#the forbidden happy end fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bizaar · 1 year

Text

enjolras x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only - piv smut, oral (f receiving) handjob (m receiving) - general talks and mentions of sex/smut, lovemaking, breeding kink if you squint - mentions of concubines and usage of the word "whore" (reader is a sex worker so proceed with caution), general tooth rotting fluffiness, forbidden love is my bread and butter

word count: 8k (I'm so sorry I'm incapable of writing anything short)

a.n.: This is my first smut so go easy on me :D also, apologies if I didn't do Enjolras justice, I watched clips from BBC Les Mis on Youtube for days and got sort of generally stuck on how to write him talking about anything besides the revolution when ALL he talks about is the revolution - PLEASE BEAR IN MIND THAT READER IS A SEX WORKER so don't come for me tumblr prudes I don't want to hear it.

A chorus of high voices calling your name summons you to the top of the stairs, and it’s there you find him, idling in the foyer below — Enjolras.

Just to see him kicks up a storm of giddiness swirling in the pit of your stomach and you have to resist the urge to say something smart about finding himself in a brothel so late in the evening, just to defuse the tension.

He wouldn’t like that.

Be sweet, Mon Cher, he’d implored you recently in the midst of an intimate moment— stroking your face and breathing hard against your mouth, your legs wrapped around his canting hips, holding him to press tight against your core as he slipped in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

That had been six nights ago — Six nights too many, you think as you pinch your thighs together and feel the first stirrings of arousal in your belly.

Now, the other girls stand around him in a throng of giggling fillies, touching and flirting — the teasing only amplifies when they see you standing there, not so subtly gripping the banister.

“Your man is here —” One of them sings, her voice dripping with a condescending edge as she braces her hands on the flare of her hips and leans into him, very pointedly presenting her ample bosom, spilling out from the top of her stays.

To his credit, Enjolras pays her no mind, he is far too busy gazing up at you with all the reverence of a man set to worship.

Still, the gesture brings a hot flash of jealousy to your cheeks and you scowl at her as you begin your quick descent of the rickety steps. They creak under your weight, despite the way your stockinged feet make no noise against the brushed wood — your worn dressing gown trails behind you like the train of a fine dress.

Enjolras watches you approach, a gentle smile spread over his handsome features that you pretend not to see as you hit the last step and reach for his hand.

He gives it to you.

“Haven’t you all got better things to do than stand around gawking?” You hiss at the silly creatures, pulling to lead Enjolras back up the flight.

“Better things, for sure,” someone muses, “But no better men.”

They kick up with a chorus of raucous laughter and you tighten your grip on his thick fingers like you’re half afraid they’re going to steal him from your grasp if you aren’t quick to get him up the stairs.

The girls all call their teasing, singsong goodbyes to Enjolras as you mount the steps and disappear into the belly of the brothel.

You quietly thank God that the Madam is not home. She would not stand for such idle foolishness, nor would she stand to see you whisking Enjolras off to your room. The girls are all enamored with his soft eyes, kind speech, and good looks — the Madam only cares whether or not he can pay for your company on his meager salary. More often than not you do not even bother charging him, as his company is payment enough — much to the Madam’s chagrin.

How she does like to tell you that time given away is time wasted, and the Madam does not stand for that kind of frivolity.

Your room is at the far end of a long hall of open doors. To peek through you might have seen the other courtesans busy with their own individual fancies between suitors — playing at cards, drinking wine, gossiping — that is if they had not all gathered down in the foyer to fawn over the handsome guest in their midst.

It is strangely quiet for this time of night, though you expect that is likely to change soon enough.

The hard thumps of Enjolras’s footsteps as he follows wordlessly behind you beat in tandem with your heart, and you silently wish to be anywhere but here, where this didn’t have to feel so mercantile, where intimacy could live and breathe without the ever-present guillotine of payment hanging over your heads. You wish it were enough to be lovers and not just a favored whore.

You know he would reject that thinking, despite how true it is.

How many times has he told you he loves you? How many times have you rejected that affection on principle?

You cannot afford to love him while you are so deeply indebted to the Madam… and yet…

Through the door you go, startling the two young girls who have taken refuge in your room. They sit crowded at the vanity, their faces done up in powder and rouge, one wrapped in your fine silk shawl as if they’d been playing at dress up.

Their wide eyes flit back and forth between you and the man you have in tow with a patent unease, like they have been caught red-handed at something.

“Marie, Clotilde, get out.” You say sharply, addressing the girls by name.

They remain staring at you, at Enjolras. Everyone knows about him, the revolutionary — your little pet — you imagine they have heard as much talk of him as anyone else in this house.

They are younger than the others and thankfully have not been set to working just yet. As such they are comparatively harmless, but you are no less inclined to let them share in what little time you have with Enjolras.

He is yours and you intend to have him before the Madam returns.

You clap your hands sharply, snapping the girls to attention and pointing to the door.

“Alons-y! Go!”

They scramble to collect their things and get to their feet before scurrying past you, heads dipped sheepishly as they go through the door.

“Is that him?” You hear Clotilde whisper before shutting the door.

Somewhere behind you, Enjolras sighs.

“They are much too young for this life.” He says, his voice a low timbre that sends shivers through your body.

“No younger than I was when it found me.” You mumble bitterly. “Paris is a cruel city for girls with no means…”

The stillness that falls over the room is but a calm before the storm — you survey the mess, discarded stays, skirts, boots, and petticoats, your delicate shawl lies pooled at the foot of the bed where it was hastily discarded.

You heave a sigh and cross the room to retrieve your most precious trinket from the floor.

“How was your meeting?” You ask idly, desperate to cut the tension over the bleakness of life in the underbelly of Paris.

Enjolras likes conversation, particularly with you — he likes to pretend this is anything but the transactional exchange it really is, so as not to cheapen his feelings for you — your feelings for him.

“It went well, I think.” He says, “There were more people there tonight than I’ve seen before—"

You hum thoughtfully as you uncork a bottle of wine and pour yourself a glass.

You watch, half mesmerized by the swirling dark liquid, and feel the heat of his gaze on your back as he continues.

“People are coming from all over Paris. It feels as though they’re finally ready to stand up for something.”

“For the revolution you mean?” You ask, sipping the wine.

Your tone is decidedly more condescending than you’d intended and Enjolras doesn’t answer. You half expect him to admonish you for mocking his cause, but he remains quiet.

Behind you, you hear the telltale click of the door lock sliding into place and feel butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach — the Madam does not abide a locked door in her house, but you cannot presently bring yourself to care.

His silence would be enough to unnerve you were you not so entirely certain of his gentle nature, his kindness, his affection for you.

When you turn to look at him, you find that he has crossed the room to stand behind you, his body blocking your view. His hands come up to trail feather-light touches up the length of your arms. You feel his breath fanning the back of your neck.

“I missed you tonight.” He murmurs.

You breathe an easy laughter through your nose and shiver under his touch. He takes the glass from your hand and drains it in one gulp — it clinks softly as he sets it down on the dressing table before you.

His arms come up to snake around you and pull you close, the rumble of his contented sigh vibrating through your body.

“How can you miss me when you have your good lady Madam Révolution to keep you warm?” You tease, leaning back into his touch.

“I always miss you when you’re not there.” He says ever so softly, dipping to press a gentle kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. “You could come with me, you know. To the meetings?”

“I’ve been to your meetings.” You remind him, turning your head to rest against his shoulder, tipping back into the crook of his neck as his free hand moves to splay out across your belly.

Thick fingers press you back to lay flush against his body and you smirk as you feel the faintest impression of his cock stirring there.

You rock your hips back tentatively against him.

“They weren’t for me.”

“The meetings…” he insists, brushing his plush lips across the highest point of your cheekbone, your temple, your hairline, “…Are for anyone who yearns for liberation.”

You mean to roll your eyes, but arousal has beat you to the motion as the hand on your stomach slips down to cup you between your legs. Thick, calloused fingers draw a slow line over the clothed seam of your pussy and your eyes roll back in their sockets at the sensation it elicits, lips parting ever so slightly on a breathy moan.

You certainly do yearn, though not presently for liberation.

You had meant what you said, though — you aren't expressly unwelcome at the meetings, but nothing deters the good citizens of Paris from turning their noses up at the presence of a common whore in their midst.

You’d met Enjolras at one of his citizen’s meetings, and spent the duration of it being sneered at by the upstanding proletariat in attendance. You hardly cared. You’d been there to work, not to be inspired, but then you’d caught Enjolras’s gaze and found yourself struck, and like a bolt of lightning, you forgot all other men but the brooding revolutionary with the dark eyes.

He was similarly affected by you.

You don’t believe in such fanciful things as love at first sight, and yet you’d spent the evening circling one another, stealing glances and shy smiles before you’d shocked yourself by sitting and listening to him give speeches about liberty and equality among the people.

You would not consider yourself a patriot by any stretch of the word, and as such you didn’t retain a thing Enjolras said that night, only the way he’d said it, and how he'd spent half as much time undressing you with his eyes as he did rabble-rousing.

You thought he was marvelous, and that was dangerous for someone like you.

In some small hope of retaining what shred of good sense you had left, you quietly took your leave before the cheering and songs were finished, as if somehow you knew you were going to fall in love with him if you gave him the chance.

He, in turn, had stolen away from the budding revolution to follow you nearly halfway across Paris, just to ask your name.

It was a gesture romantic enough to make your knees tremble.

For all his serious talk of liberation and freedoms, you were surprised at his secret romantic inclinations — though, of course, you suppose all revolutionaries are romantics at heart.

It takes a great passion to care enough about the plight of the lesser man to want to change things, after all.

Enjolras had asked to walk along the Seine with you and watch the sunrise, and you’d told him he couldn’t afford to buy that much of your time, hoping that knowledge of your profession might deter his pursuit of your affections.

It did not and, against your better judgment, you’d let him kiss you as the sun rose over the river.

He has held your heart ever since and you have not known a day of peace for it.

Nevermind your profession, there is no room for love in the midst of a revolution — to make one life more precious than the lives of the masses is antithetical to everything Enjolras proselytizes … and yet…

His eyes are dark, satin pools, pupils blown wide with desire, staring through you to the depths of your soul. You could come apart under those eyes, even without the help of his fingers, probing experimentally at the growing slick between your legs.

Enjolras kisses you then, a soft, languid slanting of lips that breathes warmth into you all the way to your core. He holds you tight as you turn over in his hands, twisting until you are facing him, only parting so that he can lift the thin cotton shift you wear over your head and cast it aside, leaving you bare but for your stockings.

He takes your face in his hands and catches your mouth hungrily, coaxing you to open up for him just a little more with a heady swipe of his tongue. You make quick work of unwinding his dark crimson cravat to reveal the hard lines of his neck and fumble with the buttons of his waistcoat, desperate to undress him despite how he has not yet even shed his coat.

You breathe hard into the heat of his mouth as big hands roam the length of your body like Enjolras cannot decide where it is he would like most to touch you — the supple swell of your breasts or the soft dip of your waist.

He settles finally on the gentle curve of your rear, cupping you there and lifting you easily so you might wrap your legs around him. It is only as you settle in his strong arms that you finally feel the full press of his hard length digging into your hip, making his trousers all too tight.

You shudder against him and breathe his name, gripping needily at his neck and shoulders as his mouth moves down to leave searing crescent moon shapes over your jaw and the tender columns of your throat. It’s been no less than a week since you’d last been under his bruising touch, but it may as well have been a lifetime for how you yearn for him.

“Enjolras…” you whine.

“Hmm?”

“Make love to me,”

You feel the curve of his broad smile against your flesh and the rumble of gentle laughter in his chest, and you are nearly undone by the warmth swelling beneath your ribs as you are filled to the brim with emotion.

“As you wish, Mon Cher.”

It is only a few minutes more of fumbling, reverent touches and searing kisses before you’ve discarded the last of his clothing and he has you laid out on the bed.

He relieves you of your stockings one at a time, slowly peeling the thin material down your legs, kissing the soft mailable flesh of your thighs as he comes down to settle between your spread legs. You gasp when you feel the scrape of teeth on your inner thigh and push up on your elbows to watch as he settles there.

Searing breath fans your slick folds, a startling contrast to the chill that sends a shiver through your body as he pushes your legs up and out to spread you that much wider, exposing your dewy core to the air. You fist the bedsheets, watching him lick his lips, eyes bright in anticipation of the meal he is ready to make out of you.

The first tentative swipe of his tongue has you jumping, jerking at the wet heat slipping through your folds and drawing teasing circles around your opening. The little kitten licks that follow have you sinking back into the pillows, soft lilting sighs slipping from your mouth to fill the room and match the pleased, hungry sounds he is making from between your legs, muffled by the mouthful he has of your pussy.

His mouth is a sinful thing, all tongue and lips and the slightest hint of teeth, worshiping at the altar of your body with broad flat strokes up and down the length of your slit and teasing flicks to your tender nub. In no time at all you’re writhing against him, rocking your hips in search of more friction, tiny lilting sounds spilling from your mouth in an unending tide of praise and encouragement.

You tremble as he pulls back from your folds with a vulgar wet smack only to press the tip of his tongue to that little bundle of nerves throbbing with inattention. You moan, a high sound of needy ecstasy as he pulls it into his mouth and, ever so tenderly, suckles at it, sending a sharp spike of pleasure lancing you through your midsection.

You card your fingers through his hair, careful not to tug too hard as you guide him to where you need him most, which, at present, is on his back fucking up into you.

You are all too aware of how empty you are, clenching down pitifully on nothing at all.

What you don’t realize, however, is how you’ve been begging for him until he’s crawled up to meet you. He licks a fat, wet stripe up the length of your torso, over the swell of your breast and the pebbled bud of your nipple as he makes his way up. You jump under the sharp sensation as he nips at you, taking your breast between his teeth before soothing the offended flesh with a balm of his tongue.

A trail of searing wet kisses leads him further to your lips, the heat of his ministrations punctuated by the murmured assurances he showers you with. You can taste the sharp tang of your slick spread over his mouth and tongue as you suck his lower lip in past your own and let yourself be drawn up into Enjolras’s lap as he sits up and rocks back into the sea of pillows at the head of your bed.

You settle there, already flushed and a little lightheaded and having to brace yourself against his chest to stay upright as he lays back.

Once you have your bearings, you push up easily on your knees and take his rigid cock in hand, throbbing beneath your touch as you pump the length of him for good measure — not that you need to, he’s as hard as you imagine he can be, with the way his purpling tip responds to the way you swipe the pad of your thumb over his leaking slit.

When you turn your gaze back to watch him, you see his eyes are half hooded and his mouth has fallen open in a wanton panting, he hisses with pleasure when you squeeze and twist the head of him on the uptake, and suddenly his hand flies out to catch you by the wrist and still your motions.

He forces out a breathless laugh.

“Mon Cher — you’ll wring me out before we’ve even begun.” He warns you, and you click your tongue at such a thought.

“What’s got you so sensitive?” You tease, drawing featherlight touches up and down the thick vein throbbing on the underside of his shaft.

He grits his teeth and breathes out hard through his nose like he’s working hard at putting all his energy into keeping himself from spending over your fist. Enjolras shakes his head and forces himself to open his eyes, chest heaving.

“I told you — I missed you.”

Which is to say he’s more than likely been half-hard all evening in anticipation of this moment.

You find that to be immeasurably pleasing, picturing him sitting stoically amongst his compatriots, discussing revolution and democracy and the makings of history, all the while burning with unbridled lust and shifting awkwardly to conceal its effect on him.

You smirk as you lean forward to press a chase peck to the end of his nose.

“Darling, you don’t have to miss me when I’m right here.”

And then you press him to your core and sink down onto his length in one, swift motion that draws a shared groan of relief from the both of you. He’s sheathed in you to the hilt in a matter of moments, the heat of your walls clenching down and drawing him in like it’s desperate for every inch of him, hungry for more even as you’re filled to brimming with him.

It is all-encompassing, the way he clouds your senses, and anything witty you might have said dies on your tongue as you swallow hard, your nails scraping down the length of his heaving abdomen. The heady burn of how he stretches you is almost too much, and for a moment it is all you can do but sit there, speared on his cock and trembling as it presses bruisingly against your furthest wall.

Enjolras grips your thighs like your flesh is all he has to keep him grounded, throwing his head back into the pillows as he does his best to quell the gentle, unconscious rocking of his hips until you’re ready. For half a moment, you wonder if he is about to cum and if, as he’d prophesied, all of this will end before it’s even started.

You wait for his grip to ease up as he comes back to himself, and you breathe out a shaky sigh, nodding reassuringly when you feel him gently tap his fingers on your leg, silently asking after you.

Always the gentleman, checking on you in spite of his state, you could kiss him, but you’d have to rock forward to do so and you aren’t quite ready to move just yet.

You know he must be desperate to take you by your hips and rut up into you until he finds his release, but you also know he would rather cut off his own hand than do anything without your permission, so he waits, and you watch.

Oh how he suffers, your poor idealist.

You think perhaps you could tease him a little, draw this out for as long as possible, but you’d only be torturing yourself — there is no denying that you are as eager for him as he is for you, and your quick and fevered fingers drawing circles over your bud with thoughts of him are nothing compared to the real thing.

Finally, you push up on your knees again, keening at the thick drag of him against your tender walls, lifting almost to the point of dislodging him before dropping back down. Again. And again, until you’ve found a steady rhythm that has your skin crawling with ecstasy.

His isn’t the largest cock you’ve ever had, but you find that it fits you best, like it was tailor-made for you. It is certainly your favorite, though you are, perhaps, at least a tad biased when it comes to him.

Enjolras’s big hands grip and pull at you as you ride him, like he is caught again in the dilemma of where to touch you, how best to hold you. The filthy wet sounds of lovemaking fill the air, commingling with your soft moaning and the creak of the bed frame beneath you. It is the soundscape of any number of brothels across Paris, but between the two of you, it is like music.

And then, without warning, he braces himself against the mattress and cants his hips up to meet yours as you come down again. You yelp, from alarm as much as sensation, and the momentum of his sudden thrusting nearly dislodges you to send you toppling over.

You brace yourself on one arm to keep from falling, though by then Enjolras has sat up to catch you, holding you in his arms while he fucks up into you, just like you’d wanted. You curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and swivel your hips in perfect time to each of his thrusts, and you move together like a well-oiled machine.

This is how you like it best, straddling him with his arms wrapped around you, forehead pressed against his, inhaling his exhales — pure bliss — you bite your lower lip and smirk as you try to suppress a burst of joyful, breathy laughter.

