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buckybabesonly · 1 year

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Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

Summary: You finally confess your feelings to Bucky, hoping he might like you back. He turns you down.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Avenger!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Mentions of heavy drinking, no other significant warnings really without spoiling the plot 🤫

Word count: 6.5k

A/N: If you enjoyed this one, please do leave a comment / feedback / reblog! ❤️

Loving Bucky was like drinking honey. It was warm and comforting, sweet and overwhelming for your senses. You looked forward to seeing his face everyday and adored hearing him laugh, his whole face creasing when he doubled over at something funny you had said.

He had become an unlikely close ally since you joined the team. More than just a colleague. The time you’d spent together in the last year had been a defining period for you, as you had really grown to treasure his presence in your life.

God, the way this man made you feel. You didn’t think you’d ever be lucky enough to meet someone who would make you so happy.

It would be even better if you actually had the gall to tell him how you felt.

Being emotionally vulnerable was difficult. You wanted more, but it was scary. However, you recalled a piece of advice that one of your college professors had told you years ago, wise words which stuck with you. If you never try, the answer will always be no.

You had it set in your mind that you were going to tell him. You were, but maybe not today. You would wait for tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Your inner turmoil was frustrating. You fought androids and aliens and god knows what else, but you were afraid of this?

It could mess everything up, you reasoned. If he didn’t return your feelings, then you would make everything awkward, and maybe you would lose him even as a friend. You didn't know if you could handle that.

Despite this, a tiny hopeful voice in your head told you that Bucky felt the same about you. The way he always looked for a reason to spend time with you, how he shared his deepest secrets with you. The way you always partnered up on missions, and how you always had each other's backs. The way he comforted you when you were sad, allowing you to cry on his chest, soothing fingers stroking your hair.

When you first joined the team, he had been the first one to properly befriend you. Your first encounter was in the kitchen, where you had ended up in the middle of the night after being unable to sleep.

You were shocked to see Bucky propped up on a breakfast stool at the kitchen island, book in hand. You had waved nervously at him, going over to the fridge to get a carton of chocolate milk.

“Can’t sleep?” he grunted. You glanced to see what it was reading, seeing 'The Hobbit' embossed in gold letters across a hardback cover.

“Yeah,” you said softly, tugging down at the hem of your sleep shirt. You hadn’t exchanged many words with him at this point, but he seemed friendly enough. “You want a glass?”

He contemplated for a second before he nodded. “Sure.”

You ended up sitting opposite each other, glasses of chocolate milk in hand.

“How come you’re awake?”

Bucky smiled wryly. “I have trouble sleeping.”

“Nightmares?”

“Something like that.”

You hummed to yourself, taking a sip of the sweet beverage. There was something childish but comforting about chocolate milk - you always used to have it with your mom when you were small.

“How you feeling?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence. “Settling in?”

You nodded, the grip around your glass tightening. “Yeah, kind of. Everyone’s nice.”

Bucky seemed to know that you wanted to say more, silently promoting you with his eyes to continue.

“Everybody seems very tight knit - I guess that makes me a bit nervous? Trying to fit in.” You looked down, chewing on your lower lip. "I've always had a bit of trouble with that."

“I get you,” Bucky said, eyes still observing you. They were the color of cobalt - stunning. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll do just fine.”

That was the first meeting, and since then, you had only grown closer to him. Your mid-night conversations were a frequent occurrence. At least once or twice a week, you’d find each other in the kitchen at ungodly hours. Over time, you had introduced other activities to pass the time - board games, watching TV shows, fun idle gossip. Each time, you were always accompanied by chocolate milk.

“My mom died when I was six,” you had told Bucky during one of your late night rendezvous, half a year into your time with the team. “I don’t have many memories of her, but I remember that whenever I was sick or sad, she would have chocolate milk with me. It always cheered me up.”

You exchanged nuggets of information about each others pasts, and soon, you were sure that Bucky knew enough about you to write your biography. You felt surprisingly fine, opening up to him about anything and everything.

The seasons passed in a flash, and it was suddenly the one year anniversary of your joining the team. You found Bucky in the kitchen once again, at 3AM on a Thursday. You had a smile ready on your face, though your limbs ached. They were littered with bruises and cuts from your latest mission, but seeing him put a bounce in your step.

Bucky was staring down at his phone, the glow illuminating his face in the semi-darkness. It was chiming loudly with notifications, his expression unreadable.

“What’s that?” you asked, making your presence known.

Bucky already had a glass of milk out for you. He placed his phone down, grimacing.

“Sam got me doing this online dating thing,” he said casually. Your smile fell, unable to hide your surprise. “Modern dating is kind of crazy. Women are so much bolder than in the 40s."

Online dating? What?

“I didn’t know you started online dating,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. You didn’t even know Bucky was Iooking to date. You were deflated - any hopes that Bucky returned your crush were promptly dashed. You tried to swallow your disappointment.

“I wasn’t, really,” he said. “I guess it’s not the worst idea, though.”

Damn you, Sam Wilson, you thought.

“You meet women in real life all the time,” you said, taking your usual seat across him. “No one catch your interest?” You played nonchalantly with your fingers, trying not to pick your nails - a nervous habit.

Bucky pursed his lips, eyes landing on you for a moment before he looked at the ceiling.

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“You met anyone nice so far?” you probed, your jealousy spiking.

“Early days,” he responded. He slid his phone across the surface of the island, showing you the dating app he had open. The girls were plentiful, all beautiful and clearly enthusiastic. Bucky’s inbox was full of flirtatious greetings, but you noticed he hadn’t yet responded to a single one.

“Hmm.” You struggled to keep your face neutral. You felt the sinking realization that he must have never thought of you that way. Otherwise, why would he be looking for someone when you were right there?

You couldn't focus properly on the conversation anymore, your mind racing as Bucky moved the topic onto something unrelated.

Fantasising about Bucky had been dangerous. You had spent so much time imagining the day you would finally confess, and he would reciprocate your feelings and you would have the happy relationship you yearned for. Even if you didn’t confess first, you were hoping he would.

Up until now, you had sometimes told yourself that Bucky was just being patient. That he was old-fashioned, so he was taking his time in courting you.

You realized now that you were simply never considered an option.

The next few weeks were torturous. Christmas was fast-approaching, but you were far from being in the festive mood. You had to put on a front with Bucky now, pretend everything was alright and not feel too tempted to ask about the progress of his dating life. Things were tough, and you were feeling unhappier day by day.

You had always known, deep down, that your feelings for him were more than just a crush, and had been for many months. It ached, the feeling of knowing your emotions were not returned.

One horrible part of you wondered why. Were you not sexy enough? Not smart enough? Not charming enough?

Maybe all of the above.

Seeing Bucky nowadays made you ache. You found yourself feeling sad whenever he cracked jokes with you, shared his thoughts with you, when the backs of his hands brushed against yours as you walked side by side.

He would find someone that he actually wanted to be with, to do all that and more. It wasn’t his fault, and you knew he had no idea that you were in so much pain, that he had single handedly eviscerated you.

Tony's Christmas party was a perfect opportunity to drown your sorrows. So cliché. You knew it was a bad idea, but that didn't stop you knocking back drink after drink by the bar, ignoring Natasha's requests to dance. After all, if all the Hollywood rom-coms you had watched were any indication, this was one of the key steps to getting over a guy.

The party was kicking off, and the room was spinning like a ride at a fairground. Your alcohol tolerance had always been low, and now you were paying for your actions. Your skin was burning hot and prickling, and you were struggling to walk straight. Although, this was exactly what you wanted - it was somehow cathartic, purging you of all the pent of frustration inside.

A dark figure appeared in your eye line. Your vision refocused until you realized who it was - your favorite, handsome face was looking very annoyed right now, mouth set in a firm line.

“You’re drunk,” Bucky stated, his voice filled with annoyance.

“Duh.”

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he said, his hand latching around your bicep.

“No,” you said indignantly, jerking away. Your face blanched at the sudden movement. “I don’t feel well."

Bucky rolled his eyes, opting to steer you towards the balcony instead for some fresh air. He shut the French doors behind you, allowing the silent night air to consume you, isolating the two of you from the crowd.

“Sit,” he said, gently helping you down onto a wrought iron bench. “What were you thinking? You know you can’t drink.”

“I know.”

“Something wrong?” Bucky knew that the answer was yes - there was no other reason for you to be drinking unless you were upset or mad.

“I wanted to forget,” you croaked, leaning your head back to get a proper look at him. The sight of him devastated you. He looked so beautiful, so far out of your reach.

“Forget what?”

You stared up at the ink black sky, at the stars. The night air was cool against your burning skin. Everything was quiet, save the sound of his breathing in your ear as he leaned close to you. In that intoxicated moment, you thought you had nothing to lose, forgetting that Bucky was truly your everything.

“How much I love you,” you whispered, tilting your head to look at him through beseeching eyes.

