Minnie 🪐

“You cooked this?” your mother is first to ask once she bites into the meat, eyes growing slightly wide. “It tastes amazing.”

Jungkook gives a toothy grin and nods. “I added a secret sauce that my father has taught me.” 

You want to roll your eyes at Jungkook.

Dinner was going by smoothly. Around 20 minutes ago, your parents arrived. Your father appeared much the same, nonchalant and just ready to eat. Your mother did most of the talking. Her eyes roamed the apartment with prying eyes. She asked Jungkook and you questions after questions, all of which Jungkook responded to quickly and without hesitation. 

“How did you two really meet?” your mother asks after a moment. “I assume it couldn’t have been tweeter.”

You scoff. “No. It was not twitter.”

Jungkook places a hand atop yours and laughs. He wraps his fingers into your own and eyes you. He then brings your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “We met at the University.” Jungkook nods. “She was so cold to me at first.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Typical of her.”

“I must’ve asked her out a million times. I was shut down each and every time. Right, baby?”

You want to snatch that smirk off of his lips, but you only roll your eyes. 

“I think she got tired of my begging and agreed to a date.” Jungkook turns to your mother. “Ever since then, I’ve been attached to her like a lost puppy.”

Your father listens, not interested in speaking, but interested enough to appear apart of the conversation. “I’m glad.” your mother speaks. She takes a sip of her water. “Y/N can be a little mean.”

You knit your brows, but before you can speak Jungkook cackles. “She can!” he agrees.

Oh wow, you think. 

“But that’s what I love about her. She’s feisty and stubborn.” Jungkook looks your way, his eyes burning into you. You glance away from them and grunt, feeling hot. “And she always speaks up for me at restaurants when they get my order wrong.”

“That was once.” you quip. “You asked for extra sauce…”

“I did.” Jungkook nods. “I thought she was going to rip someone’s head off.” he tells your mother jokingly. “At least I know she cares.”

Jungkook was right - he had won over your mother.

That was expected, however. Your mother was easy to please. Jungkook was the equivalent of tall, dark and handsome. He’s easy to speak with and was such a smooth talker that it even had her swooning. He was affectionate, often kissing your hand or your head - more than usual, but you told yourself he was milking this to the very end. 

Now, your father was a different story. He was able to engage the man into conversation and actually hold it, having your fathers full and undivided attention. That is when you realized that Jungkook meant what he said - that even if this fake dating didn’t end with the both of you actually dating, that Jungkook would be there regardless. Your mother was already inviting him to dinner the following week and even hugged him before leaving - before she hugged you. 

“I’ll see you two next week?” your mother asks as she’s strolling out the door.

Jungkook wraps you in a tight embrace, his head resting on your shoulder. “You will!” he responds to her, waving curtly. “Y/N tells me about your cooking all the time. I can’t wait!”

You grumble - it was all the time, but you weren’t aware Jungkook was actually listening to your random ramblings. He was slowly winning your mother over that you were sure she would have him for dinner even without you there.

“You think you’re cute?” you push Jungkook off of you once the door is shut. 

“Is that the thanks I get for making a good impression?”

You cross your arms. “You know what you were doing complimenting her the entire night.”

Jungkook smirks. “Like mother, like daughter. You both like my praises.” Jungkook’s hands are on you again, bringing you closer to him. “I have to keep myself on top if I’m going to be competing against these boyfriends.”

Your hands are against his chest to push him away. “Ugh, take me home.”

“You aren’t staying the weekend?” Jungkook pouts his lips slightly. “We have to finish binge watching Law & Order.”

“You’re right.” you sigh for a moment. “And here I thought I had a chance to get rid of you.”

“You never can.” Jungkook’s right hand slaps your ass. You yelp, but it was only a gesture to bring you closer to him. He pecks your lips. “Let’s get going. We have the entire weekend ahead of us.”

The night shouldn’t have ended like this. You told yourself that you and Jungkook wouldn’t be entangled together - especially since you were watching Law & Order - there was no way Jungkook could ignore such an amazing series to get his cock wet.

But Jungkook had. 

It started with light touching. Jungkook’s bed is soft and it’s easy to be comfortable. He had gave you a shirt to wear - even if you had a weekend's worth of clothes - he insisted it would be best. You were certain he just wanted you in his shirt to appear more domesticated. 

Your first mistake was not wearing anything but the shirt and panties. Jungkook’s hands wandered upon your skin, his body dangerously close to yours. His hips would rut against your ass, prying hand going beneath the oversized shirt. “Just one kiss, Y/N. Don’t be like that.” was what he said - and you caved.

Of course it could never be one kiss. One peck led to him begging for more - and more. It led to him flipping you to face him, his hand squeezing the flesh of your ass to bring you closer to him. It continued with you being on top of him, tongues fighting against one another. His hands stayed upon your ass, rubbing gently as you and he kissed.

“We’re missing the show.” you protest, breaking free of the heated kiss. 

“We can always go back.” Jungkook eyes you with hooded eyes. “You look so pretty in my shirt.” he murmurs.

“Shut up, simp.” you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I can never compliment my girl without getting called a simp.” Jungkook tsks. His hands rub up your rib back down to your waist to your thighs. “It’s true, though. I wanna wake up with you like this every day.”

“I would have to actually be your girl for that to happen.” you retort. You gently grind against him, lips flashing him a mischievous grin. 

“You are my girl.” Jungkook hisses low, hands squeezing your hips to keep you firmly against him. “I got you in my shirt, don’t I?”

Jungkook and his logical comebacks. Damn him.

“I got you to stay with me this weekend, right?” Jungkook continues, his tongue coating his lips with moisture. 

“So?”

Jungkook manages to lift himself up without disrupting you. You and he are face to face now, your thighs caging him in between you. 

“So that makes you my girl.” Jungkook pecks your lips. “I know you like being called my girl, Y/N. Each time I say it you grind against me a little harder.”

Truly, fuck Jeon Jungkook because damn was he right.

“Exactly.” Jungkook murmurs, and for a second you believe he’s going to say something else - a comment that would indicate just how “down bad” you were for him. But no, Jungkook continues to stare at you.

You shift in his lap and with that, Jungkook blinks. “You’re really pretty.” 

You frown, knitting your brows together in an attempt to be annoyed - even if your heart did jolt. 

“My pretty girl.” Jungkook continues, his arms embracing you. “Far too stubborn to admit.”

“Is this how you ask out all your girls?” you snort, but feel yourself melting in his warm embrace. “Just demand for them to be with you?”

“There you go, Y/N.” Jungkook chuckles. “You go in that head of yours and start being delusional and fantasize me being with other girls.”

“Excuse me?” Delusional?

“Why are you adamant on me having multiple girls?” Jungkook gently kisses your forehead just because he knows it annoys you - his random acts of affection or kindness in a situation that is deemed “serious”.

You shrug your shoulders. “You fit the fuck boy aesthetic.” was all you say.

Jungkook snorts. “You think I have girls lining up to suck my dick in exchange for streaming services?”

You gasp. “We said we wouldn’t bring that up!” you hiss. 

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” Jungkook smiles. “I just don’t see how you think I’m a fuck boy even now. I barked in order to meet your parents. I’m still getting laughed at in the groupchat.”

You suppress your own laughter, only giving Jungkook a grin.

“I basically fund your whole lifestyle. I think that’s far beyond a fuck boy.” Jungkook adds - but not in a way to throw it in your face or to appear as though you need him to. 

“A sugar daddy at best.” you shrug, but even you can’t help but laugh at the bewildered look on Jungkook’s face. “You do know you aren’t obligated to buy me things.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes - it was the same song and dance as before. He’d get you something he heard you speak about once a few days prior - you would insist it wasn’t a need, but the sparkle in your eyes was enough for him to keep doing it. 

“As my girl…” Jungkook places a kiss at the nape of your neck. “...it’s required of me to.”

“Until you get bored and throw me to the side.” you feel Jungkook’s teeth bite down on your neck. 

“You do everything but admit you like me, baby.” Jungkook presses you firmly against him. “I’m beginning to think that’s what you want me to do so you can remain in denial.”

Jungkook’s hands go beneath the large shirt of his you wore. Your skin is so soft and smooth - the both of you shudder. 

“You’re okay.” you murmur, biting your lip when you feel both of his hands engulf your breasts. 

“Just okay?” Jungkook’s tongue twirls on the spot he bit. “I can have you on your back begging for me in seconds, baby. Nothing about me is ‘just okay’.”

Your play hard to get was not going to last - especially not now. The cocky Jungkook was creeping in, and he knew that your words were nothing but bluffs.

“I’m sure I would be the same way with someone else.”

You couldn’t help it. It was a game for you at times to rile up Jungkook. He was the jealousy and competitive type - he had to prove that he was the best at any and everything he did. 

“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Jungkook chuckles, but you can hear the slight irritation in his voice - deep and raspy; ready to prove you wrong. You shudder slightly as goosebumps ride across your skin.

You really did. You were already wet enough, his hands and mouth adding to it. There was nothing like Jungkook fucking your petty words right out of you.

“You do this every time, Y/N.” Jungkook bites your neck harshly and you yelp, squirming. “You love messing with me. It must turn you on seeing me fuck the submission into you.”

You swallow thickly to suppress a moan. “I just give you what you want.” you shrug slightly. 

“What do I want?”

“Someone to moan for you no matter if it feels good or not.”

You were playing a dangerous game with Jungkook, but it just brings nothing but excitement through you. 

You yelp once more when you feel your hair being yanked. “You’re being a bitch again, baby.” Jungkook murmurs, but even he is amused by your attempts. You can never just tell him that you want him - never tell him that you want him to dominate. Instead, you deny or insinuate the opposite just to give him a reason to prove you wrong.

But Jungkook said it once before, he loved your ‘play hard to get’ game you played with him; when he had you it was much more satisfying. 

“Isn’t that what you like about me?” you tease, and even in the dim room - law and order playing ignored in the background - you are beautiful to him, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Love it.” Jungkook presses his lips firmly onto yours, his tongue sliding past your mouth. It’s quick and he’s rough, but you cannot protest. His hands are gripping your flesh so hard that you feel as though they’d leave a mark.

Jungkook yanks the shirt off of you, tongue instantly finding both of your breasts. Your legs are wrapped around him, his clothed cock pressing firmly against you.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Jungkook’s lips pops from your nipples, his tongue licking it furiously. “A normal girl would just tell me she wants me to be a little rough and not provoke it out of me.”

Jungkook grips both of your breasts into the palm of his hands and brings both of your nipples into his mouth.Your back arches at the warm sensation pooling through you. 

“I-I have to tell you how to fuck like a man?”

There was a new sensation when the words left your mouth and hit Jungkook’s ears. It’s a sensation that shoots straight to your core and leaves your cheek stinging.

The room is silent, Jungkook’s eyes wide watching your reaction for a moment. He’s ready to apologize for not thinking before he slaps you, but it’s your moan that draws him back to reality.

“You liked that?” Jungkook murmurs and you nod, biting your lip. Jungkook grunts, his mind wandering just how far you’d let him go.

Jungkook unwraps your legs from around him and removes himself from the bed. He drags you to the edge of it, you yelping at the sudden movement. Jungkook removes your panties and widens your legs. He’s cocky - through the flashing television light, he see’s how wet you are for him.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Jungkook demands.

You swallow, finding it difficult underneath his intense gaze. Jungkook lowers himself, burying his tongue deep within your folds. He forces your legs open each time you threaten to close them. His eyes are locked onto your fluttering ones, watching as you moan and cry for him. You were so beautiful for him - if only you’d allow him to admire your beauty. Oftentimes when he looked your way, you were quick to respond with a witty remark.

“Fuck…” you groan, breaking eye-contact just as he enters his fingers inside of you. You lay your head back and continue to pant. 

“You never allow me to treat you nicely.” Jungkook removes his tongue from your clit to spit on it, continuing his pumping. “If you’d let me, I would take good care of you.” Jungkook licks his lips, the wet sounds of your pussy like a melody to his ears. “But instead, you want to be a bitch. I don’t get it.”

“K-Kookie…” you draw out a moan, a hand cupping your breast. You can feel the familiar churning in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum-”

“No you aren’t.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you, hand slapping your clit. 

Your eyes shoot open, your pussy clenching around nothing. “W-What-”

Your mouth is stuffed with Jungkook’s fingers, your tongue twirling around them. 

“See how good you taste?” Jungkook questions, removing his fingers to grip your chin tightly. “I would let you cum but…I’m sure you can always find someone else to do it. Since you enjoy faking so much.”

Your heart is pumping and you flush hot with embarrassment. You aren’t sure what to say - Jungkook had you beat. 

“Aw,” Jungkook chuckles. “You look so sad, baby. I can let you cum.”

You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook. 

“Is that what you want?”

You nod your head, but Jungkook wants to hear you. 

You yelp when your clit is slapped once more. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y-Yes!” you try not to moan and sound too desperate, but it’s inevitable. 

“Yes what, baby?” Jungkook’s already tugging his bottom half off, his underwear going along with it. His shirt is next, chisel abs in your line of vision that you groan at just the sight. “Tell me what you want, Y/N. You have a mouth any other time.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. 

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his cocky attitude.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his amazing dick that has you following along with him. “Please fuck me.” you sigh in defeat. “Please make me cum, Kook.”

“With pleasure.” Jungkook is delighted. He slaps the top of his cock against your clit, licking his lips. “So wet. To think you said someone else can have you like this.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to let that go - you can only imagine how hard he was going to fuck-

“J-Jungkook…!” you shout in surprise at how hard he enters you, his thrusting increasing by the second. Your back slams against the bed with each thrust, and it only bounces back just as hard. 

“You can handle it, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses, fingernails digging into your flesh. “You don’t want me to be nice, you don’t want to be my girl…”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting heavily. Jungkook’s tone appears serious - you’d have to ask later on if your words really got to him like they appeared to have. 

“I let you…fuck…” Jungkook’s head hangs, eyes unsure where to focus. Your breast bounced furiously in rhythm with his pounding. Your face is scrunched with pleasure, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth. “...I let you sit on my face. I let you spend as much of my money as you’d like with no limit. I…”

Jungkook grips your chin once more, forcing you to focus on him. It’s difficult - Jungkook doesn’t allow you a second to breathe, but you don’t want him to. 

“And all I really ask you to be is my girl.”

It pains for him to remove himself from you - all he wants is to cum deep inside of you like you’d allow him before. But - his pride and ego got the best of him. If you were going to front as if you didn’t need him to cum, then you weren’t.

“Kook…” you cry in defeat, pussy once more clenching around nothing. 

Jungkook laughs, a dark glee in the tone. “And like I said before, Y/N…” your eyes flutter a bit looking at his face - dark lust filled eyes staring right into yours. “...I can have you on your back begging for me, can’t I?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

Your chest heaves. “Fuck you.” you curse at how meek your voice appeared.

“I bet you’d like that baby.” Jungkook plays with your clit slightly. “You’re my girl, right?”

You lick your lips, thighs quivering. 

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” Jungkook centers his tip at your entrance, thumb circling against your wet bud. “That’s all I want from you, baby. You can have anything you want from me…”

Jungkook enters you slowly this time. Your groan is long and deep, your hands reaching out to grab Jungkook’s bicep. 

“J-Jungkook.” you trail off - the pleasure now getting to you. You just wanted to cum by him - his hands, mouth, cock, whatever it took.

“Yes, baby?” Jungkook breathes - he’s unsure himself if he’d be able to last long like this and then his ego would be hurt (but then again, he wouldn’t have blueballs).

“Please make me cum, Kookie.” you wail, hot tears falling down your face. You had to look utterly pathetic weeping for dick. Jungkook’s ego was now going to skyrocket and this moment is something he would forever hold over your head - no jokes from you could ever be taken now. “I had you on your back crying for me, baby” - you can hear it now.

But - you were desperate. Jungkook was hot, his dick was amazing and you’d allow him to have this over you. 

“I’m your girl, Kookie.”

Jungkook shudders - and now he’s truly satisfied. He pounds into you sloppily, certain that neither of you were going to last long. You’re clenching around him so heavenly, moaning and crying his names that he cannot help but want to cum inside of you each and every time. 

“I know you’re close, baby.” you hear Jungkook say, his forehead - moist with sweat - pressed onto yours. “We can come together, okay?”

“Y-Yea…” you nod, but you wrap your arms around Jungkook and press your lips against his. You’re groaning against the kiss, already cumming on his cock.

Jungkook feels the electric shock go through him and he shudders. With a few more thrusts, Jungkook cums inside of you, trembling at the sensation.

Ten minutes it’s what it took for you and Jungkook to come back to reality. You’re sweaty and you haven’t even done anything.

“You wanna shower?” Jungkook’s voice pipes in. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too overboard, right?”

You nod your head. “I’m okay.” you murmur. 

Jungkook nods. He kisses your temple. “I can start the shower for you-”

“You aren’t coming?” you ask once you feel Jungkook shuffle on the bed.

“I-I..” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and doe like. He appears completely surprised that you offered such a thing. “You’d like me to?”

You laugh at his expression. How you manage to remove yourself from the bed is beyond you - your legs are shaking with pain that you’re not upset about. 

Jungkook feels your hands against his bare chest and he tilts his head, awaiting your response. “I said I was your girl, wasn’t I?” you murmur, sending a kiss to his chest.

In seconds, Jungkook is erect again at just the admission. 

Your mouth wrapped around the tip of Jungkook’s cock, twirling the head in your mouth. You only slightly (maybe more than you want to admit) the way the salty pre-cum drips into your mouth as you suck. Even better were his moans - so soft and velvety; melodic. 

if anyone was to blame it had to be your brother - he was the nuisance in your life. It was as if he intended on making your life a complete mess.

You were a good person, daughter and sister. You did what you had to do - attend classes everyday. You went to work and then home without a care. You worked at a grocery store part time and made enough to pay your half of the rent. Sure, with the price of groceries now you couldn’t be bothered to buy any. But that’s where your parents came in. You craved independence from them but only for privacy. You made sure you were there every night for dinner and sometimes if you had time, breakfast in the mornings. 

Your brother was just upset that you accidentally bought an add-on on his hulu account - but how else were you supposed to watch what you wanted if he was too cheap to pay for anything further? It was bad enough you had to sit through 2 minute ads - it was the least he could do.

This is how you now found yourself sucking Jungkook off - the same man you had been dodging ever since the pair of you met. He gave off fuck boy vibes and the last thing you needed was that in your life - until you actually did need Jungkook. The irony.

Jungkook watches with hooded eyes at the beautiful sight of you. You had now grasped the length of his cock and began to pump him, focusing more on the tip of his head. He was glad the two of you were alone - seeing as you didn’t even have the decency to take him to your room and insisted on doing this on the couch. But Jungkook wasn’t a picky person - he prayed for times such as this. You were the play hard to get type and one thing he enjoyed was the chase. 

Jungkook places a hand on the back of your head and thrusts lighty into your mouth, groaning as he does so. You allowed it. You laid your tongue flat, eyes flickering up to watch his expression. Satisfaction bubbled deep inside of you at the sight of his lust-filled expression. Dark hooded eyes, gasping lips.

“I waited, fuck…so long for this.” Jungkook groans, pumping inside of your mouth a little faster. His thumb caresses your cheek. “I told you that I’d have you one day, didn’t I?” he says smugly. 

You groan a response, throat vibrating against his cock. That bastard, you thought. Jungkook did - he told you that one day your “play hard to get” act would crumble and when it did, he’d be there. But this couldn’t count - right? You were doing this for the greater good, after all. You had shows to watch and Jungkook just so happened to be the one that had a premium account.

You feel the tip of Jungkook’s cock tickling the back of your throat, testing to see how far you’d let him go. There’s a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of your lips and it drips slowly down your chin. Your mouth was heavy - wet and warm and inviting. You were determined to make him cum and he was determined to do just that. 

Jungkook’s hand grips your hair - you moan at the sensation. He pumps just a little faster, your slurps and gagging hitting his ears and he moans at just how filthy you were for him. 

“I’m about to cum.” Jungkook groans. His free hand wipes away a lone tear that releases from your eye. “You okay?” he asks, slowing his thrusts.

Your response was to bring him deeper into your mouth, blinking up at him. You slap his thigh harshly and that was all the permission he needed to fuck your throat. He shudders, feeling his toes curl. It didn’t help that your teary eyes watched his every move - and Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Even now while he took control, you remain just as stubborn; challenging him. “F-Fuck…” Jungkook grunts. “W-Where do I cum?”

Jungkook wants to slap himself, forgetting that you can’t exactly respond to him. But he’s unsure if cumming inside of your mouth would be too intimate - but then again, you could always spit it out and he would be fine with that. 

You gag, feeling your throat swell with the warm, salty substance. You inhale through your nose and moan. “L-Let me find-” Jungkook watches as you swallow and lick your lips - he feels his cheeks redden and his heart thump.

You wipe your eyes of the pathetic tears and hum. “Don’t get big headed.” you hiss.

Jungkook smirks and bats his eyelashes. “Never.” he says. “I already made you a profile on my hulu account.”

You watch as Jungkook takes out his phone to show you the account and like state, he did make you your own profile. You snort at the name - stargirl. “I’ll text you the information to get into it.”