“What’s funny?” He asks, his voice thick and strained and tinged with the slightest trace of humor.

You shake your head because it feels silly to tell him it’s nothing, only that this is your favorite thing in the world — bouncing on his cock — and you just wish you could do this forever.

Funny to hear someone who fucks for a living say something like that.

You just smile at him.

“I missed you,” you hum, in a gentle mockery of how he had said it before.

He still his motions ever so slightly as his face splits into a big, broad smile of his own, dimples pulling tight to indent his cheeks as he surges forward to kiss you again.

Your heart thumps solidly in your chest and you think perhaps that he is what all those poets must have been talking about when they wrote their sonnets and songs of love.

You think Enjolras must be the envy of the Gods of old, and somewhere, wherever they are, they stand weeping over his beauty because they will never have him.

Say what you will about his devotion to Madame Révolution, right here and now Enjolras’s heart belongs entirely to you, and you’re half inclined to think he might make a romantic out of you for it.

It takes no effort at all for him to roll you, and suddenly you’re pressed into the mattress below him. There is only the briefest moment’s pause in rhythm as the momentum of changing positions causes his length to slip from your heat. You whimper at the loss of him, and he shushes you, petting your face to soothe you because, of course, he is coming right back.

You gaze up at him, beautifully flushed and disheveled, openly panting but still smiling as he kneels over you, supported on one strong arm and readjusting to compensate for the new angle. You splay your legs open wide to allow for him to slot in as close as possible against your core, letting him spread you a little further past the point of comfort with a gentle hand on your knee before hitching your legs up and around his hips.

You only briefly feel the broad flare of him at your entrance as he lines himself up before seating himself in you once again. He pushes all the way to the root in one quick snap of his hips that has you throwing your head back and arching into his touch with a loud, wanton moan.

He is suddenly so much deeper than he was before, thrusting into you, and you feel ready to come apart at the seams as he sets an agonizingly slow pace— pulling almost all the way out before snapping back again, each hungry thrust of his hips slamming home up against that most tender spot at your furthest wall to make you see stars and colors.

It’s punishment for how you teased him before, you know it must be, but this is how he likes it, painfully slow and hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall.

He likes to take his time while he dismantles you, but you are impatient.

You’re fisting your hands in the sheets and lifting your hips up off of the bed, trying to meet his every thrust despite how he pushes you back down with a strong hand and holds you there firmly. It is only enough to keep you teetering on the torturous edge, never enough to send you over, never too little to draw you back.

You can feel the litany of desperate noises tumbling from your lips more than you can hear them over the vulgar squelching sounds that fill the air with every pass of his cock against your sticky walls, the harsh slap of skin on skin, his soft grunting and moaning filling the room as he moves. The slick mess that drips down your thighs makes for a smooth glide in and out of you — you could almost blush to imagine how it must be pooling in your bedsheets and making a sopping wet mess of him as well as yourself.

It’s enough to make your toes curl and your walls flutter and clench over the length of him, drawing a low rattling moan from deep within his chest.

You’re only vaguely aware of the things Enjolras says to you, the little rhetorical questions and naughty phrases to which you can only nod along in affirmation, too drunk on the delicious sensation of being so perfectly stretched by him to form coherent thoughts or responses.

Yes, it feels good — so, so good. Yes, you like it when he fucks you like this —faster, more. Yes, you’re his good girl, taking him so well — don’t stop — yes, yes yes yes…!

The vice he has on your hips is a bruising thing, and where before there was the painfully slow in and out and in and out, he snaps his hip again, and suddenly he’s hilted in you to the base, pelvis pressed flushed to yours as he begins a slow, rutting grind, just the perfect amount of friction against your swollen, needy bud to have you writhing under his weight.

Your eyes roll back and slide shut as you press your head into the pillows, exposing the tender columns of your throat and mewling at the sensation of being so full.

“Oh— f-f-uh—!” You bite the curse off with a shrill gasp, one hand flying down to grip his wrist as his big palm splays over the lowest point of your belly, applying pressure there like he is in danger of bursting through your abdomen and means to contain himself. “E-Enjolras—please!”

You can feel the vibration of his gentle laughter buzzing into you through his cock and it’s nearly enough to make you seize.

“Yes, my darling?” He teases, “What is it?”

You’re not sure you could have answered him at that moment if your life depended on it, you aren’t even sure what you’re asking of him. You’ve suddenly got your lower lip pulled so tightly between your teeth that you half expect to taste blood as the heat in your abdomen quickly begins to wind itself into a tight, quivering coil.

The unconscious canting of your hips to rock against his ministrations is a desperate thing as you try to chase more friction and bring yourself to climax.

And then you feel his movements growing lax, slower and slower until his hips still entirely. It draws a pitiful whine from deep within you as the orgasm you’d been balancing on the edge of turns gossamer and slips through your fingers.

A calloused hand comes up to settle over your jaw then, and rubs tenderly up over your cheek. You feel his thumb brush away a dewiness you hadn’t been aware of forming on your lashes and suddenly the plush spread of his lips is at your throat.

“Open your eyes, mon amour —” he whispers, kissing the tender spot just beneath your ear, “Look at me.”

It takes some effort, but eventually, you obey, chest heaving and eyes blurry as you gaze up at him, suddenly leaning over you on his elbows. You reach up to brush stray curls from where they stick to his sweat-slicked forehead with a shaking hand and feel your chest swelling with emotion again.

He is so handsome and so kind, and he could so easily be yours — he would whisk you away from all this if only you would let him.

How you wish you would let him.

There are tears in your eyes then, spilling over your lashes and down your cheeks to pool at your jawline.

Enjorlas’s brows come together in tight-knit concern and the thumping of his heart against your own is almost enough to make you forget he’s still got his cock in you.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, so gently you could fall apart beneath him as he brushes the pad of his thumb over the spread of your lower lip, like a key unlocking the chest where you keep your most precious secrets.

The words tumble foolishly from your lips before you can stop them.

“I love you,” you gasp.

The confession is shocking, like the clanging of a bell. Ever so briefly, you watch something closer to hurt than you like to see on him flash across his dark eyes, shifted nearly black with wanting. The pained look is gone in an instant, replaced instead by a crumpled smile, like he can hardly believe he’s heard you correctly.

He’s professed his love to you a dozen times over, in and out of the heady spell of lovemaking, and you’ve dismissed the notion a dozen times again.

You’re both all too painfully aware of the hideous cliche you’ve found yourselves in, a man falling in love with a whore, begging her for her fidelity where she cannot offer it, making a thousand promises of the honest life they could live together if only she’d give herself over to him.

You’ve had countless other men make you similar, needy promises in the heat of the moment, caught in the vice of your pussy and teetering on climax, but those intentions always fade to dust the moment they spill over and come back to their senses.

Enjolras has never once gone back on his word, whether he is in his right mind or drunk on your flesh — you’re half inclined to believe he could deliver on those promises, make an honest woman of you, take you away to live with him in some little cottage where he would marry you and you’d raise a brood of wild children together.

You’re almost foolish enough to believe you could be happy together for more than a few fleeting moments of frenzied fucking. Still, your heart throbs in your chest for the impending consequences of what you have just done — you aren’t allowed to love him.

He searches your face for the answer to a question he has not yet asked as he draws an invisible tear down the side of your face with the line of his smallest finger.

His voice is thick and heady with indiscernible emotion when he speaks.

“Say it again.”

You shouldn’t. You ought to shut up, send him away, implore him to forget he ever learned your name, but you cannot.

You push up on your elbows to slot your mouth against his — kissing him to make him believe you, to somehow pass through him and whisper the closest kept secrets of your heart to his.

You wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself to him, feeling the sticky drag of his chest hair against your peaked, sensitive nipples as he moves to snake an arm around your midsection.

“I love you,” you breathe against his lips. “I lov-”

He surges forward and kisses you again, a bruising press of his lips hard enough that you can barely move your mouth to return the gesture.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he suddenly rolls his hips, drawing back and thrusting in once more as he falls into a punishing pace, spurred into action by the admission — the reciprocation — of your feelings.

You brace a hand against the rattling headboard, clanging against the wall in time with the jostling of the bed frame, your high breathy voice answering the deeper timber of his own as he fucks into you in desperate search of his climax.

The coil in your belly grows tight and white hot again and you can feel the muscles in his abdomen growing tense against you.

In no time, his thrusting grows sloppy and erratic as he nears his finish and you grow eager for your own. He banishes your fingers with an aggressive swipe as they scrabble down to brush tight circles over your swollen nub, electing to get the job done himself. You jolt up needily against the calloused flesh of his thumb, abusing that tender bundle of nerves at a rapid-fire pace.

It boils over all too quickly.

Before you can think to open your mouth, warn him of your impending climax, you’ve come up and over, and the coil in your belly snaps.

Your body goes rigid, and you tremble with the agony of your ecstasy, washing over you like the surf, wave after powerful wave knocking you back again before you’ve had time to take a breath. You gasp out a strangled cry and dig your fingers into his arms, Enjolras’s pace only briefly faltering as your walls clench on him like a vice. He continues to fuck into you through your orgasm, stretching the release as far as it will go until you’ve strayed the line of overstimulation and you’re scrambling to try and get away from his punishing touch.

Thankfully, he is not far behind you.

He rolls his hips one, twice, thrice more before he’s pulling you as tight to him as he can manage, burying his face into the expanse of dewy flesh between your heaving breasts and spilling into you with a low guttural moan.

It’s almost enough to have you climaxing again, and you would have cried out at the bright, warm sensation flooding up against the quivering walls of your heat, if your voice were not trapped in your throat. He rolls his hips with each ropey spurt he leaves in you until finally he is spent and he collapses on top of you with a sigh of relief and the dead weight of his whole body.

Time ceases to matter, stretching infinitely before you as you lay together, breathing in tandem. Your lungs protest as they fight to expand, crushed into the mattress beneath him as you are, but you ignore their haughty complaints.

You consider never getting up, letting him slip beneath your skin and live like this in the bright, hazy moments of afterglow with sweat drying tacky on your bodies, the evidence of your joint efforts oozing from out between your legs around his softening cock. You sigh out your contentment, drawing lazy patterns across his back and relishing in how perfect this moment is, without the world pressing in on you.

Enjolras’s chest expands against you as he breathes deep and exhales, and you imagine the exhaustion tugging at him, threatening to lull him to sleep in your arms. You card your fingers through his hair, petting him and listening to the little pleased hums it draws from the hollow of his throat.

You could let yourself love him like this, almost imagining that you are in the life he’s promised you, tucked safely away in a little home, far removed from Paris and the troubles of your lives. Still, nothing lasts forever, and the gentle nagging of consequences begins to tug at you.

You can suddenly hear hushed, giggling voices outside your door and you grit your teeth against the violent feeling they stir in you.

Nasty little voyeurs.

You drum your fingers gently over Enjolras’s bicep and apply the slightest amount of pressure, prompting him to roll off and away from you so that you might sit up. You shiver at the jarring emptiness of his slipping out of you and you push up from the bed, crossing to the wash basin on shaky legs.

In your perfect life, you wouldn’t have to be so quick to wash him from you. You could relish in the sensation of being filled, the possibility of bearing his children, but this is not your perfect life, so you wet a rag and make quick work of cleaning yourself up.

You fetch your dressing down from where it lays discarded on the floor and shrug into it.

“Do you want me to go?” You hear Enjolras ask then, his voice thick and raw.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, breathing a little easier now though still so beautifully flushed. You watch him reach up and brush his hair back from his face with a boyish nervousness that plunges a dagger into your heart.

Of course, it occurs to you now how it might seem like a rejection, so hastily sloughing him off.

You smile and cross back to the bed, sinking down into the mattress and tucking yourself in against his body to banish the notion.

“No,” you purr, taking his face in your hands, “I want you to stay.”

The relief that passes over him is palpable as a tension you hadn’t been aware of until that moment clears.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks you, the rawness of the question so painfully sweet it puts a lump in your throat, “…that you love me?”

Your heart seizes in your chest, because how could he ask you such a question?

As easily as you can fool yourself into thinking it was true.

You watch him watching you, waiting for the faintest hint of a response, and you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. A brief, chaste peck that ends too soon and leaves you wanting to do it again and again.

You could waste the night kissing him like that, like bright notes of honey you are entirely too greedy for.

His hand flies up to shadow yours against his face, keeping you there as he turns into your touch and presses a gentle kiss to your palm.

But now you’ve left the question unanswered too long, and the faintest hint of that hurt look is back in his eyes.

“Do you love me?”

You hate to do it, but you have to address the consequences of your actions. You have to be practical for both your sakes.

“Of course I do, mon Chéri,” you sigh, “And you love me, but what does it matter when you have the revolution? Your citizen meetings and all the people who look to you for guidance?”

“What has one got to do with the other?” He huffs, “I love you independently of my duty to the revolution–”

You furrow your brow, because one has everything to do with the other. You are surprised at how he could be blind to that.

You think that perhaps it is a willful blindness.

“My love, you do nothing independent of your duty to the revolution when you are its leader.”

His jaw tightens and his brows come together as he immediately rejects the notion.

“I’m not–” he snaps, then takes a breath, taking up your hand as he corrects himself and speaks a little more gently, “No, I’m not … there are no leaders among us.”

You do your best to ignore the hurt that flashes across his face when you take your hand back.

“Oh no? And who do you think they’ll come for when the city is burning and the aristocracy cries out for someone to hang? Will you send someone else to the noose?”

He shakes his head in a way that you think is perhaps too petulant for someone in his position, with his resolve.

“It won’t come to that.” He says.

“Won’t it?” You press, and then you add with a biting tone, “Are you so unwilling to be a martyr to your cause?”

Enjolras levels you with an incredulous look, something almost halfway to hurt as he turns those big dark eyes on you. He is looking at you like he can’t believe what you’re saying, like you’re rejecting him.

“Why are we talking about this?” He implores, “What does it matter?”

“It matters if you love me. There is no room for love in revolution — you’re the one who preaches that.” you press, leaning into him when he looks away, defiant of his own words.

“I preach nothing.” He says sullenly.

“Don’t make yourself a hypocrite, Enjolras. Don’t give them that to use against you.”

You know he knows this, and were he not so caught in the vice of his feelings he would agree with you, but you also know he doesn't want to hear it anymore than you want to say it.

The silence that blooms between you is tense. You watch him flex his jaw and listen to him breathe, and you wonder if you’ve gone and ruined a perfectly splendid moment for nothing.

Then again what do you know about martyrs and causes? Perhaps you are wrong and it is not impossible, simply improbable.

Somehow you highly doubt that.

You sigh and bring your knees up to hug against your chest.

“Forgive me…” you begin, “It’s not my place to say it. I shouldn’t—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Would you come away with me if I asked?”

It is another shocking, bell-clanging moment, along the same vein of your own confession.

You’re fully aware of how you’re gawping at him, but you can hardly believe he even said it as the question lingers between you. The sudden change has you laughing, for shock rather than unkindness.

He remains steely in his resolve and waits for your answer.

“Come away with you?” You echo, and your heart thumps in anticipation of the answer you cannot give him — yes of course.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted. Still, humor is the soothing balm to the way your heart cries out in protest because you cannot go, no matter how desperately you want to ... and yet...

Not impossible... simply improbably...

“What could you possibly offer me enticing enough to abandon my life here, living in the lap of luxury?” You ask, beaming as you gesture grandly to the modest room, with its peeling wallpaper and holes in the ceiling.

In a strident contrast to the way you poke fun, Enjolras is serious as the plague as he takes up your hands again.

“I would offer you everything I have.” He says earnestly, “My life — my fidelity.”

The heat of his gaze is intense enough to have you turning shy and looking down at your hands, at the way he’s caressing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

You're laughing again, suddenly giddy with possibility.

“Your fidelity? You would abandon your true love? All your work for the revolution? For me?”

He nods.

“For you, I would leave tonight.”

You hum thoughtfully, dropping your chin to the sinewy muscle of his shoulder.

“What about life and liberation of the working class?”

His voice is soft when he answers, rattling in his chest with a deeply tired sigh, like he hasn’t slept in months. You have to wonder whether he ever rests outside of your company.

“Let someone else fight for a change.” He says, his eyes growing distant. It is entirely uncharacteristic of him, and enough to make you think he might be serious.

He would leave — with you, no less — leave all that he knows behind for a love that is forbidden. How wonderfully uncharacteristic of him.

What a story yours is. A common whore and a jaded revolutionary.

How terribly cliche.

And then like a proposal, he moves so that he is kneeling in front of you, his soul bare for you to judge and do with what you like.

“Come away with me.” He says, “Be my wife.”

You cannot speak, your tongue has suddenly turned to cotton in your throat. You imagine saying yes, leaving tonight, but your heart is torn.

You could marry him, but with what money? He cannot afford to keep you and without an income, you cannot afford not to work. And what would leaving mean for the lives you left behind?

What would happen to girls like Marie and Clotilde without your guardianship? How many revolutions have died in their infancy because lesser men than Enjolras decided to leave the fight to someone else?

Amidst all these worries and questions, another series springs to the front of your mind and branches out, growing wild with reckless abandon.

Why does it all rest on your shoulders?

Why is it not enough just to be lovers?

It is a pretty dream, your other life in a little house, married happily and rearing curly-haired children with their father’s dark eyes — why should you be doomed to live your life resigned to dreaming?

Why? Why why why? ...Why not?

For half a moment, you watch Enjorlas crumple before you, like he is anticipating the rejection.

Your heart breaks for him.

How conflicting it must be to balance his two selves, the stalwart revolutionary with the desperate romantic.

If only his compatriots knew how he suffered for the revolution, you fear they would tear him to pieces.

You would shield him from that if you could.

You bring your hand up to cup his jaw on one side, and then the other, and you draw him to you.

"Your fidelity won't put bread on my table," you say softly, "But I would take it if you let me, if only because you offered it to me."

His eyes widen ever so briefly, and his face splits into that big, shining grin again. He laughs, too struck to speak like he had already resigned himself to the slow death of your impending rejection, and to hear the opposite has wiped clean the slate of his mind.

You love it when he's speechless.

You can’t stop your lips from quirking up into a shy smile. “Unless you didn’t mean it–?” You tease, but he doesn't let you finish, crashing forward to press a bruising kiss to your lips.

“I meant it.” He says quickly, breathlessly between kisses – his hands come up to grasp your shoulders and hold you to the spot, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t have a hand on you, you’ll slip away.

You smile against his lips.

“Then I will come away with you.”

You let him kiss you and bask in the unbridled warmth blooming in your chest because now you never have to stop.