Bucky sucked in a breath of air. His entire stance became rigid at your words. The way you stared at him imploringly confirmed that he hadn’t misheard.

“How long?” He was frowning even as you gave him a trembling, sad smile.

“A long time.”

He raised his hand as if he wanted to touch you, but settled it back down on his thigh. Your face crumpled at his obvious discomfort.

“I don’t know what to say,” he breathed.

Those words alone were enough to make your throat tighten and the needles in your chest multiply ten-fold.

“Tell me you feel the same way,” you said suddenly. It was a plead. You hated how desperate you were in this moment, but you needed him to know how you felt, and you needed to know whether you had a chance. Call it liquid courage, but you felt like you had nothing to lose when you grasped one of his calloused hands in yours.

Bucky was silent for a long time, staring at you with sadness and regret in his eyes. You hated how uncomfortable you must’ve been making him. God, what were you thinking, burdening him with your feelings and putting him in this position? You scolded yourself mentally, feeling nauseous.

Your hand was tight around his, your knuckles white. With every silent second that passed, your fingers loosened, falling limp. His hand was warm, yet you had never felt so cold.

He pulled his hand free, clenching it into a fist.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. Each word was a knife sinking into your chest. The realization hit you suddenly, thick and sour.

You felt bile rise in your throat. You stood up then, the floor shaking beneath you. You almost collapsed.

“Be careful - ”

“Oh god,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”

You darted away with surprising speed, wrenching the doors open and hurrying back inside the room. You ignored the sounds of him calling you as you rushed through the crowd, trying to put one foot steadily in front of you and praying you wouldn’t fall.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You held the tears in until you returned to your bedroom, slamming the door shut. You bolted into the en-suite and fell onto your knees in front of the toilet, the acid in your throat finally seeing the surface as you vomited.

Your stomach heaved, emptying yourself of all its contents. But you couldn’t get rid of the horrible, cloying feeling in your gut that came with Bucky’s rejection.

You fell asleep on the bathroom floor, tear tracks on your face and fresh wound in your heart.

You were dreading seeing him the next morning. Thankfully, you arrived in the conference room before he did. The others were there already, gathered around the table. Sam took one look at you and snickered. You were dressed in black, hair in disarray and a pair of large sunglasses on your face.

“Someone had a bit too much fun last night,” he sang.

You grimaced, closing your eyes at the way his voice boomed in your overly sensitive ears. “Stop shouting,” you croaked.

Bucky entered a few minutes later. You kept your head down, refusing to look at him or otherwise acknowledge his presence. To the others, your hostility could be passed off as a result of your clear hangover. But the excruciating humiliation of your confession to him hung between the two of you, making you squirm in your seat.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting, keeping your sunglasses on and staring stoically at Steve as he delivered the mission briefing. As soon as he dismissed the team, you jogged out of the room, but was accosted by Bucky in the hallway.

“Can we talk?” he asked loudly.

You didn’t want to make a scene. You put a fake smile on.

“Sure.” Your eyes were still swollen behind your dark shades as you tried not to let the sight of him bring out any more tears.

He led you into an empty room a few doors down. His face was set like stone, only the slightest crease in his forehead hinting at something akin to distress.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said carefully.

“It’s okay.” You winced in discomfort, even just the sound of your own voice bringing you pain. You wondered if he had rehearsed a speech, to let you down easy.

“You should never drink that much again.” His voice was sharp, critical.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, taken aback by his tone.

“It’s not worth it,” he said, his attitude easing up. “I’m not worth it. I don’t want you to feel this way because of me."

You felt your shoulders sag. You felt so tired, defeated.

"I can't control the way I feel," you whispered.

Bucky kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, like he was afraid to go near you now that the pair of you were alone. You wished you could read his mind, know what he was thinking.

His next words were chilling. "You’re my friend, and I care a lot about you.”

The emphasis on the word ‘friend’ didn’t go unnoticed. The way he looked at you was orchestrated, pointed. He was letting you know, in no uncertain terms, what he wanted to say. You were almost grateful that he didn’t directly bring up how you had told him you loved him, as if to save you your last shred of dignity.

He stared at you now with such intensity, the meaning clear in the way he looked at you. We are just friends.

He was doing you a favour. Still, your heart shattered. Your hands were shaking. There it was again - that awful, stinging pain of rejection.

“Okay,” you said faintly.

“I'm sorry if I ever made you think that we could be anything more," he began. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

“Let’s not do this,” you interrupted. If he kept speaking, you felt like you might die. You wished the ground would swallow you up.

Bucky licked his lips but remained silent.

“Please..." You hated how your voice shook. "I would really appreciate it if we could just move on. Let’s not bring this up again. It would really help me.”

Bucky folded his arms tightly across his chest, nodding stiffly.

“Okay.”

You backed away from him, grateful your eyes were hidden. You left the room and didn’t look back.

You managed to act normal around Bucky. Well, semi-normal. The rest of the team didn't even seem to notice anything was amiss - you still spoke to Bucky, managed to look at him as if the very sight didn't break your heart, kept a smile on your face.

But that was in front of them. For anything else which wasn't out of necessity or mission-related, you avoided interacting with him. When you woke up in the middle of the night, you no longer plodded into the kitchen, instead staying in your bed, sobbing and staring at the ceiling.

You no longer laughed and joked with him. You turned your attention to the others instead, talking to Steve and Clint and Natasha and whoever else was there, in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that you were trying to keep it together. You wanted to keep your mind distracted.

It was horrible.

Things would not be the same again, at least not for a little while. You needed time to make yourself get over him.

It was easier, when Bucky returned to the compound one night with a blonde on his arm. She was giggling and clinging onto him, and your heart sank when they stumbled into the elevator just as you were making your way to your floor.

You couldn't have been more shocked at the sight of them. Bucky had red prints all over his cheeks, and her lipstick was smeared. The smell of alcohol was in the air.

"You're not supposed to have civilians in here," was the only thing you managed to say, shock infiltrating your system. The blonde giggled.

"Oops."

Bucky only shrugged, his hand slipping into hers as the elevator rose. Your heart clenched.

He was doing this on purpose. He wanted to show you that he had no interest in you, leave you without any doubts. You didn’t know that Bucky had it in him, to be so cruel. If you weren't trying to hold back your tears, you would've almost felt impressed by his antics. The worst thing was, you truly understood why he was doing this.

You think you may have hated him in that moment.

The elevator doors dinged open, and you stumbled out. Tears began prickling in your eyes, and you were sure Bucky could see.

You didn't say anything as you marched to your room, the elevator doors sliding shut.

You had always been good at pretending. Pretending you were happy when you weren't, pretending you were calm when you were furious, pretending you knew the answer when you didn't.

Bucky saw past a lot of that. He could tell when you were lying, could see when you were holding back. He read you like an open book.

He was important to you, and still would be even if he had rejected your confession and rubbed the presence of another girl in your face. You told yourself that it was a good thing - he was performing a service, encouraging you to move on. Besides, he didn't owe you a thing. He could do whatever he wanted with anyone else.

You couldn't lie convincingly to yourself.

Bucky's birthday rolled around all too quickly. You had it marked in your calendar, though you would've remembered even without the reminder.

Despite your conflicted feelings, you wanted to get him a gift. You had planned the perfect one months ago and had enlisted Bruce's help in finding it. You still wanted to see the look on his face when he opened it.

Bucky roamed the hallways on your floor the morning of his birthday, frowning slightly when your bedroom door opened, Bruce appearing in the frame. He caught a glimpse of where you were perched on your bed, face flushed in mild excitement.

Bucky gave Bruce a smile which may have looked more like a grimace, the latter giving him a polite nod before continuing on. Your door swung inwards, but Bucky stuck a hand between it and the frame, poking his head through.

"What's that all about?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

You shuffled something behind your back. You hadn't spoken to Bucky much as of late, barely acknowledging any of the awkward encounters that had occurred in the past months, instead choosing to face him with a professional-politeness.

"Nothing," you said, not particularly aware of what it would look like to have Bruce emerge from your bedroom.

"Is something going on between you two?" he asked directly. He gave a laugh void of humor, the sound escaping him in a huff. "Do you have a thing for emotionally damaged men?" He gestured to himself with his vibranium arm.

The small smile on your lips fell. Anger simmered in your eyes.

How could he? How could he reduce his feelings for you to nothing and stomp on them like it was trash?

You stood and marched towards him, a wave of fury overcoming you, thrusting a wrapped parcel into his hands.

"He helped me get your present, actually. Happy birthday," you spat, watching as Bucky's mouth fell open silently. You pushed past him, unable to look him in the eyes, feeling your stomach twist.

Bucky remained rooted to the spot, fiddling with the wrapping paper hesitantly before he ripped it open.

It was a first edition copy of 'The Grapes of Wrath', excellent condition. The subject of Bucky's favorite books came up after your first encounter when you saw him reading 'The Hobbit'.

"Is it about angry grapes?" you had asked, confused when Bucky laughed. He promised he would buy it and lend you the book one day.

