couch, you stared blankly at the muted television as it flashed between news stations. You weren’t really paying attention anymore, too consumed by thoughts of Connor. You pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Truthfully, you hadn’t known Connor that long. Sure, you worked with him frequently to investigate the sudden rise in deviants, but in the grand scheme of things, it felt like you had just met him. Of course, that didn’t stop Connor from burrowing his way into your heart with those soft doe eyes and that gentle, slightly confused smile. You had a soft spot for him now, so it was perfectly reasonable that you couldn’t help but worry for his safety.

You released a heavy sigh as you turned off the television, trying to shake away any negative thoughts. With narrowed eyes, you glanced at the other end of the couch where Hank had been sitting almost three hours ago. He had been checking in on you frequently the last few days to make sure you were– at the very least– living, though he would never admit it. Whenever he did stop by, it was always because he “forgot his jacket” or “couldn’t watch the Detroit Gears game at home.” Whatever lame excuse he came up with, it was always intended to ensure you were okay.

Today’s lame excuse was that he ran out of beer and didn’t want to go to the store during such a “crazy fucking time.” That ended with the two of you sitting in silence on your couch, watching the television for any sign that Connor might be okay. In your book, that just meant he wasn’t dead.

But eventually, Hank had been pulled away to the precinct for whatever reason. He promised he’d make it short. He was reluctant to go anyway, so he wouldn’t be gone long. Three hours felt pretty fucking long to you.

You pursed your lips worriedly, forgetting Connor for a moment as your mind was now focused on Hank’s safety. What if he somehow got himself tangled up in this revolution? What if he managed to get caught in some wild crossfire with no means of telling you?

No, that was crazy. You were being irrational. Surely he just decided to brave going to the store to get some more beer once he left the precinct, right? That made so much sense. Obviously, he was outside your apartment building right now struggling to get in because he didn’t have a key and was too preoccupied carrying his mountains of beer. Obviously…

Without thinking, you scurried into your closet and pulled on your warmest clothes. You threw your thickest jacket over your pajamas, not bothering to hide your snowflake pajama pants. You pulled on your shoes and a beanie, ignoring the way it matted your hair. Then, you were out the door and rushing downstairs with the belief that you could miraculously manifest Hank’s presence.

There was no other explanation. You were blessed with some magical powers that you were yet to understand because as you marched into the snow, Hank suddenly appeared. You didn’t stop until you were jabbing a finger into his chest, glaring up at his towering figure.

“What is wrong with you?” you seethed. “You can’t just leave like that!”

Hank sighed with what sounded like irritation, though you knew he could never be irritated with you. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he grumbled, “Sorry, kid, I–”

“Oh, no, no, no! I’m not done!” you growled, choosing to ignore that maybe you were being a little overdramatic. What’s life without a little drama anyway? “You had me fucking worried, Hank! I’m already worried sick about Connor, I don’t have the energy to worry about both of you!”

Hank said your name in an attempt to stop you, but it was no use. Now that you had an outlet to channel your jumble of emotions, you were going to let them all out.

“I mean, you’ve seen me, Hank! I can barely get out of bed because of that goddamn android!” you shouted. “His safety is the only thing on my–”

Hank rolled his eyes as he grumbled something about how he was “tired of this shit” that didn’t involve him. That only seemed to fuel your fire, the crease between your brows deepening with anger and worry. You opened your mouth again to yell at Hank as he stepped aside, but you quickly shut it once you noticed the figure standing bashfully behind him.

Connor stood a few feet away having clearly been told to stay put once Hank saw your angry self storming out of the apartment building. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, standing tall against the harsh winter winds. His eyes were already on you, watching you with a warm glint. When you met his gaze, the corners of his lips turned upwards into a small, unsure smile.

Compared to him, you were sure you looked absolutely stupid. No, no matter what you looked completely stupid. You stared at Connor with absurdly wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a confused fish. You were so baffled by his appearance that you couldn’t even move, no wonder the poor man was confused. All this while wearing your stupid fucking snowflake pajamas.