There is nothing more to keep you apart. He is yours to have as you please forever, and you are his.

Somewhere, in the belly of the house, you think you hear the slamming of the front door, the telltale commotion of the Madam's return, but you can't make yourself care. This is the last night you'll spend in this wretched place, the last time you'll have to steal for a moment of intimacy with the man you love. You think on what Enjolras said before, about letting someone else fight for a change, and while you know he won't stop his fighting, you resign yourself to letting go of your own battles with a strange lightness.

You know he won't give up on the revolution. She is the other woman in his life, after all, but you are pleasantly surprised to find that you don't mind sharing him.

You’d been so worried he would make a romantic out of you, you’d never once considered he might make a revolutionary out of you.

A courtesan turned revolutionary’s wife — how perfectly wonderful.

#bbc enjolras #enjolras x reader #bbc les mis #enjolras x fem!reader #enjolras x you #reader insert #not gonna outright put this in the general les mis tag because ya girl knows better #i'm not super happy with how this ended but I needed it to end because I'm incapable not not writing long fics #and this is about the smut everybody please #if you find typos no you didn't i've been staring at this so long i've gone cross eyed #can you tell i wrote this in a fever after rewatching moulin rouge?#its about the yEARNING #it's about the FORBIDDEN LOVE

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fantasy-girl974 · 8 months

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► Concept art for Young Kotallo's outfit

A NEW PURPOSE by me

********

Here's my first fic about Kotallo's past! 👀 From the AU MIRACLE LINES that @grexigone and me are still working on it (already at Chapter 15!)

You can read it without knowing the main story (but I think it's best to better feel, erm, the Angst™️ parts 😌)

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stars-of-kyber · 6 months

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A Dead Man's Tale - 28th of October -

The First Night

Although she didn't particularly believe in the supernatural, Kate Sharma had always loved ghost stories. What she never expected was that a long getaway to an old manor-turned-hotel with her fiancé around Halloween would end up opening a window to the past and turning her into a spectator to a forbidden love story from centuries past.

Happy Halloween, my spooks.

This is the beginning of my humble offering to the holiday (although it's not thaaat spooky, but there are ghosts!)

Como join Kate and watch how this impossible love story plays out!

To my loves @harnitbee, @ladystanbury, @mimix007 and @waterlilyroseI how you know how much I love and cherish everything you do for me <3

Happy Halloween and happy reading!

Enjoy!

#my writing #bridgerton #my fic #kathony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #modern au #Ghosts AU #Canon Divergent #The ending is... happy I guess #but there's angst #pining #forbidden love #also Established Kathony

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northerngoshawk · 1 year

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a love worth fighting for

vi. hope

Rating: T

Chapter: ✨6 of 6✨

Story Summary:

He is the Avatar, and she is a Water Tribe girl. The world told them both to stay away from each other, for the Avatar must not become attached to mere mortals. But Katara would sooner fight hurricanes than let society tear them apart. Or: the Kataang forbidden lovers AU.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Chapter Summary:

True to their word, the masters searched the corners of the earth for suitable companions that could “bolster the Avatar’s cause.” It was only a testament to their global connectedness that they managed to find three more companions within a mere six months. Companions, the masters called them. Detached and formal, as they most likely intended for the Avatar. But the truth was, Katara thought to herself as she gazed upon them now, the truth was that they were friends. - In which Aang and Katara face the war together.

read on ao3 or ffn

#northern's fanfiction #kataang #aang #katara #forbidden lovers #childhood friends #friends to lovers #angst #pining #fluff #happy ending #atla fanfiction #kataang fanfiction #kataang fanfic #kataang fic

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nyxofdemons · 6 months

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god i have so many projects i need to finish i shouldn't be starting a new one. but. the idea in my head for a royalty au (i know theyre also royals in canon i just don't know what else to call it) where ozzie and stolas are both princes in an arranged engagement, blitz is an assassin personally employed by the royal family, and fizz is the court jester, is one that. uh. kind of has me in its clutches rn

#this is a poly ship fic/series to be clear. 50k angst with a happy ending that hits ALL the tropes #stolas and blitz are childhood friends to Its Complicated pretending this is only friends with benefits and not absolutely devastating #ozzie and fizz are the CLASSIC forbidden love #ozzie and stolas both THINK the other one has no romantic interest in them and is only doing this for Political Reasons #fizz and blitz ohohoh MAN childhood best friends to bitter resentment but forced to work in #close proximity due to their respective goetias being engaged #i'm actually less sure about fizz/stolas and blitz/ozzie dynamics.#obviously we could just have them be platonic but i do think it could be cute. stolas just thinks fizz is so funny and endearing #and ozzie and blitz bond over loving fizz and stolas. also i think Embodiment of Lust x horniest imp ever would be at least interesting #in bed if nothing else. like they'd be curious to at least try it out right #I HAVE TOO MANY PROJECTS I CANT TAKE ON A NEW ONE #AND YET. THIS CONCEPT IS CONSUMING ME.#anyway i swear ill have that other fic done soon stuff came up im sorry ahsdkjashkas #mine #circus goetia

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alexxxaloy · 1 year

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Part One of my trilogy fic finished last week, just in time for Ereloy Week 2023 ☺️

The Sweet Escape - Part One - The Carja

With the amazing fanart by @chib95 as illustrations accompanying each chapter. ❤️

Definitely relevant to Ereloy week Day 3 - Angst With a Happy Ending.

I Hope you’ll enjoy as much as I loved writing about those 2!

#ereloy #aloy x erend #aloy and erend #horizon forbidden west #ereloy fanfic #ereloy fanart #ereloyweek2023 #angst with comfort #angst with a happy ending #erend vanguardsman #hfw erend #erend #hzd erend #my fic #ereloy kiss

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yutaleks · 7 days

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Thinking about Yuuta’s collarbones tonight 😞

😞😞😞😞😞😞😞

#just. the thought of being in this situation sends me spiraling #negelected wife who finds comfort in this beautiful stranger…#you want him SO bad but you know you’d both be killed for even saying it aloud #so you’re just left to silently drown in your desire for each other………#I’m gonna tear my hair out #that line in the fic where y.uuta calls himself a convetous dog. truly that altered my brain chemistry #I think about their journey together after he buys her out #those few days before the end. they must’ve been happy. even if it was short lived…#to be in each others company without the barriers. god. he loved her so much I’ll kms #im such a sucker for forbidden romance like I daydream about that part of this fic so often #the short burst of happiness after he bought her freedom. just the thought of it breaks my heart 😞💔#I’ve barely made it halfway thru the fic lemme be quiet #sen if you’re seeing this no you don’t im so annoying im sorry

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angstyandromanticwriting · 13 days

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Vera Alfrey (an OC) x Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt

• Period drama style

• Vera’s face claim is Margot Robbie as Valerie Vose in Amsterdam (2022)

• There will be more!

!TW: Cheating, facing homophobia, self-doubt, self put-down(s), implied suffering from depression + anxiety + separation anxiety, mention of sexual occurrence(s), mention of death + implied grieving, mention of the loss of parents, presence of blood + injury detail, violence/being abused, break-up, mention of abuse + implied murder, implied suicidal intentions + attempting to commit suicide (via drowning), elements of self-harm - If I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

Ever since Vera’s father had been informed by one of the gardeners of your and her undergarments being found within the cornfield, things had been tense between you, her, and Violet; you were all worried about what might happen if your and Vera’s affair was discovered, though neither one of you could understand why it was something so bad to them - like Isabella had told Vera before she had passed away, and had still been the head maid of the household: love was meant to be a force that doesn’t discriminate, so why should anyone be disgusted by you both being two women in love with one another?

Despite the fact that your lives were on the line, this wouldn’t stop you both from seeing one another still behind her family’s backs, with only Violet - her middle sister - knowing now about you both, and trying to cover you as much as she possibly could in an attempt to protect you from the harassment you would surely face if you were discovered by the police.

“Hey-!” You chimed elatedly upon noticing Vera enter the library quietly; she often met you in here secretly as the others often wouldn’t be within the room whilst it was being cleaned by you, considering the fact that you were one of the maids within the house, and she would always - whenever her parents had gone out with her youngest sister, Elizabeth - rush to your side, knowing that you both wouldn’t be walked in on, and therefore wouldn’t be punished, or on edge about being discovered together by any of them; the other maids would most likely not bother checking up on you, either, with Violet keeping an eye on the room for the both of you in secret.

“Hi!” She returned, her eyes glinting following her gaze falling upon you, before she rushed up to you, and threw her arms around you, evidently glad to find that you were okay, worrying you a little, but you would try and hide it from her, returning the hug in an attempt to provide comfort to her as you could tell that maybe she’d been shaken up recently, and you couldn’t imagine why, wondering if her father, or mother had questioned her again, when really she had been trying to evade the both of them to the best of her ability. “I missed you so much,” she expressed timidly whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t help, but appear flustered whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy; nobody had ever made you feel so loved, and cared about before, and you couldn’t help, but wonder why she was wasting her time on you, being perfect, whilst you believed yourself to be nothing, compared to her, prompting your heart to sink, and a pained expression to cross your face, but you would try and hide it whilst you rested your head upon her left shoulder, fighting back the small tears that had managed to cloud your vision.

“I missed you, too,” you returned, “h-how was it, earlier, with the-.. the general?”

Vera would appear taken aback by the question, holding you at arm’s length whilst she smirked over at you; she could tell that you were a little jealous, though you had no reason to be; the general could never mean anything to her, and she was still determined to find a way out of marrying him, somehow, wanting to remain loyal to you, and only you, now she knew that you felt the same way for her, and that these feelings you were holding for one another were normal, and not something to be ashamed of the way you had both often been made to feel like they were, before. Upon noticing the look on her face, and mischievous glint forming within her stunning icy blue eyes, you would wince, appearing embarrassed at yourself for reacting the way you had; you knew you shouldn’t be jealous, but couldn’t help it - you were terrified of losing her, and couldn’t help, but wish you both could spend more time together, often longing for one another’s company whenever you were away from each other’s sides the way you had been a brief moment ago.

“I hated every second of it,” she admitted, before tilting her head partially, and trying hard to fight back a grin, as well as a giggle upon noticing that you had begun to blush faintly, “why? Were you hoping to get me all to yourself earlier?” You would falter, before beginning to stammer, and hiding your face from her whilst your blush began to grow more evident; she’d always had this effect on you, and she loved it; she always had, and knew she always would, no matter what the future might be holding for you both, after your undergarments had been found within the cornfield you’d both fooled around in together recently, before Auntie Isabella had sadly passed away. “Don’t worry, kitty, I’m all your’s,” she cooed, before lifting her right hand up to your left cheek, prompting you to instantly melt into her touch whilst you found your eyes locking blissfully with her stunning icy blue ones, encouraging your heart to begin pounding overwhelmingly whilst it raced alongside her own in the best way possible, “and that’s never gonna change, I promise; I love you so much-”

“Vera!” Her mother would call from downstairs, and Vera would falter, a pained expression on her face; she’d been about to delicately connect her lips to your’s, and her mother had rudely interrupted the moment for you both.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I-.. I should go and see what it is that she wants, now,” she stated apologetically, and you would frown, before nodding gravely, prompting her to feel worse; she didn’t want to have to leave you like this, affectionately connecting her forehead to your’s whilst she wished things could be different for you both; wished that you both could be together freely, somehow, without having the threat of harassment looming over one another’s heads, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, I-.. just don’t forget that I love you, okay? A-And that I always will, no matter what.”

“I won’t forget, V, d-don’t worry,” you cooed, “I-.. I could never forget - just promise me that you will never forget that I love you, too, a-and I always will, even if you do have to marry-.. t-that guy - my feelings for you will never change because I-”

She would then smile sadly over at you, before delicately connecting her lips to your’s, prompting you to fall quiet, and to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you clung to her shoulders subconsciously, forgetting what you had been about to say; she had been hoping to distract you from the marriage as she could tell that you had been thinking about it a lot recently, and wished she could do more to try and stop it from plaguing your mind any further than it evidently was.

“I’m not going to marry him, I promise,” she insisted, “why would I, w-when I - I’m smitten with you?”

You would appear flustered again whilst your smile grew alongside her own, and your eyes would begin to glint whilst your heart skipped a couple of beats - nothing had ever felt so amazing before, and you loved it, but not as much as you loved her, and knew you always would.

“I - I’m smitten with you, t-too,” you stammered out, prompting her to beam over at you, before she leaned forward to kiss you again a little more passionately, this time, wishing she could deepen it, until she was reminded of her mother wanting to see her as she called for her to come downstairs again, prompting her to grunt, before she begrudgingly held you at arm’s length again, and would briefly entangle the fingers of her right hand within your hair whilst she wished she could stay with you for a little while longer, hating to be away from you as it felt wrong to not be stuck to your side. “I’ll be okay waiting here for you, V, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, and she would hesitate, before nodding gravely, and easing you into a final hug, prolonging it as much as she possibly could.

“I won’t be long,” she replied, and you would nod again, hoping she was right, “I promise - I’m sure she just wants to question me some more, but - we’re gonna be okay, as long as we have each other.”

“I hope so,” you mused, and she would then reluctantly let go of you, before dragging herself toward the library door, and smiling faintly back at you, “s-see you in a bit.”

“See you, kitty, in less than half an hour, I promise,” she returned, before pushing herself to leave the room though she longed to remain by your side, somehow, for the rest of her life, and even beyond it, but her questioning by her mother would end up returning her to you later than she thought it would, worrying you, and even prompting you to leave the room to eavesdrop on her and her mother’s conversation, but it wasn’t long after you had that you found yourself beginning to regret doing so.

🜚

Whilst you were stood outside of the Alfrey’s living room, you would falter upon hearing Vera and her mother’s voice, inching closer to the door so you could hear more of their conversation, wondering why this session of questioning was taking longer than Vera had expected it to.

“For the last time, mother, I am not having an affair,” you heard Vera strain out, prompting you to frown; you could hear that she was trying not to cry, and wished you could enter the room to hug her, and kiss her in an attempt to provide comfort to her, “I could never do that to General Maxwell - I-.. care about him too much to do something like that to him.”

“Really? You care about him? Is that all?” Her mother questioned, and Vera would hesitate, a pained expression on her face, before shaking her head begrudgingly, and trying not to feel guilty though she knew you weren’t in the room with her, and hoped against hope that you were still up in the library though she knew this moment would always burden her own conscience. “Vera-”

“I love him, mother,” she interjected, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and her mother would then appear satisfied, glad, “and I could never love anyone else as much as I love her - him, I mean.”

Until Vera had made that mistake, her mother might have believed her, reminding herself of the other pair of undergarments belonging to a maid, prompting her to nod gravely, before she crossed over to the shelf opposite the sofa, and took up the frame she’d had made for her and her husband, Arthur Alfrey’s wedding day.

“You do want to marry him, don’t you?” Her mother inquired, and she would hesitate, finding herself unable to stop it from happening; she just couldn’t shake the guilty feeling she was experiencing whenever she thought back to you, and how she would rather marry you, and spend the rest of her life with you, instead of General Maxwell.

“Of course I do,” Vera mustered faintly in a voice barely audible, “what kind of question is that?”

“I was just checking to see if you were ready to take on such a commitment,” she answered, and Vera would frown, before forcing herself to nod again after her mother had set down the frame again, and was looking back at her, “are you? Because you know what it means to get married, don’t you? You’ll have to tend to him regularly whenever he’s home, and - if you are able - provide him with heirs to continue his family’s legacy - are you ready to do both of those things?”

Vera couldn’t help, but grimace subconsciously whilst she bowed her head, and silently wished she could return to your side, knowing that she would instantly feel better upon being within your embrace again whilst you, too, were struggling to hold yourself together apart from her the way that you currently were, trying not to cry whilst you begged her barely audibly to say no, and to tell her mother that she had no intentions of marrying him to prevent you both from losing one another, somehow, before it got to be too late to do so.

“Readier than I’ve ever been before,” she managed dejectedly, and her mother would smile warmly over at her, glad, before she walked up to her daughter, and would ease her into a hug, prompting Vera to hesitate, before she returned it, and would find herself struggling to fight back her emotions anymore, her tears managing to slowly run down cheeks only to be frequently brushed away by her slightly shaky right hand; she couldn’t believe she’d managed to get her and you into this mess, and hoped against hope that the plan she had in mind to pull out of the wedding last minute would work, and look as if it were just her getting cold feet about the whole idea to protect you, as well as herself, though she found that - whenever she was reminded of the possibility that someone might hurt you for being inverted; attracted to the same sex - she only worried about you, and felt as if she couldn’t worry about herself as much as she did whenever the subject arose of you possibly being hurt; she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, and so the possibility of her losing you was, and forever would remain to be a terrifying one, no matter what the future might hold for you both.

“I’m proud of you,” her mother cooed, “and I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother someday.”

You couldn’t help, but falter again, your heart sinking alongside your demeanour whilst you began to wonder if this was what Vera wanted - something you could never give her: her own children. This thought would prompt you to silently curse yourself for ever thinking that maybe she would truly want to spend her life, as well as possibly the afterlife, with you, leaving you feeling empty, and as if you had nothing left to live for anymore, assuming you were soon going to be losing Vera - the only person who had ever provided you with a reason to since live the moment your gaze had first fallen upon her.

“Thank you, mum,” Vera replied whilst her eyes darkened, and heart began to ache excruciatingly alongside your own; she couldn’t help, but feel as if something else was wrong - as if you knew, somehow, about this guilty conversation, and that was when she heard it - a strained sob escaping your lips upon you finding you could no longer fight it back any longer; the pain was overwhelming, and you would then silently curse yourself for allowing it to sound out, before fleeing from the door, and rushing back up the stairs to get back into the library before they could discover that you had been listening to their conversation.