Bucky's ground his teeth, every cell in his body telling him to go after you. But, for all the reasons he had told himself since the day of your confession, he made himself stay put.

Bucky had missed out on a lot in his life since falling off that train in the Austrian Alps. His whole trajectory had changed, and instead of growing old in his century, he found himself in the 21st, thrust into the modern world and navigating his new life.

He always thought, back in the 40s, that he would meet a nice girl and settle down after the war. He would live in a cozy, tiny home and have three kids, maybe four.

He missed out on that and more - though he had been quite the playboy back in his time, he had never experienced true love. He had never met that one woman he would die for.

Bucky had commented off-hand once on how lucky Steve was to meet Peggy before he went into the ice. Steve had reminisced on that with a bittersweet smile, before telling him, you’ll find your Peggy.

Falling in love with you had blindsided him. At first, he viewed you as a friend, a sweet girl who he grew to trust.

Then, he realized that he was slowly being drawn to you, like magnets he couldn’t pull apart. He realized that everything you did was endearing, that you occupied his thought space all the time, that having you around helped him feel comfortable, safe.

You were young, determined, and so innocent. You were somebody who deserved someone as pure and good as you. You weren’t his Peggy - you were something more, so unique and unapologetically you, and he wanted you as his person so badly.

But you deserved someone good. Somebody like Steve, who stood for the best values and only acted for the good of mankind. Not someone morally-gray and jaded like Bucky.

He wanted someone to spend his life with, for sure. If he couldn’t have his idyllic life in the post-war period, then he still wanted to find a partner in this new, still-unfamiliar time.

You fit that profile. He wanted you.

But he would never forgive himself if he weighed you down with his sins.

When you told him you loved him, his heart had broke. He wanted to tell you how much he valued you, how he dreamed of kissing you. He wanted to be a part of your happy ending.

But how much of a happy ending could he really give you? Could he give you children, knowing they would always be in danger from his enemies? Could he give you a wedded, domestic life, when all he knew was how to fight and cause pain?

He had to make his sacrifice for the greater good. Even if he had to crush you, he had to do it.

Someone like Bucky wasn’t supposed to get happy endings. You were, but just not with him.

You couldn't stand to be around him anymore. It was affecting your concentration, your work. It reached a breaking point two weeks after Bucky's birthday, when you requested to speak to Steve privately.

"You want to leave?" he asked, his face appalled.

You nodded curtly. "You’ll still be able to contact me, if you really need me. But I don't think I can stay here anymore."

Steve didn't look as confused at your profession as you expected.

"Is this about Bucky?"

You cringed. God, did he know about everything that happened?

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you," he clarified quickly, "but I can see that something happened. He's not the same, either."

"I'm not in a good place right now," you admitted shamefully. "I'm not saying that this is goodbye forever, Steve. But for my own sanity, I think I need a break."

Steve heaved a sigh. "I know you wouldn't ask unless you really needed it. And you don't need my permission, you know."

"I know," you said, giving him a small smile. "But I just wanted to let you know that I'll be here whenever the team needs it. Emergencies only," you joked. "But for now I think I'll get out of here. Maybe go upstate."

"Have you told him?"

"Don't need to," you said, defensiveness creeping into your voice.

"I think he would like to know."

“We’re not really on speaking terms,” you said bluntly.

Steve clasped a heavy hand on your shoulder. He knew better than to argue. He was sure you’d figure things out for yourself, anyway. “I’ll miss you.”

Now that you had completed the professional courtesy, you decided that you would leave in a few days. You still had some matters to wrap up, and to say goodbye to your teammates. You loved them, and they deserved a proper farewell.

"This isn't goodbye," Nat had said sternly, pulling you into a tight hug. Her voice was quiet and soft in your ear as she whispered, "If you need me, I'll be there."

You squeezed her tight, threatening to tear up. "Thank you."

"Keep your ass out of trouble," Clint had said, winking at you. “And check in with us now and again, yeah?”

Sam was clearly unhappy about everything. And he definitely noticed that you had picked a day to make your announcement when Bucky was conveniently away from the compound.

"Am I gonna see you again?" he asked, raising his eyebrows after you'd embraced.

"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you promised, punching his arm.

You retired to your bedroom that night, sure that Bucky would hear the news later after he came back. You kept your phone switched off and door locked for the rest of the evening, making sure the your belongings were packed.

Just past midnight, you crept out of your room, duffel bag over your shoulder. You made your way through the compound, down the floors into the underground garage. Bucky's motorbike wasn't there - he still hadn't returned.

You were grateful. You climbed into your car, and tossed your belongings in the back. You had to stop thinking about him - if you let yourself do it for too long, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to go.

With a heavy heart, you left this chapter of your life behind.

Your phone rang for days afterwards. Missed calls, voicemails left unanswered, texts left unread.

You couldn't bear to face him. If you pretended he didn't exist, maybe it would ease the pain.

You didn't know where you were driving to. You simply knew you had to get as far away as possible, clear your head. You were at a crossroads, and you needed to pull yourself together, but for now you would allow yourself to wallow.

You had been spending each night in a different motel. Wake up, drive, sleep. Wake up, drive, sleep. You wanted to put as much distance between yourself and Bucky Barnes as possible.

You had no idea how you had gotten everything so wrong. Did you really misinterpret the signals? Was every intimate moment between the two of you simply platonic?

You didn't want to feel so beat up over a guy, but he wasn't just any guy. He was the first man you had ever loved.

Life was funny, sometimes. You supposed that you couldn't always expect happy endings.

You kicked open the door of the latest motel, a bag of takeout in your hands. You noticed the dark, shadowy figure on your bed in an instant, your hand sliding to the dagger sheathed in your belt on reflex. Before your brain even had time to catch up with what you were seeing, you had aimed and launched it, shocked when a familiar voice rang out.

"Calm down, tiger," he rasped. The bedside light flicked on, and Bucky was suddenly there, twirling your dagger between his fingers. He tossed it to the side, letting it land on the carpet with a soft thud.

A week had passed since you last saw him. Seeing him sent an electrifying jolt straight through your core.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. You were shocked, but your first thought was that something terrible had happened. "Is it the team? Are they in danger?"

Bucky looked irate, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His hands were knotted together, worry hiding beneath his anger.

"I've been calling you for days. You left without saying goodbye. Hell, you left without saying anything." His voice was gruff and accusatory.

That gave you the answer you needed. The team were fine, and he was simply here to rant. You felt the initial shock of his appearance wear off.

He stood up and stepped towards you, and that was when you noticed the state he was in. His usually close shaven beard was slightly unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked worn out.

"Yeah," you retorted, "I kind of did that on purpose."

"Why?" His voice was a whisper. "Why would you do that?"

You were exasperated. You did not envision yourself having to explain your decisions to him. His appearance both delighted and depressed you. It was tiring, having these two sides battle each other whenever you saw him. Your love for him versus his heavy rejection.

"I can't be around you anymore," you admitted, your voice tight. "I thought I could, but I can't."

"Why the hell not?" he pressed stubbornly.

"You know why!" you cried out. "Why are you doing this to me, Bucky? I told you I loved you and, okay, you don't love me. Fair enough," you said, frustrated. "But to go out of your way to hurt me? Remind me that I'm nothing more than a friend? Bring other girls back to the compound so you can fuck them?"

Bucky flinched. "I never - "

"No!" you shouted, cutting him off. "You don't get to do this, Bucky." You felt wetness on your cheeks, and realized you were crying. It only made you more exasperated. "You don't get to tear my heart out of my chest and come here when I've been trying to get away from you."

He stormed up to you, hands reaching for you, but you batted him away.

"Don't!" Your hand hit his chest, barely moving him an inch. "Just stop! Please!" Your voice broke, and you shook with tears. The dam had broke, and seeing him here was just too much.

"Please don't cry," he pleaded, his face anguished.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice breaking. "What do you want from me?"

Bucky looked so upset, taking another step forward, but you walked backwards until you hit the door.

"You don't want me," you exclaimed through your tears. You needed him to understand how much pain you were in just by seeing him. "You can't be here, Bucky. I can't look at you and remember how you just don't love me back."

Bucky pulled you into his arms, tightening them when you struggled. He was stronger than you - you had no choice but to become a prisoner against his chest. You were crying as you had many times before in his hold, but this time it felt different. Your heart was pounding and you were aching, wanting to melt into him but also aware of the anger and sadness flaring within you. It was torture.

"It hurts too much," you managed to get out through your wailing sobs.

He didn't say anything until you stilled. He let you cry, your tears soaking through his shirt. Your quiet sniffs and hiccups accompanied his words when he finally spoke.

"You weren't supposed to appear in my life," he said, his voice tense. "You weren't supposed to be so wonderful, so comforting. You made me feel so safe."

You didn't say anything, confusion rendering you temporarily speechless.

"I thought I was fine on my own. I've been a soldier all my life, just focusing on fighting everyone else's battles. And then I met you."