You place your hands onto his thighs. Your eyes lower to his cock - it wasn’t completely erect, but it wasn’t softening, either. 

“I was told I would get peacock and hbo max.” you say to him. You didn’t want to tell him that you were wet and wanted to ride him, his head was already big enough. 

“I have hbo max as an add on with hulu.” Jungkook responds, eyes darkening at the thought of feeling you. 

“Hm. That’s too bad.” you tilt your head. “I wanted to ride you.”

“I can add disney.” Jungkook responds far too quickly, mentally cursing at how desperate he appeared.

Smirking, you nod your head. “Deal.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide when you lift from your knees and kick off your shorts, panties flying with them. He’s erect once more at the sight of your slick trailing down your thighs. Your thighs trap him beneath you as you center yourself on him. “I’m not on any birth control.”

Jungkook gulps. His hands place themselves firmly on your hips. “I can pull out.” he nods. “Unless you want another streaming service as payment for me cumming inside of you.” he jokes - unless…

Jungkook smirks at you and you could only glare. You sit down on him completely and wipe the smirk from his lips. Your hands grip his shoulders as you begin to pound on him. It doesn’t take time for the entire sitting room is filled with your moans mixed with Jungkooks as well as skin slapping.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Jungkook murmurs, inching closer to capture your lips with his own. You never said anything against kissing is his defense.

You deepen the kiss, grinding against him. “Says the man who hasn’t stopped moaning since we started.”

Jungkook chuckles and does just that. His hands trail from your hips, to your thighs and upwards towards your breast. He grips both of your clothed breasts into his palms. “Pussy feels so good, I can’t help myself.”

You swallow your own moan back. You can’t let him know his words turn you on - he would never let you live it down. It’s bad enough you were fucking him for streaming services.

You shifted yourself, your feet firmly against the couch. You looked into his eyes as you began to bounce on him once more, satisfied that the man below you was a moaning mess - and broke eye contact first. His eyes begin to roll at the new found pleasure.

You decided that you wouldn’t hide your own pleasure anymore. Jungkook was big and this position only meant that his cock was hitting the right spot each time. 

“I know it feels good, baby.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality - and so does his thumb upon your clit. His thumb rubs hastily on it, enjoying the way your pussy tightens around his cock.

“It does.” Maybe you were growing weak - but only because it did feel good. That, and the way Jungkook’s voice grows deeper and more sultry as he speaks is an added turn on. 

“What happened to the playing hard to get girl I know?” Jungkook’s now thrusting upwards inside of you to meet you halfway.

You clench around him. “Fuck you.” you murmur.

“I intend to.” Jungkook manages to laugh, his thumb leaving your clit to hook beneath your thighs. He continues where you left off, stamina unmatched. He pounds into you with such need - as if this was what he had been waiting for for who knows how long.

Your arms wrap around his neck and allow him the control - just this once. Jungkook’s reveling in your submission, murmuring dirty words in your ears as he fucks you. You were so wet - slick gripping out of you and onto his thighs - that he knew neither of you would last long.

You bite your lip when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your ass. He squeezes it with such need, moaning beautifully in your ears as his thrusts turn sloppy. “Where do I cum?” he asks suddenly.

“Anywhere.” was your response.

Jungkook took your lack of direction as a sign. His fingers lean down from your ass to find your clit once more. He toys with it as he thrusts, hellbent on making sure you cum right along with him. He wasn’t going to last - not with the way you were squeezing his cock right now.

“S-Shit!” you hiss, feeling yourself come undone right as Jungkook pulls out of you, cum leaking on your ass.

Jungkook leans against the couch and pants. There was no way he was going to leave you alone after this - but that’s okay because he knows you’ll close up once more and play that game you’ve been playing. Jungkook loved the chase and deep down, so do you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

You feel Jungkook press a wet kiss to your cheek, eyes barely open as you tug at his shirt. Silent demand for him to take it off. He drops the blunt on an ashtray balancing on the arm of the couch. Mere moments away from tipping over the edge, though neither of you finding it in yourself to worry.

He tugs his shirt over his head, thrown somewhere on the floor behind you; neither of you in a rush. Mind slow, gentle pleasure thrumming throughout your bodies, warm hands pressed to warm flesh.

Rough touch of fingertips of delicate skin, spikes of unsure pleasure fizzling beneath your flesh with every accidental tug. Skin dimpling where Jungkook presses and prods and gropes and loves. The faintest hint of red rising beneath your skin with every dip of his hands caressing parts of your body only he will ever see, ever own and love and ravish.

Your hands trail over his stomach, fingers dipping into his defined abs, his stomach tensing when you trail over a sensitive spot.

Your thumb presses over his happy trail, tracing over the waistband of his shorts, pussy clenching around nothing at the thought of his cock splitting you open.

“My pretty” he murmurs, tugging your shirt over your head, he groans at your bare chest, cock straining in his pants at the sight of you.

He leans down, lips wrapping around one of your nipples, his fingers pinching the other, tugging before pressing a thumb over the sensitive skin. You moan at the sliver of pleasure that slips down your spine, slick leaking into your panties, soaking the fabric until Jungkook can feel your arousal, tacky on his legs.

“Shit—Jungkook” you whine.

“Yeah? You like that?” he whispers, warm breath tickling your skin, nipples hardening. Goosebumps prickling your skin, tickling over you with each rugged lick of his tongue over your bare flesh.

“Mhmm” you nod, “So good”

His hands slip down your sides, looking up at you through his lashes, lips sucking at the soft skin of your chest. Red flowers of his love blossoming in his wake. Your mouth tips open in a breathy moan, nails raking down his stomach when he starts rocking your hips. Guiding you just how you like— lazy, clit needy, slick pussy coated in your arousal.

Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s thigh you were straddling, clit throbbing as the soft fabric of your cotton panties drags over the sensitive little nub with each lazy roll of your hips. Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer until his face is smothered in your chest.

He bites down on your nipple, tongue laving over it to soothe the gentle jolt of pain that tickled down your spine.

More slick dribbles from your pussy. In your lust hazed mind, you find it in yourself to lift yourself up a little, desperate whine catching in your throat as your pleasure starts to ebb away momentarily. Slowly building orgasm a phantom feeling, clit still throbbing in desperate need.

You push your panties to the side, Jungkook tipping his head back as your bare pussy connects with the thick muscle of his thigh, skin slick and shiny with your leaking arousal. His hands settle back onto your hips, dragging you forward, helping you roll your hips, clit dragging against his warm skin.

Your knee nudges against the underside of his cock, nudging it enough to drag deliciously in his underwear. Building pleasure making precum stain the cotton, steadily leaking out the tip.

“Fuck” he moans, thigh tensing. You almost fall forward at the fresh wave of pleasure. Your nails rake down his chest, Jungkook’s hand squeezing over his cock to stave off his orgasm as your hands thumb over his nipples.

Your hips stutter forward, desperate as you rut against Jungkook’s thigh. He can feel your pussy clenching, arousal dripping down his skin onto the couch below the both of you. So wet and slick and messy, dribbles of arousal sticking to skin and fabric. Wet little noises making his cock twitch with every jittery rut of your hips. Mind so hazy and pleasure filled.

“Come for me baby” he groans, “making me all wet and messy”

His fingers find the back of your neck, carding into your hair. He drags you down, lips pressing against your own, his tongue prods at your mouth, slipping past your lips when you moan. He swallows it down, swallowing down every little sound you make.

His tongue presses against your own, mix of your saliva coating your chin, slippery against his lips.

He bites at you bottom lip, lip piercings dragging against your skin.

“Jungkook” you whine, fingers digging into Jungkook’s shoulders when he pinches your clit, his other hand palming over his cock.

“Come on, pretty” he looks at you through hooded eyes.

You’re desperate in your attempt to cum, pussy lips parting around his thick thighs as he plays with your clit.

"Really?" His pierced eyebrow raised incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief as he keeps you bent over the bathroom sink.

You two had been hanging out at his apartment, his roommate Jimin gone for the night. So both of you easily decided to just hang out in Jungkook's room than the living room.

You two had been friends for what seemed like forever.

So it seemed like any other night for you both. Drinking a little, eating, yelling at the movie that was playing on the tv that hung on his wall as you two talked about everything and anything.

You honestly didn't know how you even started talking about it orgasms. I mean, Jungkook knew you had ended things with your last ex a few months ago. He was there for you when you told him you had ended things with the guy, a pint of ice cream and some movies in hand.

But now- he's sucking his teeth together, eyes wide as he watches a thick portion of his cock disappear between your soaking folds.

He's got you bent over his bathroom sink. Making you watch through the mirror as he stands behind you, easing a few more mouthwatering inches inside. "So you mean you've never... like on anyone's cock?"

You whine in response, your legs spread wide, his cock forcing you to stretch deliciously so. "N-never," your thighs tremble and Jungkook's eyes dilate. He'd be lying if that didn't make his dick twitch inside you. His length sinking deeper and causing you to suck a bigger breath in. "F-fuck!" You gasp, your eyes fluttering shut, head leaning down as you gripped the sink counter tighter.

"Nuh-uh, look at me." Jungkook's soft demand had your walls fluttering around his shaft, a new wave of arousal weeping from your pussy. You blinked a few times, before gasping again when Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your throat, pulling your head up so you would meet his eyes through the mirror.

His other hand went under your thigh, easily lifting it onto the counter. The new angle causing him to sink even deeper with a loud squelch. Your glassy eyes met his, and Jungkook granted you with a satisfied smirk. "Yeah, that's right. Keep those pretty eyes on me, gooood girl."

His dark eyes pinned yours through the mirror while he slowly pressed his dick all the way inside of you. Earning him a stuttering mewl from you that made his smirk grow. "Thaaat's it." He breathes and you feel his hips tilt down. "You're going to cum on my cock and make a pretty mess for me."

That's the only command he gives you before he's pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back in. His hand on your throat holding your head up as he made sure to bury his cock all the way to the hilt again and again. Wet squelches resonating through the small room mixing with his soft groans and your breathless gasps.

He's so big. Stuffing you full with each roll of his hips. And your mind is already fogging up. Listening to him as he tells you how good you feel squeezing his cock and how your soaking wet just for him.

But then he's tilting his hips just so and you're letting out these cute yelps of "oooh!" when the tip of his cock drag against the sensitive spot inside of you just right. Your jaw drops, and Jungkook watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His smirk turns dangerous. "There we gooo," he huffs picking up speed. His body slamming into yours with more force and hitting that soft spot with each thrust.

Your right hand smacks into the mirror in front of you while your left clutches the counter desperately. "Ohmygod- ohmygod! Right there, fuck, right thereee-"

His hand tightens around your throat, cutting your words off as he continues to pound into you. His balls tapping against your clit with each thrust and adding onto the pleasure that twists in your abdomen.

Your tummy tenses as your moans grow louder and louder, the familiar knot in your stomach you usually only feel when you masturbate advances and you're too late in realizing that you're going to cum, very soon.

And like Jungkook can read your mind, you feel his hand snake between your thighs. His thumb smearing tight circles to your glittering wet clit, fast. "You're going to cum on my cock," Jungkook practically growls.

His thrusts never letting up, his fingers stroking your clit faster and faster. You've never felt like this before. Your body reacting so beautifully to Jungkook's touch.

That why you're caught off guard when your body suddenly seizes, the pleasure overwhelming as you feel the knot in your tummy snap. You let out a shrill squeal, your thighs shaking as you feel a flood of slick splatter against the hand that was rubbing your clit.

Jungkook grunts in surprise, staring in awe as you squirt, your body shaking underneath him in ecstasy. You've soaked his and your legs and all he knows is that he's going to need you to do that again. His thrusts never letting up as he makes sure he's got the same perfect angle, his tip repeatedly abusing your g-spot.

Your walls squeeze around his length deliciously, as he groans. "Give it to me, make another mess, baby- thaaaat's it."

His words made you cry out again, your body tightening up as you felt another wave burst inside you. You felt your body slump, his hand on your neck the only thing keeping your head up as you gushed around his cock.

You hear Jungkook curse and go still, his hips flush against your ass as he kept his cock buried to the hilt.

Your eyes rolled to back of your head as you shook uncontrollably, missing the way his pretty brown doe-eyes nearly shape into hearts as he stares, transfixed on you. "Fuuuuck-k," he groans his cock twitching as you pulsate around his length.

You can't feel your legs and you think you might be drooling. But as you flutter your eyes open, you catch Jungkook's eyes through the mirror. He licks his lips, gradually pulling out and making you whimper from the loss of him. "You've made such a mess," he coos softly, tapping the tip of his hard dick against your sopping pussy.

Your brain short circuits, a thrilling shock piercing through you every time he playfully taps the head of his cock against your leaking cunt. "Jungkook-k," your cry drives a shiver down his spine and he tilts the head of his cock down so it bumps into your puffy clit.

You enjoyed being with Abigail just as much as you did with your boyfriend. She was always so attentive and caring towards you, she treated you as if you were her own. Ever since Andrew had introduced you to her, you’d always make sure to be formal towards her no matter what, even though she could truly care less about it.

“Hi, Ms. Anderson, it’s nice to meet you,” you tell her kindly, removing yourself from your boyfriend’s embrace to shake her hand.

She flashes a smile back at you as she shakes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, sweetheart, there’s no need to be so formal though,” she tells you.

“Oh I’m sorry, Abigail—“

“Abby.” She corrects you. “Abby is just fine.”

You simply nod at her in response.

“Alright then, Abby.”

After dinner had passed that day, and you were bringing all the dishes to the sink to wash them, you ended up overhearing Abby say this to her son:

“Make sure you treat her well, Andrew. She’s a sweet girl, definitely a keeper.”

Even though you figured that Abby would be nothing more to you than your boyfriend’s mother, the way she said that to Andrew made you feel unusual inside…But you figured that you were feeling that way simply because it was just a genuine compliment from her.…right?

Since that day, you’ve been close with Abby since then, and Andrew has managed to treat you like royalty.

That is…until a couple of weeks ago when he arrived back from a guy’s trip with his father. You began to take note of the suspicious behavior he’s been having towards you lately. The way he’d hide his phone when he’s around you, how he’d avoid eye contact with you when you ask him about things, and how he’d leave every so often without telling you. It eventually got to the point where you needed to go and address it to him.

And that’s how you got here right now: sitting in your car in the driveway of his mom’s house on a gloomy Saturday night.

You muster up the courage to grab your bag and exit your car before locking it and walking the few steps over to the front door. After taking a deep breath, you step forward and knock on the door. Hoping it would be him answering the door, you’re quick to see Abby answer it instead. “Hey sweetheart,” she says to you. “What are you doing here so late?”

You look up to see Abby looking down at you with a soft smile. She was still in her scrubs with her white coat in her other hand, and with a bunch of little blonde flyaways sticking out of her hair. It looked like she had just gotten back from her shift at the hospital.

“Oh, Ms. Anderson…I was wondering if Andrew was here, by any chance? I need to talk to him about something.” you ask her, praying the answer would be what you’d expect it to be.

Abby let out a sigh and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, sweetheart…Owen dropped him off this morning and he left the house right before I was about to leave for work. I honestly thought he’d be spending the day with you today.”

Although Andrew was an adult now, he still managed to make visits between his mom and dad. Abby and Owen have been divorced for years now, but at the very beginning, they were once dating as high school sweethearts. It wasn’t until Abby had gotten pregnant from him during her senior year, and as a result, he’d figured the best and most traditional way was for them to get married after graduation.

Things were good for the couple so far…until one day, shortly after Andrew’s first birthday, Abby had gotten home early from school only to find her husband in bed with another woman, which instantly led to them getting divorced with joint custody of their son. She felt like she should’ve been hurt and heartbroken about that, but for some reason she just…didn’t. It was almost as if she was falling out of love with Owen anyway, and his cheating was just the sign for her to divorce him.

Even though Abby was the victim in that situation, she didn’t want to tell Andrew about it so as to not damage his relationship with his father. Instead, she made sure to raise him to be a loyal, trustworthy man, just so he wouldn’t end up turning out to be just like his father.

She raised him to make sure that he wouldn’t end up hurting you.

You let out a sigh, looking over at your car before back at her. “Alright, um, I’ll just head out, then…”

As you were about to leave, you felt Abby’s hand gently grab your shoulder, causing you to turn around. “Hold on, um…would you like to come inside? I can’t have you driving around in this awful weather, maybe you can just wait for him in the meantime, yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment, but to be fair, Abby did have a point. It’s been storming so much these days, and based on the few drops you felt land on your shoulder, it seemed like it was going to happen again tonight.

You give Abby a nod, accepting her offer. She steps over to the side, clearing the way for you to enter inside before closing the door behind you.

“Have a seat, sweetheart,” Abby offers, gesturing you towards her couch. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and order some takeout if you’d like? I uh, don’t plan on doing anything tonight…” she continues, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

You nod back at her and set your bag down on the couch before sitting yourself down. “That’s alright with me…Thanks again, Ms. Anderson.”

“Abby, sweetheart,” she replies, correcting you.

“Right, thank you, Abby.”

You watch as she turns around and heads upstairs to her room. Once the shower turns on, you can’t help but get a feeling of deja vu passing through you, remembering that certain day like it was yesterday.

Now, the thought of being with a woman never really crossed your mind, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but find Abby to be so…attractive. You assumed it was just a silly little crush and set it aside because there was no way that Abby would see you as anything more than her son’s girlfriend.

But it wasn’t until about a month ago, that you decided to spend the night at Andrew’s place. It was around 1 am, and you had left Andrew’s bedroom to use the bathroom. As you were just about to go in, you couldn’t help but peek into Abby’s room as you were passing by.

The door of her bathroom was creaked open, the shower was currently running, and while Abby was undressing herself from her scrubs, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes fixed on her figure. Her back, her arms, her hands…you were feeling so attracted to her, to where a wave of arousal was hitting you instantly. You were getting so turned on by her in the way that you should be feeling towards her son instead.

Your gaze kept lingering on her, but once you noticed her blue eyes locking with yours, you quickly rushed back to Andrew’s room. This led you to have to wake up your boyfriend just to have sex with him, all with the sinful thoughts of his mother on your mind.

And even though neither you nor Abby brought up that incident the next morning, she had a strong feeling that those sounds that you were making that night were meant for her.

The sound of thunder startles you. You look out the window to see that it has already begun pouring outside. You were definitely going to be here for a while now, but you didn’t mind it. Abby always provided good company to you anyway.

You watch as the rain keeps pattering down, hitting the glass of the window. Your hand feels the vibration of your phone followed by a chime, causing you to look down at your screen and check the notification you just received.

Abby shuts off the water in the shower once she’s finished, making sure to keep it quick so as to not leave you waiting for so long. She then quickly changed into a shirt and sweatpants before shutting off the lights and leaving her bedroom.

As Abby began to head downstairs, she could hear a faint sniffling sound coming from the living room. It sounded like you were crying. This led to her rushing even quicker now to the living room, walking in to see you quietly crying, your dimly lit phone in one hand while your face was buried in the other, collecting all of your tears.

Concerned, she slowly began to approach you. “Hey, hey sweetheart…what’s the matter?” she asks calmly, sitting down next to you on the couch and placing a hand on your shoulder.

All you could do was shake your head in response. You were so choked up on your tears that you couldn’t even speak. You felt Abby get closer to you, trying to take a look at what was on your phone. You quickly hid it away from her, but it was too late. She had already caught a glimpse of the familiar figure that was on the screen.

Her hand makes contact with yours, trying to get ahold of your phone. “Let me see,” she tells you in a commanding, yet gentle tone.

You couldn’t help but give in, slowly loosening your grip on your phone, now letting her have it in her possession. Once the phone was in her hands she took a closer look at the screen, eyes widening in shock and disbelief. She couldn't believe what was seeing right now.

It was a picture of Andrew, her son, out at a party, with his lips attached to another girl’s, that clearly wasn’t his girlfriend.

Abby was just as shocked as you were. But she wasn’t just shocked. She was enraged, enraged at the fact that her own son had gone behind your back and hurt you like this. You were the sweetest, kindest soul she’d ever met, how could he, or anyone manage to break your heart with no remorse whatsoever?

Along with that, Abby couldn’t help but feel disappointed either. She spent the past twenty years raising her son to not be a cheat like his father was. But at that moment, after seeing that photo and the state you are in right now, she felt like she failed as a mother.

At that moment, she wanted to make things right.

Not only that…she wanted to make you forget about her son and make up for how he treated you.

Abby sets your phone down and reaches for her own that was on the coffee table. You try to stop her from doing so, knowing that she is going to call her son right now. “I-I tried calling h-him,” you choked out, grabbing at her forearms. “H-He didn’t respond.”

Abby gently shakes your hands away from her arms and grabs her phone before quickly unlocking it. “He’ll respond to me, sweetheart, trust me,” she tells you sternly, getting up from the couch and making her way back upstairs to her room before closing the door.