“What was that?” Her mother mused, startled by the sound as she looked toward the door. “Someone must have been listening to us,” she stated as she hurriedly walked toward the door whilst Vera found she couldn’t follow her, feeling much too numb, and weak to for a moment; she could tell that the sound had come from you, and couldn’t help, but curse herself for not being more careful; she hated hurting you the way she could tell that she had a brief moment ago, “I must go and talk to your father, the head cook, and the new head maid about this; they won’t be happy to hear that someone’s abandoned their duties to eavesdrop on our private matters,” she stated, and Vera found she couldn’t even muster up a response, a hurt look on her face whilst her heart raced overwhelmingly; tormentingly, and she was struggling not to break down alongside you. Her voice was stuck in her throat, somehow, and a lump had formed within it that she couldn’t swallow whilst she stared down at the ground in an attempt to hide that her eyes were full of tears, and cheeks were already partially tear-stained whilst her face was heating up slightly like it did whenever she was trying not to cry in front of her mother the way she was, now, in an attempt to protect you from being discovered, as well as herself. “You’ll be okay, won’t you, Vera?” She concluded, but before she could even force an answer out of herself, her mother would leave her alone within the room, and it was after this moment that she allowed herself to break down, sinking onto the sofa whilst she cried, and sobbed uncontrollably into the palms of her hands; she couldn’t believe she had unintentionally hurt you the way she had, and now feared that maybe she might be about to lose you, somehow, if she didn’t figure out a way of pulling out of the wedding sooner than she had intended to as a result of possibly not being able to manage to try and fix things herself by reminding you of all you meant to her, and of how she could never want anything more, than to be by your side as your lover, and your’s only, and this was what she would try and do, getting up off of the sofa once she felt able, and had managed to calm herself down, determined not to lose you again after she briefly had a few days ago following the excruciating passing of Auntie Isabella.

🜚

Upon getting closer to the library door, Vera would falter, hearing that you - too - were still crying, prompting her heart to sink, and eyes to darken whilst she silently cursed herself for allowing this to happen; she hated hurting you like she could tell she evidently had, making her feel even worse to know that this wouldn’t have happened if she’d been more careful whilst talking to her mother, or had been clearer about how the conversation might go so it wouldn’t surprise you if you ended up listening in following her doing so, but it was too late now to change what had happened earlier; she’d just have to try and fix it before it was too late for her to do so, and this was terrifying considering the fact that she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, by her side as her soulmate as she was certain that you were her twin soul, now, after everything you’d both already been through together.

She would then timidly draw in a shaky breath, before easing open the door, and you would wince upon hearing it, hastily trying to recompose yourself as you sat up, and would quickly wipe away your tears to the best of your ability, but even if Vera hadn’t known that you had heard the conversation, she would still be able to tell that you had been crying for a little while, now, and she couldn’t bear it, a pained expression on her face when she noticed your tear-stained cheeks, and slightly sore eyes, making her feel even worse for what had happened, as well as prompting her heart to ache a little more excruciatingly whilst she locked eyes with you blissfully for a moment, and this would allow you both to briefly forget about the pain you were in, until you managed to stammer out the words: ‘you’re back’.

“Y-Y/n, I - I’m so sorry,” she managed feebly, before rushing up to you, and throwing her arms around you whilst she sat down beside you on the sofa beneath the stained glass window, and you would subconsciously melt into her embrace instantly, finding you’d missed it whilst she was talking to her mother, before you returned the hug, and would bury your face into the crook of her neck, “I really am - I never meant to hurt you, I swear-”

“Hurt me-?” You interjected, feigning confusion as you glanced up at her for a moment, before forcing a smile as if you were no longer in pain, but she could see through it, and the pain only grew to be even more excruciating for you both as you could tell that she knew; she knew you too well for you to be getting away with shiny smiles around her in an attempt to try and hide that you were in pain as you didn’t want to hurt her, too, making you feel guilty upon realising, and being able to determine by the crestfallen expression on her face that she was in pain, too. “V, you - you’d never hurt me,” you tried to reassure her, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s, hoping that this would make her feel better when she only felt worse, and wished you weren’t so good to her after what had just happened a brief moment ago, “I was only worried you weren’t going to come back after half an hour had passed - that’s all; it’s not important, a-and you’re here, now, that’s all that matters-”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n,” she stated dejectedly, before holding you at arm’s length, and you would tense up, evidently worried about what she might think of you after you had eavesdropped on her and her mother’s private conversation, “I know you heard it, a-and-.. I know I should have told you what we might talk about, first-”

“So-.. you do want to have children in the future with that guy, o-or another one?” You murmured, and she would fall quiet, a hurt look on her face, before she hastily shook her head, and would ease you even closer to her so she could hug you tightly again as if her life depended on her holding you, and never letting you go for fear of her losing everything if she ever ended up losing you, somehow, and to try and provide comfort to her again you would return the hug; you could tell she had also been crying, and had also been upset like you were, making you feel bad for assuming that she wanted more than you as she’d always insisted otherwise, and had been trying to prove it to you everyday to the best of her ability without the others who didn’t already know about you both finding out.

“No, kitty,” she cooed, and you couldn’t help, but smile softly upon hearing the nickname she’d been using for you ever since you’d both been relatively quite smaller, before you had started falling deeply and helplessly in love with one another, “I could never want that - I’ve only ever wanted you, and will only ever want you - I promised, didn’t I?” You would then wince upon remembering that she had, before you began to feel bad for forgetting, and she couldn’t help, but smile lovingly over at you, finding your reaction adorable, before she delicately kissed away the last of your tears on your left cheek, prompting you to giggle softly, before you affectionately connected your forehead to her’s again, and would timidly intertwine the fingers of your hands with her’s, surprising her as she felt her heart skipping a beat, before it began to race blissfully alongside your’s again; you both always seemed to have this reaction to making physical contact with one another, and hoped you’d never lose the feelings you were currently experiencing for one another as they were more perfect than anything either of you had ever felt before whilst you silently revelled in one another’s company for a moment, and couldn’t help, but admire each other, before she managed to find her voice again, stammering briefly as she kept finding herself almost getting lost within your eyes whilst you already had given into her’s, wishing you could be lost within her stunning icy blue eyes for the rest of however long eternity might be, and even beyond that. “You - You told me you wouldn’t forget that I love you,” she reminded you, and you would frown, beginning to feel bad again, before you bowed your head slightly, prompting her to feel a little guilty for bringing it up, “but it’s okay - I forgive you; I’m not upset with you, I promise - I just-.. don’t want you to ever think that there’ll be a time I decide I don’t want you anymore, b-because-.. I could never do that to you, Y/n; you’re everything to me; half my soul, like the poets say, remember? A-And I can honestly say that that’s never going to change; I can feel it - it will always only ever be you for me, n-no matter what - I love you, kitty, m-more than - more than life itself, and I always will, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you replied playfully, and she would pout; she’d evidently been hoping you would return the three words to her, “what? Was that the wrong answer?”

“Completely wrong,” she answered, before inching closer to you suggestively, and smirking whilst she teased you by brushing her lips against your’s for a moment, prompting you to tense up, and to have your heart begin to pound overwhelmingly whilst you would appear flustered, blood rushing to your cheeks, “what if I told you there might be a prize if you gave me the right one? Would you?”

“E-Er, I-” You stammered shyly, evidently still not used to doing this with her even though you’d had a few moments like these before already; you always found yourself fearing you might disappoint her, somehow, though she knew she could never be disappointed by you; she loved you too much, and revelled in anything she did with you. “V-”

Vera would then appear worried about you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as she sat back a little, and would smile reassuringly over at you, before she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly, and even prompting you to subconsciously melt into her touch whilst you found yourself admiring her again, soon getting lost within her stunning icy blue eyes in the best way possible.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she cooed, “we don’t have to; I don’t want you to feel like you do if you don’t feel up for it-”

“N-No, I do, I - I swear, I just-…” You would then fall quiet, a pained expression on your face, before you reluctantly let go of her hands, and would timidly stare down at your own whilst you fidgeted with them anxiously, concerning her even more; she hated seeing you upset like you evidently were, now, and would try and provide comfort to you by inching even closer, and resting her head upon your right shoulder, prompting you to smile faintly subconsciously; you wished you knew what you had done to deserve someone as perfect, kind, and caring as her. “I get scared sometimes,” you admitted dejectedly, “what if - what if I disappoint you, one day? What if-”

“Disappoint me?” She mused, a hurt look on her face whilst she glanced up at you, prompting your heart to sink upon noticing the look on her face; you’d never intended to upset her the way you could see you had, and wished you had never brought it up, now. “Y/n, you - you could never disappoint me,” she contradicted, before wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would try and hide your face from her, evidently embarrassed, as well as ashamed of yourself for assuming maybe you’d lose her if you disappointed her, “I love everything about you; everything that you do, and I’m never going to stop, so don’t ever worry about me being disappointed by you, somehow, because I never will be - s-so-.. would - would you want to-?”

You couldn’t help, but grin down at her, before nodding hastily, and leaning down a little to delicately connect your lips to her own, prompting her to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you both held one another closer to the point that no gaps were left between you both, and you loved it.

“I’d love to,” you answered once you’d reluctantly broken the kiss, and she would then appear elated, her stunning icy blue eyes glinting, before she chimed out the two words ‘I’m glad’, and would lean forward to passionately kiss you, and the moment was perfect, until the library door was opened, and Vera’s youngest sister, Elizabeth, was stood by it, shocked to find you both together, kissing the way that you were, but before either of you could say anything, she would flee from the room, terrifying you both; if you wanted to remain alive today, you’d both need to run away together, and fast.

🜚

“Vera, what - what does this mean-?” You questioned, your voice briefly trembling; Elizabeth had just fled the room, and you were evidently terrified of what might happen to you both. “What are they gonna do to us-?” You then couldn’t help it as you began to cry quietly, considering the possibility that maybe you both would never be able to see one another again, and you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like without her in it, by your side. “Are we gonna die?” You strained out, and Vera would frown, before she hastily shook her head, and rushed to embrace you after she had closed the library door, soothing you instantly as you melted into her arms, leaning heavily against her whilst you clung to her shoulders, and would allow your strained sobs to escape your lips into her left shoulder whilst she rubbed your back using her right hand, desperate to try and calm you as she knew that if she wanted to run away with you - something she had longed to do ever since you’d both confessed your love for one another - she would have to calm you first, and then begin her hopeful escape with you, hoping that you both could hide yourselves within the cornfield for a little while, until nightfall, at least, when she knew you’d most likely not be spotted, and nightfall wasn’t too far away, now.

“They’re never going to get to us, I promise,” she cooed gently, and you couldn’t help, but smile softly upon hearing her voice again, feeling warm and fuzzy as if nothing were wrong; as if you both weren’t possibly about to get hurt for being the way that you were, “I won’t let them, but - Y/n-.. we’re going to have to run, okay? Run, and never look back at the place, until we get to the cornfield - can you do that?”

“I - I think so,” you answered, trying to appear confident, and she would nod, before holding you at arm’s length, glad whilst she smiled reassuringly back at you in an attempt to try and further relax you, and it was working, somehow, quicker than you ever thought it could, prompting you to smile lovingly back at her subconsciously whilst your heart raced blissfully alongside her’s once more, “a-as long as you promise me that we’re never going to lose e-each other, a-and that you will be okay - you matter to me more than I could ever matter to myself, a-and if I lose you, V, I-”

She would then lean forward to delicately connect her lips to your’s whilst she wrapped her arms around your waist, prompting you to fall quiet whilst you melted into the kiss, as well as melted into her embrace again, forgetting what you had previously requested for her to do, until she fulfilled your request - of course she did; she couldn’t not; she loved you too much to leave you worrying about her like that.

“We’re never going to lose each other again, I promise,” she stated, prompting you to express relief whilst you beamed over at her, and would revel in the feeling of her hands being on your cheeks gently, whilst she was partially entangling the fingers of her right hand within your hair, “a-and we’re both going to make it out of here - I’m going to make sure of that, n-no matter what happens, okay? Just know that I love you, a-and that I’m going to stick by your side - just don’t look back if I fall behind-”

You would falter, your eyes widening a little whilst you hastily shook your head, and would subconsciously ease her closer to you protectively, prompting her to smile sadly back at you; she knew that you were scared, and of course she was scared too, but she was certain that you both could get away together without being scratched, somehow.

“V-” You whined, but before you could beg her to take back her advice, shouting would arise from her father downstairs, and you both knew that it was time to go.

“We’re gonna be okay, kitty, I promise,” she insisted, before briefly planting a kiss on your lips to soothe you again, leaving you in a daze long enough for her to delicately grab hold of your left hand in her right one, before she hastily guided you out of the room, and down the staircase intended for maids like you, and gardeners, as well as cooks and butlers servicing the Alfrey’s home, allowing you both to slip through the back door somehow unnoticed, before you ran toward the cornfield hand in hand.

🜚

Once nightfall had finally arrived, you both would hesitantly remain cuddled up together for a little while, wanting to take advantage of the unique view of the night sky as if you both had simply come out here like she would with you when the others hadn’t found out about you yet, either to fool around, or just lay together and admire each other, as well as the night sky.

“The stars are shining brighter than they ever have before tonight,” you mused timidly, and Vera couldn’t help, but smile subconsciously upon hearing your voice beside her, before she beamed over at you, and would intertwine the fingers of her right hand blissfully with the fingers of your left hand, prompting your heart to skip a beat, and you to grow easily flustered whilst you glanced over at her, smiling sheepishly in her direction whilst you both revelled in the perfect moment, wishing it could last forever, somehow, but you knew that - as they’d most likely never find you both in a cornfield like this, the workers would most likely just return to work in the morning, and that’s why you both knew you needed to leave soon, and not remain here for the entire work as the gardeners would most likely locate you both in the morning.

“Maybe it’s a sign; we’re going to be okay, after all,” she speculated, and you would hesitate, a pained expression on your face for a moment whilst you thought about it, your eyes even darkening, and heart beginning to overwhelmingly pound - you were terrified of an alternative reasoning, and of course she was, too, but she didn’t want to think that something might end up going wrong, especially not when she knew she would lose you, if it did, and she didn’t doubt at all that if she ever did end up losing you, it would break her, and leave her feeling lost, as well as as if she had nothing to live for anymore, and she couldn’t let it happen, whilst you were concealing the same fears regarding her, not caring about what they might do to you if you both ended up being caught by them.

Upon noticing your demeanour change, Vera would falter, her smile slowly disappearing; she could tell that you were still convinced that you would both end up getting caught, somehow, though she had hoped you would try and be more positive about the idea, not wanting you to be overwhelmed by worry regarding you possibly losing her. Upon remembering your fears regarding her, and not yourself, her heart would sink - she couldn’t help to think about how you both were being hunted down for being in love with one another, as if it were a crime like treason, and this would spark another thought to invade her mind: what if they hang us if they do end up finding us, somehow? That was another terrifying possibility, but she would try and force the alternative scenarios from her mind, wanting to try and provide comfort to you somehow by inching closer to you, and wrapping her arms around your waist, and her action did seem to soothe you a little more, prompting you to instantly melt into her embrace whilst you returned the hug, and would close the gaps between you both to the best of your ability whilst you affectionately connected your forehead to her’s, prompting her to smile lovingly over at you, and though her smile was infectious, prompting your own to return, you still couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that you would both lose one another today, and it was excruciating to be aware of, especially after you had dreamed so often of spending eternity with her, and dreamt so often of doing everything you could with her, and her only - it was painful.

“Or it could be a warning,” you suggested gravely, and Vera would frown, before subconsciously shaking her head, and entangling the fingers of her right hand blissfully within your hair, “I’m scared, V - if I lose you-”

“You’re never going to lose me, kitty, I promise - they will never find out that we’re here,” she tried to reassure you gently, and you would hesitate, before nodding slowly, trying to hide that you were still doubtful, only because you were terrified of doing anything like this that might pry you both away from one another excruciatingly, somehow, “we aren’t even going to be staying here, remember? Do you want to move, o-or-? I don’t mind getting further away, if you want to-”

You both would then tense up upon hearing voices getting closer; the gardeners must still be searching out here for you, and you would then wince, before timidly inching closer to her, and burying your face into her right shoulder whilst you whimpered quietly, and she would frown, noticing that your body had begun to tremble a little, making her feel bad for not running even further away from the search parties; you were evidently frightened of them, whilst she was trying her best to try and hide her fear to make you feel a little safer.

“Nevermind - I don’t think we have a choice,” she murmured dejectedly, and you would shake your head, before nervously looking around, and noticing the flashlight beams floating around through the cornfield; they were most likely going to start searching here soon, “come on, kitty, we should keep moving - we should be able to find another field somewhere that we can stay in until the morning, and after that we’ll try and find another place to stay - I’m sure we can.”

“Wait-!” You whisper-shouted, and she would lower herself back down beside you again, knowing that if she was crouching for too long she’d eventually be spotted. “I - I might know of somewhere; it’s not much, but - it could be an option, for now,” you suggested, and Vera would appear intrigued, tilting her head partially whilst her eyes glinted a little; she was excited about the idea of possibly being able to begin a new life with you, like you were also elated to be given the opportunity to begin a new life with her, “before my parents died, we-.. we stayed in this shack, a-and I think I can find it from here; I doubt anyone would have bought it, s-so-.. what do you think, V? I’m up for doing whatever you want to do, always, I promise.”

“I think the shack would be a great place to stay, b-because you were there,” she replied, prompting you to appear surprised, as well as a little flustered and flattered; you didn’t think she’d want to go with you somewhere she’d never been before just because you had been there before, “are you ready? I could always try and distract them if you need some more time-”

“No,” you whined, “it’s too risky, V, a-and I don’t want to lose you again, so - I’m ready; let’s go.”

🜚

Though you both seemed to get quite far from the cornfield you had previously been hiding within together, it wasn’t long before you began to struggle to continue after you tripped up, and cried out in agony, startling Vera who faltered, before hastily rushing back to your side, and cradling you close to her whilst she examined your knees, a pained expression on her face when she noticed that your right knee was bleeding; you’d cut it on a sharp rock on the ground, and she couldn’t help, but curse herself for allowing all of this to happen. Despite the fact that she had requested for Violet to watch Elizabeth, she couldn’t help, but feel responsible, knowing that if you’d both been more careful earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have been caught by her, and wouldn’t now have to be running away from her family, excluding her sisters, though it was ludicrous that you both were having to run away like you were in the first place - what was so revolting as well as illegal to them about you both - two women - being in love with one another?

“I’m not going to make it out of here, am I?” You assumed, and Vera would falter upon hearing your voice; you were trying not to cry - the pain was excruciating - though the search parties had already been alerted regarding your and her location, and they were shouting nearby whilst hastily running around the cornfield to try and get to you both.

“Of course you are,” she contradicted gently whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly whilst your tears began to run slowly down your cheeks, prompting her to delicately brush them away using the thumb of her right hand whilst she smiled lovingly over at you, trying not to cry as she knew she’d only upset you if she began to cry alongside you, terrified - herself - that maybe this was it for you both; it would be much harder to escape, now, “we can still make it; I’m going to carry you, so you don’t have to run with that knee-”

“No, don’t,” you begged weakly, not wanting her to feel as if she had to do that for you, “I can run still, I swear-”

“I’m not letting you hurt yourself any further than you already have, kitty,” she interjected gently, before she carefully lifted you up off of the ground - the fact that you were somewhat shorter than her helped her as she hastily continued to run as fast as she possibly could away from the house, desperate to get you to safety so she could tend to your wound. You would then cling to her shoulders, not that you were scared of her dropping you; you knew she’d never do that to you intentionally, but you simply loved to be making physical contact with her like you were, now.