You had no idea where this was going as Bucky's arms seemed to tighten all the more around you.

"It felt...strange, how I wanted to kiss you. How I wanted you there, next to me, all the time.”

You looked up at Bucky, really taking in his exhausted eyes, his chapped lips, the way he was looking at you now with an exquisite softness.

"I felt like I was doing something wrong. I thought - I don't want to - ruin you," he said. "You are so young and have your whole future ahead of you and I didn't want to bring you down with all of me. My history, my demons, my baggage. And I ended up hurting you."

A spark of hope appeared, wanting to ignite into a flame. You expelled a shaky breath.

"Do you love me?" you asked, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued to hold you.

He nodded, his words like velvet. "How could I not? Of course I love you."

Of course, he said. But your insecurities prevailed, and you shook your head.

"You did a good job of hiding it," you said sadly.

Bucky closed his eyes regretfully.

"I know. I don't know what I was thinking. I thought if I could push you away, make you fall out of love with me, you would find someone worthy."

"What makes you think you're not worthy?" you retorted.

"Some days, I feel like no amount of good deeds I do can redeem me," he murmured.

"Bucky," you said slowly. "You're one of the best men I've ever known. Your heart is so kind."

"I'm sorry." He grasped one of your hands, brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Part of me thought you would shrug, get over it and find someone else."

Your smile was full of sorrow. "Then you have no idea how much you truly mean to me.

Bucky cupped the side of your face. Seeing you in this state had truly been a wake up call for him. When he found out you had left the compound, all his resolve had crumbled. He realized that he had hurt you so deeply that you couldn’t physically be around him. That was when he knew that the connection between the two of you was too rare to let it slip, when he felt an immense pain at the idea of never seeing you again.

Having you in front of him now was heartbreaking. Your eyes were puffy, and you looked tired and so frail. He loved you, and you were supposed to take care of the people you loved. He swore on his life that he would dedicate himself to showing you what you really meant to him.

"When you asked me what I'm doing here," Bucky said, a hopeful smile on his face, "It's to tell you that I love you, so much. And I'm here to take you home."

You nodded, fresh tears filling your eyes, except this time they were borne from happiness.

"Let's go."

He had already packed your belongings for you, you realized when he released you to hoist your bags over his shoulder, which he had placed by the door. He paused, slipping his hand into his pocket and placing a tiny kid-sized carton into your hand. "Almost forgot. For the journey."

Chocolate milk.

You threw your arms around him, jumping to hook your legs around his hips. He dropped your bags as you kissed him, his hands reaching to support your thighs as he returned it with equal passion.

"This room is paid for," you gasped into his mouth. "Let's go back tomorrow."

He was silent when he walked back to fall onto the bed with you on top of him, his mouth never once leaving yours.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky oneshot #bucky fanfic

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e-m-ma-lmfao · 2 months

Note

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream.

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours.

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.”

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand.

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.”

“Can you even talk to him?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?”

“He’s training..”

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible.

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable.

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh.

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..”

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth.

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.”

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth.

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face.

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.”

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.”

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care.

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you.

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught.

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again.

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?”

“He saw me.”

“What?”

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine.

“This is so pathetic…”

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.”

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you.

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too.

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious.

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?”

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.”

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.”

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack.

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood.

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.”

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently.

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking.

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you.

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes.

“I see now..”

“See what?”

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?”

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost.

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?”

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing.

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours.

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?”

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?”

“For not talking to you.”

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone.

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.”

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips.

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again.

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red.

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly.

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw.

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed.

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly.

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

#x reader #oneshot #drabble #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #ff7 #sephiroth ff7 #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy vii #female reader #fem reader

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i23kazu · 5 months

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♡ YOU AND I'VE BECOME A SACRED KIND OF HOME

characters. xiao diluc kaeya childe wriothesley alhaitham x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. sometimes, settling into loving each other just needs to happen. title is from HSMTMTS " love you forever "! | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

his love is... strange. it's sweet in his own way. when he starts loving you, you actually don't realise it. they're never big gestures that start waving heart flags in your face with a plane that spells a contrail – i love (y/n)! no, his love is subtle and his love is sweet. watch as his hands start to inch closer towards yours, until his whole hand is on top of yours. look up once more, glance at him sweetly, and look at how he's he's blushing turned away from you.

diluc

his love... oh, it's just filled with goodness. his world is so much more colourful, so much more filled with light – your light. kiss him gently on the forehead as he drifts off to sleep, and watch his face loosen, whatever tension from the day just melting away from a second of your touch. there's a familiar spark in his eyes, one that his brother recognises.

kaeya

his love... may be hard to understand, at first. after all, this is a man who had been loved so hard and so fiercely – until that one fateful day, where it was snatched from his grip. it is hard for him to trust and love with the same vigour that he used to. please be patient with him, because when the ice cracks, and his warmth shines below, it will all be worth it.

childe

his love is sweet, but soon turns.. sour? some days, when you're alone and wishing for his presence, it feels like someone had ripped off the rose-coloured glasses from you. the bed is a little colder and there's always a mug unwashed on the rack, and every thing seems to remind you of his lack of presence. don't worry too much, darling, because your chest will feel warm and whole again once you hear the doorknob click open.

wriothesley

his love is unfamiliar – unlike anyone's you've ever seen. it's shiny and hard but also pillowy and soft and it's a mishmash of sounds, tastes, textures, colours, patterns – it's confusing. wriothesley is confusing. but that doesn't mean that he wants it to be that way, though – loving someone everyday isn't a feeling, but rather a choice. it's a choice that you both make. when you fit like pieces of a puzzle together, that's when the moment of clarity comes through – that he loves you.

alhaitham

his love is hard. it's metallic and unpleasant at first, a hard clash of what you think love is, versus what he thinks love is. no, he's not unromantic – he just prefers to show his love to you in a more practical way, and sometimes that practical way doesn't get translated properly to your head-in-the-clouds self. getting annoyed when you pay for things starts to look like him wanting you to sit down and let him treat you – so, start looking at things from his perspective, and you'll soon see that there's more than meets the eye for this scholar.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp @starglitterz @rin-nyrasti-writes @mxyarylla @starchivves (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-)

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thatdeadaquarius · 3 months

Note

I have a random idea for some sagau crack loosely based on my dynamic with my friend so Im giving it to you because I have been enjoying your sagau language stuff :D

Imagine there are two readers that are two different people. Like, not as in clones they are just two separate people that are rlly good friends on earth. They both really like genshin and play the game, and they both have self aware teyvat citizens. Reader 1 is a whale. They invest a l o t of money on the game, have all the characters, and all the characters have five star weapons. They are like the usual sagau reader you see. They have used up so much money on getting all of the characters, and I mean A L L of them, best weapons, constellations and put a lot of care into it. The place where they really get to show off is their knowledge and love for the lore, and are really invested into it and read all of the artifact descriptions and books. They know about primordial one, the four shining shades, random useless facts about items and often rant to reader 2 about their theories. Their quest bar is always empty because they did them to check out the lore of the game, and are always searching for more lore. They basically play everyday and are always reacting and talking to the characters out loud, unaware that they can hear them.

Meanwhile, Reader 2 is a f2p who is only interested in the archon quest lore and the lore of their fav characters. Because they are f2p, their options are limited so there is some blatant favoritism. They choose their fav character to save up for, and then pull for them. After they get the character they want, they will no longer pull and save up from there. Because of this, they only have like 5 five stars and only have zero five star weapon. Their favourite character is their main(*cough* wanderer *cough*), and unlike reader 1 who uses all of their characters regularly, reader 2 sticks to this character for most of their gameplay unless they need to use someone else. However, reader 2 takes almost an entire month to finish building a character, because they go overboard with the artifact stats. You would expect to normally have a 50 180 crit ratio, but reader 2’s dps characters always, and I mean ALWAYS have 50 200 crit ratio or more. Like, their main (it doesnt have to be wanderer but Im putting him here anyways) has 70 and 200 crit ratio, is crowned, full 4 pc best in slot, and is even crowned and faruzan only needs like 200 er but reader 2 gave them 300. (Im totally not putting this here because this is what I did/j) Reader 2 is also the type to never speak while gaming, so the first time they spoke everyone turned it into a national holiday to be celebrated. They also play a lot less than player 1. Player 1 plays everyday while player 2 plays for a month straight and then takes a long break to wait for the content to pile up.

So these two gremlin besties are always speaking with each other, and are always on coop. Whenever player 1 needs help making team comps or building characters, they just ask player 2 for help. And whenever player 2 needs help understanding the lore of the game, they ask player 1. But all I can think abt is the first time they cooped. Imagine player 1 was using childe and then when the coop starts, both childe and wanderer are very confused as to wtf is going on. Like, childe is confused because he sensed a strange aura coming form them like whenever someone gets controlled by reader 1, and wanderer is confused because reader 2 seemed so excited that they were talking, but its just childe? Reader 2 always skips childe’s banners.