She was definitely right about that. It didn’t take long for you to hear the muffled shouting coming out of Abby’s room. Even through the thick walls of her house, you could hear her clear as day:

“Andrew, what the hell were you thinking?! Your girlfriend is here in my house, worried sick about you and you’re at a fucking party cheating on her with another girl?! I didn’t raise you to be like this. If you wanna keep this act up, then go stay with your father, Andrew. I don’t want you coming back here until I say otherwise.”

Despite that Abby was in your defense about this, you couldn’t help but feel so overwhelmed. You honestly wished you hadn’t come here in the first place. Even though it was storming harshly outside, you felt like the best thing was to just go home. This was the last place you wanted to be at right now.

Once Abby had finished talking on the phone, she then went back downstairs to the living room, only to see you heading towards the front door to leave. She quickly stops you before your hand grabs the doorknob. “Hey, where are you going? I told you it’s too dangerous for you to drive out there right now.”

You ignore her and make the effort to push her away and get to the door, but her strong figure wouldn’t budge at all. “I-I need to go, Ms. Anderson, I can’t—“ Your words get cut off as Abby begins to wrap her arms around you, enclosing your surroundings into a hug.

You couldn’t help but give in to her embrace, burying your face into her chest and sobbing into it, instantly staining the soft cotton of her shirt with your tears. The way you were acting right now was hurting Abby inside. It hurt her to know that her son was the one that caused your heart to break into a million pieces, especially knowing how much you loved him. She was willing to do anything right now to take that pain away from you.

“Listen, sweetheart…” She says, slightly pulling away to get a look at you. “I told Andrew to stay at Owen’s in the meantime, okay? You don’t have to worry about him coming here.” she takes another deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t raise my son to be like this, sweetheart…I’m sorry.”

You look up at her and shake your head in response. “I-It’s okay, Ms. Anderson, it’s not your fault…”

The warmth from one of her hands reaches your face, wiping the tears off of your cheeks “I’d like you to stay here for a bit, okay? I don’t want you going out in that storm and getting hurt…I can’t afford to lose what my son couldn’t keep.”

It was clear that Abby didn’t mean for that last sentence to slip, and she didn’t notice that she was thinking out loud until she saw your eyes widen in shock. You couldn’t help but wonder if Abby was having those same feelings towards you as well…

Your gaze shifts away for a second, and you quickly wipe the rest of your tears before looking back up at her. “As much as I’d like to, Ms. Anderson…I really don’t want to be here right now…Everything here just reminds me of him…”

You notice Abby hesitate for a moment. “Do you, uh, want to go to my room instead? Will that help?” she says, practically trying not to sound desperate. She resisted the need to beg for it, but if that was convincing enough for you to stay with her, she would be on her knees in an instant.

“Yeah…That would be a lot better, actually…”

Abby’s arm moves down to the small of your back before keeping you close to her side as you follow her upstairs to her bedroom, which was at the end of the hall. Before you go in, you couldn’t help but turn your head at the room you had just passed—Andrew’s bedroom. You were already thinking about having to eventually go in there and take your things out of his room. The thought of it was already making you sick.

Abby places a hand on your shoulder, causing you to get slightly startled before looking up at her. “You know you don’t have to go in there yet, right?” she assures you, squeezing your shoulder. “I can even get your things out of his room if you need me to.”

You simply nod and smile back at her as a silent ‘thank you’ before turning the knob of her bedroom and letting yourself in.

Upon entering, you realize how much Abby’s room differs from her son’s. Her room was painted in a shade of light blue, her bed was neatly made just as she had it in the morning. On your left, there was her dresser followed by some weights next to it, and on your right was the entrance to her bathroom. That same bathroom you had peeked into not that long ago.

“Your room is nice,” you tell her, your eyes still fixed on your surroundings. “Definitely a lot nicer than Andrew’s.”

Abby lets out a chuckle from behind. “Yeah, I know, he’s always been so unorganized.” she then hesitates for a moment before continuing. “However, there’s always been something in his room that mine doesn’t have…”

You slowly turn around to face her, noticing her starting to approach you. “What’s that?”

She stops in her tracks once she’s in front of you, gently placing her hand on your chin and lifting it up so you can see her.

“…you.”

A smile crept up on your face in reaction to her words. “Is that so? Well…”

You pause for a moment, looking at your surroundings before looking back up at her and leaning in, just close enough to where your lips were just inches away from hers.

“I like it better here anyway,” you whisper back to her.

And with that, Abby gives in and seals your words with a kiss, and you just can’t help but kiss her back. The both of you knew that this was wrong, Abby was your boyfriend’s mother for Christ’s sake.

But if it’s such a bad thing, why did it feel so good for the two of you?

You feel Abby’s hand in front of you, slightly pushing you back so you can sit down on her bed. Once you land on her bed, she drops down to her knees to your height, still maintaining her lips with yours before pulling them away momentarily to strip you down.

Her hands first meet with the hem of your shirt, gently tugging it upwards to get it off. You bring your hands up as she fully discards you from your shirt and toss it to the ground. As she now works on getting your jeans off, you unhook your bra and slowly remove it before tossing it next to your shirt.

Abby looks up for a moment, only for her gaze to linger at the mere sight of your topless self. “My god…” she says in awe, moving both of her hands to your tits. “You look so beautiful…I can’t believe he gets to see this…gets to touch this…”

With her hands still cupping your tits, she leans in to kiss one of them, causing a moan to escape from your mouth. One of her hands moves back to the button of your jeans, and she instantly gets them undone with just a single hand. Her mouth is soon off of your nipple followed by her other hand, now hardened just from the contact of her lips and fingers. You were easily getting so turned on by her, and she knew it.

However, now that your jeans were gone and your underwear was shifted to the side, you couldn’t help but stop her once she was about to dive in between your legs. “W-Wait…” you said, gently pushing her head away from your soaked cunt.

Abby paused her movements immediately, pulling her head away and looking up at you. “What? What is it?” she asks with some slight concern in her voice.

You hesitate for a moment. You genuinely don’t know how you’re going to be able to confess this to her.

“You, um…you don’t have to do it, i-if you don’t want to—“

“But I want to,” she replied firmly, instantly cutting off the rest of your words. “Do you not want me to?”

You shake your head quickly in response. “N-No, I do, I really do, I just thought—“

“Thought what? What did you think?” she asks you, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

It didn’t take long for Abby to get the message. She knew why you were being so hesitant about this. To her, it felt like she was one step away from finally being able to not only taste you but to give you the pleasure that you deserved. But to you, you couldn’t help but simply feel like a burden to her, just like how it was with her son.

“Wait a minute…Has Andrew not been doing this to you?”

Your gaze drifts off to the side, and she takes your lack of eye contact as a yes to her question.

Each of her hands was on your knees, and you could feel her tighten her grip on them a bit, but not to the point where it would hurt you. And even though you were looking away from her, you could see her shake her head in disbelief from the corner of your eye.

“I can’t believe him…” she mutters to herself with a sigh. “He really is just like his father.”

The warmth of her hand makes contact with the side of your face, tilting it back forward to face her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart…please let me make up for my son’s actions…let me give you the pleasure that you deserve. Will you let me do that? Please?”

You hesitate once again. The thought of having Abby give you even the slightest bit of pleasure felt overwhelming to you, but the fact that she was quite literally on her knees begging to do it to you turned you on even more. If anything, Abby was being more desperate than you were right now.

So you give in this time.

“Y-yes…” you whisper out quietly to her. “Go ahead…”

And with that, Abby’s hands meet together at the waistband of your underwear, fully pulling them down and off of your legs before spreading them even farther than before.

Her lips gently brush over your sensitive clit to kiss it, and the sudden contact causes you to involuntarily jerk back. You didn’t mean to do it, but it’s been so long since you’ve been touched before, that even the slightest touch on your pussy already makes you feel overstimulated.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Abby coos, gently squeezing your hips and bringing you closer to her face. “I’ve got you, just lie back and relax for me, sweetheart, okay? Nice and slow…”

You try your best to keep your cool right now, and even Abby tries to as well. It’s clearly taking everything in her to not just quickly dive into your pussy and devour you alive. But she knows how long it’s been for you. She knows that your body hasn’t been worshipped the way that it should be.

“God….you taste so good…sweetest little thing I’ve ever had…” she murmurs into your pussy, slowly increasing the speed of her fingers.

You couldn’t help but watch in awe at the sight of Abby right now. Andrew was never willing to even put his mouth near your pussy, while his mother here was on her knees eating you like a woman starved.

“Mmmh, g-go faster, please…” you quietly whine out to her, grinding your hips against both of her thick fingers that were inside you.

You didn’t need to say anything else for Abby to instantly obey your command. Her fingers began to pump in and out of your pussy even faster than before. They were going in so deep to the point where the tip of her middle finger easily tapped into your g spot, and you absolutely loved it.

Before you knew it, Abby’s fingers and mouth were going at an extremely rapid pace inside you, so fast to the point where you were gripping onto the edge of the bed to hold yourself down.

That feeling was quickly building up inside you now, you were going to cum at any moment. However, something about that feeling felt unusual to you. It was almost as if you needed to stop what she was doing to you.

So you do. You try to warn her, even grab at her wrist to slow down.

“A-Abby, wait—oh God—fuck!”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t warn her in time. Your body had already done its deed, your pussy uncontrollably squirting into her mouth and on her fingers as you reached your peak. The rest of your body felt limp, and your brain was feeling slightly fuzzy from your orgasm.

You felt Abby shift around in between your legs to stand back up, which led you to muster up the energy to sit up on the bed. Your eyes widen at the mess you’ve just created. Everything—Abby’s face, her clothes, her sheets, your legs—was all soaked with your release.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by it, quickly closing up your legs and bringing your knees to your face. “A-Abby, I’m so sorry I—I didn’t mean to do that…I tried to—“

“Hey hey, it’s okay sweetheart…Don’t feel bad…” she murmurs out to you, gently caressing your face with one hand while bringing both of your knees back down with the other. “Did it feel good?”

You nod slowly as she looks back down at you. “Yes, it did…Better than—”

“Better than him, right?”

“Yeah. Better than him.”

A smile flashes on Abby’s face as she leans in to kiss your lips, letting you taste a bit of yourself in the process. “Then you shouldn’t be sorry, sweetheart,” she tells you as she pulls away. “Lie down on the back of the bed, princess. I'm not done with you just yet.”

You simply oblige, sitting yourself up and scooting to the back of her bed, lying your head down on top of her pillows that were stacked in front of the headboard. You watch as Abby wipes her face and licks her fingers clean before stripping herself out of her clothes. Just like last time, you couldn’t help but admire her broad, muscular figure. And it wasn't just her figure, it was just everything about her. Her bright blue eyes, her freckled skin, her luscious blond hair…You just felt so mesmerized by her. You felt an attraction to her that just couldn’t compete with Andrew at all.

Your eyes follow her movements as she leans down over her bottom bedside drawer and opens it for a moment before shaking her head and closing it. It didn’t take much for you to be able to see the strap she owned, alongside the few other toys she had in there.

The weight of the bed soon shifts down as she hovers herself over you. “Are you…are you not gonna fuck me?” you ask her quietly.

Abby nods her head as she adjusts the pillows on the back of your head to make you feel more comfortable. “I’m gonna fuck you, sweetheart, just not with those,” she says as she shifts back and begins to position herself in between your legs. “I'm gonna fuck you in a way that no man, not even my own son, could ever do with you. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly, eager to find out how she’s going to do this. However, you didn’t know what to do about it either. “Wait, but how do I—”

“You don’t have to do anything, okay princess? All you have to do is just look pretty for me while I do the work. Lie back and relax for me, just like before, yeah?”

You nod again, resting your upper body back on the bed as Abby continues to maneuver herself over you. She lifts up one of your legs and places it over her shoulder, and then brings her free hand down to her pussy and spreads her lips open with two of her fingers. You could easily see that she was just as wet as you were right now.

She then places her wet pussy on top of yours and you easily gasp at the newfound feeling of it. The way her lips molded perfectly against yours, along with how her arousal was practically dripping on top of your tight hole had you reeling.

“Oh fuck,” Abby mutters out, further pressing herself down on top of you. “Your pussy feels even better against me like this.”

Abby begins to grind her pussy against yours, causing you to moan over the friction. You understand that Abby wants to take her time with you right now, but God was she being so painfully slow with this. You were desperately craving for some more friction already, but you felt too shy to tell her. So you end up weakly grinding your hips instead.

“Whoa there,” Abby says, placing a hand on your hip to keep you steady. “Looks like someone’s eager for more…You want me to go faster, princess? Is that what you want?”

“Y-Yes, p-please Abby…g-go faster…” you whine out to her, continuing to grind against her pussy.

“Needy girl…” she mutters as she increases her pace. “Not even a minute with my pussy and she already wants more…I bet it feels better than any cock you’ve ever had, hm?”

All you could do at this point was babble and whine in response. The feeling of Abby’s wet cunt against yours was getting you easily drunk. You look down and watch Abby place a thumb on your hood, lifting it to expose your throbbing clit to her. She then placed her clit right on top of yours before grinding even faster than before.

The sudden overstimulation caused your eyes to flutter themselves shut and your head to tilt back in pleasure against the stack of pillows behind you. Your body soon starts to feel limp again and the familiar fuzziness in your brain soon returns again. At this point, Abby was practically using your pussy to get herself off. But as long as you kept feeling the delicious friction of her clit rubbing against yours, you didn’t mind at all.

Abby suddenly tightens her grip on your leg, leading you to open your eyes and look back at her. Her brows were furrowed in concentration with her gaze fixed on both pussies. You could hear her quietly whimpering to herself while the muscles in her abdomen were contracting and tensing up as she kept quickly grinding herself against your pussy.

At first, you couldn’t tell what she was trying to do with herself. But it didn’t take you too long to realize why her body was doing these things.

Abby was waiting for you to cum first.

You were at a loss for words at the moment. Andrew never cared about that. He would always be done the second he’d finish, meanwhile, Abby was sacrificing her own pleasure just to make you cum a second time.

“A-Are you close, sweetheart?” Abby moans out to you, keeping her hands firm against you as she continues to rub her pussy onto yours.

“Y-Yes, fuck—” you whimper back as you begin to quickly grind your hips against hers. “D-don't stop, Abby…m’so close…”

At this point, the noises that the two of you were making right now were borderline pornographic. Between your moans and whines with Abby’s grunts, along with the wet squelching sound of both of your pussies rubbing against one another, it's honestly surprising how you haven’t woken up the neighbors by now.

“Fuck, Abby—'m gonna cum, fuck!” you tell her as you grip the bedsheets while continuing to rub your clit with hers.

Within seconds, your pussy began to quickly clench around Abby’s while instantly cumming right on top of it. Once Abby felt that you were emptied out, she soon let her body relax before cumming onto your pussy as well with a broken moan.

Once the both of you have recovered from each other's climaxes, Abby presses a soft kiss to your ankle before gently getting your leg off of her shoulder and setting it back down.

Feeling drunk from your orgasm, you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, hardly feeling the movements of Abby cleaning you up and tucking you into a fresh set of sheets. Your eyes open back up again once Abby has her arm wrapped around you from behind. “Abby, that was…that felt amazing..” you whisper out to her.

Abby lets out a chuckle before gently kissing the back of your shoulder. “I’m glad I could make up for it, sweetheart,” she whispers back to you.

You turn your head around for a moment to face her. “Are you sure I can spend the night here with you?” you ask her shyly.

Abby smiles at you, giving you a quick kiss on your lips before responding. “Of course you can, sweetheart…you know I told him not to come back,” she reassures you, gently caressing the side of your face with her hand. “You’re in good hands with me, I promise.”

You smile at her before turning back around and pressing yourself closer to her as she keeps you tightly wrapped in her embrace. The security that Abby was giving you right now was more than enough to make you instantly drift off to sleep, secretly wishing that the night that you’d spent with your boyfriend’s mother could now last a lifetime.

And little did you know, Abby was also wishing the same thing too.

“You okay?” she asks. 

Your hum is muffled by the gas mask. It’s been a strange run. More comfortable than usual, but also more uncomfortable in the way her eyes have been lingering on you for longer than necessary. The way she’s found reasons to touch you, where she’d usually avoid it completely. Fingertips across your lower back as she’s guided you through tight spaces, smoothing your hair in the pouring rain outside, covering you in an extra blanket when you’re shivering at night. It’s happened slowly, and you’re afraid to read into it. Maybe, before the Rattlers, Abby was just a tactile person and she’s getting herself back. 

But maybe not. Maybe the static between you isn’t all in your head. Wouldn’t that be nice?

*

“Fuck, we need to find a way out. Fast,” Abby mutters.

“No shit.” The deeper you go into the warehouse, the more the telltale veins and growths of infection swallow the walls. Problem is, a cabinet fell across the door you came through, and the raiders are still out there, and the windows are boarded. There is no way out but through. Your breath is ragged in your mask. You’d think you’d be used to this now, but it never seems to get any easier. 

In the darkness, Abby shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours where it flexes around her poised rifle. Unlike you, she’s good at pretending this isn’t blood-curdlingly terrifying, You’ve joked, before, that she must be a cat with nine lives. She laughed and said, “Uh-oh. If that’s true, I must only have a couple more to go.”

“Better start being more careful,” you replied, and rolled your eyes when she only ran into the next store, the next fight, the next danger.

She has never, ever been careful.

*

“These spores don’t look the same as the others,” you note. Your flashlight is nothing more than a watery spotlight drifting over the rotted furniture and spiderwebbing spores, diluted to grey by the thick, polluted air. You’ve stayed longer than necessary. Only had to put down a couple runners so far, but it’s been worth it for the supplies. This place must have been some kind of chemical plant, because you’ve managed to find medicinal supplies the infirmary hasn’t seen in years. Supplies that will seriously reduce the risk of surgical complications. 

“No?” Abby frowns, busy raiding the shelves. It’s like this a lot: you, distracted, her razor-sharp in her focus. You used to worry she resented you for it, back when she barely spoke to anyone. Now, it’s just the way it works, and she worries more if you’re not talking about something completely unrelated to the task at hand. 

You lean closer to the growths ballooning over the rubble, an unease filling your chest. You’ve seen a shit ton of spores in your time, but none of them have ever been bright red. Pulsing as though alive, half-ready to sprout from the wall and mow you down. You kneel cautiously, sole of your boot crunching over glass, and that’s when you notice it. Some of the chemicals have spilled out, the containers half-eaten by the surrounding fungi. 

Guess that explains it. “Come look,” you say.

Abby sighs, shucking her backpack onto her shoulders and pointedly stomping over the debris to meet you in the corner of the lab. “Yikes. Looks… Hungry.”

“If we get another mutation out of this shit, I’m out.”

She snorts. “I think we’re good. Doesn’t seem like many of them are wandering around.”

“Hm. Famous last words.” As Abby goes back to the supplies, you spare one last glance at the peculiar markings, tracing the red mycelia — you think that’s what the roots are — with your eyes. 

It puffs, suddenly: a gentle sigh, a cough at most, but you spring back as a splatter of red leaps out at you. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Thank god for your mask. You look down to make sure there’s nothing on your clothes, though you’re sure as hell set on burning them as soon as possible after this. “It just… spat at me.”

“You do tend to have that effect,” she says dryly. 

You whirl on her, at once forgetting all about the weird little spores floating to the ground. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You can imagine Abby’s shit-eating grin under the mask, see it in the flash of her eyes behind the visor. Hear the gentle chuckle as she finally zips up her pack. “Maybe you made it nervous with all that staring. Sure as hell do with me.”

“Yeah, right. Nothing makes you nervous.” But you’re blushing, afraid your mask might steam up. A little dizzy, even, because… is she flirting with you?

You lean on the table, feeling suddenly intoxicated, and she turns serious all at once. 

“Whoa. You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah. Just… hungry, probably.” Not a lie. Running from raiders gave you little time to tuck into the sandwiches wrapped in tin foil in your pack. They’re probably mouldy now, three days into your run, but you’re no stranger to cutting off the crusts. Or the cheese. Or throwing it away in favour of jerky, which is also a very real possibility. 

Abby’s hand still grabs your hip in an attempt to steady you, worry fixed on the little part of her face you can see. 

She looks back at the unusual spore, fear flickering, just for a minute. 

“Hey. I’m wearing my mask. I’m fine, Abby.”

“Yeah.” She scoffs like she’s embarrassed to have even contemplated it, the idea of you infected. 

But by the time you seek refuge in an old apartment, you’re running a fever, and that fear… it infests her quicker than any infection.

*

“It’s probably just a cold,” you’re saying, but your voice is wobbly, and you’re not sure you believe it. 

“So eat,” she’s asking — demanding — shoving the sandwich you’d so been looking forward to in your face. The scent of it, stale bread and rich cheese, has your stomach turning, and you twist quickly away as you fight down a retch. 

She says your name, and you hear it. That terror, the crack. It’s an “I might have to kill you” crack. It’s a “you might turn into a monster” crack. 

You’re starting to believe it, too, vision blurring, eyes burning, stomach cramping. It’s come on too quickly, and already it’s more than just a cold. Your body is shivery, not yours, and your focus keeps slipping away. She’s already asked you to count, slowly, to ten a handful of times. You have passed the test, for now, but you keep thinking of those spores. Is it possible they could have infiltrated your mask, somehow? 