You even found your knee was slowly beginning to pain you less whilst you admired her facial features, and couldn’t help, but smile softly up at her whilst you rested your head upon her left shoulder, wondering what you had done to deserve someone as perfect as her.

“You’re so beautiful,” you mused whilst you played with her hair using your right hand, prompting her to appear flustered, beaming down at you for a moment whilst her stunning icy blue eyes began to glint, but you both would appear startled when you heard a dog barking close behind you, panicking her as she pushed herself to run faster, but she knew as well as you and the others that she’d never be able to outrun Auntie Isabella’s doberman, Teddy, and that’s why she got knocked down, but made sure to not let go of you, falling on her back, before she began to try and shoo Teddy away whilst she cradled your trembling body close to her, desperate to keep you safe, and to get you away from her family alive.

“Get away, Teddy!” She cried, and upon recognising her, he would whine; you were both close to him, and had been ever since you’d met, and befriended Auntie Isabella, and instead of trying to lead the others to you both, he would run back to try and distract them to give you both more time, but despite his efforts, and Vera’s attempt to continue fleeing with you in her arms whilst you cried quietly into her left shoulder, desperate for this day to be over, you would both be ambushed by the gardeners, and forced away from one another whilst you both struggled, and cried for each other, desperate to be within one another’s arms again. “Let her go!” She begged shakily whilst her own tears began to stream down her cheeks; she couldn’t help, but break down upon being gingerly parted from you the way she just had been. “Y/n!” She shrieked feebly whilst you tried to kick at the people trying to drag you away whilst Vera’s father rushed up, her mother following closely behind him.

“I should have known,” he spat whilst he looked between you both, scowling; he couldn’t believe he had never noticed that you both were still sneaking around behind his back like you evidently had been, “all these years you’ve been hiding this from me, huh? That you’re one of the inverted? My own daughter?”

“Arthur,” Vera’s mother spoke up timidly; she didn’t like the way he was talking to her, “stop-”

“Stay out of this, Gertrude,” he interjected sharply, before returning his attention to you, prompting you to tense up, terrified as you subconsciously shook your head, and longed for Vera’s arms to be around you, but she was still being restrained by the other gardeners who weren’t holding you back, “I should have known it was you-”

“Father, don’t, please,” Vera begged, “I love her, a-and by hurting her, you’d be hurting me-”

“Oh cry me a river, Vera,” he retorted, prompting her to falter, a hurt look on her face whilst she hastily shook her head again, “I’ll never be able to see you as my daughter again after today; you’re dead to me, and I can’t wait to have you married off to General Maxwell; I’ll never have to see your face again-”

“I hate you!” She cried, whilst her mother would subconsciously grimace over at him, but she knew she’d never be able to change his mind, or stop him from being the way that he currently was, so she would begrudgingly step back, and lower her gaze whilst he stormed up to Vera, and would slap her across the face, prompting her to have to try and fight back a whimper; her left cheek was stinging, and he’d managed to leave a faint red mark on it, but he’d never care, that was made clear when he raised his hand to hit her again, but you couldn’t let him, managing to break free of the gardeners’ hold on you so you could rush up to him, and try and pry him away from her, prompting him to grab you gingerly by your hair, prompting you to cry out in pain again as he forced you away from him, and wouldn’t hesitate to shove you down onto the ground before he began to repeatedly kick at your sides whilst Vera cried, and begged him shakily to stop whilst she struggled against her own restrainers, desperate to save you from him, but they were too strong, and the other gardeners as well as her mother had already managed to pull him off of you whilst you curled up, and sobbed uncontrollably into your left arm, everywhere paining you excruciatingly whilst Vera looked on helplessly, wishing she could cradle you close to her whilst she cooed sweet nothings to you, and tended to the wound on your knee, as well as to the bruises you must have just been administered by her father’s previous beating of you a brief moment ago, now.

“Let me go,” he demanded gruffly, and they would all reluctantly do so whilst Vera’s mother, Gertrude, lingered warily beside him, a pained expression on her face whilst she did - she disapproved of the way he was handling the situation, of course she did, but she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him; knew she would also be accused, and beaten if she opposed him to protect Vera. “You both disgust me,” he concluded, “now get back inside, and go to bed, both of you, and just know that there’ll be no more funny business; you’ll be watched even more closely from now on - come on, Gertrude, Teddy.”

He then turned and began to walk back toward the house whilst Gertrude smiled apologetically back at her daughter, before she followed closely behind him, and Teddy would trot at her side, reluctantly, though he would rather stay with you and Vera, and make sure that you both were okay, but he knew that he’d most likely be hit, or scolded if he did, and so wouldn’t go against his new master’s orders.

“Y/n,” Vera strained out through her shaky sobs, and you would whimper in response to her voice, silently begging for her to stay by your side, “I’m so sorry-”

“Come on, Miss Alfrey - don’t want to upset your father anymore, do we?” One of the gardeners interrupted, prompting her to falter, and to subconsciously shake her head whilst she found she couldn’t pry her gaze from your currently curled up, and trembly frame upon the ground; she couldn’t leave you like this, and knew that if she did, she would never be able to forgive herself, and was terrified of losing you, somehow, if she didn’t try and provide comfort to you after what her father had just done to you.

“I’m not leaving her out here like this,” she managed, “I can’t, I - I just - I just can’t; you don’t understand-”

“We’re sorry, Miss, but-.. it’s your father’s orders-”

“I don’t care about his orders anymore!” She cried, and the gardener would fall quiet for a moment whilst you managed to glance up at Vera, feeling weaker than you ever had before, as well as quite faint.

“V, I-.. I’m okay, don’t-.. don’t worry about me,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper, and she would hastily shake her head; she wouldn’t leave you alone out here, “just-.. just go back before he comes out, and beats you, too-”

“No,” she whined, “k-kitty, I-.. I can’t-”

“Please,” you pleaded with her, “V, you-.. you have to - do it for me; I’ll be okay, I swear - you’ll see.”

She would hesitate, not sure; she hated the thought of leaving you to suffer like she would be, if she ended up going back inside whilst the gardeners who had previously restrained you would drag you back to the maid’s quarters, and lock the doors before you could slip out, and join her within her own bedroom like you usually had been doing ever since you both were quite small.

“Just-.. promise me you’ll be okay,” she requested, her voice briefly trembling, and you would nod, before managing a faint smile up at her whilst you managed to sit up a little bit more, allowing the gardeners to help you up off of the ground, “o-or I’m not going back - not willingly, at least.”

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you insisted, and she would express relief, before nodding head head slightly, and looking over at the gardeners who were currently holding you up; you were evidently still struggling to keep yourself up due to the deep cut you’d managed to get as a result of tripping up before you’d both been caught.

“You - You better be careful with her, o-or I swear I’ll-..” She would then fall quiet, noticing you hastily shaking your head; you were afraid of them hurting her if she threatened them, but they understood how you both must be feeling, unlike your father, and so would give in to Vera, nodding their heads to reassure her that they would be careful with you, no intention of worsening the wound and bruises you were currently sporting. “Good - g-goodnight, Y/n,” she replied, glad, and a little more relaxed to know that you would be safe, now, before she returned her attention to you, a pained expression on her face; she dreaded what the night ahead might be like, knowing that you wouldn’t be by her side, this time, and you would smile sadly over at her; you could tell that this must be what she was currently thinking about, alongside you, and she would manage to reflect your smile for a brief moment, before she mouthed the three words ‘I love you’, and you wouldn’t hesitate to return them, as well as a faint ‘goodnight’ whilst the gardeners began to lead you both back toward the house, and to usher you into your bedrooms so they could lock the doors, and ensure that you both wouldn’t be able to get out, and to sleep within one another’s arms again, unwillingly determined - alongside the other workers - to keep you both apart this time.

🜸🜚🜸

Ever since you’d been beaten by her father, Vera couldn’t stop being reminded of that night, even after a few days had passed; she felt awful, and wished she’d done more to try and help you, when really there was nothing she could have done - she had struggled in an attempt to escape the hold the gardeners had on her, only to fail as there were too many of them, by which point he had already been pulled off of you by her mother, and the other set of gardeners who had been holding you before you’d escaped them, and made to fight her father in an attempt to protect her, another fact that also made her feel guilty for not being able to try and protect you after you had made to protect her without hesitation.

With the reminder of that night, and her guilt plaguing her mind, she would find herself not speaking as much as she used to to both Violet, and you whenever you managed to find yourselves in the same room together, except you found it was a lot harder to be alone with her, like her father had made clear it would be the night you’d been discovered to be together by Elizabeth, Vera’s youngest sister. Whenever you did manage to interact with her, she always seemed to be quite distant, and relatively quite dismissive of you, and though it was painful, you found you couldn’t blame her; you, too, felt as if you were to blame for that night, even more so when she decided to approach you one day, only to tell you that she thought it would be better for you both to go back to being friends so she could instead focus on her fiancé, General Maxwell, and though she longed to tell you that she was doing it to protect you upon noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, as if you had just lost everything, and your heart was shattering, she knew that maybe she would still end up hurting you if you kept trying to convince her that she’d never hurt you before; that the events of that night were your fault, and not her’s, to which she knew she’d never be able to corroborate without being in even more excruciating pain, herself, when it was already painful enough to be doing this to you.

“I’m sorry,” Vera concluded in a strained manner, “I-.. I just think it would be the best thing to do for the both of us, but-.. at least we’ll remain to be best friends, right?”

“Right,” you managed, your voice close to a whisper whilst you mustered up a weak smile back at her, “I should-.. c-continue with my work, I guess - see you around, V.”

You would then meander around her, walking hastily toward the library door; you’d recently finished cleaning it, and surprisingly when you had managed to, that was when she’d entered the room upon convincing herself that the only way for her to truly protect you from the wrath of her father, and most likely the law, would be to end her romantic involvement with you, no matter how much it pained her excruciatingly to do so.

“See you around,” she returned faintly, trying to stop her voice from trembling by biting down a little on her tongue; she hated every second of what she was doing, and wished she could take it back as soon as she had allowed the suggestion to slip from her lips, but she would instead try and fight back her emotions to the best of her ability, until you left the room, and closed the door behind you, and once she’d heard that it had closed, and sensed that you were no longer close to her - another excruciating feeling to be aware of as she hated being away from you, and had even begun to feel lost again once the deed had been done, and you were gone - she would allow herself to break down, sinking down onto the sofa you both used to cuddle up upon together whilst she cried, and sobbed uncontrollably into her hands, wishing there was another way to protect you, but she couldn’t think of any that didn’t present any possible threats toward the both of you being hurt again, and she was terrified that maybe she would soon lose you again, somehow. It was strange, but she could feel that something bad would soon occur, as if things hadn’t been bad enough recently, but she wouldn’t realise what the feeling might mean, until a couple more darker days had passed, and the wedding between her and General Maxwell was even faster approaching.

🜸🜚🜸

Though she had been trying to hide that she still had feelings for you, Vera found herself often wishing - whenever you were in the same room (sadly never alone) - that she could wrap her arms around you, and coo sweet nothings to you whilst she left delicate kisses along the soft skin of your neck, and right shoulder; she missed the feeling, and even more so missed the feeling of her lips blissfully fitting together with your’s in the best way possible; it was hard not to kiss you, especially when you were close to her, and not to hold you as she felt warm and fuzzy and more relaxed than she had ever been whenever she was holding you, or being held by you, as if nothing could hurt her, or perturb her whilst she was within your embrace, or holding you as if you were one of the teddy bears her mother had got her when she was smaller. It was painful for her even to imagine how these were feelings she might never experience again, after she’d suggested it would be better for you both to just remain best friends in an attempt to protect you from being hurt anymore than you already had by her father a week or so ago, now.

However, it wasn’t long before she realised that she’d never be able to truly protect you without you getting scathed somehow; her father was making sure to - whenever he got the chance - regularly beat you outside in the garden, as if what he had already done to you wasn’t enough, no matter how much she begged him to stop - he wouldn’t even listen to her mother, Gertrude, whenever she witnessed him beating you, and suggested that you’d had enough, now, and reminded him that you needed to be in good condition to go on working, but that only encouraged him to beat you before you could retire dejectedly to your room within the maids’ quarters, leaving her unsure of what to suggest in an attempt to help you any further than she had tried to - he’d never stop hurting you, believing you had made Vera the way that she was; inverted, like you, when she knew she’d been born this way, and was proud of it - always would be, no matter what they thought of her, and you.

Alongside his beatings of you, he would often invite General Maxwell over whenever he was available to further hurt you, especially by making it so that you had to clean the living room whilst they were all in the room together talking so you had to listen, and absorb painfully every word regarding his and Vera’s wedding day. You didn’t think it could get any worse than this, until he ensured Vera be included within the talks about their future together, only making the pain you were now constantly in even harder to bear than it was, before, leaving you on the verge of breaking down in front of them each time, so you would try and make sure that you were faced away from the group, not wanting to give Vera’s father the satisfaction of seeing you broken, the way he’d been intending to make you ever since he had discovered through Elizabeth, his youngest daughter, that you and Vera had been having a most likely illegal affair.

On one of these occasions, you felt more lost, hopeless, and terrified than you ever had before, prompting you to grow desperate to try and fix things between you and Vera, especially after you had caught her staring guiltily over at you whilst her fiancé and father was talking about their plans to have children in the future - apparently they had discussed it, and she hadn’t told you, when really this came as a surprise to her as he’d never mentioned it to her before, or even asked her if she wanted to have children with him, and that was why - after you’d looked over at her, and briefly locked eyes with her blissfully, prompting your hearts to skip a beat alongside one another - Vera would break the eye contact you were making so unexpectedly to look up fearfully at General Maxwell, prompting you to falter, a pained expression on your face, before you begrudgingly returned your attention to the fireplace you were currently in the process of cleaning whilst they talked, only pushing you even closer to the edge, and making you feel as if you no longer had anything to live for anymore like you had, before you felt as if you had lost Vera again.

“The wedding’s in what-? A couple of weeks, now?” Vera’s father spoke up whilst they began to wrap up the conversation, getting up off of the sofa whilst Vera awkwardly looked on at them, occasionally looking between them both, and you, whenever she got the chance to steal a glance at you, finding herself wishing she could be alone with you - she could tell this was hurting you as excruciatingly as it was hurting her, and she longed to try and provide comfort to you to the best of her ability, terrified that maybe you’d run away, if she didn��t, or would try and hurt yourself, somehow, or even take your life, and all of these possibilities would panic her even more, prompting her to silently beg them to go, knowing maybe she’d have enough time to pass you, and delicately squeeze your hand a little to remind you that she was still there for you, no matter what, before being suspected by her father of trying to do anything more with you, like talk to you, hug you, or kiss you, something he had forbidden her to do now by threatening your health if he ever caught her and you together making contact of any kind. “Me and Gertrude can’t wait,” he continued, “we’re ecstatic; we’ve been waiting to get Vera married off for a while, now - haven’t we, darling girl?”

“That’s because you kept letting in the - bad ones,” Vera uttered, subconsciously grimacing over at General Maxwell in secret; she hated that she wasn’t able to call him all the names she could think of for him in his presence, knowing her father would most likely beat her, too, if she tried, but she wasn’t afraid of him glaring at her subtly the way he was, now; he could tell that she was including General Maxwell within that list, and evidently was silently seething upon being reminded of your and her affair, “you can’t take anyone having certain - expectations, or ideals, can you?”

“Well I’m flattered to hear that I meet your expectations, Miss Alfrey,” General Maxwell remarked, and she would force a smile over at him, “though I already knew I would because I’m immensely popular with ladies like yourself-”

“Immensely popular?” Vera mused subconsciously, and the general would appear taken aback by her interruption, suggesting that she was doubting his statement, something that evidently displeased him as he awkwardly cleared his throat, before clenching his right fist a little; he knew he couldn’t hit her, not yet; it was something he was used to doing, and that’s why he had many ex-wives - some of them had fled from him, and divorced him, whilst others had sadly not been so lucky to escape the beatings he’d administered to them for disagreeing with him, or refusing to tend to some of his certain requirements.

“Vera,” her father warned, and she would begrudgingly give in, though she was pleased to see she had achieved a reaction from the both of them, whilst you appeared nervous, trying to secretly watch them as you were worried about her getting hurt, somehow - you would have however been amused by her remark, if you hadn’t seen her father hit her the way he did the night he beat you. “Anyway - it was nice having you round, General, and I hope you soon find time to come around again someday, either before, or after the wedding would be a good time for all of us, I hope,” he suggested, and General Maxwell would nod, before walking up to the door, and waiting for her father to open it for him, which he did hastily to remain in his good graces.

“I’m sure I could fit in one more day before the wedding,” he answered, and her father would appear glad, excited to hurt you even more, no doubt; he could tell that him having both the general and Vera in the same room as you had had the desired effect he wanted due to how you’d been trying to hide your face from them, and had been making sure to keep your head low - at one point he’d even heard you sniffling quietly, suggesting you had been crying whilst they were talking, “I’ll send you a telegram of the days in question and you can send one back to me of the best day for you and Miss Alfrey.”

“Sounds like a good plan, general,” her father replied, “let me escort you to the front door with Vera.”

“Thank you,” the general responded simply, before stepping out of the room accompanied by her father, and she would then make to follow them whilst you silently found yourself begging her to stay with you; begging her to hold you close to her whilst you cried into the crook of her neck, kissed her, and hugged her tightly - you’d missed having moments like those with her in which you were both blissfully intertwined with one another as if nothing else mattered; only you and her existed, and were the last people to be alive on earth, loving each other as if you were ruling the world together, and only had eyes for one another, and nobody, or nothing else; you could only revel in each other’s presence, and you wished this could be the case; being stuck to her side as her lover was all you could ever want, but it seemed to be impossible, now, and it was excruciating to be constantly reminded of how you both used to be together - so in love, and addicted to one another, but you doubted she’d ever want, or love you again the way you still wanted, and loved her, and knew you always would.