Thats it lol, hope this wasnt too long.

Not long at all! Or more like, I like long asks so feel free to share! :D

IM SO SORRY ITS LIKE MONTHS LATER TO GET TO YOU I PROMISE I LOVE UR STUFF AND AM SUPER EXCITED TO SEE IT,

IM JUST SLOW AND GOOFY 😭😭

Said friends in genshin like: ^^^

this kinda inspires me/reminds me of @mists-reading-nook soldier/poet/king post, you should check xe stuff!! Gave me brainrot to this day tbh, like im imaging how that “3rd King style of worship” would look like even now lmao ive been down bad 😭

☆

Sun: 2 Readers! (as desc. above), (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: wanderer/childe, mentions of others i forgot to focus on any one character or nation :/

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing language, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

dual symbolism everywhere, obv you both thought “for the twins” but it just kept getting out of hand the more the game updated over the months lol

like shrines/temples/churches showing up more often in new countries/areas and always identifying the same 2 gods

obv the for-the-lore player picked up on it first, and by the time the trickle-down effect happened, where characters/NPCs were outright talking about these gods, the 2nd was asking the lore knower to explain lol

the 2 gods kept getting referred to by a few names, like “The Soldier and the Scholar” or “The Sage and the Warrior” or “The Keeper and the Pursuer” etc.

after awhile of comparing both of your games, you realize that some vision users/gods tend to use the soldier/warrior/pursuer titles more often when talking about one of you, and the other gets the sage/scholar/keeper more often

u both get excited, maybe its bc you chose diff travelers or some other reason, but when u try and post abt it or otherwise ask other players u get a lot of negatives/”hasnt happened for me”s??

u both just think the games glitched or some dev is playing a prank on you two maybe,

it gets weirder when u both realize the lore player be over here getting random gifts from all the characters in the mail all the time

and just as grinding players like “ :’( my favs don't like me?? but they have the best artifacts and maxed friendship levels..”

they get flooded with multiple gifts from their main characters, most of which benefit the grind tbh lmao (like a bunch of cheaper materials or crystals to level up artifacts/weapons or to ascend that character = no more slaughtering every samurai on sight for their handguards or collected a fuckton of those blue layered mushrooms for wanderer)

god u were both grateful to this glitch ngl, it saved a lot of dumb misc tasks and was just a nice touch

no but the amount of confusion inside the game from when u first started playing together, like each of ur games began with stuff abt 1 god, then as u co-oped moved onto 2 gods (like said at the beginning)

the lore player is blabbing away like you do, which begins to be heard by the other player’s game world

like it starts as whispers in battle, then all the time, then a quiet convo in the background all the time, until they can just hear u out of earshot esp word for word when they focus!! at first the vision-users/gods got all excited bc their god was speaking!! finally!!! until I'm sure they heard narration that didn't fit/it was there sometimes even when their god’s presence wasn't?/voice sounded “off” to them/didnt fit their god…??

ok ik u were joking abt the national holiday,,, but I’m not. 😈

THE FIRST WORDS 2ND SPOKE BEING IN A PROPHECY, REGARDLESS OF WHAT IT IS THEY SAY.

Player 1, playing as Childe, steals a singular (1) sweet flower from Player 2, who has Wanderer out:

P2: “I seriously hate you. Listen to what I’m saying, I can’t stand you.”

(Wanderer panicking that its abt him- Childe freezing bc he managed to piss off a god that feels as powerful as his own- the PROPHECY LMAO- )

P1: “… you miss me.”

(everyone else: 💥vine boom sound 💥😦😨😰???)

P2: “I hate you.”

P1: “You miss me and you love me, why must we fight??”

(everyone else: 💥vine boom again💥🤨🫠??…)

P2: “I hate you-”

P1: “-we gotta good thing going on, you and I, why must we tussle??”

(everyone else: 💥yet another vine boom💥 💀💀)

(the absolute deep anxiety/pure confusion as the two harbingers heads just ping pong back and forth towards the voices lmao)

u two scare the shit out of any characters u do this with lol

they do get used to it as u talk, and the characters even manage to interact (thru hacking magical shenanigans and discord)

to send thank you gifts to player 1 for getting player 2 to talk more lol

along with sending copies of any lore books that player 2 has gotten that player 1 hasn't!

and it becomes common/tradition to exchange gifts like this to thank or appreciate the other god, like player 1 characters sending thank you gift copies of rare materials or ascension stuff that player 1 had that player 2 didn't (esp making sure to send during resinless hours lmao)

overall, 10/10, whats better than 1 god that plays one way? 2 gods that compensate for each other and now u have 2x the worshippers

(i wonder how meeting alternate versions of themselves would go, bc id like to headcanon that each of ur behavior towards them/ur unique influence has changed them a bit comparing, like they arent carbon copies anymore, not like they used to be…)

☆

hey sorry for slowing down guys!!

i just feel bad its taken me forever to get to these asks, so i wanted to take what time i could lately and charge thru them so i could spam post lol

I've also been working on fics! so that's delayed things by a lot, bc fics take longer to “respond to” than short asks or replies

my poor bsd fic

Anyway thank you so much for sending this in!!! I'm so sorry i took forever to get to it, and i hope u enjoyed response/my brain shitting this out lol

have a good weekend!! :D

Safe Travels Anon!!

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

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@kiyomi-uchiha777

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hayatheauthor · 6 months

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Everything You Need To Know About Writing Bruises

Welcome to the latest instalment in my ongoing series on crafting realistic wounds in fiction. After delving into stab wounds, burns, and gunshot wounds, we're turning our attention to another crucial element in bringing your characters and their stories to life: bruises.

Bruises are possibly the most common miswritten injury in fiction. As tempting as it might be to make the protagonist's skin bruise when the morally grey characters clutches her wrist, scenes like this only serve to ruin immersion and make your readers wonder whether this could realistically happen.

Unlike the other wound types I've covered in this series, the internet doesn't seem to have a lot of writing advice for bruises. So, here's my comprehensive guide to writing bruises.

Types of Bruises

Understanding Bruise Formation:

Bruises are a common occurrence in everyday life, from the accidental bump into a table corner to the aftermath of an intense sporting event. But before we dive into the art of crafting realistic bruises in your writing, let's start by understanding how bruises form.

Bruises, also known as contusions, result from the rupture of blood vessels beneath the skin's surface, typically veins and capillaries. When these vessels break, blood leaks into the surrounding tissue. The body's natural response to this injury is to initiate the healing process, causing inflammation and discolouration.

Differentiating Types of Bruises:

Not all bruises are created equal. Understanding the various types of bruises will help you describe them accurately in your writing. Here, we'll explore the common distinctions among bruise types.

Contusions: Contusions are the most typical type of bruises. They often occur due to blunt force or trauma, resulting in pain and discolouration.

Subcutaneous Bruises: These are the most typical bruises resulting from blunt force trauma. Subcutaneous bruises appear as dark, discoloured areas under the skin and can change in colour as they heal, starting with red or purple and transitioning to green, yellow, and eventually fading away.

Hematoma: A hematoma is a more severe type of bruise caused by the collection of blood outside of blood vessels. Hematomas often appear as a raised lump under the skin and can take longer to heal.

Petechiae: Petechiae are tiny, red or purple pinpoint spots that can form when small blood vessels near the skin's surface break. These are often a sign of more severe underlying medical conditions.

Ecchymosis: Ecchymosis is a large bruise that covers a wider area, typically caused by substantial trauma or medical conditions. These bruises tend to be darker and may require more time to heal.

Tattoo Bruises: Sometimes, an object's pattern or texture may leave a distinct mark, resembling a tattoo. These can occur when someone is subjected to direct pressure from an object with an intricate or textured surface.

These distinctions will enable you to convey the type of bruise accurately in your storytelling, reflecting the nature and severity of the injury your character has endured. So, when crafting a scene in which your character sustains a bruise, you can choose the type that best suits your narrative.

Causes of Bruises:

Bruises can occur for various reasons, and knowing these causes will help you craft believable narratives. It's important to note that not every physical interaction results in a bruise, and your characters shouldn't bruise from actions that typically don't lead to bruising. For instance, someone holding another person's arm tightly is unlikely to cause a bruise.

Common Causes of Bruises:

Blunt Force: The most common cause of bruises is blunt force trauma. This can occur from falls, accidents, or impacts, such as bumping into furniture or being struck by an object.

Pinching or Squeezing: Intense pinching or squeezing, especially on delicate skin areas, can lead to bruises. For example, if a character pinches their arm or thigh too hard in frustration, a bruise may develop.

Repetitive Motion: Overusing or repeatedly striking a particular area, like through strenuous exercise or certain work activities, can cause tiny blood vessels to rupture and lead to bruising.

Medical Conditions: Some medical conditions, like blood disorders or certain medications, can make a person more prone to bruising.

Ageing: As skin becomes thinner and more fragile with age, it's more susceptible to bruising even from minor bumps or impacts.