Are you dying here, like this, storm raging outside, Abby trying to force-feed you old bread?

“Abby,” you whine, and how strange; you like how her name feels in your throat, like for a moment, it can soothe you, make your head stop pounding. Honey against a sore throat.

“Fuck,” Abby hisses, pushing off her thighs to tower over you. She throws down the sandwich and marches to the window, an old kitchen counter digging into her palms. You map the muscles on her back, made more prominent by the evening’s shadows, and something… wakes up inside you. Or, maybe not wakes. Maybe just yawns, but you feel it: an echo, a flash of teeth, a shift. Something inside of you wants. 

Because you’re dying, probably. And because you’ve always wanted. Her head bows, and you see her swallowing long, deep breaths. Trying to keep her composure. 

It’s instinct to try to comfort her. “Maybe I just got so hungry that I’m not hungry anymore,” you suggest. “I defeated hunger. I’m just that strong.”

“Stop trying to be cute right now. That’s not how it fucking works,” she grits out. 

“You think I’m cute?”

“If you’re not infected, I’m going to kill you myself. Slowly.” 

“Damn. At least buy me dinner first.”

And then she’s yelling your name in chastisement, turning so fast you feel dizzy again, even from where you sit on a pile of blankets on the floor. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her this angry: not when someone hurt Lev, not when she was taken off patrol because of a sprained wrist, not even when you prodded her too hard about what happened before, with the Rattlers. Her nostrils are flaring, cheekbones flushed, fingers fisted like she genuinely wants to wring your neck. 

It should scare you. She is decidedly scary. Not often, not with you, but she could crush you with her bare hands if she wanted. 

Unfortunately, there is something wrong with you. Instead of clenching with fear, something a little further south than your belly is clenching with… lust. A flash, so bright it’s electrifying, ricochets through your brain. In it, her, kissing you, fucking you, filling you.

You’re disgusted. Not by the images, but by the fact you conjured them. You know, or at least can guess, what the Rattlers did to her in Santa Barbara. If you’re thinking of her that way, imagining the lewd sounds she’d make…

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you announce, because suddenly you’re on fire. Skin searing, beads of sweat dribbling down your neck, stomach fucking cramping. It’s so bad you can barely trap a whimper as you head to the half crumbling little room, then crumple on the tiles. You don’t care that they’re dirty: they provide you with relief, and only then do you realise your heart is right in your ears. 

You’re dying, and worse, you’re dying horny. All of the things you did, the wars you fought, the lives you saved, the people you loved… 

It’s all slipping away. 

Not a minute after you’ve pressed your face to the tiles, you hear her come closer. Every step is a kick against your sternum. Somehow, she’s making it worse. 

Outside the door, she calls your name. Soft now, all of that anger gone. You think you hear her sniffle, but maybe that’s just your first hallucination. Seems like that’s where the night might be heading. 

You don’t have it in you to reply, afraid that talking will make her realise how sick you are. Because you are, and you can’t deny it. 

“Need you to talk to me,” Abby begs. “Tell me you’re still alive in there.”

“For now,” you murmur, then squeeze your eyes shut. “Could you maybe tell Lev I died in a more heroic way than this?” Lev adores you. He’s awed by your sniping abilities, and your comics collection, and your terrible, terrible jokes. 

And your way of making Abby laugh. That part, he likes the most. Still, you like when he treats you like a hero, somebody to be inspired by. You don’t want him to know that your final night is spent crying with cockroaches while your insides tear themselves up, all because you must have had a faulty mask. 

“I don’t think you’re dying,” Abby says. You hear her shuffle, slide down the door to sit. “I don’t think you’re infected at all. I just checked your mask. It’s… it looks fine. And your cognitive skills clearly haven’t taken a hit.” 

“I don’t know about that.” You laugh humourlessly. “Feeling pretty fucked up.” You gulp. “How will you do it? Knife or bullet?”

The pause almost kills you. It gives you too much time to think of it: Abby, putting you down before you become something else. Something wrong. All that time spent wanting her, loving her, and all you’ll be in the end is another fleck of death in her long line of it. Another pain she’ll learn to live with, over time. She’ll go home. Be with Lev. Find a new run partner, a new friend, someone who won’t piss her off with stupid jokes and distractions. 

“It’s not going to come to that.”

“I think I’d rather a knife,” you admit. “But honestly, it’s your call. Whatever's easiest.”

“Stop it,” she warns, desperation scraping her throat, scraping the door, scraping your overly sensitive skin. And then, a slam. “Open up. Let me see you.”

“I might not be safe.”

“Open the fucking door.”

Her bark leaves no room for protest. Pulling yourself up is an effort, your head heavy on your neck. Sinking. There’s an ache between your eyes that feels… permanent. 

You unlock the door. There’s a tear on her cheek, and a lot more on yours. 

Even though it hurts, you let her hug you. Hold you. Whisper, “You’re not going anywhere” over and over, until, by the time you’re ready to pass out on your bedroll, already sweating through the fabric, you can almost believe it’s true. 

*

You should have turned by now. That’s what Abby is thinking when you wake up, still you, hours into the night. She hasn’t slept, instead fisting the hilt of her knife. Just in case. She knows, if it came down to it, she wouldn’t be brave enough to use it.

Not on you. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that, but she can tell from the way you’ve been whimpering gutturally in your sleep that you’re still sick. Getting worse. There are red spiderwebs under your skin, identical to the fungi you saw in the warehouse. Your eyes are glassy as you rise, and your sweat is all over the bed roll. She can smell it from here: sweet, somehow, which is not unusual for you, only... It's off. Musky. 

Sour.

“Hey. What do you need?” Abby questions softly, moving closer. 

A sob escapes you, nails curling against your stomach like there’s something there you want to scrape out. “Oh, god.”

“What? What is it?” She crouches in front of you urgently, tilting your chin up. Your skin is on fire, hot enough to make her want to pull away, but she doesn’t. You keen against her like it hurts, and that terror returns in a surge from the crown of her head to her toes. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything’s… burning.”  More of those spiderwebs, dancing under your skin. Your hands knot her shirt so tight it rips.

She covers them with her own, thinking that maybe this has to be an infection, just not the one she’d feared. She begins checking your skin for marks, maybe an open wound or a rash, anything that might clue her in on what’s wrong. Anything that doesn't just lead back to spores. You jerk against every brush of contact, and she tries — she fucking tries — to be gentle. 

It’s hard when she feels like she’s losing something she can’t live without. 

It’s hard when you’re slurring, “Please. Please, make it stop.”

She gives you water. Lets you drink all that’s left in her flask, even if you were rationing it for tomorrow. It only makes you heave, and then you’re squirming away, your back to her, and she’s trying to keep you here, where she can see you—

Her hands brush your breast completely by accident when she reaches out, but there, you scream. “Abby!” 

She’s never felt this helpless, this lost. All of the work she put into rebuilding herself — for what? So she could watch the woman she loves fall apart with a pain she doesn’t recognise, doesn’t understand?

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. I need… I need to check you for a rash.” Because all she can think is it must be meningitis or sepsis, and so there must be something to find. Something to help her know. 

She takes off your T-shirt, soaked with sweat, and the shriek of agony you let out almost destroys her. 

*

You think maybe you’re on fire, skin melting into bone, organs boiling into soup. It’s the only way you can describe what you’re feeling, the only way you can make sense of it. 

But worse is the throb between your legs. Your thighs are clenched, and you feel the slick pooling with your sweat there, pussy weeping like… 

Like it needs to be filled. Every time Abby touches you, it gets worse, sending another lick of flames through you. They gather right there in your cunt, toes curling, hips rocking as though searching for any semblance of friction. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching down, rubbing.

You feel Abby pause her search for something you’ve already forgotten the name of, hear her at a loss as she whispers your name. “What… What are you doing?”

“Need. I need…” You sob, because the frantic rubs of your clit only make it hurt more. You need something else, something real, something that will split you open and let out all this pain. 

“Hey.” Abby cups your jaw, straddling you in an attempt to keep your convulsions at bay. You can smell her sweat, her soap, and your hole clenches around nothing, and it hurts. You don’t know how you’ll survive this. You don’t think you will. “Tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“Need… Need to be filled.”

“I don’t understand. Help me understand.” There are tears in her voice. You open your eyes, her face swimming in your blurred vision. It’s marked with nothing but concern. Dread. 

And she’s right there, pinning your pelvis down. So you roll up your hips to rub against her, and fuck, your entire body holds its breath. The friction is raw, scraping, even with layers between the two of you. She looks down, brows pinching at the sight of your mess. 

“Holy shit.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t come, Abby.”

“Okay. Okay.” You have no idea how she’s in control like that right now. It’s not okay. None of this is okay. But she leans back, unbuttoning your pants with trembling fingers. “Maybe… Maybe it was those weird fucking spores. Maybe…” 

As soon as the pants are gone, you’re fingering yourself again, plunging in a finger. It only makes it worse, insides spasming with so much pain you want to vomit. “I can’t. I can’t reach.” Your fingers are too fucking small. “Oh, god, it hurts.”

She grips your wrist to better guide you, lips parted with all the shock, the worry. Her eyes are dark, nearly black, as she watches you plunge into yourself, cunt leaking so violently that your panties are transparent now. Clinging to your folds, even when you push the fabric aside to fuck your fingers. Your legs kick and flail, more pain, more emptiness. Your gut is a chasm, and nothing is enough to stop the gnawing edges from yawning further. You feel like you’re minutes from being engulfed by the void. 

You grab her hand. Rub against her, spreading all that thick, creamy arousal over her freckled skin. Her breath catches, blood draining from her.

This isn’t right. This isn’t you. 

“Baby, stop. Stop.” She pulls away, a lump clogging her throat as she pins your wrists at either side of your head. You thrash, but she’s strong enough to keep you down. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you’re crying again and again. It kills her. She wants to make it better, but she doesn’t know what it is.

When you open your eyes, she finds your pupils blown, face shiny with sweat. 

“I need you to talk to me. Please, please talk to me,” she begs. 

“I… I don’t know… I can’t. It just hurts. It hurts so, so bad.” Tears fall across your cheeks. Even now, you’re bucking your hips against her, and she’s trying so, so fucking hard not to feel the sharp shot of pleasure it brings when you rub against her clit. 

It devastates her, a little. She’s been trying to figure out her shit so she can be with you. So that she can kiss you, fuck you, without remembering all the times she was forced into submission in Santa Barbara. And now… you’re here, beneath her, saying that if she doesn’t fuck you, you’ll die. 

She can’t do that to you. She won’t.

“Okay. Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna use me—”

“No, Abby,” you choke out. “No. No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You take what you want.”

“Everything you’ve been through—”

Her heart fucking breaks. How the hell can you care about her right now when you’re suffering this much? How the hell can you still be dancing the line of consent when you could fucking fall apart if she doesn’t help you?

“None of that matters,” she says, leaning down to make sure you hear. When her breath brushes your ear, you moan again, thick and sultry and agonised. “Only you matter.”

You surrender beneath her, finally. She swallows, guiding you to a seat as carefully as she can — not carefully enough. Every sound of pain sends another needle through her skin. She just wants to make it stop. She just wants to make you better. 

Her arms are a steady force around your back as she drags you over her thighs. You soak her pants immediately, and still, you don’t move the way she told you, your head lolling against hers. 

“Come on. You’re okay. Take what you need.”

“I can’t.” You shake your head into her neck, but she feels the way you inhale her skin, the way your mouth brushes her. It’s all she can do not to arch her back. 

But she can’t. You’re barely cognisant.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She grips your hips, dragging your pussy over her thigh. When you scrape over the buttons and pockets of her cargoes, you bite your tongue so hard she sees blood. 

She cups your jaw again, driving the damp hair from your eyes. “You’re hurting yourself. Stop trying to control it.”

“I can’t do this to you,” you’re mumbling. “Please, Abby.”

“I’m telling you you can.”

Another rock, another, this time without her needing to guide you. You’re sloppy and clumsy, seconds from falling right off her lap, so she keeps you up, whispers praises in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl. Gonna make it better.”

Only it doesn’t make it better, because you’re still empty. While your pleasure mounts, it never breaks, just keeps building, building, building. A well with no bottom. Your teeth clamp into her shoulder in frustration, another wave of pain racking through you. “I can’t. It’s not working.”

“Try your fingers again.”

You do, but you’re slippery and you still can’t reach. You must say as much through all the fog, because then she’s cursing, a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck. Her cool palm is a balm, but not one that lasts for nearly long enough. Your fever wins out, burning away the pleasantness of her touch. 

Your head droops against her shoulder. “I think… I’m gonna die.”

She can’t let that happen. She deposits you back onto your bed roll, scanning over you one last time. She’s out of ideas. The fact she doesn’t even have anything to fill you up, only her fingers… it makes her sick. Makes her wish she was someone capable, someone who could save you. 

What she doesn’t know is that nobody else could. Your body wants her. Needs her. Only her. 

She peels off your underwear, closing her eyes at the smell of sex that covers your dark hairs. Her own core is coiled tightly, arousal dampening her pants, and she wonders if that makes her twisted. There is nothing pleasurable about seeing you in pain, but you’re still you, and she has wanted you for so long… 

“I can try to fill you.”

“No.” You shake your head, tears zigzagging across your cheeks. “No, Abby, not like this.”

“We don’t have another option.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to force you into this.” You speak through chattering teeth. “I… fuck, I love you too much to do this.”

“I love you too much to not do this,” Abby whispers. “But I need you to tell me you understand. I need you to tell me yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” It’s clear from the way you’re weakening in front of her, the way your fingernails are digging into your own thighs. Again, she pins your wrists somewhere you can’t hurt yourself. Again, your hips rise to meet her body of their own volition. Through your shirt, your nipples peak, and she imagines clamping her tongue around them. Working pleasure into your body to replace the pain. She wants, so badly, to take care of you in every single way she can think of. 

She wants what she shouldn’t. She always has. 

“Okay,” you say then, likely because you’re buckling in pain again. “Yes.”

“You want me to fill you up with my fingers?”

“Please,” you plead hoarsely. “Please. Oh god, please before I…”

She plunges a finger into you, thick and beckoning, and your pleasure rattles through the entire apartment in a breathy, dazed scream. She doesn’t want to take more than promised, but when your walls clench around her, soft and noisy and hers, she uses her thumb to toy with your clit. If she can just get you there, get you through this… 

“It’s not enough!” 

Her heart squeezes, and she puts a second finger inside, thrusting harder, faster. You’re squelching against her, arousal pouring out of you, making it difficult for her to find purchase. Your murmurs become incoherent, eyes rolling to the back of your head, tension quivering in the soft pouch of your belly. She smooths over it, and it only fuels your frenzy, rocking over the blankets and pillows. You’re made of fire, but it isn’t searing now so much as smouldering, igniting a thousand tingling embers through you. You feel everything and nothing. You feel her, taking care of you, stretching you out, still so gentle as you ride her again and again. 

“That’s it. Good girl. Taking me so, so good. I know it hurts,” Abby’s saying. “Gonna make it go away now. Gonna make you better.”

You’ve never felt an orgasm build like this before, so quickly, and yet not quick enough. The ceiling spins above you, but there, right on the precipice, all there is is more pain. 

“More. More, Abby.”

“Fuck, baby.” A third and fourth finger are stuffed into you, a sting of pain followed by so much fullness you don’t know what to do with. “How’s that? Better?”

“So… So good.” The relief only makes the promise of finishing sweeter, but she’s not close enough. You need her closer. You drag her down so that there’s barely any space between you, pressing her hips against yours. She’s so deep inside, you can feel her in your stomach, and then her lips are on your tits, sucking through the fabric of your shirt, letting it chafe. You’re worried, for a minute, you might never come. You might be stuck in this limbo for the rest of your life, needing her, wanting her, clenched around her — forcing her. 

She must sense where your thoughts go, because then she says, “You need my tongue?”

If you weren’t outside of your body, if you weren’t feverish, if you weren’t dying, you might recognise how wrong it would be to ask for more. But you’re sick, and you’re still not orgasming, and she’s asking. 

So you nod. She dips down, mouth latching onto your clit before her tongue dips into you with her fingers, and the world collapses from under you. You grab her braid, the first thing you can hold onto, rutting against her face, fucking her tongue with reckless abandon, unravelling, and all she can think is: how can you taste this good even now? How are you still sweet as honeysuckle? How will she ever stop lapping you up?

She doesn’t, not even as you finally reach your edge with a bloodcurdling scream. She splays her fingers inside you until it stings, curling up your G-spot as she sups on your clit. She’s determined to get this out of you, determined to make sure you get everything you need to make this go away, so she pulls your hips up for better access, lengthening your orgasm into something you think might never end. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, your fingernails leaving crescents in her scalp because if you let go, you don’t know what will happen. 

It’s eons before you collapse, body shuddering in the aftershock. Those cramps have dulled, thighs locked around Abby’s torso, exhaustion tugging you down somewhere deep and dark but warm. 

The worst is over. 

Abby rises to see you, chin glistening with your slick, lids hooded but still terrified. “Better?”

You nod. It’s all you can do. 

She uses your blankets to clean you up, gently drying your swollen folds until you keen. “Sorry. I’m sorry, baby. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m so… I’m so sorry, Abs,” you reply, exhaustion making your words barely audible. 

Abby shushes you, moving to wipe your face with a clean cloth. Tears are still dribbling from your eyes, face flushed the same pink as your cunt. 

“You’re okay now. Let me take care of you.”

She already has, but she doesn’t sleep that night, forcing you to drink the last of the water before you fall into a sleep so deep she keeps checking your pulse just to make sure you’re with her, still. She is so afraid you won’t wake up, until in the early hours, you start murmuring her name, fever finally breaking.

Safe. Here. 

*

In the morning, you wake sore and disoriented. Last night feels more like a vivid dream, but you know by the stench of musk and the way Abby won’t look at you that it isn’t. As she grabs food for you, you gulp down tears, certain she must hate you now. 

You forced her. 

“Abby…”

She flinches when you say her name, and you’d rather be dead, honestly.

“I’m so, so sorry. I don’t… I’m…” Tears flood you. You cover your mouth. “Oh my god. What have I done?”

“No. Don’t.” Abby sighs, and you’re surprised to find no hatred as she kneels beside you. Only concern, and maybe relief.

“I… I made you—”

“You didn’t make me do anything.”

“After everything you went through, everything—”

She takes your trembling hands in hers. “Baby, stop. Please.”

Baby. You remember her calling you that last night, but only now does the confusion spike. You’ve never been her baby before, and you deserve it less now than ever. 

She takes your hand, corners of her mouth tugging down as she looks at you properly. She traces your skin just to make sure you’re not still hurting, a breath of relief puffing from her when you only lean closer. Still, it feels like it’s knitted over your bones differently now: tighter, more fragile. Whatever that sickness was, you hope it never gets you again. 

Her fingers curl at the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours. “I’ve been forced before. That wasn’t that. You needed me, and I needed to help you, and there was no other way.”

“But you should have been able to say no—”

“I wouldn’t have. Don’t you fucking get it?” Abby whispers. “I’d never say no to you. I didn’t know if you were going to wake up. The rest… The rest is something we’ll figure out. As long as you’re here, as long as we’re both fucking here…” Her throat bobs. “I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Slowly, your nose brushes against hers. “It… I mean, it was hell, complete agony, but the part where you came in? That was… It felt so... so good. I felt safe, as long as you were there.”

She looks at you like maybe she loves you. Like maybe she feels the same. “God, I didn’t want our first time to be that way.”

“You mean… you’ve thought about… that before?”

A timid curl of her lips. “Maybe.”

“With me?”

“C’mon. Who else?”

“Well, there’s Bill from the armoury. For all I know, you’re into older men.”

She tugs your hair lightly, chin wobbling with hidden laughter. “You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.” Which is why you have no idea how this happened. Why she could want you. “Mostly because I like the way your nose wrinkles when you’re trying not to laugh at my shitty jokes.”

Her nose wrinkles, and you say, “Yep. Just like that.” 

the three of you had been at this for fifteen minutes already. it happened when you mentioned to them that you'd never squirted before. of course, being the two numbskulls that they are, they took that as a challenge.

so now you were laying on your back in bed, abby between your legs and ellie at your side.

ellie was holding your hand, rubbing your knuckles with one hand and rubbing your clit with her other. abby, of course, was wearing her biggest, longest strap she has, and she's pounding into you while she cradled your head.

pathetic little whimpers we're escaping your lips with each thrust, but all you could do was take it.

"shhh... sh sh sh." ellie coos, "come on baby, you can take more."

abby is too focused to speak, hitting that spot inside of you repeatedly. your insides were probably bruised now, and she could feel you clenching around her.

"she's gettin' tight, ellie." abby says. ellie snickers, pressing down and pinching your clit. you moan and your back arches off the bed.

you flail your legs, trying to close them in retaliation, but abby keeps them open. "uh-uh. keep 'em wide and spread for me, sweet girl. you close, huh? yeah, i can feel ya." her words send you over the edge and you're coming for the third time tonight. your entire body convulses with pleasure, and both girls marvel at the way your face contorts.