However, when you felt the fingers of her left hand briefly intertwine with the fingers of your currently slightly trembling right one, you would begin to feel hopeless again, and would break down as soon as you lost physical contact with her, shakily mustering out the word ‘wait’ before she could leave the room, prompting her to falter, a pained expression on her face whilst she stood at the door, before glancing back at you whilst her heart ached excruciatingly alongside your’s; you had begun to cry again, and she couldn’t bear to see you like this, wishing she’d never let any of this happen; never let herself accept General Maxwell’s hand; she longed to remain loyal to you, and you only, but it was hard now that her fear of you being hurt anymore than you had been already had been heightened by her father beating you the way he had after he’d found out about your and her affair a few days ago, now.

“V, please-.. don’t-.. don’t do this,” you begged her, and she would feel even worse, her eyes darkening a little whilst she bowed her head to try and hide that tears had begun to cloud her vision again, “you know I still love you, and I know you still love me-”

“I don’t still love you,” she contradicted, prompting you to fall quiet for a moment, a hurt look on your face whilst she tried to recompose herself as if what she was saying wasn’t hurting her, too, “and even if I did, what business is it of your’s?”

“How would it not be my business?” You questioned, and she would frown, before trying to think of an answer, not sure, now, but before she could stammer out a response, you would continue, desperate to fix all that had recently been broken before you could truly lose her, knowing you’d never be able to go on living if you did. “V, I - I need you; I can’t do this without you; I can’t live without you-”

“Why would you even think I still have feelings for you, Y/n? We’re best friends, and that’s all we can be, now-”

“I could feel it,” you stated, surprising her as she glanced up at you, and you would falter upon noticing that she had begun to cry alongside you, prompting your heart to sink even further than it already had, somehow, “w-when you looked at me, and when you held my hand.” You then couldn’t help, but smile softly subconsciously whilst you recalled how blissful both moments had briefly been, and felt, before they’d sadly passed. “I loved it, V; I loved it when you touched me with your eyes, and felt me with mine,” you mused, before timidly inching closer to her, and she found she couldn’t move, glancing down at your lips longingly whilst you both began to feel warm and fuzzy, revelling in the feeling of being so close to one another again, “I love you, Vera Alfrey, a-and-.. I always will, I promise, even if you do decide to marry the general; I will never stop waiting for you, as long as-.. as long as you tell me you still love me, l-like - like I love you.”

Vera would hesitate, though it was taking everything within her to stop her from admitting to you her feelings for you, longing to make you happy again by reassuring you that she did still love you, and knew she always would, and she might have gone through with it, until she was reminded of her father’s threat when she heard him shouting for her to follow him and the general, prompting her heart to sink, and her eyes to darken again whilst she shook her head gravely, and would step back; she couldn’t let you get hurt anymore than you already had, knowing that you most likely would if she got back together with you. Of course her reaction disheartened you, prompting a strained sob to escape your lips whilst you shook your head hastily, and would try and get closer to her only to have her move away once more, prompting you to falter whilst you began to feel empty, and lost again, as if everything within you was collapsing, and your heart was failing you; you couldn’t believe - after everything you had both been through together - that you were losing her like you could excruciatingly see you were, but at the same time you couldn’t blame her, believing you only had yourself to blame for supposedly driving her away from you being the way that you were, when it had been her father’s abusive, and threatening tendencies that had been dissuading her from you; she couldn’t let him do anything more to you, and so was determined to try and protect you from him doing so to the best of her ability, no matter how much it pained you both following her attempting to do so.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but-.. you should move on, now,” she advised, trying not to allow her voice to tremble by biting down on her tongue for a brief moment whilst she lowered her gaze again to hide that more tears had invaded her stunning icy blue eyes, “I did, a-and you won’t regret it, I promise - will you try and do that, for me?”

“Of course, Miss Alfrey,” you murmured, before returning to your work, and she would frown, not wanting you to think you couldn’t call her ‘V’ anymore, but before she could reassure you that you could, her father would impatiently call for her again, and she could hear his footsteps fast approaching, prompting her to wince, and grow worried that he would hurt you again, but at the same time she found it felt wrong to leave you like this, “you-.. you should go, before-.. before he hurts you; he sounds mad, a-and-.. your fiancé’s probably waiting to say goodbye; don’t leave him hanging, or he’ll start fretting that maybe a nobody like me means something to you-”

“Y/n,” Vera whined; she hated hearing you putting yourself down like you just had, and wished she could do more for you, somehow; wished she could take back the time, and fix all that had gone wrong between you both recently to try and make both you and her happy again, “d-don’t say stuff like that; you’re not a nobody-”

“I’m a nobody to everyone,” you uttered, “I always have been - I don’t know why I ever thought things could be different, after my parents chose death over me-”

“That’s not true; you mean everything to me, and your parents had no choice; they were sick, Y/n, and Auntie Isabella said nobody had developed a cure yet for an illness like the one they had,” she reminded you, and you would scoff, evidently not believing her, before you got up, and poured the dust, as well as Teddy’s fur into the bin bag you had been using to collect up the remnants of fur and dust within the room, “it’s true - kitty, please, don’t go like this, t-thinking such things about yourself, and your parents, because nothing of what you think right now is true-”

“Except for one thing,” you managed feebly, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, before you stopped by the door of the living room to glance back at her dejectedly, “I love you, Vera Alfrey, and that’s all I truly know now - I’m sorry I wasted your time.” You then pushed yourself to leave the room, hastily walking toward the dining room to set up the table ready for them to be served their dinner whilst tears streamed down your cheeks, and you would try and fight back the remaining sobs fighting to escape your lips; you’d told a lie - your love for her wasn’t the only thing you knew, now. The other fact you were certain of was that by the end of the day, you would no longer exist, not without her.

🜚

After Vera had finally managed to get her father off her case for the day following her being forced, and refusing to eat dinner whilst she awkwardly sat at the dinner table - knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to dismiss herself to go and look for you, no matter how much she longed to do so, getting a bad feeling again, as if something was wrong, concerning you - she would hastily rush around the house, desperate to find you, and make sure that you were okay to quiet her panicked mind, but despite her efforts, you were nowhere to be found within it, further terrifying her, and fuelling her suspicions that you’d run away, or had done something to yourself.

It wasn’t long after she’d failed to find you that she began to find herself on the verge of breaking down again, tears clouding her vision whilst she hopelessly looked back through the rooms she had already searched, not sure what else to do, until she was reminded of the lake you both often liked to sit together by whenever you got the chance to during the night, finding it was relaxing, and a nice place to be to forget about her family, and her fast approaching marriage to General Maxwell, allowing you to focus on one another, and the love you held, and knew you always would hold, for each other, and the reminder of the location would prompt her instantly to rush down the stairs, only to be stopped by Violet, bumping into her in the hallway; she looked as if she were preparing to go to bed, already, but Vera found herself too worried about you to wonder why Violet would want to retire upstairs so early - little did she know, Violet couldn’t take anymore of their mother and father bickering about how he was treating Vera and you; it was tiring to listen to considering the fact she knew that her father would always win the argument, no matter what her mother might come up with, her arguments making more sense than his ever could whenever he was in a state of rage and frustration whenever the subject of your and Vera’s affair was brought up the way it had been not too long ago, now, in the living room whilst Vera had desperately been searching for you around the house, only to fail, and conclude that you must be outside somewhere - most likely by the lake.

“V-? Where have you been?” Violet questioned sleepily, and Vera would wince, trying to recompose herself for a moment, before she managed to stammer out a response a little shakily; she was terrified of getting to the lake, and finding you not there, and couldn’t imagine what her life might be like without you in it, if you had decided to run away somewhere without her.

“I - I can’t find Y/n,” she answered, and Violet would realise, before frowning whilst she, too, began to appear worried about you; it wasn’t like you to just disappear like you evidently had, “can - can you help me?”

Violet would then nervously look toward the living room - either their mother, or father had coughed - before she expressed relief, and would nod hastily; she couldn’t not help look for you; you were her friend, too, and she knew you and Vera meant a lot to one another, so naturally didn’t want to see either of you getting hurt anymore than you already had by losing each other, somehow, knowing the happiest you both had ever been was during the moments you spent together as she’d never seen you both happier outside of those moments.

“Of course I can, come on - we’re going to find her together, I promise,” she answered, and Vera would express relief, before she exasperatedly replied ‘thank you’, and would follow closely behind her out the back door so they could both sneak around the cornfield, and rush toward the lake quite low to remain unseen, until they had successfully made it off of the property, and therefore had reached the lake after running a few more paces only to be stopped in their tracks by the blurry sight of a figure in a white night gown at the bottom of it, and small traces of blood lingering by the edge of it - someone had tried to drown themselves, and Vera couldn’t shake her suspicions; the blood was fresh, and the night gown reminded her of your own: it had to be you.

🜚

Violet would gasp beside her upon the both of them finding the body in the lake, not sure how to react, until Vera had convinced herself there might still be time for her to try and bring you back to her, and without hesitation she would then dive into the water, and push herself to swim down to the body, allowing her to see that it was your’s, now, prompting her heart to begin pounding whilst she grew even more desperate to get you out, and Violet would watch anxiously, not sure what to do; she even couldn’t help, but begin to cry quietly whilst she begged Vera silently to come back, terrified of what might happen to her if she stayed under the water for too long, but she was determined to save you, and vowed to not emerge from the lake without you in her arms.

Once she had finally managed to get down to you, she would hastily wrap her arms around you, surprised to find that you were heavier than you usually were, and that was when she noticed the pockets of your night gown - they were full of something, but she wasn’t worried about that right now, focused only on saving you as she pushed herself to swim back up to the surface whilst still holding you close to her, allowing herself to breathe, and splutter a little once she had broke the surface of the lake. Upon noticing her, Violet would express relief, before she encouraged for her sister to move closer so she could help her and you back onto the ground.

Vera would - though she was beginning to tire at this point - push herself to continue swimming back toward her sister, and would be relieved once she felt that she was back on the grass, you still within her arms. As soon as Violet noticed you, she would appear shocked, wondering how this had happened to you, until Vera laid you down on your back, and would tearfully lift her left hand up to your right cheek whilst she begged you shakily to wake up, feeling more lost, and scared than she ever had before upon finding that you were in the state you currently were - unconscious, and barely breathing, except whenever you did breathe she could hear it sounded wheezy, further worrying her as she realised that your lungs must have been invaded by the water making up the lake.

“We should try and get help for her,” Violet mused, “I could, if you want to stay?”

“No, d-don’t,” she answered hastily whilst she protectively cradled your body close to her again, “they’ll only try and take her away from me-”

“Yeah, but-.. if we don’t-.. Y/n could die, you know that, right?” Violet reminded her, and Vera would falter, before shaking her head; she was determined to save you herself, somehow, and Violet would frown, before deciding to respect her decision, and crouch down beside you both whilst Vera laid you back down again carefully, and would try and listen to hear if your heart was still beating, but she couldn’t hear much over her own heart pounding, overwhelming her.

“I - I need to try and get her heart to beat again,” she mused shakily, “I can’t hear it-”

“Try doing the chest compressions we saw mum do on Auntie Isabella,” Violet suggested, “it sounds like she’s still breathing, so it could work-”

“Y-Yeah, but - Auntie Isabella died that day anyway-”

“That was different,” she insisted, “hurry, V, or else we’ll lose Y/n, too.”

“Okay, e-erm,” she responded, “I’ll try.” Vera would then try and calm herself down, before she began to perform the chest compressions on you, silently begging at the same time for you to return to her whilst Violet tried to listen for your heart beat, hoping against hope alongside her that you would soon wake up so they could both try and make you happy again after all that had recently happened between you and Vera. “C-Can you hear anything?” She inquired, her voice briefly trembling whilst she was finding herself trying not to break down again, terrified that today might truly be the day she ended up losing you, as well as herself, and this thought would prompt her heart to begin overwhelmingly pounding again, making her feel sick, but she found she couldn’t worry about whether she was about to be sick, or not, especially not whilst you were in the state you currently were.

“I’m not sure; it’s - it’s so quiet; I’m scared, V-”

“I’m not losing her again,” she interjected feebly, before continuing with the compressions to the best of her ability, determined to bring you back to her, somehow.

“I can’t even tell if she’s breathing anymore,” Violet murmured dejectedly, “Vera, maybe-.. maybe it’s too late; maybe she’s already-..”

“She’s not dying, Violet!” Vera cried, and then couldn’t hold it back any longer as a strained sob would escape her lips, before she doubled over, and would try and get you to start breathing again, though it was a struggle for her to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation after she had begun to break down. “I’m not-.. I can’t lose her,” she added shakily in a voice close to a whisper whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, and would cry quietly into it, not sure what else to do as she began to feel lost, and numb all of a sudden, as if she was being hollowed out by the possibility of you dying on her, “please come back, kitty - I’m so sorry, I-.. I should never have let any of this happen, I know, I-.. I love you so much; I could never stop, n-no matter what. Y-You know what? I’d even-..” She then affectionately connected her forehead to your’s whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, and Violet would watch you both with a pained expression on her face. “I’d even follow you to the ends of the universe if you asked me to,” she expressed, “just-.. please come back, and I swear I’ll try and do things differently this time; I’ll try and fix everything, b-because-.. you’re more important to me than life itself, and I’m not ready to lose you; I’ll never be ready to lose you, so please don’t go when we have so many more memories to make together - please, Y/n.”

“V,” Violet began again gently, but Vera wouldn’t dare acknowledge her, focusing instead on you whilst she began to try and get your heart beating again, “V, stop, she’s-”

You then began to splutter out the water that had invaded your lungs whilst you coughed, and occasionally choked on it, crying quietly whilst Vera’s eyes began to glint, and heart would skip a beat whilst she held you close to her, and would smile lovingly down at you, elated to find that she hadn’t lost you like she had previously feared she would.

“Hey,” she cooed whilst you sobbed quietly, and weakly into her right shoulder, trembling within her embrace; you were evidently in shock after what you’d just experienced, “hey, it’s okay now, kitty; you’re okay - I’ve got you, a-and I’m never letting you go again, I-.. I love you so much, a-and I always will, no matter what, I promise-”

“V?” You mustered in a voice weak, barely audible, and quite raspy voice; you didn’t think she’d come looking for you after all that had happened between you both recently, prompting your heart to sink upon remembering it, and your eyes to darken a little. “V, why-.. why did you-? I thought-..” You then winced; your voice was failing you again, and it was evidently straining your lungs to try and continue, worrying Vera as she shook her head, and would delicately connect her lips to your’s for a moment to prompt you to fall quiet, and instantly melt into the kiss whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy, your heart blissfully racing alongside her’s in the best way possible the way you’d missed to feel it do recently.

“You need to rest, now,” she advised, “you’ve already been through enough tonight, a-and-.. I won’t-.. ask you yet if-.. if this was an accident, I-..”

“I thought I lost you earlier, V,” you admitted dejectedly, prompting her heart to sink whilst she nodded gravely, wishing she’d never been so distant with you, now; she doubted this would have happened if she’d told you the truth earlier; told you that she still loved you, and was just trying to protect you from her father to the best of her ability after she’d seen you getting beaten by him a few times now, and it was excruciating to know that she couldn’t do anything more about it, knowing her father would never stop, until he’d beaten you to death, or until you couldn’t work anymore, and he’d have to then throw you back out onto the streets, but she was determined to find a way to stop him, somehow; determined to not let him hurt you anymore - she was certain she could, and couldn’t bear to even think about the possibility of you getting hurt anymore than you already had after today. “I didn’t know what to do anymore,” you mustered feebly whilst small tears managed to leak from your eyes again, and she wouldn’t hesitate to delicately brush them away using the thumb of her right hand, whilst finding herself fighting back her own tears again; she couldn’t believe she’d driven you to try and take your life like that, “I’m so sorry-”

“No,” she interjected, not wanting you to feel as if you had to apologise when she blamed herself for not telling you the truth earlier, “Y/n, don’t-.. don’t apologise, it’s my fault-”

“That’s not true,” you whined; you believed you were to blame for it, being the way that you were, and deciding to try and take your life the way you had - you could have stopped yourself from leaving cuts along your arms; you could have stopped yourself from filling the pockets of your nightgown with the stones, and you could have stopped yourself from then throwing yourself into the lake to sink to the bottom of it. “V, I was the one who tried to take my life, in the first place; you-.. you had nothing to do with it, I swear-”

“You would never have done it if I’d told you the truth, earlier,” she contradicted, a hurt look on her face whilst the tears would manage to escape her stunning icy blue eyes, prompting you to falter, not sure what to say, but you still shook your head subconsciously, not wanting her to think that she had been the one to make you do something like this to yourself, “I should never have treated you like that, I-.. I should have just been honest, and told you that I still wanted you, a-and could only ever want you; I was just acting as if I no longer felt the same way because I thought that I’d be protecting you if I did; I never thought-.. thought that I’d make you want to-.. do this to yourself.. I guess I should have thought about that before-.. before I said all that I did to you earlier. W-Where did the blood come from?”

“I just-.. accidentally tripped over again, a-and-.. I’m fine, now,” you tried to reassure her, but you could tell that she knew you were lying to her when you noticed the crestfallen expression on her face; she couldn’t believe she’d driven you to hurt yourself so much, “don’t worry about me.”

“Just-.. promise me something,” she requested, and you would nod hastily; you’d do anything for her, “promise me you’ll never-.. never try and do this to yourself again - I can’t live without you, a-and - I really thought that maybe I’d lost you back there; it was painful, Y/n, a-and I honestly don’t think I can take it again-”

“You’ll never have to, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, “I’ll never do it again, I swear, n-not now that I know that you do still want me, t-though I can’t imagine why-”

“Hey,” she interrupted gently, “of course I still want you; you’re everything to me, kitty, a-and that’s never going to change, I promise, n-no matter what - you mean so much more to me than you think you do, and I swear I’m going to try and prove my feelings for you from now on; I’m gonna get rid of the General for us, and we’ll run away together, h-how does that sound?”

“T-That sounds - amazing,” you answered whilst you appeared flustered for a moment; you didn’t think she’d still want to run away with you after what had happened the time you had both tried to run away before, “I’d love that, V; I love you so much, y-you know that, right?”

“You guys are putting me to sleep, stop,” Violet teased, prompting you both to giggle softly together, before you smiled lovingly up at one another, easily getting yourselves lost within each other’s eyes, “get a room, seriously; you look like you need one-”

“Violet,” Vera replied, evidently also growing to be flustered alongside you, prompting her sister to begin giggling alongside you, too, amused by her reaction, “haven’t you got that birthday ball to get to tomorrow? You must need some sleep for it, surely.”

“I guess you’re right, but - I’m not going to bed, until you both do,” she decided, prompting Vera to grin, before she shook her head, and would glance back down at you whilst Violet would appear smug, “besides - you have to go with me to it, remember? I may as well go to bed when you do.”