Neither of you made any effort to close the uncomfortable distance between the two of you. You were thankful that Hank managed to find his way back into your apartment building because you would be a doubly flustered mess if he saw how awkward the two of you were. At least Connor made some effort to communicate. He raised a hand in an awkward wave, his soft voice barely heard over the din of the wind.

“Hello.”

Your feet were moving before your brain could catch up. You sprinted towards Connor– though it was more of a fast waddle if anything– and pulled him into a tight hug. A heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you felt his firm body against you, inhaling his scent slowly. He was real.

You squeezed him a little tighter, burying your head into his chest. It was as if you didn’t want to let him go, and truthfully, you didn’t. You couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.

Connor’s arms wrapped lightly around your body. He leaned into your touch, relaxing in your arms with a comforted grin. Until you, he had no idea what it was like to be cared for. Perhaps the greatest gift of consciousness was your affection.

Connor murmured your name in a quiet rasp, his lips moving against your hair. He reared back to catch your eyes, but you refused to let him. You just held him closer and allowed yourself to calm in his presence. When you finally did pull away, you glanced at him with a confusing look of joy, sadness, and anger.

“I didn’t think you were ever coming back,” you mumbled, letting the words spill out. “I was so scared… Connor, I… God, I missed you…”

There was a beat of silence as Connor’s LED spiraled yellow, his head tilted to the slightest degree. It seemed as if he was struggling to find the right words out.

“I…,” Connor started hoarsely. “I think… I missed you too.”

Despite the whirlwind of emotions you felt, you couldn’t help but laugh at Connor’s words. A small smile traced your lips as you studied him with furrowed brows.

“You think?” you repeated with another quiet laugh, your breath pluming in the cold air.

Connor paused again, his LED flashing yellow once more. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it as he considered his words a moment longer. He was looking into the distance, but when he glanced back down to you it was as if all the right words suddenly came to him.

“I don’t know what it feels like to miss someone,” he explained softly. “But I think… I think this is what it would feel like. I felt… I don’t know… there was a tightness inside of me when I thought I would never see you again. Is that what it’s like to miss someone?”

Your grin widened as Connor spoke. A tinge of pink coated your cheeks, and you were sure it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Maybe I’m biased, but yeah, I think so,” you answered sweetly.

“Oh,” Connor muttered as he took a moment to process that information. “Then, yes. It appears I did miss you.”

Your chest felt light from the joy of having Connor back. You were so giddy, in fact, that you didn’t even think before you were leaning forward and pressing a delicate kiss to Connor’s cheek. It was only when you pulled away that you realized what you had done, your face heating with embarrassment.

You glanced at Connor worriedly and noticed the faint blue coloring along his cheeks. It almost made you laugh seeing such a confident android turned into such a poor, flustered mess. Well, you took his silence to mean his was flustered, but his silence lasted so long that you weren’t so sure anymore.

“Connor?” you asked. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Connor replied immediately. “I was searching my database for the best way to greet someone you missed.”

It was your turn to be flustered again, eyes going wide with surprise as you murmured, “Oh. And… what did you find?”

Connor’s gaze finally focused back on you, his expression neutral aside from his fading blush. The corner of his lip quirked up slightly as his eyes searched your face like he was memorizing every little detail.

“I found that the best way to convey you missed someone is by kissing them, as you’ve done to me,” he answered in his typical matter-of-fact tone. “However, whereas you kissed my cheek, I noticed that most people kiss on the lips. I’d like to do the same if that’s alright with you.”

Your stunned silence must’ve been enough of an answer for Connor because he leaned forward with a grin. His warm hands moved to hold your cheeks, fighting off the evening chill. Your hands immediately moved to rest over top his, seeking out his warmth while his soft lips moved against yours. He pulled away far too soon for your liking, but he rested his forehead against yours as he whispered sweet words against your skin.

“I missed you too.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

author's note: i hope you enjoyed! this is my very first post ever, so i'm a little nervous! if you have any constructive (and kind) criticism, please lmk! and if you have any requests i'd love to hear those too :)

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

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