"no way in hell i'm letting you win." ellie mutters to abby under her breath, shooing her away from you once your high is over.

she gives your cunt a few firm slaps before impaling you with her silicon dick. she bottoms out in one go, the tip of her dick kissing your cervix sloppily. hers is much longer than abby's, making a little bump in your lower tummy.

"s' too big." you whine when ellie's hand meets your stomach, pressing down on the little bump she made.

"you've got it, sweet girl. come on, baby, come on." she whispers in your ear.

abby chuckles as she watches this all unfold. she let ellie go first to get you nice and stimulated, in hopes that she could be the one to make you squirt. but the way that ellie was slamming roughly into you made her believe that that wasn't going to happen.

"hurts." you groan, eyes closing.

"keep your eyes open. watch ellie fuck you." abby commands, so naturally you listen. you open your eyes to watch her slip in and out of you. your thighs were covered in slick, and your next orgasm was coming.

ellie's pants and heavy breaths only turned you on more, and it was getting harder to sit still. ellie had a shit-eating grin on her face, knowing what was about to happen.

"scream my name, honey. come on, let me hear you." she coaxes, and you gush at her words, doing exactly that. you yelled her name, in contrast to the little whimpers and quiet whines you were eliciting earlier. you'd never felt more euphoric in your entire life. sure, you'd come on your own hands, their hands, their straps, and even their mouths several times. but nothing compared to the tingles you felt on every inch of your body.

the sheets were wet.

ellie entire lower half was wet.

you were wet, laying in a puddle of your own substances.

ellie laughs and cheers, "you fucking squirted!"

abby groans in defeat after seeing the utter mess you made. her eyebrows were squeezed together, her bulky hand in a tense fist. she shook her head silently, as if contemplating punching ellie in the jaw.

but ellie was too busy celebrating to notice, "fuck yeah! i did it!" she says, pecking you in every little crease and corner her lips can reach.

you were too fucked-out to comment on her celebrating, or abby's defeat, for that matter.

"how d'you feel, sweet pea?" abby is first to check on you after ellie disappears to go fetch some towels.

"fucking amazing." you mumble, nestling comfortably into the crease between her shoulder and neck, "never knew it could feel like that."

she chuckles, kissing your hairline, "there's plenty more where that came from. next time, i'll be the one to make you squeal like that, hm?"

"Government officials met today to discuss the recent spikes in hospitalizations all across the globe over the past week, with talks of setting up government run quarantine zones in all major cities." 

You perk up from your spot on the couch, trading the carton of ice cream in your hands for the TV remote. The local newswoman's voice fills the quiet space as the volume increases. You immediately recognize the hospital in the background. 

"Hospital staff everywhere are overwhelmed with the influx of patients coming in with symptoms of this mysterious virus. For the time being it is highly recommended that any travel plans be postponed. International flights have started being cancelled, leaving hundred of people stranded. The CDC advises everyone to remain calm  and continue to follow your city's imposed emergency curfews as they work towards finding the cause." 

The face-mask you'd slathered on earlier hardens as she lists off the symptoms to look out for: sudden mood changes, muscle spasms, and slurred speech. You can't wrap your mind around a simple virus causing all this. Your stomach sinks in realization, this is definitely more serious than anybody was letting on. 

Without even thinking you reach for your phone, quickly scrolling through your contact list until you land on the one person you've been avoiding. Abby, your ex girlfriend of six months. Your finger hovers over her number, wondering if this was worth breaking three months of no contact when loud screams come from the television. You look up just in time to see the blast of an explosion before the screen goes blank. Static stares back you. 

Your finger mashes down on the touchscreen with zero hesitation as you run to the sink, hands desperately scrubbing at your face while you wait for her to answer. You don't even stop to consider you might be blocked. 

Please pick up, please pick up, please.

"Hello?" Abby's panicked voice sounds through the phone. 

"Oh my god Abs. Are you okay?" You ramble. "I just saw the news and I- there was an explosion."

"I had to home to change. " Her voice is shaky, turn signal clicks faintly in the background. "I was still close enough to- OH MY GOD!" The sound of tires screeching drown out Abby's curses. A loud boom sounds off outside, this one feels closer. "I'm....to...you" Is the last thing you hear before the line goes dead.

You throw the phone across the room, a string of curses leaving your mouth. The open window of your living room lets you hear the chaos outside before you can see it. Helicopters fly overhead and sirens sound off in the near distance. One by one, porch lights come on as your neighbors step out of their homes, confusion etched on their faces.

The sound of a door slamming open catches everyone's attention. Out of the corner of your eye you see the outlines of two people moving towards the road. Your neighbor, Claire, yells as her husband chases after her. His movements far too quick and erratic for someone his age. 

Everyone watches in shock as he catches up to her, mouth attacking the side of her neck, effectively silencing her screams. The sight is gory. You stand frozen as some of the braver ones try to help, only to be met with a similar fate before he runs off into the middle of the road, searching for his next victim. Chaos quickly ensues, people run off back to their homes, garages pop open as some try to make a quick escape. You stagger back, knocking into the side table beside the couch. A picture frame falls over, shattering loudly on wood floor.

To your absolute horror, his head snaps to your window. For the first time, you're able to catch a glimpse of him up close. Gone was the sweet old man who would help you with yard work in those first few months after Abby moved out. The skin of his face is molted, almost as if something was eating away at it. Once sparkling blue eyes are completely glazed over. The bloodthirsty look on his face sends you reeling. 

His mouth parts open letting out a loud screech, ready to lunge through the thin window screen when a familiar black truck slams into him. Abby hops out, mouth moving quickly as she shouts something at you. Between the ringing in your ears and the loud screams outside you don't register what she says. Your eyes blink rapidly, hoping the sight of your elderly neighbor under her front tire is just your imagination. In your peripheral you see the front door swing open, Abby's keychain hanging from the lock. 

Strong hands grip you by the shoulders, shaking you out of your stupor. "Baby what are you doing? We have to go!"

Her woodsy scent envelopes you as she scoops you up and carries you out bridal style before tossing you in the passenger seat. Fingers clench into the leather as the truck reverses, disturbing the once perfect lawn. Your flowerbeds and mailbox becoming casualties in the process too. 

You peel your eyes off the dash, looking out the window as she flies through residential neighborhoods. More and more people are starting to trickle out from the safety of their homes. Some running with only the clothes on their backs, others quickly shoving personal belongings in their vehicles. 

Your voice is shaky when you finally speak up. "What's going on Abigail?"

She exhales heavily, looking exhausted. "I don't know."

"Are they all like that?" 

Her jaw clenches. "The ones I've been treating are in the early stages of their symptoms, but beds are full. We've been told to turn people away to recover at home." She huffs. "I don't even wanna know how many of them are out there running around like that."

You hesitantly rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, slowly pulling back when she tenses. Her throat clears and the skin of her knuckles turns white as she tightens her grip on the wheel. 

"So what are we doing?"

You're shocked when she shrugs her shoulders. Abby always had a plan. You wrack your brain, trying to think of something. 

"My parent's cabin up north! We could go there." You suggest. "Y'know until everything settles down."

She makes a sharp right, following the signs pointing her to the nearest on ramp. Her fist slams against the wheel when you pull up to the main highway just five minutes later. It seems like everyone had the same idea. Cars are honking, people are screaming. Nobody is moving. The thought of sitting in bumper to bumper traffic right now doesn't sound like a smart idea.

"My apartment's in the city." Abby suddenly states. "They were setting up barricades when I left for work this morning. Flyers talking about a quarantine zone." 

She doesn't wait for your approval, sending the truck speeding towards her place. The closer you get to the city, the more erratic Abby's driving becomes. It's clear your little suburban bubble was late to the news of the outbreak. Downtown Seattle is absolute madness. Everywhere you look there's something happening. Those infected chase people up and down the streets, tackling the ones too slow to outrun them. Shops that you can remember being there your whole life are now ablaze. 

You grip onto the handle above your head watching wide eyed as Abby plows through debris in the street. Bile rises in your throat when you realize she most likely driving over the dead bodies left behind. 

The truck slows to a crawl. Concrete barricades were placed closer together here, making it impossible to get through. She silently curses at the fact that you're gonna have to leave the safety of the car and make the rest of the journey on foot. She grabs your face between her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.

"Get ready to run baby." 

Your hand is on the handle when something crashes into your door. A scream gets caught in your throat as the infected bangs on the glass of your window before setting it's sights on the blonde. She's halfway out of the truck when she gets tackled to the ground. Her hands shoot out using all her strength to keep it from attacking her 

"Abby!"

She screams at you to run. Her arms are getting tired of holding this ridiculously strong freak back. Her hold is quickly slipping. Accepting her fate she screws her eyes shut bracing for the inevitable. A loud whack and she doesn't realize there's no longer any weight holding her down until your panicked voice is in her ear. 

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?"

You crouch beside her, a bloody metal pipe in your hands. Keeping a watchful eye on the body laying just inches from hers. She slaps your hand away, wincing when she gets up on her own. 

"Why would you do that?!" She whisper yells, unsure whether to kiss you for saving her or punching you for putting yourself in danger. "I told you to run!"

"I could never just leave you like that. You're welcome." You say through labored breaths. With a roll of her eyes she grabs your hand, sprinting in the direction of her building. 

You're thankful it's a short run from the car to her place. The two of you able to successfully hide from any other infected. It doesn't take long for either of you to realize that their vision sucks. 

The stairs up to her place are a feat of its own. You huff and puff up to the nineteenth floor, legs on fire when you finally walk through the door. 

Her apartment is spotless, because of course it is. Floor to ceiling windows give you a clear view of what seems to be the end of the world. 

"Oh my god." You stand in the middle of her room, watching in horror as explosions go off in my the distance. The ground beneath you shakes as they get closer and closer. 

Abby shakes her head in disbelief clearly putting two and two together. 

"It's so heavily populated here. They don't see the point in trying to separate the healthy from the infected." She whispers. Tears well in her eyes watching a plane purposefully fly into the ground off in the distance. The large blast setting fire to everything around it. There are more right behind it. "We're so fucked."

You watch as the fight leave her body. Your throat locks up, unable to scream at her. Wobbly legs pace back and forth in the small space trying to think of something that might work. Deep down you know it's pointless. There's no way you'd make it out of the city alive. Soft sobs wrack your body at the realization that this really is the end. 

Her shoulders slump as she sits on the bed. She gnaws on her lower lip to keep from crying too loud. "Can I hold you?" 

You nod, legs feeling like jelly. Abby reaches for you, pulling you up towards the headboard. The two of you lay beside each other breathing heavily with your hands intertwined. Tears stream down her face and onto the pillow under her head. 

She reaches over and kisses you, her shaking hand plays with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. "My biggest regret was letting you go."

You watch face as she continues talking, lips moving against yours. "I had to stop myself from driving past the house every single day." She laughs. "Would have sat outside your door until you took me back."

"I wish you would have." You admit through a watery smile. 

"I never stopped loving you. I just want you to know that." She whispers, lips moving to kiss your temple. 

"I should have never left." Your lips meet the skin of neck tasting the salty tears that have pooled there. "I love you too Abby. So much it hurts." 

"I can't believe this is what it took for us to realize how stupid we were." She mumbles into your hair. Your face burrows into the crook of her neck. "I'm so sorry baby."

"I'm glad you came for me." You tell her, but you know she doesn't hear it. 

The walls start shaking, sending everything tumbling to the floor. You're no longer able to hear anything over the sound of a loud engine approaching. Her arms tighten around you, the two of you curl into each other. 

There's a jarring beeping in your ear just as it all goes black. 

You shoot up in bed, heart in your throat. The sound of your heavy breathing almost drowns out the harsh beeping of your alarm. Reaching over you rip the cord from the wall sitting in silence for a moment while your heartbeat returns to normal. 

The sun is shining outside, laughter from the kids across the street flows in through the small opening of your window. A lawnmower goes off in the distance.

Shaking hands fist the cool cotton of your sheets. The soft material grounding you. You look around the small room. Everything looks just as you left it. There's an empty bottle of wine on the dresser and you roll your  eyes at yourself. 

That explains it. 

You're okay. 

It was all a dream.

You jump out of bed, rushing to the bathroom before taking the stairs two at a time almost snapping an ankle. The entryway table shakes when you snatch the keys from on top of it. The warm August breeze that hits you when you walk outside makes you feel renewed. 

The quiet neighborhood looks as it always does. A couple of people are out watering their lawns while some head out for church. Claire sits on her front porch drinking a cup of coffee, giving you a little wave when she spots you pulling out of your driveway and it's a miracle you don't burst into tears. Using muscle memory you quickly punch in the number you know by heart, waiting with bated breath for an answer.  "Hello?"Your shoulders drop in relief at the sound of her voice. She's okay.

"Where are you?"

"At home," she pauses "why?"

"Perfect." You hang up before she can reply. Tossing the phone on the passenger seat you press your foot down on the gas. 

You make it to Abby's apartment building in record time, parking haphazardly by the curb. There's a ninety nine percent chance you'll come back to a parking ticket stuck to your windshield but you don't care. 

There's a moment on the elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor where you second guess yourself. Aware of how ridiculous you look in mix matched pajamas going to try and win your ex girlfriend back. You steel your nerves reminding yourself of how horrible those last few seconds of your nightmare were.  If she kicks you out you can at least say you tried. 

Abby answers the door looking mouth watering in a black tank top and gray shorts, her messy hair pulled back in a low bun. "Alright, how many traffic laws did you break on your way over here?"

"You don't wanna know." You pant, throwing yourself into her arms. 

She catches you with a soft grunt, hesitating for a second before wrapping her arms around you. The familiar scent of pine engulfs you.  

"Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" Her teasing tone makes your face heat up. "I don't think random house visits on a Sunday at 8 AM fall under no contact." She quips. 

"I love you!" The words are out before you can stop yourself. "I love you and I don't want to go another day without letting you know that walking away from you was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I regret it every single day."

Abby leans back against the door with her hands still on your hips. There's a tiny grin on her face watching you spill your guts, you’re too worked up to notice. "I know we're both at the peak of our careers. I know we're busy, and there will be days we don't even get to see each other, but I'm tired of living like this. I miss you." 

You sniffle pathetically into her chest. "The world could end tomorrow and I don't want to regret never telling you how I felt." Thumbs wipe gently at your tears. "And if you don't feel the same way I underst- mmph!"

Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss, hands wandering under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your back. Neither of you make a move to deepen it, content to take it slow.

Abby pulls back first. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she stares down at you. It suddenly hits you how much you've missed her. She brings her forehead to rest against yours. 

“Where the fuck could she have gone?” Abby asked, her and Ellie frantically searching the penthouse. “She knows better than to turn off her location, or leave unannounced.”

“She was just here, sleeping and resting,” Ellie stated, and their panic was overcomed with frustration and anger instead. You knew that if you went anywhere without them, that you had to tell them exactly where and your location could never go off.

They would chip you if they could. They have thought about it numerous times.

Ellie’s phone rang, and she grabbed it out of her back pocket, noticing Joel’s contact. “Hello?” She answered, irritation playing into her tone. “What’s goin’ on, Joel?”

“The police are heading to your place,” Joel said, and Ellie put the call on speaker. “I don’t know what you two have done this time, but it is bad and I am not helpin’ out with any clean ups.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked.

“I’m not some moron, Ellie!” He yelled, and she rolled her eyes. “They know you killed someone. They know your girlfriend was with you, too. I called her, and asked questions.”

“You did what?” Abby shouted. “Joel, what the fuck!”

That’s how they knew you had run away from them. You were a timid and easily frightened individual, and now that you were aware of what they had done, you scurried away and were going to hide. The pair knew they had some time to track you down to your home.

“Fuck off, Joel,” Ellie cursed, ending the call. “We have time to get her, to make up a story or whatever. We can avoid the police for the night?”

They agreed to find you and explain everything, to lure you back to them as they assured that there was nothing to worry about.

Abby’s eyes go wide. “The shirt.”

Ellie cursed under her breath, running to the closet and into the hamper — only to find the shirt completely gone. You had taken it, and now many possibilities surged through their heads.

“It’s gone!” Ellie yelled, and before the two could leave the penthouse to go to you, two detectives walked in.

The amusing yet realistic part of everything is that even though they knew that you thought you had gotten away for good, they were preparing on how to get you back, and never be able to escape again.

You had a particular interest in Philosophy during high school.

You loved to read the knowledge these scholar men would try to pass on, what they had to say about life, beauty, or death. You wanted to understand their wisdom, their perspective of all things, of everything around them, and how they got to a certain point about it.

You remembered a certain quote from Plato, of how Zeus feared the power of two humans mending together as one, leaving them with four arms, four legs, a head with two faces on it. However, he was so threatened by this that he split them into two, and left them to wander Earth to find each other again.

You had believed in that quote when Ellie and Abby entered your life. These two girls, the most threatening pair, would put a grand shift on your life, and how you perceived it as. They utterly shifted your world, they took you in, and prioritized your needs.

You were worshiped by them.

You couldn’t see beyond the horizon of the world without them there, and in your isolation, you still didn’t know how to.

More than sixty-five days since your departure, leaving them behind, and not hearing a single word from them.

When you came to your parent’s villa, your mother opened the door, and you sobbed into her arms, clutching onto her. She hugged you, stroked your hair, and didn’t know if she should’ve spoken or not.

Your tears soaked into her shirt, and she had to nearly drag you inside, afraid of what was happening with you.

“My dear, what’s going on?” She asked, clear to see the exhausted look on your face, your eyes bloodshot as she sat you both down on the couch. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“I just… Abby and Ellie,” you sobbed, heavily breathing, and shook your head, still in denial of what they did. “I just need to be here for a while. I’m going to transfer to Oxford.”

“You already decided on Columbia,” your mother stated, and you continued to cry, earning a sigh out of her. “You can’t just drop it now.”

You wanted to scream, “they might kill me if I return. They may never let me go after that.” You knew that they were combing through New York, probably already onto their next target — you knew the lengths they would go to just to have you back.

That was something you couldn’t fucking stomach.

“Mom, please,” you whispered, your voice jagged and shaky. “I just can’t go back to the city.” You stared up at her, and she cradled your face in her hands for a moment before nodding, and let you rest your head on her lap.

“Okay, love. You can stay here,” she assured, rubbing your back, and let you sob until you finally calmed down and fell asleep.

The next morning, your father was telling you about Abby and Ellie, wondering if you had any idea about it.

“They’re in deep shit,” he said, glaring at you. “What are you not telling us?”

“I don’t know anything, dad!” You denied, and your mother stood aside, arms folded. “Joel already asked me the same things that you are! I don’t remember shit from that night!”

“So you were there?” Your dad asked, and you fell quiet. He took your silence as an answer, sighing heavily and rubbed his temple in frustration. “You weren’t with any one of them? At all?”

“I… Ellie gave me some coke,” you confessed, guilt reeling into you as you were partially lying, and throwing her under the rug. “I was having a tough night after this guy was harassing me, and after she gave it to me, I was left with Dina and Jesse.”

An exasperated sigh came from your mother, simply frustrated that you had been doing drugs. You were never going to be her perfect daughter, and you didn’t know how long it was going to take until she accepted that fact.

Your dad took a minute to process this information before grabbing your shoulders, and forcing you to look at him. “From here on out, you know nothing. Do you understand me?”

You nodded, and he brought you into a hug, coddling the back of your head. Your father’s affection was never this tender or earnest, and you knew he was only being protective for the family image, but you didn’t care for that — your father was holding you for the first time since you were eleven.

You had to change your phone number, deactivate any social media you had, and new butlers, maids, and chauffeurs were put into place. Your parents allowed you to move to London a month later, staying in a comfortable flat, but were patrolled by bodyguards in answer to your paranoia.

After your readjustment to life, you prevented yourself from hearing anything Abby or Ellie, or if they were at trial. You needed to focus on yourself, get your shit together, and focus on your classes at Oxford.

A few months into the new school, you kept your head low and isolated — something you were used to doing when at Faye Academy, before they made themselves stuck in your existence.

You considered taking your courses online, but knew you’d only lose your mind being stuck in your flat for days on end.

All in four months, your life was granted something that you’d forgotten — freedom.

Not that Abby and Ellie were extremely possessive, but you haven't known anyone besides them in a while. You were able to make friends at Oxford, go out to bars and diners, without the fear they may kill someone who even breathed in your general direction.

It was a relief. And you felt human again.

Your parents constantly checked in on you, and often tried to visit. It was the first time in a while since they hovered over you, and were concerned for your well being.

“Yes, mom. I’m fine,” you assured over the phone, the device stuck between your shoulder and ear as you were returning your textbooks. “I finished classes early, so I was thinking of going back to Milan for semester break.”

“Well, honey, you see,” your mother started off, clearing her throat. “Your father and I were going to attend a gala tomorrow; Joel is throwing it.”

“I thought you guys cut him off,” you said, rushing out of the library, and to your car. “Especially after everything.”

There was silence.

“Mom?”

“Ellie and Abby were found not guilty,” she said, and your heart sank to your stomach. “The trial concluded yesterday— we didn’t want to say anything.”

You froze in your tracks. “What?”

“They didn’t kill that boy. I guess he had enemies all along,” she continued, and your head spun. “If you come with us, they won’t be there. Joel assured us of it.”