Vera would then wince upon remembering how she’d agreed - reluctantly - to attend the ball tomorrow; it was only because her sister had practically begged her, not wanting to go without her as she didn’t often tend to get along with Elizabeth, their younger sister, that well, especially after she’d ratted her and you out to their father upon walking in on you both kissing.

“I forgot I agreed to that,” she admitted, and you couldn’t help, but grin when you noticed the look on her face, finding it adorable, like you believed her entire being to be, “I’m so sorry - kitty, do - do you think you’d be able to come, too, or-?”

“I guess I could try and sneak in,” you mused, before shrugging, and smiling sheepishly up at her upon noticing her eyes glinting again, and that she was silently begging you with them to keep you both company, “I’d love to; I - I’d do anything for you, V.”

Vera would appear flustered, wondering what she had done to deserve someone as good as you, before she smiled warmly down at you, and would timidly lean down to delicately connect her lips to your’s again, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you wrapped your arms around her waist blissfully, and she would return the hug, soothing you as you melted into her embrace, wondering the same thing; you never thought someone as perfect as her would ever love a supposed nobody like you, until the night you had both first properly kissed, and made love following you both finally confessing to having feelings for one another.

Once the kiss had sadly ended, you would wear a dazed expression on your face; it would always amaze you to feel how much every kiss you both shared always seemed to be as perfect, or even more perfect than the first had been.

“I’d do anything for you, too,” she returned whilst she affectionately connected her forehead to your’s, lifting her right hand up to your left cheek against whilst you both admired one another’s eyes, and found yourselves longing to kiss again, though you knew it was most likely awkward for Violet to be watching the way she currently was, not sure what to do with herself whilst you both couldn’t help, but be all over each other the way you were, now, addicted to one another, and revelling within each other’s presence, “a-and I’m going to do more to prove that to you, I promise-”

“No, V,” you interjected gently, “you don’t have to; I - I already know you would; you have nothing to prove to me, so please don’t ever worry that maybe I’m doubting your feelings for me, b-because-.. because I could never do that to you - I guess I just have these moments sometimes when I think you deserve better than me; t-that I’m not enough for you, and I wish I could stop, but-.. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed, soothing you instantly, and making you feel warm and fuzzy again, “s-soon you’ll never have to worry about having doubts like that again, I promise, because even if you don’t want me to prove my feelings for you, I’m never going to stop, but you probably knew that already, knowing me.”

“I thought you’d say that,” you agreed, before smirking up at her, “and you probably won’t be surprised to hear that I’m never going to stop trying to prove my feelings for you, either.”

“I’m glad,” she remarked, before longingly brushing her lips against your’s, until she remembered Violet, and begrudgingly would force herself to pull away, and smile over at her sister whilst you would wince, before doing the same; you both often easily seemed to get lost, and absorbed within one another in the best way possible to the point that it often felt as if you were the only two people left on earth, “well - I guess we should get back inside before anyone starts wondering where we are, and we don’t want to be tired tomorrow, do we? Especially not when we have some dancing to do.”

You would appear surprised, as well as a little nervous as you weren’t used to dancing, but you would try and hide this from her, worried about what she might think of you if you admitted to this, so instead you would agree alongside Violet, before beaming up at Vera again.

“I can’t wait,” you chimed, when really you were terrified; you knew you’d only embarrass yourself in front of her if you tried to dance with them both, though you couldn’t imagine why as you knew she wouldn’t be upset with you for not telling you something like that, “I - I love dancing.”

“Good, because that means you’ll love the ball,” she replied, “come on - let me carry you back; I want you to get some rest for tomorrow; you need it-”

“No, V, you - you don’t need to do that for me; I think I can walk-”

“Too bad,” she remarked, before picking you up carefully off of the ground, prompting you to squeak, before you clung to her shoulders, and would bury your face into the crook of her neck whilst she giggled in response to your reaction, “I’m not making you walk back; you’ve been through enough today - come, Violet; you need sleep too.”

“I’d love some,” Violet stated, before getting up off of the ground, and following Vera back toward the house so you could sneak back inside through the back door, before rushing up to your rooms; the maids’ quarters would already be locked, so you could join Vera within her own bedroom to cuddle up with her, and fall asleep blissfully within her arms like you both used to, before her father had beat you the night you’d both tried to run away together, despite you both still being in your damp clothes, but you wouldn’t get any sleep that night, silently worrying about how she might react when she finds out at the ball tomorrow how terrible a dancer you really are, and always have been.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

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uniquevocashark · 3 months

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i have realised that i neglected to give a basic description for what igraine actually looks like in the forbidden happy end fic (along with having no idea if i did one in a good servant (though i probably didnt)), so i wonder what vibe she gives to people who havent seen my art of her

#personal #the forbidden happy end fic #anyway just silly things im thinking as i draft

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hall0wedwyrm · 8 months

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if I post this in this tag, will anyone else understand the emotional damage i suffered

I hope this reaches the right audience. I feel like it's a really niche group of people who understands this anyway but... I just wanna know.

#minecraft herobrine #herobrine #please someone understand so I don't have to admit my pain #also I never finished reading it if someone has can you tell me if it's worth going to see the ending #is it a happy ending I feel like it wouldn't be lmao #I really don't wanna tag herosteve on my tumblr but if that's what it takes #I'm over the ship at this point but the thought of this fic has haunted me since I left the forbidden place (wattpad)

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thotforcsy · 1 year

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entreat me not to leave thee

(♡) fandom: bts (♡) pairing: taehyung/jimin (♡) rating: teen+ (♡) 11,222 words (♡) complete (1/1)

Forming a parabatai bond with someone is something most Shadowhunters can only dream of. No one knows you better than your parabatai, after all. They would die for you, care for you deeply and their soul forms half of yours until death. That Taehyung has found his in Jimin is something to be grateful for - or it would be, if not for the fact that he's in love with him.

(That's another thing about parabatai. They're not allowed to be in love.)

link

cw: canon-typical violence (fighting, blood, death etc.)

#vmin #c: kim taehyung #c: park jimin #bts #bts fic #s: vmin #pseud: flying_dream #jasmine's bts fics #other fandoms #ao3 link #shadowhunter au #forbidden love #soulmates #angst and pining #angst with a happy ending #cw: blood #cw: violence #cw: death

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cherry-leclerc · 5 months

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lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY.

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground.

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began.

Where Paradise met Hell.

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew.

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie?

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one.

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good.

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped.

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room.

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume.

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down.

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between.

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man.

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest.

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you.

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that.

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze.

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming.

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain.

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.”

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair.

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities.

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over.

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again.

“Forget it. How would I know?”

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless.

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night.

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights.

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.”

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it.

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So…What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all.

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place.

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be.

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke.

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you.

Fuck her, honestly.

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware - and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults?

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words.

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you.

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff.

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought.

He’s fucked.

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along.

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room.

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back.

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you.

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight.

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete.

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion.

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps.

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law.

“What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs.

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns.

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes.

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly.

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips.

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin.

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home.

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce.

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up.

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue.

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello.

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips.

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling.

“Take care, Carlos.”

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other.

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular.

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I��ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience.

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away.

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.”

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this?

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.”

“Ah. I see.”

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow.

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully.

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap.

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie.

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely.

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.”

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins.

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches.

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast.

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.”

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps.

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red.

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action.

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it.

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you.

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss.

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out.

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place.

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck.

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria.

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.”

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride.

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax.

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening.

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser.

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips.

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release.

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more.

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths.

“Will you fuck me now?”

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment.

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets.

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?”

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours.

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear.

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex.

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right?

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.”

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be.

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married.

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by.

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?”

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake.

“Coming.”

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists.

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey. C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.”

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore.

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene.

None of it mattered anymore.

4K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 1 month

Text

HIGH HEELS - ryomen sukuna.

౨ৎ — about. “sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much.” as rough and rugged as he may seem, ryomen sukuna lives to see his girl happy. he loves to see her smile. he loves to know she feels as good as she looks…but when you end up looking a little too good in a certain pair of heels, he can’t be blamed for making you late for a dreaded dinner... ( 6.2K )

౨ৎ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, pwp — video banner. modern!au, rich girl!au, forbidden romance, reader has sisters, degradation, praise, pain play, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, slight!daddy kink, hold the moan, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving), cum play, creampies, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl fem!reader.

౨ৎ — things to note. haii everyone ! it’s been a while since i posted a longer fic so im excited. this was supposed to be a thirst lol. i’m just testing the waters with my version of modern bf!sukuna ! many thanks to @yennified for the ask that inspired it all. i’d like to thank everyone for their patience ‘n i hope you enjoy mwah mwah <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“we’re going to be late, hot stuff.”

“no we’re not, ryo. give me five minutes! i just need to —“

if there’s one thing ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori had learned from dating you, is that time management was never and never will be your strong suit.

if the phrase fashionably late could be embodied as a person, sukuna believes that it would definitely take the shape of you. you and your beautiful brown eyes that plead with him to give you a moment not even five minutes before you leave the house for dinner reservations. you and your sinful curves only accentuated the silk slip dresses you spend so long steaming before sukuna takes you out for the night. you and your perfect lips that have to be painted with the right gloss or lipstick to match your nails, purse and heels.

all of you, and your beauty, make up the meat and bones of the phrase ‘fashionably late.’

just like right now, where you sit reapplying your hot chocolate lip gloss, perched on the edge of the luxurious king sized bed you’d demanded be in your hotel room. a room booked by your father for a family-oriented get-away. sukuna hadn’t wanted to come, as a man from humble beginnings, using your daddy’s money wasn’t something that he favoured — but the man liked to see his girl happy. sukuna lives to make you happy, even if he won’t admit it.

“do ya really need five minutes to fix your lip gloss?” the pink haired man chides, sweeping a hand through his rosette locks in the mirror as he re-enters your bedroom. “i’ve seen you do it in less, gorgeous,” blood red eyes are quick to place you in the centre of the room — they never stray from you for too long, sukuna will always find you in a room no matter how busy or bare it is. your presence fills him with love and brings him comfort, even if he refuses to accept that as his truth.

there’s a coldness to the look you give him over your compact mirror while you rub the swell of your lips together, spreading the pigment across them easily. it’s a warning not to rush you, a warning to your boyfriend who knows better. “i said, i need my five minutes.”

ryomen drops the topic with a shrug, fixing his silky tie at the collar of his dress shirt — the one you’d so carefully picked because it matches the deep tone of his eyes and the colour of your slip dress. a mark of possession on your part. once he’s done, he takes to packing your designer clutch with all of your essentials from the dresser — blotting powder, your purse, any silver jewellery you’ll want to put on in the car. he slips on a couple of expensive rings to match with you too.

sukuna is more prepared for this dinner with your insufferable relatives than you are. he knows that tonight will be about your little sister and the rich lord she’s bagged as her boyfriend along with how soon they’ll be getting married. or it’ll focus on your older sister and her marriage that she’s trying so hard to keep together, despite it clearly falling apart. both of your siblings seem to think that they’re above you and your brooding, misunderstood boyfriend.

but you don’t believe that.

and you like to rub your love for one another in their bitter faces.

“pretty girl,” sukuna purrs, his chest rumbling with affection once he takes note of your heels discarded to the side. their silver sparkles glint under the warm embrace of the lighting up above. sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. they’re expensive too — he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much. “if you don’t hurry up, we won’t be able to brag to your bitchy sisters about how in love we are.”

by no means is sukuna a man of weak resolve. his will is as strong as his exterior — coated in the scars of his rough past like the thick black tattoos that ink his arms. he remains strong in every scenario except for ones that concern you, one look from you and you’ve got that mountain of a man crumbling like an avalanche and falling to his knees. you cast your boyfriend an amused gaze, smacking your lips as you watch him sink to his knees before your very eyes.

once again, your man takes the hint — thick fingers reaching for your glittery red bottom heels on the floor before he brings them up to the soles of your feet without a word. “you know how much i love the sound of that, ryo,” comes your dark hum, the colour of your eyes dimming with a desire ryomen sukuna knows all too well. “but i don’t see an issue with looking good while i do it.”

“you’re right,” sukuna quips in a husky tone, taking one foot and slipping one of your expensive shoes onto it. “who cares if we’re late to meet your sisters. as long as you feel as good as you look — i couldn’t give a fuck.” his thick fingers that know the twitches and ticks of your body oh-so-well reach for the straps of your heels and slowly begin weaving them around your ankle, upwards.

his blood red eyes remain hooked on your exposed thighs and supple skin, littered with a beautiful array of marks and scars from over your years of existence. some from before you even knew of ryomen, others from during your time together. “do you think i look good, baby?” you ask him innocently, leaning back on the bed with the palms of your hands lost in the whipped peaks of expensive cotton sheets — most exclusively found in this five star hotel.

sukuna grins in that slow and sexy way which makes your stomach lurch with lust, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “fuckin’ gorgeous, they’ll be shakin with rage.” he says, praise melting on the tip of his tongue. his words, in a symphony syllables, are accompanied by an undercover tune of desire — sukuna is a hungry man with little patience and a big appetite. once he’s settled on something, he’s damn sure to get it.

tonight; his prey is you.

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink hair bends at the neck to press a chaste kiss to your knee cap, smoothing the rough surface of his palms and workman’s hands over your doughy thighs — massaging you, easing any knots and tension beneath the top layer of your warm skin. his lips, only slightly chapped, curl upwards with a knowing smile when you let out a pleased chirp. sukuna’s hands work wonders on your body — causing your mind to drift away from the family dinner that awaits you.

tonight; you could very well fall victim to the claws and fangs ryomen sukuna possesses.

kisses quickly become open mouthed and wet, hot and slippery over your flesh — and soon, sukuna adds teeth to the mix once he reaches your inner thighs, littering the area with deep shades of purple and midnight blue. he had no intentions of ravaging you like this, at least not so soon, but with a woman this irritable and fiery and troublesome on his arm how could he not? they say that you attract what you put out and the mirthy look in your eye, hidden between beautiful brown flecks of innocence, tells sukuna that you’re exactly what his guarded soul has been looking for all of his life.

his pulse quickens beneath the calcium cage of his chest — heart beat rising as you allow his curious lips and pink fluffy hair begin to disappear under the silky fabric of your figure-hugging dress. sukuna can practically taste you, the air underneath your skirt is dewy and warm and your flavour (that he knows oh so well) lingers within its particles.

god, he wants you so bad. he doesn’t even care how this may look.

a man like him on his knees, ready to worship you as if you spout riches and bleed liquid gold.

except you do, you’re worth more than sukuna could ever hope to be. the weight of your net-worth unfairly tips the scales and he doesn’t even care. all because he loves you.

“why’re we even goin’ to this stupid dinner in the first place?” your rough and ragged boyfriend ponders out loud, with his words slipping over the edge of his sneaky snake's tongue. said tongue, if ryomen inches forward enough, could drag over your budding clit — clearly outlined through the barely-there crotch of your lace panties. “spend the night with me, doll. don’t gotta go a place…” a thick finger pulls the string of fabric away from your sticky slit, toying with the material until your premature arousal glazes his fingertip.

but before the man can reward himself with the goods between your perfect thighs — the sharp point of your heel digs into ryomen’s firm right pec. your shoes are clean so they won’t leave a mark, but he feels like you’ve left one on his heart, even as the bottom of your shoe pushes him back and away from your warmth.

“oh ryo, you must be hungry for the wrong thing,” you laugh breathlessly with your head tipping backwards, the sound shooting straight down to the hardness beneath sukuna’s black slacks. you push at him further until he rests back on his haunches — expression crazed and like a starved animal. “you forgot the other shoe, love.”

it turns out, you’re just as skilled a huntress as sukuna is. a vixen who stalks her prey and makes them beg for all her mercy. “how careless of me…” the man drawls, finding himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle’s flame. he craves your attention, he basks in it when you give it to him in the way that you do now. there’s not a moment where you’re not looking at him, admiring the shape and form of your man as if he’s the rarest piece of art in the world or a treasure more expensive than any diamond.

within the depth of those enticing brown eyes lay the truest form of love — even when you’re seconds away from devouring each other, your love for ryomen outgrows any doubt planted in your heart by your bitter family.

“y’must be so disappointed in me…” he goes on, lifting your second ankle in one hand and adjusting your foot into the perfect position to slip your other heel on. “how can i make it up to ya, gorgeous?” sukuna’s voice is gravelly, laced with intonations of neediness as he laces you up and finishes the job with a hand clasped over your knee. “i’ll do anythin’, anythin’ you want.”

graciously, you remove your red bottom from his shoulder and part your knees like the Red Sea — giving the older itadori the perfect view of the small string of fabric nestled between your glistening folds. even with the way you play coy, you’re always ready for him — as if it’s coded into your DNA to yearn for his touch.

the upper row of your teeth sink into your shiny bottom lip as you look down at your man with unadulterated hunger. “anything, ryo?”

sukuna’s chest rumbles (like a storm) with pride, his watchful gaze noting how you twitch and writhe for more. he leans forward and lets his black painted nails sink into the surface of your thighs — dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. “anythin’ for you gorgeous.” he repeats, voice raspy. in one swift movement, your red-bottom heels are swung over wide shoulders with thick muscles, keeping you nice and spread for him.

from over your barely-there-panties, a finger glides through your glistening pussy lips and presses into your budding clit just to get a reaction out of you. a squeak that makes sukuna’s hips buck into the floor and a full body shiver that has your heels knocking behind the man’s head. arousal pearls on his fingertip through the material, which he leisurely rubs into the rest of your heated and throbbing sex, right down to your quivering hole.

two fingers with polished black nails slip past your underwear’s waistband and dip inside of you with practised ease, instantly curling to find that special spot that drives you up the wall. sukuna knows you well, he’s spent years getting to that point. he’s committed every little detail there is to know about you to memory — the your lashes flutter when you like how he touches you, the way your throat bobs just before you mewl out his name. he knows exactly what you like and how to make you feel good. that fact drives sukuna into a frenzy.

his fingers start to work you faster, a lewd suctioning sound echoing throughout the luxurious room the deeper they plunge into you. sukuna’s thumb deliciously rolls over your swollen clit to add to your mounting pleasure, writing the signature of his claim on one of the most sacred parts of your body — where no other person can have you.