It's crucial to consider the appropriateness of a bruise in your story. Understanding when and how a character can realistically develop a bruise will help maintain the credibility of your narrative.

Characteristics of Bruises:

Accurately depicting bruises in your writing involves considering various characteristics, such as:

Colour Changes: Bruises typically undergo a series of colour changes during the healing process. They usually start with shades of red, purple, or blue due to the initial bleeding under the skin. As the bruise heals, it can turn green, yellow, or brown before fading entirely. These colour shifts can be an essential detail when describing the progression of a character's injuries.

Size and Shape: The size and shape of a bruise depend on the impact's force and the underlying blood vessels' distribution. Bruises can be small, like a fingertip mark, or large, covering a significant portion of the body. Irregularly shaped bruises may indicate multiple impacts or trauma.

Tenderness and Swelling: A fresh bruise is often tender to the touch, and the area around it may be swollen. Describing your characters' reactions to this tenderness and swelling can make the injuries feel more lifelike.

Pain and Discomfort: Bruises can be painful, and the level of pain may vary depending on their size and location. Detailing your character's pain and discomfort can enhance the realism of your narrative.

Itching and Healing: As a bruise heals, it may become itchy. This can be an interesting detail to add, showing the progress of the injury and your character's recovery.

Duration: Mention the duration of a bruise. Some may heal relatively quickly, while others can linger for weeks. Knowing how long a character's bruise lasts can impact their daily life and the story's timeline.

Factors Affecting Bruise Appearance and Healing:

Bruises aren't one-size-fits-all injuries. Their appearance and healing process can vary based on several factors:

Location: Bruises can look different depending on where they occur on the body. For instance, a bruise on a bony area, like the shin, might appear more pronounced compared to a bruise on a fleshier part, like the thigh.

Age and Health: The age and overall health of your character play a significant role. Younger, healthier characters may heal faster and have bruises that change colour and fade more quickly. Conversely, older characters or those with health issues might have bruises that take longer to heal.

The severity of the Injury: The force and severity of the impact determine the size, shape, and colours of the bruise. Consider whether the injury was caused by a minor bump, a hard fall, or a violent struggle.

Character's Skin Tone: The appearance of a bruise can be affected by the character's skin tone. It might be more challenging to spot a bruise on darker skin, and the colours may appear differently.

Treatment and First Aid: The way a character treats a bruise can affect its healing. Mention how characters apply ice, warmth, or topical remedies to their bruises.

Character's Pain Tolerance: Some characters may have a higher pain tolerance and can bear a bruise without much discomfort, while others might find even a small bruise painful.

Clothing and Cover-Up: Characters may conceal bruises with clothing or makeup. This can impact how they are perceived by others.

By understanding these factors, you can tailor your descriptions to create a more authentic portrayal of bruises in your writing.

Healing Process of Bruises:

A key element in writing realistic bruises is depicting their healing process. Here's how to effectively describe it:

Gradual Changes: Highlight the evolving nature of the bruise over time. The progression of colours—red to blue, green, and yellow—is a visual cue that indicates the bruise's age. This chronological shift in colour offers readers insights into the passage of time within your narrative.

Concealment and Exposure: Address the issue of concealing or revealing the bruise. Depending on its location, characters may need to don concealing clothing, apply makeup, or use other means to hide or reveal their injuries. Such choices can significantly impact the character's interactions and relationships.

Medical Care: Mention whether the character seeks medical attention for their bruise. Medical professionals can provide insights into the severity of the injury and the potential complications that might arise during the healing process. Additionally, you can explore any treatments, remedies, or advice offered by healthcare providers.

Impact on the Character: Describe how the presence of a bruise affects the character's daily life, activities, and interactions with others. A prominent facial bruise, for instance, can influence the character's self-esteem, social interactions, or how they are perceived by those around them. Emotions and psychological effects should not be overlooked.

Varied Healing Timelines: Recognize that the healing process can vary from one character to another. Factors such as age, overall health, and the severity of the injury can affect how quickly the bruise fades. This variation can add depth and authenticity to your character's experiences.

Scarring and Discoloration: Note that severe injuries may leave lasting scars or discolouration on the skin. Explore any permanent marks or changes that remain after the bruise has healed.

By incorporating these aspects into your narrative, you can create a nuanced portrayal of the healing process of bruises and its impact on your characters.

I hope this blog on Everything You Need To Know About Writing Bruises will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

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Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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eideticallys · 11 months

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I Don't Mind If It's You

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe styling spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

genre: fluff

word count: 1081

author's notes: i missed spencer's long hair so i decided to write a self-indulging fic about playing with his hair. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

SPENCER HAS ALWAYS FOREGONE STYLING HIS HAIR IN THE MORNINGS. He always thought as long as he could just flick the strands of hair behind his ear, he was good to go. And besides, he had a hair tie with him. He could just simply tie it back—no more pesky hair in his line of sight.

He has always foregone styling his hair in the mornings until he met you. While he was big on practicality & “Hairstyling is a waste of time”!” You were the exact opposite.

It’s quite a funny thing to think about. Spencer, a certified germaphobe, was uncaring about how his hair looked, whether it was kept well today or it looked like a bird’s nest the next. And then, there’s you. You’re not a germaphobe though you pride yourself as a chic woman. Not a law enforcement job could stop you from looking like you came straight out of a magazine.

You always found the time to make sure your hair looked pretty and presentable before heading to work. In your free time—quite rare for FBI agents—you liked to read magazines for trendy new styles to try or watch videos online for tutorials.

And today was definitely your lucky day. No case. Everyone is off for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that’s where your luck ended.

You got injured during your last case. Your arm is in a cast, unable to move it around like you wanted it to. Fortunately, your hand was still good & thankfully, uninjured, unlike the rest of your arm. So, although you were free to lounge around your home, you couldn’t try that one hairstyle you found in one of those Cosmopolitan articles.

Until a genius idea came to you like a light bulb turning on.

“Hey, Spence?”

You asked your boyfriend, who was busy skimming through what seemed like his third or fourth book of the day.

He’s so cute when he’s all focused like this, you thought.

He hummed in response, still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pages.

“I have a favor to ask you.”

This made Spencer look up from what he was reading, staring at you questioningly. You were the type of person who never asked for help or favors—unless needed. You often disagreed with him because he would prefer it if you told him whatever problem you had. Although he was a genius and could help with you, he knew lending an ear to someone was already a big help.

"You know I can't move my arm around, right?" You asked him, to which he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, is it itchy?” He asked, about to go off on one of his notable tangents. “It takes around six to eight weeks for broken bones in casts to heal. Also, around that time, the injured area starts to itch.”

You nodded fondly at the man, not minding a little bit that he went off-topic. You love listening to his mini-lectures—not only do you learn something new, but you’d also hear the soft tone of his voice. One thing about Spencer is he had a pretty voice. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“There are five main reasons why your casts itch—nerves, trapped moisture, immune response, dead skin cells, and body hair.” Spencer continued tattling. “Nerves cause itchiness because the nerve endings in the skin may fire as the cast begins to harden and dry, sending itch-inducing signals to the brain. As for the itchiness being an immune response, it ensues when the body perceives the plaster of Paris or fiberglass as an outside invader. Histamines may be released. Itching, redness, and swelling can be brought on by released histamine.”

With his excitement to share facts about how broken bones heal, you couldn’t help but laugh at how dorky but adorable your boyfriend was, which made him scrunch his nose.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t mind. I like it.”

At this, Spencer’s ears started turning pink, making you chuckle some more. He scratched the back of his neck in shyness as you took it as a clue to tell him what you needed from him.

“My arm isn’t itchy, babe,” you began, “What I need from you is your hair.”

“My what?”

“Your hair.”

It was your turn to get shy. You knew Spencer wasn’t a big fan of having his hair messed with. It’s not that he hates it. He just doesn’t like messing with it that much—minus the occasional flicking behind his ear and simply tying it back when it gets irritating.

“I—um,” you explained further, trying to fight against the embarrassment you were feeling. This was your boyfriend you’re talking to! “I saw this cute new hairstyle online and I wanted to try it but you know, with the broken arm and all…” You trailed off.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You chuckled humorlessly, beyond embarrassed at this point.

This was such a bad idea. Why did you even bring it up? You were about to start berating yourself, ready to hop onto the next train and create a new identity for yourself, when you noticed Spencer shuffling towards you, sitting on the floor between your legs.

“You want me to style your hair?” You asked incredulously, still can’t believe Spencer would let you play with his hair.

“Of course.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

Like it was an everyday thing for anyone—you—to do his hair.

“I don’t mind my hair being played with if it’s you.”

At that, you blushed as you started combing through his soft curls with your fingers. Spencer merely smiled softly at the gesture and closed his eyes.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Yeah?” You asked back as you started braiding his hair. “What is it, Spence?”

“I love you.” He muttered. “I may not like it when people touch my hair out of nowhere. But if it’s you, I don’t mind having you do it for the rest of my life.”