“So everything is just fine now because they’re innocent?” You questioned.

“Honey, you’re acting as if you know something,” she stated, and you exasperatingly sighed, continuing your walk to your vehicle. “But Jerry and Joel did say they were going to get the girls in contact with a psychiatrist.”

“Huh, and why is that?”

“I’m not sure,” she muttered, and you hopped into your car, locking the doors. “Would you like to come? And maybe we can then spend a few days in the city. Shop around Fifth.”

“I’ll think about it, momma. Still unsure about the city,” you said, and she sighed, visibly exasperated with your nerves. “I just don’t want an accidental run in with the girls.”

“You guys were so close,” she remembered. “I don’t know what happened, but I hope you all make up soon; they were the best part of your life.”

“Bye, mom,” is all you said, hanging up the call, and tossed your phone into the passenger seat, along with your book bag. You heavily sighed, staring blankly out into the parking lot.

They were the best part of your life.

They were the tragedy of you. They were Hell masked as Heaven, where their lure was nothing more than a ticket to damnation.

Yet, all of them were bestowed to you. You were their alter, their religion, the only reason as to why they believed in life, as you did with them.

But in your time of being free from their grasp, you could breathe, and find a newer light where nothing could dim it.

Your phone dinged, and your eyes snapped over to it, hands fiddling for the device. You opened up the lock screen to see a message from a random number.

Unknown: Image Attached.

You swallowed thickly, your hands numbing as you unlocked your phone and went to the conversation.

It was a picture of you from last night, hanging out with your friend, Delilah. She was someone you had been fond of since attending Oxford, and you had gotten close to her.

Unknown: Cute girl.

R: Who the fuck is this???

Unknown: Didn’t know running made you so dumb.

Nausea washed over you, and fear rattled in your bones.

Unknown: Hi, little lamb. You miss us?

R: I’ll call the police.

Unknown: I’ll tell them you tampered with evidence. We wouldn’t want that, right? Pretty baby like you isn’t suitable for jail time.

R: You would go down with me.

Unknown: You betrayed us. What makes you think we wouldn’t betray you?

You wanted to break your phone on your steering wheel, and you searched the outside of your car, checking your surroundings. There were only a few students, and it was still light outside.

But you knew they were watching you.

Unknown: You run again, and we will find you.

R: Why now?

Unknown: Had some troubles along the way, baby. But we took our time keeping tabs on you. Oxford treating you nice? How’s every bitch who fucks you?

R: You’re stalking me?

Unknown: You really are fucking stupid.

R: Don’t think I won’t get a restraining order against you.

Unknown: Why would you want that, little lamb? After everything we have done for you? Didn’t take you for an ungrateful brat, you know. We have been there when you needed us, taken care of you, dealt with people for you.

R: You mean murder people.

Unknown: Mhm.

Unknown: Be careful, honey. Scary world we live in.

You tried to send another message, but it wouldn’t go through. “What the fuck, what the fuck!” You screamed, going to your phone contacts, and bringing your phone up to your ear.

“Miss, are you alright?” Carson asked. He had been your personal bodyguard since you moved to London, and was respectful of when you wanted to be alone. “Are you in danger?”

“I need my house and the surrounding area to be checked out,” you said, reviving your car engine, and pressed on the gas. “Check for any sort of security cameras, too. Tell Rosaline to pack a suitcase for me as well, I’m heading to Los Angeles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carson answered, the call dropping, and you put your phone in your lap. You were trying not to get into a car accident on your way back to your flat, but you needed to leave the city immediately. You were just happy you finished your courses on time, and you didn’t need to worry about your education for a while.

About to reach home, your phone started to buzz in your lap. You pulled over to the side to look at the contact, only for it to be unknown again.

You hesitated on answering, just wanting to let it ring through, but a part of you wanted to know what sick agenda they had planned out for you. You knew they weren’t going to stop, that they needed you vulnerable and scared in order for them to pounce at you at the perfect moment; just like a prey and predator situation.

A game of cat and mouse.

You accepted the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hi, bunny,” you heard Abby’s voice, and your head spun. It had been so long since you heard either girl's voice, that you frowned at the sound of it, and almost how comforting it could be. “Missed you.”

“Abby…” you whispered out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I… You both need to stop this.”

“Why, bun? You don’t like it?” She asked.

“You and Ellie killed Brandon, and probably many others,” you told her, sniffling as tears carelessly dropped out of your eyes. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but murder is wrong.”

“You have the shirt, bunny,” Abby stated, and you went quiet. “Why would you do that, hm? If you really wanted to dispose and run from us, you would’ve left it behind, or turned it over to the police.”

You couldn’t tell her your logic or reasoning behind taking the shirt. It even sounded unreal to you, unbelievable, given the circumstances, and how you ran off.

“I couldn’t help but think of what would happen if you both went to prison,” you admitted, hot water running down your cheeks. “I… You and Ellie protected me, and I thought it was only fair I returned the favor. But that didn’t mean I wanted you in my life again.”

Abby hummed. “And why is that?”

“I’m free,” you muttered, inhaling sharply. “You and her wanted to keep me in a cage, keep me locked up forever. You have done it ever since you stepped into my life, and I couldn’t see it until that evening.”

“You make it sound so horrible, bunny,” she breathily chuckled, able to hear Ellie’s own laughter roughly in the background. “Let me ask you again; who’s going to put up with you? Who was fucking there when Miranda Rhodes was fucking spilling rumors about you having eating disorders? Who the fuck handled Timothy Yales after he said he had sex with you after Winter formal?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!” You shouted, millions of emotions flooding over you, and taking you at once, drowning “I never once fucking told you or Ellie to go out of your way to do that shit! I can fucking handle myself, and being away from you both has proved that.”

“Oh, bunny. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Abby stated, sharp and clear with you. She talked as if you were dumb, that you were about out of your mind.

You could nearly burst apart, everything of you filled with terror and rage. You weren’t sure if they expected you to bow at their feet for all their maniacal endeavors they willingly decided to partake in, but you weren’t going to.

You had come this far without them, you had managed to escape them for a good time, and you weren’t planning on stopping everything now. You weren’t going to surrender your freedom and life all for them, all because you knew what they were, and what they could do.

“If I have to turn in that shirt to make sure I never see either of you ever again, I will,” you said, and hung up the call, dropping your phone back into your lap, and continued to drive back home.

The moment your car was parked, you rushed up the stairs of the building, and bursted through your front door. Your guards were all there, Rosaline getting finished up with your second suitcase as Carson approached you from the side.

“Miss, we have searched the area,” he stated, following you while you walked into your bedroom. “We found no sort of threat, especially here. I have called your family’s plane to be prepped and ready for take off to Los Angeles.”

“Carson, please close the door,” you said, sitting down on the edge of your naked bed. He listened, shutting it, leaving you and him in your bedroom as you looked up at him. “I need to ask a question, and this stays between us. Do you get that?”

“Of course, ma’am. I am under your and your parents serving,” he reassured, keeping himself near the door, a secure radius between the both of you.

“Is it possible for me to avoid the law? Few months ago, I may or may have not tampered with evidence,” you blurted, and he inhaled heavily, but nodded, tuned in with you. “My reason is so stupid, but I’m regretting keeping it in my possession, and I don’t want to anymore.”

“Well, what is it?” He wondered.

“A shirt,” you began, and he cocked his head to the side. “With blood on it. Someone’s blood who isn’t mine, because my ex-girlfriends in New York beat this dude who was harassing me.”

“And you want to turn this in now?” Carson asked, and you nodded. “Okay, miss. I’m going to see what I can do, and once I do, you can hand it over to me.”

“Thank you so much, Carson,” you smiled, standing up. “Now, let’s head to the city of angels.”

You had your own bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. It was cozy and spacious, everything to your liking, but only stayed at it when you wanted to escape home. You had once brought Abby and Ellie, and to that, you had to undergo a whole alias, and a different room.

You didn’t have much anxiety about being at Chateau, you were packed with protection, and knew the pair wouldn’t make so much time or risks since their trial had concluded, also sure that Abby understood your threat about the shirt.

You had flown late into the night, it was about three in the morning of the next day, and you were drained with exhaustion. Sleep was becoming you, yet you were on high alert, and couldn’t help but to keep checking your phone.

You worried that there would be another call, or a text; that they weren’t quite finished with their game. In your isolation, you had much time to mull over Abby and Ellie, the things they were capable of, or the people they were.

You knew blood and carnage were them. Their beauty and charm was a simple mask that only you were able to see past as violence and cruelty rotted in their souls. Maybe they couldn’t help how callous and aggressive they could be, but they lived off of it; it was all they were. There was nothing to stop them, nothing that could change them.

In a sense, you assumed your presence and soul balanced them out well — you were a complete polar opposite to them, and that’s what stood out to people at Faye Academy.

They were terrorizing, vicious females, standing with you — a loving, and free-spirited person who didn’t do much, and just kept to herself. Nobody understood or could comprehend it, but that didn't matter to them — you were the solace in their life.

You knew that they were still rough with people — mostly men — in high school, but you didn’t know you were the cause behind each act of violence that they performed. But it made sense, even as you built a timeline.

There was Teresa Doles; she had nitpicked at your appearance for weeks. When you had finally gone to Ellie and Abby about it, pictures of her partying, doing drugs, and medical records of her being in rehab had been leaked everywhere. Her family came from a prestigious lineage, and her reckless behavior put a great indent to it. She had to move to England.

Jonathan White had to be admitted to the hospital after an event for the school. Doctors said they found traces of drugs and poison in his system — which made you laugh because he said he would murder you for rejecting him for Junior prom. You recall him shouting at you, calling you a series of derogatory names, but paid no mind. Ellie and Abby weren’t happy when he told you such a thing.

Kayla Lynn was sent to the ER after her body had been found beaten and bloody in the bathroom. She was barely conscious, unrecognizable to those who found her — the doctors had to pull a tooth and fingerprints from her just to get an ID. You remembered how she bullied you for liking girls, calling you derogatory names, and even said she hoped you would be killed for it.

And you knew there just had to be more than those people. So many of your bullies either switched schools, dropped off the face of Earth, or were in physical therapy after you had told Abby and Ellie about what each of those people did to you.

You were too gullible and head over heels in love with the duo to know they were doing so much behind your back. You had been completely tuned in with love and the relationship, all you saw was them as your blessing.

They meant it when they said they would do anything for you.

“We handled it,” Ellie’s voice would play in your head from that morning. It would repeat itself like a broken record, never shutting up.

We handled it.

We handled it.

We murdered someone.

You didn’t know exactly why the murder scared you, or what provoked you to exactly take the shirt.

You were about to close your eyes until a knock tapped at your door. “Ma’am, it’s Carson,” he said, and you welcomed him in, sitting up on your bed.

You turned on the nightstand's lamp, and he gave you a small smile. “I found a way to submit the evidence without it being traced to you,” Carson said, and your heartbeat went still. “If only you’re wanting to give up the shirt, of course.”

“Well, that was quick,” you nervously laughed, staring down at your lap. “What’s the plan to turn it in?”

“I have trusted connections to the NYPD. Some officers work as guards like I do,” Carson reassured, and you hummed, chewing on your lower lip. “We can send the shirt to them as anonymous, and you won’t have to worry about the shipping coming back to you; it’ll be under my name.”

“Are you positive about that?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said, and your body trembled, mind hazy. You knew it would be the moral thing to do; the guy harassed you, but Ellie and Abby could’ve done anything else besides murder.

The only murder you were aware of, of course.

These girls protected and defended you and your name. They would put the world on fire, yet never let a flame brush on your skin; they were the poisonous paradise you couldn’t see as Heaven or Hell.

You had to release them, though. You needed to grow up without them by your side, because you were more than them, and they were more than you.

And if the shirt didn’t get them anywhere, at least it was out of your grasp.

You got up from your bed, padding over to your suitcase and opened it up. You grabbed a brown paper bag, and held it close to your chest. “Please make sure I don’t get in trouble for this,” you said, pleading eyes looking into Carson’s soft ones.

He could tell you were beyond frightened. That you were just someone who didn’t mean to do this, that your kind heart thought you were doing something right.

You had absolutely nothing to do with this crime, but somehow, you looked ashamed and guilty as if you did. In a sense, you were — you called Abby about the guy, you knew very well what she was capable of. It was no secret how violent and cruel Abby and Ellie could be — physically or emotionally.

“You’re safe with me,” Carson promised, and you smiled small, hesitantly handing him the bag. “Are you sure about this?”

The bag was out of your hold, Carson grasping onto it. “They need to learn their lesson,” you said, all your logic and thoughts mixed up in your head, utterly brainless at this given rate. “And I just want them to stay out of my life for good.”

He just nodded, taking the bag with him as he exited the room, leaving you alone again.

You couldn’t sleep after that. You couldn’t even try to rest knowing you were going to ruin their lives, putting into consideration all they did for you.

But, you had just regained your freedom, discovered who you were without them. You were able to make friends without their eyes boring into your soul, you could live in peace.

You couldn’t accept anymore threats or violence, just so you could remain theirs forever. Because you knew if they truly loved you, they wouldn’t put you in harm's way.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, trapped in your mind when your phone had a sudden ring to it. Your heart stopped, and you froze, your body wanting to sink into the mattress.

You let your phone ring through, letting silence fall pass after the noise stopped.

Not even a minute ticked by as the phone rang again.

You reached for your device, answering the call and brought it up to your ear. “What?”

“So much attitude, little lamb. You’re going to hurt my feelings,” Ellie's voice came through, and you sighed, sitting up. “I’m starting to like this game. Because I know you’re fucking scared.”

You scoffed. “No I’m not. I’m just wanting you to leave me alone.”

“You can’t deal with the idea of what might happen if we catch you,” she began, and shivers cascaded on your body, holding in your breath. “You want to keep running, baby? I don’t mind the chase— it’s exhilarating.”

“You’re fucking sick.”

“You knew that, bunny,” Abby joined in, taking over the call. “Why are you acting so surprised? You fucking got off on how insane we got about you, don’t act clueless now.”

“I was naive,” you retorted. “I was manipulated and blinded by you two.”

“Manipulated? Big idea for you to get at,” she continued, and you heard Ellie’s cruel laugh in the background of the call. “You knew what you were doing when coming to us about your bullies. You knew what we all would get out of it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered.

“You liked us hurting you too, bunny,” she stated, and your breaths were becoming uneven. “Always in skimpy outfits, flirting with others to get our attention. We fucking saw through you. You’re just as sick as us.”

“Shut the fuck up, Abigail!”

“Using my full name? I’m so frightened,” Abby chuckled, amused and lightened by your poor intimidation act. “Got me shaking in my boots here, sweetheart.”

“I hope you die— both of you.”

“God forbid, right? Then who’ll take care of you?” Ellie returned into the conversation. “Not even that Delilah bitch could do it. Or Holly, Nicole, Emily, Zaya— no one.”

You fell quiet for a moment, your eyes widened in disbelief. “How do you know them?”

“Baby, we told you this,” Ellie reminded you, sighing. “If you were to leave us, we would get you again.”

You zipped your mouth, anxiety surging through you.

“Having fun at the Marmont?” Ellie asked, and you shot up from your bed. “Nice name you got— Emily Dickinson. Really… that name?”

“You’re fucking here?” You asked.

Ellie snickered. “Always in your corner.”

“I have people here, patrolling—“

“Oh, we get it, you fucking princess!” She yelled. “We know you have men, we aren’t idiots. For a valedictorian, you are sure fucking dense. You think you’re always one step ahead, but you aren’t.”

“Fuck you, Williams,” you sneered.

“See you real soon, lamb,” she said, and the call ended. You knew there was no point in trying to reach the number again, it was unknown and a useless line.

Ellie and Abby stood at the top of the hotel, Delilah beaten as cable ties strapped her wrists behind her back. “Alright, you bitch,” Abby picked up Delilah from the ground, adjusting the feeble girl on her feet.

“She’s…. she’ll hate you for this,” Delilah croaked out. “And no one will believe I’ve jumped to my death.” Her head was spinning, barely conscious enough to process what these two random, strange women wanted with her, or why they cared so much. She swore a second ago she was in her flat, sound asleep and relaxed, and now she was on top of the roof of the Chateau Marmont.

None of this made sense.

“We are going to share this little secret with you since you will be dying,” Ellie said, taking out a cigarette from her pocket. “You’re not the first person who has pleaded for their life, or thought their death wouldn’t be convincing. We do this all for her, and unfortunately, she does enjoy it.”

Delilah shook her head. “No, no. You don’t know her whatsoever.”

“She brought you here to your death, sweet Delilah,” Ellie continued on, puffing out a blow. “She knows that whoever tries to steal or touch her, will be either beaten or killed by us.”

“She wanted you dead,” Abby added, and Delilah broke into hysterical sobs. “And we do give our girl whatever she wants.”

Ellie cut off the cable ties, and Abby maneuvered the frail girl over to the ledge. “Anything else you need to say, honey?” Abby asked, and Delilah’s lips parted, prepared to speak. “I don’t give a shit,” the blonde said, pushing her off as her and Ellie watched attentively, grinning to themselves as Delilah’s body splat on the concrete, blood making a river around herself.

It wasn’t long until your guards were shouting, and there were sirens in the distance.

“Ma’am, there’s been an incident on the grounds,” Carson bursted into your room, and you swallowed thickly, your phone grasped in your hands.

You threw on a robe and your slippers, pushing your way through the men. “Let me go!” You shouted, Carson being the one to shove them off. “I need to see what happened outside!”

“It’s for your safety that you don’t!” One of the men, Jackson, protested, but Carson seized your arm, and tugged you outside by your bicep.

“We listen to her,” he reminded the group as they all followed you outside. You could hear a wave of voices and distress, police officers talking to one another. In your gut, you knew something wasn’t right, and you were overwhelmed with nausea.

The noise drew you closer to the entrance of the hotel, where a symphony of shouts were clattering, and police lights mixed into the moon’s gleam. A part of you told yourself to get back into your abode, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your feet tugged your forward, curiosity tingling in your body.

You shoved yourself through a heavy crowd, officers trying to get everyone to back away or stop filming what was happening.

“Excuse me!” You yelled, and pulled yourself further in.

You regretted listening to yourself for another time. Fiery and stressed voices shifted into echoes, banging off the earth’s walls, your eyes struck open by a corpse splashed on the pavement.

Your heart beated in your throat, vomit coating it, and knots twisted in your stomach.

Delilah.

Delilah was on the ground. In front of you.

Your brain didn’t dare register any part of the gory, morbid scene that was plastered in front of you. Blood pooled around her head, her scalp visibly cracked open and her eyes open. You swore she was staring at you, everything in you shaking and trembling with great fear.

“Ma’am, get back!” An officer shouted at you, taking you out of your trance. “Please, this is a crime scene!”

“I… I know her,” you stated, and Carson approached your side. “That’s my friend— her name is Delilah Morse.”

“Please sir, let us get through,” Carson chimed in, and the officer sighed, shaking his head. “This is someone she knows. Only she’ll give you details.”

The officer went to discuss with another official, and your hand buzzed. You flinched to it, not realizing you kept your phone in your hold.

You received a message from Unknown.

Unknown: Want to keep playing, baby?

Unknown: Look at you, so scared and sick. It’ll stop once you give up.

A tear from you covered the screen, and Carson had to push you out of your stare. “Ma’am, let’s go,” he said, and you had not realized the officer was holding up the caution tape to let you through.

You heard a female’s voice come to the side of you. “I’m Detective Anna Blake. What’s your name, and relationship to the victim, miss?”

You stated your name, your voice hush and shaky as you couldn’t look away from Delilah’s body.

“And your relationship?” Anna asked.

“We… I was her friend,” you answered. “What… what did she do?”

“It looks like an apparent suicide,” she responded, and that was enough for her to gain your full attention, a confused expression plastered on your face. “She dropped from the rooftop, and ate it right here.”

“That can’t be,” you shook your head. “Delilah wasn’t at all suicidal, or had any ideations. She was the most positive person I knew.”

“Yeah, but people have personas,” Anna stated, and you furrowed your brows. “She could’ve been acting for you, and everyone else.”

“She’s from London, Detective,” you said, and she stared at you appalled, but intrigued. “She wouldn’t kill herself here.”

Anna was quiet for a sparse second. “Huh… do you know something we don’t?”

Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up?

There was an open entrance for the vehicles to come through, and for a moment, you swore you saw Ellie and Abby standing across the street.

You knew their silhouettes. And they were watching you, witnessing their crime.

You stared at them back, because now you accepted the truth that no matter where you ran off, that would be there. They would create mess and murder back to back until you gave up the running, and realized you only belonged to them.

Fear was a disease in you, and the only way to kill it was to face them.

Your mother wanted you back in New York. She gave you no choice but to attend the Gala with her and your father.

You tried your best to talk your way out of it, explaining that you had just witnessed your best friend’s corpse the previous evening.

Your mother said the Gala would be a great distraction. You tried to make any point or excuse to stay home, until your father had himself step into the argument. He tended to never insert himself into fights with you and your mom, but this time he felt the need to, and that’s when you were left with no choice.