“ryomen!” you squeal in surprise, your shaky thighs threatening to close around your boyfriend’s skilled hands. your hole clenches around his thick digits feverishly while drooling directly into the seat of his rough palm.

a resounding chuckle echoes between your legs, vibrating against your syrupy sex as his pink head of hair disappears beneath the hem of your silken skirt. “that good, huh?” comes his lazy reply to your call of his name, using his fingers to fuck your arousal back into you. “what’s the matter, pretty girl?”

condescension twists with your boyfriend’s baritone voice, sending sparks of delight through your body like a thunder strike from zeus himself. when it comes to sex and pleasing you — sukuna is a god amongst mankind. the best you’ve ever had:

“don’t tease,” you growl out impatiently through gritted teeth, though your words melt into a whiny moan when sukuna easily bares down on your g-spot because he knows your squishy insides like the backs of his very hands. he finds it adorable when your face scrunches at the sensation of his cold, silver ring brushing up against your molten, sticky cunt and hums in content when you squirt a little bit for him in response. “we…we h-have plans for tonight!”

“‘m sorry princess, didn’t know we were in a rush.” ryomen says smugly, leaning into the sinful scent of your sex as if he’s been bewitched. not even the sound of your silver gladiator heels knocking against one another behind his head can pull the man out of this reverie. despite your warning, your boyfriend figures that there’s still time to have his way with you, you don’t really care about being on time to meet your family and you hardly have the brain capacity to think about them right now.

not when you fall under the vicious waves of ecstasy and give in to your depraved lover. ryomen quickly has you drowning in pleasure as he finally takes the plunge and replaces his thumb on your clit with his lips wrapped around it. he sucks on the little nub from over your panties, tongue glazing the fabricated barrier with his saliva as he commits the taste of you to memory once again.

your natural musk has sukuna drunk and high within seconds. you’ve got him returning to old habits and addictions he doesn’t have the strength to fight off. you’re bad for him and he knows it, but he can’t help but to make out with your clothed mound like it’s his life’s mission, mapping out the shape of your cunt through the stringy, soiled material. you ought to be embarrassed with the way you throb against sukuna’s eager lips as he buries his face further into your pussy. he inhales sharply, nastily, with his nose nudging against the sensitive treasure in circles — coaxing you open like a flower in the spring bloom.

ecstasy decides to bloom within you too, evergreen roots taking residence deep within your chest and curling around your beating heart. your pulse quickens in anticipation, an intoxicating veil of covetous yearning shrouding your brain in darkness as the tip of sukuna’s tongue now begins to circle your tight little entrance. even with the fabric in the way, you greedily attempt to clench down on his predatory pink appendage and keep him locked inside your cunt — squirting small streams of your juices in the process.

if your siblings could see you right now, how dirtily your man begins to ravage you just minutes before your family dinner while dripping on his tongue and the expensive bed daddy paid for, they’d be horrified. the sentiment strikes a pang of arousal in you, spreading to your boyfriend like a wildfire.

and as ryomen hooks a finger around the soiled gusset of your panties to pull them down, you hardly find it within yourself to care about what your snotty sisters might think — not when you’re about to receive the best head and best orgasm of your life.

“how d’ya wan’it?” instead of making a move to eat you out properly, ryomen takes two fingers and spreads your folds and exposes them to the blazing heat of his breath. exhaling through his nose next, he watches with blood red eyes as you twitch beneath his hold, dribbling liquid gold more than his mouth drools. “you’re so fuckin’ wet…all this from puttin’ on those pretty shoes?” your thigh shifts in response, heels clicking and back arches from luxury sheets crinkling under your back.

huffing impatiently, you send a threatening look down at your boyfriend despite how vulnerable you are to his torture teeth that could tear you apart in an instant. “ryo…your mouth,” you whinge, voice slipping into an almost babyish tone. despite your hard stare, your eyes are wet and wide like a prey animal watching its life go by right before it’s hunted or a deer in headlights, for that matter. “you promised you wouldn’t t-tease!”

“yeah, yeah, i know. ‘m sorry,” sukuna hums confidently, except he’s not really apologetic in the slightest — hardly doing his best to tame the uncomfortable yearning building up at your core. you’re a mess for him and he loves it, he’s entertained by the thought of you needing him so bad that it might kill you. he takes pride in knowing it’s not just him who feels this way. “thank you for tellin’ me, by the way. gonna use my mouth to fuck this pretty pussy til’ she’s creamin’ all for me,” he growls to you in a sultry tone, his aphrodisiac-like words a breath’s width away from your sloppy mound — its timbre sound sending tremors of electricity through your swollen, unattended clit that convulses from the lack of attention.

nothing inflates ryomen sukuna’s ego more than the feeling of your sex throbbing against his face — juices glossing the plump swell of his lips as he wraps them around your puffy pleasure nub. his chest bristles as you open up for him like a flower in spring, the scent of your arousal acting like a perfume to him — the bee with the stinger of pleasure. he works his savage mouth along the length of your slit, as though he lacks the manners of a decently raised man, tongue prodding at your entrance just to be mean. after a while, sukuna stops sucking and making out with your dirty, creamy cunt to nip at your titillating folds, taking one between rows of sharpened pearly whites and gently pulling it away from you.

at the abrupt feeling — you cry out hoarsely in a mix of bliss and surprise, taking a peek at the pink haired man between your spiked thighs with swimming vision. sukuna’s face is soaked, his angled jaw and cheeks and chin glazed in a layer of your slick as if he’s bitten into the ripest piece of fruit in adam and eve’s garden. the trail runs armously down and over his adam’s apple, coaxing your lover into eating you out properly this time.

finally, finally putting his filthy mouth to good use.

“fuck, i love the way y’drool for me down here. got so much to give, don’cha gorgeous?” sukuna mewls into you whilst kitten licking your slit, drinking you in as though you’re a glass of water in an oasis of lust and sex. he chuckles happily at your dreamy sigh and circling hips that grind down on his face, tapping three fingers against your sticky pleasure bud lovingly. annoyingly ( but not without appreciation from you), sukuna takes it a step further by sloppily kissing you there.

even with the time crunch, your pleasure takes priority. eating you out is like a reward for your man, it’s as though he was out on this earth by the gods purely to make you see stars. you feel lucky that he chose you out of all he could where he feels blessed to be the man you let touch you like this.

“mmph, ryo… always g’na be wet f’you. for my man. only you get me this fucked up,” you drawl with a silky voice, making a show of tweaking your own nipples from over your dress for your boyfriend. with the slipperiness of a snake, your hands slide down from between the valley of your heaving breasts, over your clothed tummy ( that twists with knots of ecstasy ) and into the slicked pink locks that tickle your inner thighs. messing up his perfect look, you grip sukuna’s roots and tug on them forcefully — coaxing him further into the debauched realm concealed by the skirts of your dress.

“princess…” ryomen lets out a pathetic, muffled groan — increasing the pace of the tip of his tongue as it lewdly flicks at your sex. “have you always had such a dirty mouth? what would yer daddy think?”

your head tips back at the new, gratifying sensation — ecstasy mounting in your lower tummy like bricks of a steady wall. “for as long as i’ve been yours,” comes your crazed and melodious laughter, only interrupted by pockets of squelching noises emitted from your squelching cunt. “oh baby…i don’t give a fuck about what my ‘daddy’ thinks. only you. let him stay mad — f-fuck! kuna!”

fuelled by the idea of pissing off your stuck up family, tattooed hands move to grip where your legs bend at the knee — pushing them back until your skirt rides up over your fleshy ass and your knees hit your shoulders and the soles of your shoes are able to lay flat against sukuna’s rippling back muscles. he hisses at the slight sting he feels from the pointed heel digging into his skin through his shirt, but it only fucks him up more. your pleasure is his pain, ryomen doesn’t give a fuck about anything else except for how good his girl feels.

somewhere amongst the sweat soaked sheets your phone lets out a shrill cry — signifying a call from someone in your spoiled family. without sukuna’s command, you scramble through the sea of stiff fabric peaks and reach for the device, hitting the answer button before checking the contact.

“h-hello?” you say in a poor attempt to speak clearly, stifling a deep moan. “speak of the devil and the devil shall appear…” comes your shallow whisper as you address your boyfriend. your chest grows sticky with perspiration beneath the bust of your dress — breathing uneven and heavy because of the way ryomen’s tongue wriggles past your tight little hole, squirming about against your lush walls to hit that special spot that has you screaming and seeing stars while on the phone to one of your relatives.

“excuse me, young lady?” it’s your father, much to sukuna’s dismay, his voice is irritatingly recognisable over the crackling of the line. of course he would find some way to unknowingly interrupt yourself and your loving, doting, disapproved boyfriend. “you were supposed to meet your sisters and i for dinner nearly forty minutes ago. where are you?”

sukuna’s agitation shows with each wet kiss he aggressively places between your swollen folds, nasty and miscalculated whilst designed to leave you a shaky mess.“o-oh! hi daddy,” you emphasise the word, voice rising an octave until its light an airy. your swimming, doe eyes lock with crimson ones that bore into the depths of your soul from below — taunting and testing the pink haired man’s patience. “‘m getting ready. don’t you want me to look pretty?”

the silky lilt to the tail end of your words causes sukuna to growl against your pulsating, temperate mound while his fingers yank you down onto his handsome face by your meaty thighs. eagerly, your hips canter down to match the stride of his tongue stroking your pretty pussy as though you’re riding his aching cock to your heart’s content. his tongue fills you up almost as good, warmly slipping and sliding over pleasure spots only he can reach.

he kitten licks and sucks and bites at your raw sex like a wild animal, loudly moaning into you with every roll of your cunt over his face. you taste like heaven, the flavour almost angelic on his tongue. sukuna feels like a sinner with a greedy craving for more and if you cared just a little bit, you might have been concerned about your father catching the lascivious sounds from between your thighs over the phone.

“i’m past the point of caring about how you present yourself at dinner,” your father says your name stern and low — talking to you as if you’re a child and not the woman you’d grown into. “your sisters are ravenous, they flew all the way into the country for this. don’t you think that they deserve an ounce of your time?”

losing yourself to the danger of it all, you chuck your phone to the side after putting it on loud speaker. your lover targets your prominent, adorable clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling it in large circles until you’re close to tearing the sheets from the bed. you try your best to contain the scream building up in your throat, but sukuna has never made it easy for you to keep quiet.

“mph…fuck!”

“young lady! watch your mouth!” your father scolds you, still blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re getting tongue fucked by the man he hates all the way up to cloud nine. “i bet that good for nothing scoundrel has put you up to this. i keep telling you, no daughter of mine should be with a man like that. where is he? he’s the one making you late.”

“actually, dad, sukuna’s been a good boy. sitting all handsome in those suits you like. i’m the one making…oohhh…m-making us late!” cruel carmine eyes flutter at your generous praise, lovesick as a sunburn like blush spreads over the bridge of sukuna’s nose from how desperate he is for you. if you tried your hardest to listen in over the wet sounds of your cunt being sucked on for dear life, along with the shaky delectable laments your lover lets out, you might be able to hear the sound of a zipper going down or the slickness of sukuna’s hand around his meaty shaft as he jerks himself off. no longer able to fight off his desire for you.

your stomach flips at the sight and the pleasure mounts with your impending high, dainty fingers beginning to tug and twist at sukuna’s blushing pink hair. his pain is your pleasure.

“you’ve lost your mind, i didn’t raise you to be like this.”

“you hardly…hardly raised me at all,” the words feel tacky in your mouth, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton that sucks up your saliva. it doesn’t help that your voice begins to waver too, reaching whistle tone notes.

ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what’s hotter, the fact that you’re so easily able to sass your rich, douchey father or the fact that you’re letting him give you head while on the phone. “shit,” he curses as low as possible, using one had to smooth the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cockhead — smearing the precum that beads there over the sensitive flesh. his kiss swollen lips part from your sweet sex for only a moment to taunt you. he remains connected to you by a single rope of clear elixir that leaks from your precious little hole. “god, gorgeous. you’re fuckin’ drenched…all from talkin’ back to daddy, huh?”

a lewd and sacchariferous mewl rumbles from deep in your chest as it rapidly rises and falls. it’s all too much for you to keep up with, you’re way too dizzy and it’s only made worse when sukuna bobs his head between your quivering legs so that his fat tongue drags through the entirety of your ravaged pussy lips.

“holyfuckingshit!” you shoot the man a glare once you remember where you are and who you’re on the phone to.

ryomen offers up a cocky smirk as his excuse before delving beneath your silken skirts once more, though it does nothing to mask how turned on he is — squeezing the base of his drippy shaft to stop himself from cumming too soon to the sight of you.

you try not to forget the presence of your father again, it would be hard to, since he’s insistent on betraying you down the phone. “speak back to me again and i’m cutting you off. starting with cancelling the card you and your mangy boyfriend live off of.”

“do it, i dare you.” you somehow manage to snap back, jolting at the sensation of sukuna’s razor sharp teeth grazing your clit. he hisses deliciously against your sex as your heels cut pretty crescent moons into his back. “i-i wonder what mom would have to say about it if you…if you did!”

silence echoes down the line, broken by small pockets of your boyfriend slurping on your folds like a man starved. slurps that you’re just so blessed to be able to hear. you should feel ashamed instead of hungry, doing nothing to tame the greedy beast inside you that craves more and more of sukuna’s attention on you. you must have lost your mind, for letting him eat you out so brazenly while you converse with your father on the phone. it’s so depraved, so dirty and yet you wouldn’t give this… give sukuna up for the world.

you love him more than anything. love how he treats you like you’re the strongest person he knows whilst handling you as though you’re made of glass. you love how he gets off to you, dribbling thick white from the tip of his cock because you make him a mess enough to need to jerk off. you love how he pleasures you, his baritone laments and simpers muffled against your cunt sending fireworks up your spine and setting them off at your tailbone where your mounting pleasure lies.

you love ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori, and no amount of scolding from your father will ever change that.

“just…just be here within the hour. please.” your father requests quietly.

“see you soon, daddy,” you hang up the phone faster than a lightning strike, all of your composure flying out of the window with the last dial tone. “ryo, fuck! i’m close… gonna cum. please, hurry!”

“god you’re such a fuckin’ menace, hah, pretty girl?” your pink haired lover quips airily, his jaw tight from flicking his tongue against your sex in sync with his fist flicking around his throbbing dick, slinging precum about the place. he’s amused and love sick all at once, a feeling that was once foreign to ryomen before he met you. “gotcha so turned on by talking back to your dad, yeah? all while i ate this pretty fuckin’ pussy out… so nasty,” only sukuna could make you feel this loved while degrading you, the only man who’s ever been able to do so. none of them could come close to knowing your body like he does, the way you twitch when you’re close and start to pout like a spoilt brat when you’re frustrated from waiting for your orgasm.

sukuna takes the edge off by lifting a tattooed arm and slapping his hand down on the entirety of your cut — letting out a haughty moan at the sight of glistening droplets of arousal flying about the place while your heels drag down his back with delightful pain. you cry out, but your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you in seconds — soothing your poor pussy. “‘m so lucky to have you though, my nasty fuckin’ princess,” he mewls into you, using his tongue to bully your g-spot over and over and over while he fists his precum glazed cock into oblivion. “gonna make you cum, gorgeous girl. let you make a mess in my mouth, you want that?”

“m-more than anything, ryo!” you wail, fighting back tears as you spew a fresh wave of your sweet nectar from your pathetic hole. you do have a dinner to get to after all, you should only be crying from one place. your cunt. the sound of said squelching cunt and your dulcet whines make sukuna’s balls twitch with a load he would only dedicate to you. “i love you, love you s’much…love you,”

the delirium starts to catch up with you, becoming too much to bare as you babble nonsense into the sex tainted air. you can’t hold back, some of your release already beginning to stream out of you. “‘m gonna cum, ryo…cum with me, please!” you squeal in warning, mere seconds before your body succumbs to sukuna’s eager tongue and the wrath of your orgasm.

“love you too, s’much,” your glittery heels knock behind his sweaty mass of pink hair, cutting into his back as he walks you through it all. “f-fuck baby, that’s it,” he goads as you gush into his mouth like a tidal wave. you have so much to give, release trickling into his mouth, painting his cheeks and sliding down his adam’s apple in a viscous current. sukuna is swept away by the arousal in the air, drinking you in as he pumps his cock harshly and in tune with the way you weakly hump at his face through the aftershocks.

pulling his sticky mouth away from your equally sticky sex, sukuna replaces his tongue with three of his fingers to your clit — coaxing you through the rest of your high as he draws random shapes on the puffy nub. “keep that orgasm goin’ for me, pretty princess, give it to me…give it t’me while i fill you up,” he rambles brainlessly, abruptly standing up as he fists his cock pulled out from the zipper of his dress pants — barely fighting back his own orgasm. “spread those fuckin’ legs, wanna cum inside.”

“ryo!”

“ahh, fuckin’…fuuuck!” in one swift move, your boyfriend slips his sensitive and bulbous cockhead past your quivering, orgasming entrance — shallowly thrusting into your tight heat as you spasm around him, before he’s thrown off the edge into his own high. “c-cummin’…” hot sticky ropes of white seed flood your womb, which sukuna keeps plugged into you as he folds you over — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your heels clink at the dip in his waist behind his back. you’re still cumming as languid thrusts smear your boyfriend’s cum against your rippling walls, but you’re content, breathing beginning to even out as you both come down from cloud nine.

still releasing in small spurts, ryomen slowly pulls out of you with soft kisses pressed to the side of your face. “sorry, didn’t wanna fuck up my pants before dinner,” he chuckles over the warm static spreading over your happy little brain.

you offer him your own dopey laughter, remaining sprawled out underneath your hunk of a man. “so you decide to just jizz inside of me? you’re a class act ryo. what about my dress?”

“first of all, you don’t like it when shit goes to waste ‘n second off all, i made damn sure that it stuck. your dress is fine, brat.” a chaste kiss is pressed to your nose as sukuna helps you sit up, double checking for any mess he might have left between your shaky legs. “let me clean you up, don’t want your dad findin’ out what we were really up to all this time.”

“pretty sure he already knows,” you shrug, rolling your ankles as you lean down to fix a strap on your heel. “you’re a messy eater, ryo.”

but before you can fix your shoe back into place, ryomen sukuna is already on it — adjusting the strap to sit comfortably on your leg before he stands again and retreats to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean you up with.

you watch with a smirk as he goes, admiring all of the little red marks on his shoulder blades you’ve left on him with your shoes. “then i guess i’ll have to use some fuckin’ table manners at dinner,” he remarks childishly. “but i can’t help how delicious you look in those heels, gorgeous.”

and it’s true, you’re the only meal sukuna could ever want — especially when you leave your claim on him with high heels like that.

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