You gasped at his sudden confession and were about to say those three words back when you felt it.

Spencer planted a kiss on your injured arm and pulled your other one down, so he could be face-to-face with you. And before you knew it, his lips brushed against yours, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

Maybe styling Spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

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talesofely · 4 months

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Save My Tears (2)

A Sequel (Part 2) to The (Wo)Man Who Can't Be Moved. (Part 1)

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary : Natasha's your ex-girlfriend, she broke up with you without giving you a solid reason as to why. Obviously, you want her back. One problem, she's unofficially dating Bucky Barnes. So you decided to solve it with a little performance.

Warnings : Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending (or is it?😏), swearing, one line used 'her' as reader's pronouns, pls tell me if u see anything else

Word Count : 2.1k

Note : here's pt2 ! pls let my family go now :c

Natasha.

Natasha didn't want to attend tonight's party. 'Cause the last party she went to was with you. The last party she went to, she was clinging onto your arm. The last party she went to, she slept in your arms.

Unlike you, who always asked if you could be her date for the night, Bucky asked her to be his date for tonight. Normally Natasha wouldn't notice those miniscule things, but it was just so different from you.

Unlike you, who always insisted on picking her up from her room, Bucky just waited for her at the elevator.

Bucky brought her a bouquet of roses when they met at the elevator! You never bought her a bouquet of real roses... cause you always gave her paper ones, ones you knew she would appreciate more since they don't wither.

Bucky asked how he looked and said that Natasha looked perfect to be his date. You always told her she looked amazing, and joked about not looking good enough to be her date.

Bucky bought her a drink and a stronger drink for himself, like a gentleman. You always got the lesser alcoholic ones since you wanted to stay sober enough to take care of her in case she gets drunk.

She hated comparing him to you. But she couldn't help it. His arms just don't compare to yours.

She shook her head to clear away any thoughts about you, wanting to focus on her night with Bucky. She subconsciously searched the crowds for you, but she couldn't find that y/h/c hair that she could always find in the midst of the crowds.

Bucky asked her to dance. They stood in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. Everyone's eyes were on them, she didn't like it. You always knew she felt uncomfortable being the center of attention. Bucky seemed to like it, though.

She saw how Bucky signaled Steve to sing. Mouthing a song title she wasn't able to read. Steve seemed skeptical at first, but the questioning look from Bucky caused him to concede and sing the song.

When 'Wonderful Tonight' started playing, Natasha's eyes winded. It was your song. The song you always sang to her. The song you two danced together. She's dancing it again, just not with you.

She tried her best to smile, and tried her best to not imagine you as she danced with Bucky.

She remembered how you used to sing the song in her ear as you two slowly danced around the kitchen, at 2am, using the refrigerator light as light, whenever she had nightmares.

"Oh, my darling, you were wonderful tonight" You—Bucky—whispered in her ear as the song came to an end. You—Bucky—kissed her forehead as you two pulled away.

She was going to excuse herself to the bathroom to clear out her thoughts when the next singer caught her attention.

It was you.

I saw you dancing in a crowded room

You look so happy when I'm not with you

You looked so breathtaking, she thought. Oh how she would've loved to arrive and leave with her in your arms. But she couldn't. She was in Bucky's arms.

"Hey, everyone. I hope y'all are having an amazing night. I do hope you enjoy these songs I'm about to play." You said as you clicked the instrumental version of the song you chose, on the tablet.

She couldn't deny how much she missed your voice. How much she longs to hear that voice say those 8 letters she used to hear everyday from you.

But then you saw me, caught you by surprise

A single teardrop falling from your eye

When your eyes met, she didn't know what to feel. She didn't know whether to feel happy, to feel sad, to feel hurt, or to feel angry that she let you go.

That bittersweet smile you gave her, hurt her in ways she didn't even know was possible. She got shot before, she got stabbed, she got punched and kicked multiple times before, but this type of pain is something she's never experienced before.

She wanted to run up to the stage and beg for your forgiveness while hugging you tightly when she saw the single tear falling from your eye.

I don't know why I run away

I made you cry when I run away

She left before the song ended. She ran away, again. She ran to the rooftop. The place where you two always ran together to.

She didn't even notice Bucky following her.

Wanda Immediately approached you when you got off stage. She pulled you into a hug before pointing at the stairway up to the rooftop.

"She's up there. Go follow her, please. Bucky followed her, I'm worried it might not end well for Bucky." She said with a wince, remembering the last time someone tried to approach Natasha while she had so many emotions running.

You bit your lower lip, your hesitation was strong. But the worried look from Wanda was enough to make you run up.

"Leave me alone for a minute, Buck." You heard Natasha say, trying to control her emotions. Her hands are gripping the rails so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

"What's wrong Tash?" The nickname he used wasn't helping. You used to call her that all the time.

"Please, Bucky, just 5 minutes. Please." She pleaded, you noticed her grip was getting tighter.

"Just tell me what's wrong, Natasha!" He raised his voice. Something you never did in all your years you two dated.

"For fuck's sake I still love her! I still fucking love Y/N so much, that it actually hurts! Is that what you wanted to hear?!" Natasha finally screamed back, turning to face Bucky directly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Я так скучаю по ней, Bucky, which is stupid cause I was the one who broke her heart. So I have no right to act like it hurts me more, but it still hurts so much." She murmured, not even caring that she was crying in front of Bucky. (translation : I miss her so much.)

"What?" Bucky couldn't believe it. He thought they were both in love, he was even going to ask her to be his girlfriend officially tonight. "Leave, please." Natasha forced herself to calm down, glaring at Bucky as he shamefully walked towards the stairwell where you were.

When Bucky saw you, he tried his best to give you a genuine smile. "Her heart's still yours. Don't lose it." He said as he gave your shoulder a pat and walked away.

You took a deep breath before approaching Natasha.

"Tasha." Just one word from you was enough to gain Natasha's attention. She turned around in surprise, wiping her tears hastily.

"Y/N? What're you doing here?" She tried her best to act calm, using all her spy skills to act collected in front of you. But you both know that you could see right through it.

"Was it true, Natasha? You told Bucky you still love me. Were you telling the truth?" You asked carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her. You leaned your back against the railings beside her, she had her arms leaning against it as she looked at the busy streets below.

"What are you going to do if I said yes?" She answered your question with her own question. You just shrugged, staring up into the stars.

You felt her shiver when a particularly strong wind blew past you. Instinctively, you gave her your jacket.

You could've asked me why I broke your heart

You could've told me that you fell apart

"Why aren't you asking me why I left? Why I ran away? Why aren't you screaming at me? Why aren't you mad at me?" She said after you placed your jacket on her shoulders. She was frustrated at herself for ending things with you. She was also frustrated as to why you weren't hating her like she thinks she deserves.

"What's the point of getting mad? Being mad at you won't get you back, it won't help me understand why you left either." She hated how understanding you were. It made her guilt grow bigger with every word you say.

"I really want to ask something though," She looked at you expectantly, thinking of possible questions you could ask. "Why'd you run away?" You felt her breath hitch when you finally let those words leave your tongue. You were also nervous yourself, not knowing what to expect from your ex-girlfriend.

"I was scared." She took a deep breath before continuing, "You're just too perfect. We were so perfect that it terrified me. Nothing stays that good that long. Everything had consequences. Maybe the consequence for me was that you moved on so quickly."

But you walked past me like I wasn't there

And just pretended like you didn't care

Your brows furrowed. 'You moved on too quickly'?

"But I haven't moved on, Nat. What gave you the idea that I already did?"

"You just walk past me everyday at the compound ever since you returned. I thought you didn't care about it anymore." She finally looked at you, both your eyes meeting like they were always destined to meet.

"'Cause I didn't want to hold you back, Natasha. I thought it'd help us both move on if we acted like nothing happened. I guess it didn't, I'm sorry." You were always so nice. Natasha hated it. She hated the fact that she feels like she's abusing your kindness and that she couldn't do anything about it.

Take me back 'cause I wanna stay

Save your tears for another

"Does that mean you still love me?" Natasha hesitantly asked, biting her lower lip.

"Of course, Tash." You said with a small sad smile. A smile immediately made itsm's way to her face. But when she saw your smile, her's faltered and her brows furrowed.

"I'm assuming there's a 'but' to that sentence?"

You nodded slowly, giving her a smile that made her worries grow.

"I never stopped loving you, Tasha, just... not in the same way as before." Natasha felt her heart drop. No matter how much she tried to stop the tears from falling, she couldn't stop them when she heard those words from you.

"What do you mean, Y/N?"

Yeah, I broke your heart like someone did to mine

And now you won't love me for a second time

You bit your lower lip, trying to find the right words to explain it properly to her.

"I still love you, but you hurt me, Tasha. I understand you got scared, but if you really loved me you would've told me. You should've explained your feelings and worries to me. We could've gotten through that together." You hated seeing her cry, more so being the reason she's crying. But you needed to tell her this, you both needed it to move on.