Of course, your main concern was that Ellie and Abby were going to be there, and confronting them was going to be an inevitable situation. You had to prepare yourself the most as to what to say or do if they were to be in your eye radius.

“This dress is killing me,” you muttered, patting down the bottom part of the simple, yet elegant dress you wore. “And the corset of this is smashing my boobs.”

“Your dress is lovely, dear,” your mother assured, and you scowled. “You have always loved long dresses like this; so long at the bottom, we can’t even see your heels. And you always adored sleeveless corset tops on them, too!”

“You look perfect, honey. You wore this exact dress for junior prom,” your dad reminded, and you shivered to the memory of it. Abby and Ellie were your escort — of course — and everyone adored your dress, even making it into a page in Vogue because it was Vivienne Westwood.

“I just… I don’t want to see them,” you muttered, and the limousine came to a halt. “And it just doesn’t feel right being here, having fun and socializing, when my friend just fucking died.”

“Cherie, Delilah’s death was not your fault or anything,” your mother said, and you glared at her. “It is unfortunate it took place at the same time you were there, but she was just an unhappy girl.”

You didn’t want to converse with her anymore, only getting out of the car before any of them, and were immediately blinded by flashing lights. Your parents stood behind you, and you fixed up a promising smile, making your way into the gala.

The second cameras and screaming men were out of your way, you hunted down a busboy for a glass of champagne. “I will take that!” You grabbed the drink from the silver tray, thanking the man, and earned a groan from your parents.

“Can you at least greet people before you get wasted?” Your father asked, and you shrugged, letting him drag you over to the familiar faces of Jerry Anderson and Joel Miller. You hadn’t seen them since the few days before the murder.

“Ah, there she is!” Jerry exclaimed, and you exchanged a cheek kiss with him, and Joel. “We heard you moved to London. Oxford, right?”

“Yes. It’s been quite delightful,” you shortly shared. “I finished exams early, so I came back into town for the meantime.”

“And do you plan to catch up with the girls?” Joel asked.

You knew at that moment that no one quite understood what really took place that night, and you would never confess to it. They all blindly assumed that there was a great falling out in response to the murder of Brandon James, that you simply didn’t tolerate that behavior, and in some parts of that, it was true.

You had no place or reason to tell the whole truth, or to be honest, when there was an exact, appropriate place to share such a thing. Yet however, if you did, no one would believe you — there was no evidential proof or key to say that Ellie and Abby killed him.

They thought the girls were saints, who were being wronged by another higher power.

The actual case would have them dropping to the ground, and you couldn’t exactly say, “Abby and Ellie are sadistic killers who get off to the pain and torture.”

God fucking forbid, though.

“I’m not so sure,” you answered, taking a light sip of your champagne. “I want to keep to myself for the meantime, and make more goals for my future.”

“Well, if they came tonight, I’m sure it would’ve been lovely,” Jerry said, and you dryly laughed with them.

Champagne wasn’t enough to fill the hollow in you. You needed the strongest shit to exist at the bar.

You had a clear cue to let yourself leave their conversation, leaving you alone in the event. You went to the bar, and sat there, requesting a martini. You put your clutch purse in front of you, and sighed heavily, a migraine coming to your head.

You weren’t used to going to these high class functions by yourself — hell, you didn’t even go until the girls became a part of your life, and would be by your side at each and every one of them. It made your parents happy that they were there to tug you out of your shell, make you more extroverted.

A figure sat at the chair next to you, yet you didn’t pay any mind to it.

Until they said your name, and the voice was familiar.

Your eyes flickered to the side, and you saw Dina. Your eyes widened, your body directing toward her, and she smiled. “How have you been!” She cheered, pulling you into a hug, and you could only hug back. “You fell off the face of planet Earth!”

“Oh, yeah,” you broke the hug, facing her. “I… I decided to do school at Oxford. I just needed to get out of the city.”

“Oxford is nice,” she said, smiling small. “Jesse and I were worried about you. The girls said you had broken up with them.”

You gawked at her in disbelief as she went on to order herself a drink.

Who else was fucking clueless?

“Well, I guess,” you mumbled, your martini set down in front of you. “We just had issues we couldn’t resolve from the night before.”

“Oh shit, that sucks,” she sighed, shaking her head. “The breakup must have been terrible to have you move to London.”

Her glass of tequila on rocks came to her as she took a refreshing sip of it, and you were about to claw out your eyes. Either she had brain damage, was lying, or truly wasn’t aware of what occurred that night, but must have since it happened at Jesse’s club.

“Dina Woodward, be fucking serious with me,” you said, and she raised a brow. “You know what happened. That night.”

She blankly stared at you.

“That night… at your boyfriend’s club…”

Dina shrugged, and you were taken aback. “Jesse must know, then.”

“Ellie and Abby were accused of a serious crime,” she began, and you bitterly scoffed, “which they were found innocent to. They had to go through that trial alone, they went through Hell without you.”

“They killed him, Dina,” you told her, yet lowered your voice due to the gossip crowd that circulated. “You cannot seriously be defending them.”

“I’m not defending them,” Dina stated, and you rolled your eyes, downing your martini. “They have plenty of enemies, and you know that, too. Everyone wants to see them at their absolute worst, and do their own dirty work to make it happen.”

You got up from your seat, grabbing your purse. “It was nice seeing you, Dina.”

You shoved your way through the bustling crowd, and were stuck in the middle as soon as your phone began to buzz.

“Not this shit again,” you mumbled to yourself, and pulled out your phone, putting it up to your ear. “What the fuck can I do for you?”

“You look pretty, sweetheart,” Ellie said. “Don’t you worry, we aren’t in your vicinity.”

“Oh, I’m so fucking pleased to hear that,” you exasperated, rubbing your temple in frustration. “Then how do you know I’m here?”

“You’re right, my apologies,” Ellie laughed, and you heard rustling over the line.

“Bunny, we are going to play a game,” Abby came to the line, and your heart jumped rapidly. “We can see you, but we’ve made sure you can’t catch a glimpse of us.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“You still don’t get it, darling. But that’s okay,” she took a hast pause, collecting her thoughts. “We told you many times that if you were to run, we would catch you, because you are ours. You can hide, change your name, go to different universities, but we will always be there.”

You swallowed thickly, knowing you were getting stares to your frightened look on your face.

“Your parents don’t give a shit about you, they only kept you away so their image wouldn’t be ruined,” she said, and you knew that was more than true; your parents would do anything to remain prestigious and clean, and you were the taint in their life. “You said you kept that shirt to return the favor, but there’s more than that.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about, Anderson,” you scoffed, and she hummed. “I gave that shirt away; you and Ellie are going to prison for good.”

“We’ll see about that, bunny,” she said, and the line went flat. You rushed yourself to the ladies room, nausea building in you as the room spun, and your nerves weakened your muscles. Laughter and shouts from strangers rang in your ears as you dragged yourself further to the bathroom, and the sickening gut feeling came back to you.

You couldn’t pull apart if you were truly just sick to your stomach, or your intuition was stronger than ever.

You pushed the door open to the ladies room, and to your luck, it was completely empty. You lunged yourself into a stall, and collapsed down on your knees, yucking it up into the toilet. Your anxiety and worry got the best of you, making you a mess so easily, and you were embarrassed by it.

You stood up after a few minutes, taking in slow, steady breaths, and gathered yourself, standing back up. You moved over to the sink, and settled your purse down, opening it up to grab your lipstick. You rinsed out your mouth with the faucet water, and sighed heavily, turning off the sink.

You reapplied your scarlet red lipstick, and put the item back into your purse, along with your phone.

Then a click was made from the side of you, gaining your attention.

The nausea came back, but not in a wave, yet in a violent crash. You swore your heart stopped for a moment, but could hear it violently beat in your eardrums while bile stung inside your throat, threatening to come out again.

Your body trembled, knees about to bring you down, and all you wanted to do was die at this very moment.

“Hey, little lamb,” Ellie said, grinning in pride. Your body pressed back against the sink’s counter, and tears approached over your eyes as you stared at her. “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

“No… no,” you said, able to take yourself to the bathroom’s entrance. You opened it, only to be met with Abby instead, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “You are both not here.”

“Oh, but we are,” Abby said, moving forward in sync to your steps going backwards. She maintained a fairly safe distance, but one close enough to grab you if you tried to run. “Why so surprised, bunny? We promised this.”

Something about them was gravely different this time. There was a darker energy to them, a sense of evil and anger heating off of them as they stared at you down in the way the predator does when they have finally cornered their prey.

Yes, they got you, and you had no way out anymore — what a fucking terrifying and cruel revalation.

The cat got their little mouse, right by the tail.

You had fallen right into their trap perfectly, in all the ways they wanted you to. It took great cunning patience and practice to get you in this position, to have you trapped.

You were beyond scared; this was the reoccurring nightmare you dreamt of since the night you left. You always tried to consider or plan out what you would do if they were to approach you in any way, but you never paid mind to how methodical and intelligent they were.

You doubted their skills and abilities, and you were dumb to think they wouldn’t get you any time soon, that you would be free from them for a few more months, maybe a year or two – maybe even a lifetime — you wished and prayed upon it.

You were stuck now. The cat and mouse game came to their precise ending.

“Are you going to kill me now?” You asked, and they hummed, shrugging to themselves.

“Well, if we wanted that, we would have done it back in LA,” Abby said, and your eyes averted back and forth between them, trying to see if there was a possible way out. “Or back in London, who knows. We had so many open opportunities to kidnap you, but we liked this little game.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do now? Kidnap me?” You asked, snickering dryly. “Keep me hostage forever? Wouldn’t be anything new to me.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” Ellie told you, tilting her head to the side. “You liked this claim we have on you. You will never admit it and that’s okay, because we know it, baby.”

“Now let’s not be so rude,” Abby said, and you glanced at her. “Let’s say bye to our guests, and go back home, little bunny.”

Ellie and Abby had seemed to have enough time to decorate the penthouse. To your last memory of it, only the shared bedroom was furnished, and now, they had everything perfectly perched in precise spots.

You sat in the living room, on the black velvet couch as you stared out the window with a mindfulness of thoughts. The city was bustling, sirens louder than ever, and traffic stacked up. You tried to concentrate on the noise outside because it would be last time you would hear it.

The pair had finished fixing themselves up a drink, returning to the room, and sat across from you. You didn’t pay attention to them, fits of rage and terror consuming you inside. You don’t know why you thought you would actually escape them, and you had only dug yourself in a deep grave.

The familiar silence moved through the home, and you could feel their eyes spiking into you, waiting for you to say something. You had more than to say and ask, but you didn’t know where exactly to start, or if you were allowed to question certain things.

“You killed Delilah,” you blurted out, your eyes averting from the window. “You killed Brandon James, and many others, I assume.”

“We have,” Ellie answered, drinking her bourbon.

“I don’t get why. Why do you kill people? How do you even get away with it?” You asked, and Abby glanced over at Ellie, communicating to each other through their eyes. “Are you in like a fucking cartel or some shit?”

“Joel didn’t have an easy time getting to where he is,” Ellie began, setting her glass down, and slouched back on the couch. “He has some connections, and so does Jerry. It’s hard to get into it all, but they were doing illegal shit on the side to get money, build their legacies.”

“We didn’t kill until you,” Abby said, and you raised a brow, positioning your body in their direction. They could tell you were now intrigued, and you were; you were more than curious. “It was two months into knowing you, and you told us about Rachel Wayne. Remember her?”

“Of course I do. That bitch bullied me like it was her life’s purpose,” you lightly joked, and she sighed. “Why?”

“It was the day when she beat you in the girl’s bathroom, ramming your face into the blow dryer all because you got a higher score on your SAT,” Abby said, and you hissed at the memory. You were a good fighter, but Rachel’s envy possessed her strength that day, and she kicked you around like an animal in the bathroom.

She locked the door, keeping her friends, you, and herself locked in, while they recorded the whole moment. You went home with a concussion, a busted face, and cried to the girls about it.

“We were so fucking pissed,” Ellie said, scoffing to herself. “We knew Rachel well. We invited her over to my place, and made small talk, getting the information out of her about what occurred. We got names, and everything.”

You remained quiet, but stayed tuned in and fully focused.

“We got her high off cocaine, and once she was zoned out, we beat the fuck out of her,” she explained, and your heart thumped against your chest, about to pop out. “She was crying, and screaming; but it made us think of how that was you previously because of her. Our anger overrode us to the edge, and we started cracking her body in. We didn’t know we had killed her until she was completely fucking limp.”

“Those who had the video were dealt with too,” Abby assured. “If they refused to delete it, we made sure their lives would be ruined, their parents would be left with nothing. We knew how to obliterate these spoiled fucks.”

“Are you serious?” You asked. It was rumored that Rachel ran away to her boyfriend in Spain, and refused to come back because her parents were assholes to her, and just a straight disappointment to them. “How did you clean up your tracks?”

“Well, I called Joel in a panic, and told him everything,” Ellie answered, finishing her drink. “Joel told Abby and I to get ourselves cleaned up, and these men came over like an hour later, picking up after us.”

“They wiped our phones and tracks completely,” Abby said, and slid you forward her glass of whiskey. “And then we did it again, and Joel quickly realized we were doing it for you. He saw that you were our purpose, so he let us use his connections, and everything.”

“He was worried everything was going to collapse the second the cops came about Brandon,” Ellie recalled, and took out a fresh cigarette. “That was a mess we had to fix, of course. Like, I’d never seen Joel so pissed off before, it was insane.”

“How did you get away with the murder?” You questioned.

“Easy shit,” Abby laughed, shrugging. “He had himself in rough, bad business. We basically found someone who he owed money to, planted all the evidence and shit on that dude.”

“Now that motherfucker is serving life,” Ellie lit up the stick, inhaling sharply. “We made sure it wouldn’t come back to us.”

“But the shirt,” you reminded them, and they stared at you for a moment before aweing at your little tactic. “The shirt is with the cops.”

“Is it, though?” Abby teased, and a faint ding of the penthouse elevator chimed, footsteps approaching into the living room. “Right on time, too! God, I fucking love dramatics.”

Your eyes shifted to the noise, a broad and muscular figure walking to everyone; and you swore it was the night you were going to go into shock, or have an aneurysm.

Carson stood before you with the shirt in a clear zipped bag, and Abby stood up. “Thank you so much,” she grinned, and Ellie shook his head. “Your money has been transferred to your offshore account.”

“What the fuck?” You blurted, Carson directing his eyes towards you. “You knew?”

“I’m the one who’s been cleaning up their messes,” he admitted, and Abby opened up the bag, taking out the shirt. “It didn’t take much to convince your parents to hire me. I just needed a believable resume.”

You shot up from the couch, staring him down. “You told them where I was at, and everything! You are a fucking narc!”

“I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Carson dryly chuckled, amused by your terrified expression. “They were able to do that all on their own; I just gave them the starting point, and left it at that.”

You smacked him, the skin contact echoing in the home. He only laughed, finding you childish and weak, and shrugged. “I’ll have you fucking killed!”

“Loved to see you try,” he said, and took his exit, waving to the pair. You stared at where he was in utter shock, widely appalled with slight betrayal hitting your heart. You had trusted Carson wholeheartedly, felt secure and safe with him, and it all was a blinding lie.

Ellie started up the fireplace, and your eyes flickered to the ghostly fire. “No, no!” You shouted, trying to seize the shirt from Abby, but the auburn haired girl entrapped you in her hold, forcing you to watch the shirt to be burned.

“You know, I hope you start to learn tonight,” Abby tossed the shirt into the fire, and you wailed, thrashing in Ellie’s arms, yet it was pointless; in every way, they would always be stronger, you being a weakling.

The shirt crinkled and disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Ellie let go of you, and you glared at her. “We aren’t done talking,” she settled you back on the couch, and Abby brought a glass of chardonnay to you. “Now we want our answers.”

“I’ll fuck you up!” You spat, and they tried not to laugh. “What else shit do you have to say?”

“What did you expect to happen when you came to us about your bullies?” Abby asked, genuine and engrossed. “Did you think we would just have chit chats?”

You took a second to yourself, and you stared down at your lap, fidgeting at your dress. Before Abby and Ellie came into your life for good, they were notorious at the academy, and held that title with such pride. You knew what they were capable of, what they could do, and you saw them as your defenders from everything.

Did a part of you know what you were doing? Yes, but not that it would lead them to murder. You never understood or knew why they were so fixated on you, even before they decided to lure you into their lives. They had been riveted by you, and there was not a clear indication as to why, but you used it to your full advantage.

Your parents didn’t care about you, and they knew that. All three of you played a dangerous, deadly role in the relationship; it was volatile and brutal, but it was all you had, and they were all you wanted.

You spent so much time running and hiding from them, you never took a particular moment to realize your role in everything. You took that shirt because it was a part of you; you had Brandon killed, he was a deadman the second you called Abby about him.

You were just as guilty as them, you were just as part of their games and murder.

No one else was going to do this for you, nobody would burn and tear apart the Earth just to have you in their grasp again.

“There’s our girl,” Abby cooed, and you looked up at them, tears in your eyes. “You finally understand. After these years, now it has come to you.”

“You gave us the cards, we just played them the way you liked,” Ellie said, and you downed the chardonnay, exhaling shakily as you set it down. “We knew you were too much like us, we couldn’t deny you anymore. We had to have you.”

“Every time you said we handled it,” you sucked in a hard, jagged breath, “was that code for ‘we killed someone”?”

“What else would it mean, princess?” She mused, burning her cigarette out alas in the ashtray on the coffee table.

A silence slowly creeped into the room, crinkling of the fire and outside traffic filling it as it lasted what felt like moments.

“You know the first time we say you — God, we just knew we had to have you,” Abby spoke, and your eyes trained focused on them. “You hypnotized us by simply existing, by being in our vicinity. It was like we were blessed to come across one of God’s angels.”

You were always sure that they were attracted to you because you simply co-existed within their class status, and because they knew you were the only girl at Faye Academy that wasn’t corrupted or tainted. You were like this fresh breath for them to use — and you still thought like that after everything they had done for you, and even prove that they did love you beyond your body.

“Why me?” You asked.

“We don’t know what you did to simply draw us in, but we couldn’t resist. Every time I saw you in class, in your nicely ironed pleated skirt, in your dark blue polo sweater… your makeup done so pretty…” Ellie reminisced, a crude grin playing onto her lips as she recalled the first moment she laid eyes on you. “You were so pure, so perfect for us. It was no longer about wanting you, it was about needing you — we had to; everyday that passed by where you weren’t in our grasp, we could almost die from it.”

“You will never truly know how much you have us at our knees for you, sweetheart, and that’s okay,” Abby said, and you sucked in a sharp breath, not knowing you had been barely breathing the entire time they spoke about you. “But understand the risks we would go through for you; we live and breathe you. We crave and yearn for you, despite the fact you are already ours. What is our purpose if you simply don’t exist in our lives?”

There was not much you could say to that, only able to break down. They sat up from the couch, and Ellie reached her hand out for yours, softly looking at you.

“Let’s go upstairs, baby,” she gently spoke to you, and peered up, hesitantly interlocking your fingers with hers. She walked you with her, Abby trailing close behind as an easy quietude settled in place, though your sniffles were the only thing to be heard.

Walking into the bedroom, you were momentarily paralyzed by the memory of your last moment in it. You were on that same bed when you put all the pieces together, and had left them with no letter or anything; you took your absence, and that was that.

Ellie guided you over to the wall mirror, her and Abby brushing up close on your back, the two attentively admiring you. “We would do anything for you, sweet girl,” Abby said, and your sobs slowly came to a halt. “We’ll always happily be your executioner, for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re our girl,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But I think you need a fresh reminder of what you put us through.” Her hand hid behind her for a moment, grabbing something from the back of her jeans. A gun came into your vision, and your breath hitched, but she kept it by her side.

Your neck was met with Abby’s soft lips, her warm breath fanning against your skin, and her fingers loosened the strings of the corset. You softly moaned, Ellie fixated on the sight of you easily falling apart to Abby’s kissing, and grinned to herself. “Doesn’t take much to have you under us,” she said, and you eyed her, nodding.

The dress was undone, and easily dropped off your body, the duo getting the view they had longed for all this time. You were bare and exposed, only in underwear, and a primal urge had shadowed over them, wanting to ruin you without any thought.

“Oh, bunny,” Abby whispered. “Just as perfect as we remembered.”

Her lips separated from your marked neck, and you whimpered as Ellie pressed her gun to your abdomen. “What a sweet sight that I will never get tired of,” she mumbled, kissing your cheek. “Seeing you fucking petrified as if we will kill you at any moment.”

“But you won’t,” you retorted. “Right?”

“No,” she promised as the gun was slowly dragged to your temple, and she clicked the trigger, only for the barrel to be empty. You flinched to the trigger, your heart racing. “But we will hurt you, I can assure you that, little lamb.”

She used the gun to steer you to the foot of the bed. “On your fucking knees,” Abby demanded, and you collapsed to them, your knees thudding against the cold, hard granite tiles. “Anytime you stop, we use this gun, and you can find out yourself if the barrel is cleaned out.”