"I'm sorry. Does that mean we— you don't want me back anymore?" She asked in a voice so quiet you could barely hear it.

I realize that I'm much too late

And you deserve someone better

Your smile broke all her hopes. She started sobbing quietly, something she's never done before. She's a silent crier, so hearing her sob hurts you way more than you expected. You immediately pulled her into a hug, confusing her but her mind was too foggy to even question it. Her arms instinctively went around your neck as she buried her face into the crook of your neck.

Save your tears for another day

"Of course I want you back, silly. I'm just saying that we need to work to get back to where we were before. I won't ever let you go again, Natasha, so please don't let go either." You whispered into her ear. Every part of Natasha came back to life the moment those words left your lips.

You felt her hug you tighter. You continued to whisper comforting words to calm her down, as she whispered promises to you as well.

"You are the only sure thing in a world filled with a thousand doubts, Natalia. Please don't walk away again." You murmured, feeling her nodding her head hastily.

"Never again, my love. You're the only thing that keeps me sane. I love you." She pulled away from the hug to cup your cheeks and close the gap between your lips.

That's when you knew, you're never going to see her in the arms of anyone besides yourself, ever again.

Save your tears for another day (ah)

note :

surprise ! the original ending was that bucky and natasha ended up together cause y/n didn't want to take natasha back. buuuut i didn't wanna hurt myself that much while writing it so yeah, u guys get this. enjoyyyy!

taglist (i won't do taglists but i will be doing it for fics w/ diff parts) : @taliiiaasteria @itstashaswife @username23345 @wandanatlov3r @esposadejoyhuerta @marvelwomen-simp @artm99 @d3adp00ls @freewaysigns-underpasses @unique0003 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @spid3rfan @ellieromanov @mikookaaaaaao @miky40s @ncsdlr @unknownfanfic @pipsipey17 @tarathia @kyky-maximoff @graceher07 (i didn't know if the people who asked for pt2 wanted to get tagged so if u didn't, i'm so sorrryyyyy)

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha romanoff x female #bucky barnes #gay gay gay #ely !! ★#by ely !! ★#avengers x reader #Spotify

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neil-gaiman · 8 months

Note

Hello!

First of all, season two was brilliant, I loved every minute of it, and I can't wait for what's next!

I have a probably silly question to ask you-

We know that all Nina's copies of Everyday had previously been different records and had turned into Everyday after Gabriel's miracle. And that the new ones she sent turned into Everyday after being played on that specific jukebox.

If these records were for a jukebox, how come the hole is too small? Did somebody take the record out of the jukebox and put a 45rpm adapter insert inside of it, just to send it back to the shop? Seems a bit unlikely to me.

I suppose I was wondering if this was an oversight and I'm just far too nitpicky or if there was an actual explanation.

I'm far from an expert when it comes to records or jukeboxes so it's possible I'm just missing something but it did catch my eye! And my dad, who is much more knowledgeable about records than me, pointed it out too.

Thank you! Sorry for such a long message :)

I pointed it out as soon as I saw the singles. We actually reshot scenes with the correct kind of hole in the record, and had plans to CGI the holes in scenes we couldn't reshoot but it started to turn into a monumental project aimed only at pleasing me and your dad and somewhere in there we said "oh sod it" and let it be a goof.

#go2 spoilers #good omens

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facefullofsadness · 4 months

Text

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

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heesdreamer · 1 year

Text

skin on skin

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader

GENRE ➩ religious corruption au, church boy jake au, evil reader

WARNINGS ➩ heavy criticism of religion in an extreme exaggerated manner, manipulation, multiple smut scenes, the mc is straight up mean and evil and says mean things all the time lol. parental and spousal abuse… think that’s it maybe lol it’s an intense read

WC ➩ 20.4k (😵‍💫)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ the spacing is a bit weird because apparently this exceeded the length amount in tumblr… i don’t care about your think pieces on religion or the way it’s discussed in this so please don’t try to educate me on the actual ways of christianity! it’s a story! that being said this is in no way making a mockery of jake and his religion. this is my favorite story ive ever done and i had a good time writing it which is rare lately so i really hope you enjoy it and if you make it to the end let me know what you think! hope you like it as much as i do

It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.

The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.

You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.

Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.

Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.

Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.

It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.

More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.

See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.

Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.

You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.

The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.

Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.

Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.

She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.

Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.

Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.

Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.

“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.

That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.

He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.

It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.

You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.

The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.

Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.

It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.

But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.

So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.

As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.

The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.

Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.

There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.

He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.

His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.

You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”

His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.

You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.

“Hi Jake.”

And the seed bloomed.

——

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.

She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.

“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.

“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.

“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.

You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.

Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.

“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”

Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.

“Of course father, whatever you need.”

——

You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.

When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.

He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.

There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.

However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.

She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.

An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.

His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.

So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.

You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.

He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.

Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”

Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.

“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”

Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.

“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.

He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.

“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.

“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.

“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.

“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.

“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.

He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.

Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.

He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.

“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.

“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.

You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.

“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”

He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.

“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”

He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”

“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”

He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.

“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.

He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.

You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.

He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.

“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.

“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.

You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”

He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.

“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.

He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.

“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.

“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”

He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.

So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.

Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.

You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.

Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.

“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.

“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.

Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.

——

Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.

“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”

“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.

He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.

He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.

Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.

He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.

Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.

——

You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.

A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.

If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.

The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.

You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.

You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.

By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.

You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.

“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.

“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”

He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.

“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.

You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.

“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.

“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.

You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.

His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.

You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.

“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.

“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”

“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.

He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.

“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”

He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.

Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.

——

You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.

You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.

It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.

Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.

“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.

He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.

His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.

“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.

He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.

“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”

You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.

“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.

“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”

It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.

“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.

Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.

He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.

“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.

“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.

Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.

He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.

“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”

You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.

He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”

Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”

His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.

Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.

“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”

The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.

“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”

You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.

You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.

He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.

You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.

“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”

He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.

“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.

“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.

You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.

You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.

Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.

Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.

You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.

That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.

If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.

Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.

He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.

“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”

He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.

“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”

He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.

You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.

He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.

Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap

“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”

You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.

“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”

He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.

But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.

He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.

He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.

But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.

When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.

You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.

“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”

You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.

You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.

He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.

You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.

“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”

The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.

You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.

He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“

“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.

“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.

“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.

He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.

“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.

“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.

“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”

He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.

“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.

“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”

“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”

He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.

“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.

You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.

——

You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.

By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.

Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.

However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.

“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”

You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.

“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.

“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.

“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.

“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.

Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.

It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.

You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.

You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.

The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.

You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.

Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.

You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.

“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.

You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.

“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”

He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.

You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.

“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.

You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.

Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.

He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.

“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.

“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”

His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.

You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.

“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.

A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.

“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”

He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.

“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”

You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.

“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.

“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”

He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.

“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”

You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.

Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.

You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.

“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”

He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.

“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.

He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”

This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.

“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.

He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.

Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.

Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”

He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.

“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.

He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.

“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”

He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.

“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.

“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”

He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.

“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”

You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.

“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.

You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.

The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.

You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.

“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.

“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”

You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.

You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.

He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.

You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.

“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”

He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.

You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.

You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.

He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.

Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.

You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.

This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.

He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.

But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.

It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.

You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.

“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”

He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.

“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”

You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.

“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.

You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.

“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”

He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.

“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.

“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”

He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.

“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.

You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.

You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.

He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.

He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.

You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.

“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.

“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.

He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.

You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.

“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.

“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.

You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.

He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.

You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.

“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.

“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.

He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.

“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.

You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.

You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.

He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”

——

Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.

You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.

You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.

Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.

By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.

He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.

“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.

“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”

He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.

“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”

“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.

“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”

You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.

“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.

He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.

“See you tomorrow Jake.”

——

Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.

You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.

Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.

So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.

It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.

You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.

Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.

The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.

“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”

She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.

Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.

“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.

“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.

“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.

He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”

“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.

“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”

“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.

“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”

He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.

He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.

“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.

“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.

Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.

“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”

He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.

——

By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.

“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.

He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.

The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.

Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.

After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.

“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.

Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.

“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.

He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.

“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.

“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.

“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.

He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.

Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.

His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.

“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.

“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”

Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.

To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.

Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.

You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.

The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.

Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.

You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.

“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.

“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.

“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.

You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.

You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.

His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.

“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”

That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.

He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.

“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”

He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.

The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.

“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”

You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.

“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.

Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.

You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.

But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.

You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.

“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.

“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.

——

By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.

You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.

You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.

“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.

“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”

“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.

“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”

“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”

And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.

“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.

“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.

You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.

“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”

“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.

The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.

Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”

“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”

“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.

His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”

You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.

“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.

You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.

Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.

Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.

The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.

All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.

You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.

“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”

One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.

“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”

“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”

“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”

“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”

Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”

Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.

Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”

Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”

It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.

Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.

“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.

You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.

The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.

You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.

For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.

If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.

Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.

You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.

The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.

Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.

Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.

You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.

It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.

Not until it was skin on skin.

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