“Yes, mommy,” you muttered, and they amusingly hummed. Ellie kept the gun in position, using one hand to unbuckle her belt, and strip off her jeans as Abby did the same. It was a rare thing for them to have their straps under their pants, only if they knew they would have to handle you at any given moment, and this was one of them. You were going to come crawling back, and they were prepared for it, to claim and destroy you all in one.

“Mama gets to have you first,” Ellie said, and you parted your mouth open, Abby’s stuffing your mouth full with her cock, careless to your gagging. She had her way with you, her hand holding the top of your head as she thrusted herself into your mouth, trying your best to not pull back and gasp for air. The gun was there to keep you place, and you couldn’t ignore how it pressed deeply into the side of your head.

“That’s right, baby. Fuckin’ whore,” Abby said, and you tried to best out of your nose, desperate for more air. You used whatever strength you had, forcing your head back, and engulfed amounts of oxygen into your lungs. “What the fuck did we say?”

The trigger was pressed, and your ears rang with it. Empty, again.

“You’ve been away too long, princess,” Ellie said, and Abby retrieved your head, your mouth filled with the silicone object again. “Was too busy fucking other girls, huh? I bet they couldn’t make you like this; I can see you fucking dripping through your panties.”

Your arousal was a wildfire in you, spreading through your stomach, and down into your thighs. You could feel the mess you were making, seemingly ashamed and embarrassed how you got wet from their threats, with a gun pointed to you that was possibly clipped.

“There she is, now you are being good,” Abby praised, her thumb pressing away the tears that fell on your apple cheeks. “Always doing your best for us, hm? Knew you missed us too, baby.”

Ellie crouched down to your level, the gun lined up under your head as her grin turned into a twisted smirk. “All that we did for you, little one,” she mocked a frown, sighing. “And you just ran away like that? Coming home to find you gone, and betraying us?”

You were lightheaded and dizzy, your mind hazy, yet tried to stay focused. Your moans and whimpers gargled in your throat, drool running out of the corners of your mouth, and falling down onto your breasts.

“You belong to us, and you better start getting that through your fucking skull,” Ellie seethed, her bitter fury coating her mind. “You are only hurting yourself by doing the shit you do. A fucking brat you are.”

Abby decided to give up on you, your mouth hollow and free. She grabbed you by your throat, a sinister shade lingering in her eyes, and air whistled through her teeth. “Little bunny, you have no clue what you’ve done to yourself.”

You were put in the middle of the bed, and Ellie looked at her gun. “Let’s see if she can still take us,” she said, and Abby hummed, nodding. Ellie adjusted herself in between your legs, shoving them open, and stripped off your underwear, moaning at the sight of your cunt. “Fucking hell. She’s fucking soaking, babe.”

Abby had bunched ropes in her hand, kneeling into the bed, and stared at your cunt. “What a sick bitch you are, bunny,” she teased, running a finger down your slick folds, and you whined. “All of this from a gun, Ellie. She fucking loves it.”

Nothing else was said as Abby grasped onto your legs, and pushed your legs up against your chest. Her hands gripped on your wrists, having you hug the underneath of your legs, and made sure you kept yourself locked in the placement.

Ellie tied your wrists together, tight enough to not cut off any blood supply, and then went on to your ankles, knotting them in one. She used another string of rope to connect your ankles to your wrists, making your position trapped and stuck.

“We don’t want to hear you enjoying this,” Ellie said, and gave the gun over to Abby as the blonde sat herself in front of you. Ellie took off her strap, letting it drop to the ground, and took off her underwear, only to move herself over your face. She carefully lowered herself down on, and her aching cunt met your mouth as you obediently sucked and ran your tongue on it.

Abby slowly slipped the gun into you, yet you were soaked enough to let it easily be fucked into you. She pressed down onto your stomach as she rammed the cold weapon into your pussy, and you tried to muzzle your needy noises, tending to Ellie’s needs.

The auburn girl rutted herself against your mouth, eliciting shaky moans and cursed under her breath. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” she muttered, looking over at Abby while she continued to fist the gun into you.

You lathered Ellie’s slick on your tongue, pleased how it dripped over your lips as you moaned to the sweet taste of her. If your wrists weren’t restrained, you would keep your arms around her thighs just to eat her out for hours on end.

Abby and Ellie were intensely dominant, it was unwonted when you gave them pleasure. They were refusing about it, saying that you were the one who needed to be desired and tended to whenever you wanted to be.

You couldn’t tell if you were immensely desperate or if the gun was fucking you so well, that you were already at the peak of your climax. You denied your orgasm, needing to get Ellie to hers, and harshly ate her out, fucking her hole with your tongue, sending her into a moaning, pleading mess for you.

“Oh shit, sweetheart— yeah, keep going,” she softly moaned. “Being such a good girl for daddy, gonna make sure to cum in your pretty mouth.”

“She’s making a mess on your gun and sheets,” Abby said, and for a moment, your cunt was not filled until she pushed her cock into you. “There we fuckin’ go, this is exactly what she needs.”

Ellie craned her body near Abby, the two kissing each other in a sloppy manner as the blonde roughly fucked into you. Abby kept her close as Ellie’s jagged moans and whines breathed into her mouth, doing all she could to keep herself up and close.

“You going to cum, baby, hm?” Abby asked, and Ellie moaned against her lips, nodding. “Go on, cum for us. You can do it.”

Ellie’s orgasm came crashing down as she squirmed and cried out, twitching on your mouth. Ellie pushed herself up, kneeling beside your head and leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning at the taste of her. You sucked on each other’s tongues, Ellie slipping her hand down your stomach, and made way in between your thighs, rubbing your cunt.

She broke apart the kiss, her free hand gripping onto your jaw to make forced eye contact, and spat into your mouth. “Make us proud, baby. Want you to give daddy a good one,” she whispered, and you kept your eyes trained into hers as Abby pounded herself deeper into you, the squelching noises of your slick mixing in with your whimpers and throaty moans.

“So fucking tight, never gonna get enough of this perfect pussy,” Abby breathed, her hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Made just for us, sweet girl. Everything about you was made for us to worship and ruin.”

“No one fucked you like this back in London, huh?” Ellie asked, and you shook your head. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. Probably had to get off all by yourself while you thought of us, too.”

“Just… just thought of you two the entire time,” you confessed, brows knitted together. “I need you so bad, ‘m sorry.”

“We’re here, baby,” she said, kissing the side of your head. “Next time you try to escape, you’ll absolutely fucking regret it. Got that?”

You nodded, and a warm sensation kindled in the pits of your stomach, knowing the familiar feeling. You squirmed, and Abby glanced over at Ellie. “If she doesn’t understand, we’ll just beat it into her,” she said, making it a sincere promise, and a chaste kiss was made to your forehead. “I would hate to do that, but it might just happen.”

Your approaching orgasm made it too troubling to know if they would harm you in such a way, but you were at the point that you couldn’t put it past them.

“Cum for mommy,” Abby insisted, and you moaned, your hips jittering as your climax broke out of you, broken moans escaping from you. “That was fucking nothing, you crybaby.”

The cum from her strap leaked with yours, dripping out of your hole, and making a puddle in the bedsheets. She unknotted the ropes, tossing them to the ground shortly after, and massaged your wrists.

You laid there for a second before bursting out in a fit of laughter, the two confused by it.

“What?” Ellie bluntly asked.

“Surprised you even let me cum,” you said, laughing a little more. “Usually you have me work for it.”

Abby and Ellie looked at each other before their eyes went back to you as they puckered their lips in thought nodding to themselves. Ellie picked you up from the bed, and brought a violent backhand slap to your cheek, halting your laughter altogether.

“You want to keep fucking laughing!” She yelled, giving you another one. “You are even fucking lucky we are touching you. We could have had you strapped to a vibrator for hours, and hit you every time you tried to cum.” Your lightness turned into sobs, and you stared at her through glossy vision, your pout shaking on your lips. They had simply run over their limit and patience with you, and you no longer doubted the sadism they would lay on you.

Abby just stood by, soaking in your tears and how easy it was to crack you. It was enough for the both of them to get off. She took you from Ellie, putting your arms behind your back as her chest brushed up against it, and Ellie took off her shirt, harnessing back on her strap.

God, I know you hate me, you thought to yourself. But please, have mercy on me.

Abby spat down your ass, using the saliva as lubrication, and dipped you down onto her strap, your ass hole brutally being stretched open. She kept you steady and positioned right for Ellie, who was not far behind as she shoved her cock into you.

“Ride us, bitch,” Abby said, and you obliged, hissing under your breath. The pain lasted longer than you thought, tears flooding into your ears while their size brutalized your cunt. “Such a sensitive cry baby. So easy for us to break you.”

Your head fell back on her shoulder, looking up at her. “Please, mama. ‘M sorry, I’ll be so good for you.”

Ellie grabbed your jaw, a violent smack struck against your cheek. “You enjoy lying to us, all the fuckin’ time. We should’ve disposed of you a while ago, see how you would’ve done without us.”

“What a pity that would be,” Abby taunted, laughing breathily in your laugh. As they found humor at the thought of you being a lost lamb without them, you were ripping at the seams as you went on to ride them at a gentle pace for you, the discomfort shifting into grand pleasure. “I would like to see that. Maybe next time we will leave, have you feel what we did.”

“No no!” You cried, shaking your head, and broke into hysterical sobs. “Didn’t mean to go, swear I didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ellie jested, that eerie smirk of hers resting on her lips. “Because who will put up with you? Make you feel like this? Give into your fucking sick desires?”

“That’s why you’re perfect for us,” Abby noted, her hand creeping up to your neck, and viciously gripped on your throat. “Just as twisted and fucked in the head as us, more than you’d care to admit. No one will want or need you the way we do.”

You refused to deny them that. They were what you craved, they were the epitome of your lust and dreams, everything you yearned for, and were the helping hand to expose who you were to yourself. You would’ve done the same as them if they tried to leave; you would fucking slaughter those who they cared for just to have them again.

A match made in the ninth circle of Hell.

Your next high came to you, making it easily known as your noises got high pitched, making it an indicator. “Let me cum, please,” you pleaded, sobbing. “Want to cum, I need to— I’ll do anything you want.”

“We like you this way, stupid whore,” Abby said, and made the gun useful again, pointing it to your ribcage. “You cum, I pull the trigger.”

You body tensed, and you nodded, trying to ignore your unbearable high as it was becoming raw ecstasy to you. Your thighs trembled, about to give up on you, and you looked at Ellie through wettened eyelashes, your face drenched with tears and sweat.

The bedroom was rare filth, you could smell sin and vices burning through it. Your life was in their hands in every literal sense, but you wouldn’t have it any other way; you would rather die than not have them, and if that meant they would have to kill you themselves, you would let them. You were utterly nothing without them, and they knew it, too.

You had all the fucking wealth and privilege in the world to be someone, but you couldn’t be if they weren’t there on your side. You were them, and they were you. Your souls were eternally intertwined, and no matter where you went, you would always come back to them because they were it. They were all you sought out for.

Despite their desecration and souls being planted from Hell, they were Heaven and all things bliss.

You needed them. You would always need them.

You were winded out of your head as your orgasm stung inside of you, crying to be freed. You sobbed with it, shaking your head, but had to consider the gun that was indented into your skin. You had not known how much was passing when holding in your cum, but you couldn’t take it, and it was easily making you fall apart.

“Mommy, please!” You cried, blubbering in your tears. “I have to— ahh, please! I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, and you will, you fucking whore,” Ellie argued. “Unless you want to find out if the next shot has a bullet in it.”

You shook your head, and continued to break into sobs, your orgasm threatening to be released at the edge of you. It was becoming too much, your vision was blurring, and your heart was overwhelmed, almost frightened you would have a heart attack of some sort.

Ellie and Abby gave in, violently and recklessly pounding into you, putting your riding to a complete stop. You placed your hands on Ellie’s shoulders for support, Abby’s nails clawing into your throat as she continued to hold onto it for leverage while she maintained to hold you at gunpoint.

Utter euphoria rode over you, your eyes rolling to the inside of your head, and your back perfectly arched, crying out for the both of them. Your nails scratched at Ellie’s skin, your eyes getting a hast look at her fucking your cunt. Your noises and voice grated like rust at the back of your throat, breaths shuddering in your ribcage.

“You want to fucking cum, bunny?” Abby breathily asked. “Cry for it more if you really want it, sweetheart.”

“Mama, please!” You sobbed loudly, your mewls and cries faltering in your cries. “Want to be full of you, need to be bred by you two, please. Make me a pretty mommy for you, keep me trapped with you.”

They fucking lost it on you, ferociously driving themselves deeper into your wet, abused holes, and were coming to their own high. “Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fuck a baby into you?” Ellie cooed, a faux pout dangling on her lips. “Then you wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

You nodded, on the brink of being braindead. “Yes, yes! I wanna be leaking of you. Wan’ mama and daddy to breed me so badly, please!”

You were an incoherent babbling mess, your voice raw and rough as you cried with your noises of gratification. They easily had you at the tip, and were ready to push you all the way down, keep you sobbing.

“Fucking cum for us, fuck!” Abby demanded, dropping the gun, and let go of your throat. She laid her hands on your torso, her nails scraping against your skin, and you hissed to it. Wanton moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room, and a second hadn’t passed when your climax ran out of you, riding it out as the girls went on to fuck you.

You let them use you like a fucktoy until they had come to their own orgasm, stuffing their cum into you as a symphony of curses sputtered from their lips. All movements came to a stop, bodies trembling and sticky.

You had to internally keep yourself conscious, but it was seeming impossible. You collapsed onto the bed the moment you were unfilled with their cocks, letting them handle themselves before you.

You could feel a warm, wet rag running over your legs, and you stared up at the ceiling, your eyes lazily blinking. “We need to clean you up, sweetheart. C’mon,” Ellie said, and picked you up, carrying you into the bathroom.

The three of you shared a warm bath, sitting in the middle of them as they cleaned you up nice and well, being sure to be gentle to touch you. You had missed the sweet scent of them, or how their violent hands could be so kind to your body, chaste kisses being pressed on your spine and forehead here and there.

It took you a few years for you to figure out your purpose with them, and all that they did for you. It was more than enough. To many, it would seem insane of your justifications and reasonings to why they did what they did for you, but no one else's opinion mattered in the fact. They worshiped you, they devoted every inch and breath of themselves to your protection and well being.

This is all you wanted. You and them forever the rest of your life. If carnage and bloodshed had to present, then so be it; because as long as you had them there by you, it was okay.

clutching the cotton pillow to your ears, you slammed your fist against the drywall to no avail. dorm room walls were cheap and astoundingly thin, making way for even the slightest movements to travel over to your room. it was three o’clock in the morning. a time for most to catch up on sleep, maybe even cram for an exam if the situation called for it. unfortunately, you didn’t fit into either of those groups— and it wasn’t by choice.

your neighbors had a deep appreciation for cordiality, it extended well into the early hours of the morning. so much so that they’d taken it upon themselves to lull you to bed with obnoxiously loud music— and for the third time this week. the cycle persisted for hours. culminating in an endless repetition of parties and copious amounts of sex. completely obliterating the possibility of you obtaining any sleep, especially the night before homecoming.

“one of us should go over there,” you spat, turning towards your roommate on the opposite side of the room.

dina shrugged, “i tried last time you should do it. i think she has a thing for you.”

you weren’t entirely familiar with the person behind the parties but from what you’d heard her name was abby and she was an asshole— a suave sweet-talker, but an asshole nonetheless. with a particular inclination to flowers, more specifically leaving them at your door. according to dina, the mystery woman had weaseled her way into just about every girl’s pants on campus, with record numbers flowing from her room into the hall. the girl had wicked stamina and that was exclusively based on what could be heard through the paper-thin walls. despite this, the plan was straightforward— be as direct as possible without dropping your pants.

you knocked twice before the door swung open, a half-naked woman standing before it. reddish-pink hickeys littered her neck and chest, trophies she wore proudly. a blue lace bra was lazily strung around her chest along with a torn purple thong that hung just below her navel. the woman was practically exposed but held not an inkling of shame— if anything she appeared dignified despite being borderline nude.

“can you turn the fucking music down?” you shouted, clamping your hands over your ears.

the woman eyed you with a particular level of indifference, crossing her arms over her chest. a strong musk of what seemed to be vanilla, sweat, and weed crept into the hallway, clouding nearly all of your senses. the smell lingered in your nostrils, sending your mind into a tailspin as the noise persisted.

she rolled her eyes, turning back towards the dorm, “some girl’s here for you.” from inside emerged a tall woman, broad and especially muscular. her face and shoulders were decorated with dark brown freckles that spread down her back. she was the very definition of intimidation personified, in a gray tank top that clung to crevices of her body carving out a perfect outline. by the time you’d realized what you were doing, it was already too late. abby extended a hand to the top frame of the door as she leaned against it, smirking. 

stop gawking, stop gawking. 

“i’m abby.” everything about her screamed cocky— from her voice to her face, even her posture for heaven's sake. it should’ve bothered you. the way she looked at you, the slight glint in her eye that seemed to sharpen as she scanned down your body— studying each of every component like it was within her right. thus you expected the annoyance or at least some indication of it to creep in. rather you were met with an unfamiliar warmth, one that made you nervous and strangely giddy. that should’ve bothered you, yet it didn’t.

“i know who you are,” you stammered, “uh i sleep in the dorm next door and i have an early class tomorrow, can you just turn the—“

“y/n, right?” her eyes, clouded by lust fell to your lips as you shifted from one foot to the other. your name rolled off her tongue effortlessly, and a part of you wanted to hear it again— just as much as abby wanted to say it again. she got off on it, she adored having the upper hand even in the most minuscule conversations. she could see it in the way you inched closer to her without even noticing. it was a power that you weren’t even fully aware of. 

“yeah?” you held your breath as she ran her fingers along the rim of the door before dropping them at her sides. the silence was torturous, gnawing at you from the inside out. this is where the “asshole” reputation stemmed from. she was a tease in her natural element and unbeknownst to you it was worsened by your presence. 

she smirked, “i sit behind you in chem, you look even prettier from the front.”

asshole. 

incessant heat rose to your cheeks, consuming them as the rest of your face fell, victim. you felt like a stranger in your own body— it resembled a foreign vessel on the verge of collapse. you shouldn’t have felt this way. you couldn’t allow yourself to. abigail anderson was a conceited jerk who thought about nothing more than the hookups she could accumulate in a day. this is what she does— and you needed to believe it.

“didn’t notice you,” you shrugged, refusing to let her get the best of you. abby squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. bulging green veins pressed along the surface of her skin as her muscles flexed. she liked challenges. at that moment it became about much more than just sleeping with you, she was practically infatuated. 

you see, abby loved women. she adored the way they felt, their curves writhing underneath her. the subtle cries that fell from their lips at the slightest yet most intoxicating touches. and especially the addictive warmth she got just by being around them. it earned her the reputation of a womanizer across campus and while she wouldn’t deny it— this time her motivations were different. she wanted to charm you, she wanted to tease you, leaving on you edge while simultaneously granting you everything you could ever ask for. calling it crush felt strange but there wasn’t any other word for it, she was whipped.

“you get my flowers?” 

you nodded, eyes darting toward the ground. images of purple lilacs crept into the corners of your vision. it was a reoccurring thing— each morning you awoke to a new bouquet splayed out in front of your door. there was no note, just a small card that read “to y/n, from abby,” and she’d been at it for weeks.

“good….we’ll keep the music down,” she offered you one last glance before retreating into the dorm. she lowered the speakers to a minimum continuing over to her bed. there she was awaited by a girl whose name she didn’t even know. not that it mattered much to her in the slightest. abby found her mind occupied by more pressing matters, all involving you. she couldn’t seem to shake the image of you in sheer pajamas from her memory. spurring it to do the complete opposite— latching on and burning its way to the forefront of her mind. 

she wrapped her hands along the ankles of the mystery woman, gently pulling her toward the edge of the bed. abby forced her eyes closed, allowing pictures of you to pervade them. her hands trailed down between the woman’s inner thighs, teasing them as she cried aloud. she curled her fingers along the woman’s entrance, snapping them upwards in an almost ritualistic manner. abby repeated this over and over again until she was convinced it was you. 

her chants grew fervently, “abby, abby, abby” traveling to the opposite side of the room where you slept. the noise was low at first and only noticeable to you. it began as a gentle whisper, prodding your ears before inevitably reaching your pussy. you didn’t want to succumb to it— secretly you adored the way it made you feel. the slight tingle that persisted with each chant. slowly you moved your hand to your navel, eyes darting over to a passed-out dina before proceeding. 

you closed your eyes, pushing your index finger below the hem of your shorts. beginning slowly you rubbed your clit in controlled, delicate circles, suppressing the grunts and moans brimming the surface of your tongue. filthy images of abby intruded your thoughts, taking center stage as the cries of another woman became fuel. gradually you sped up employing another finger in the process. fragmented white spots clouded the outskirts of your vision as you worked faster, pressing down on your poor clit with much more force. 

the woman’s chants become disheveled and scarce fizzling out as you chase your high, streams of pleasure ripping through your body. tears brimmed the corners of your eyes, you squeezed your legs together quickly breathing a sigh of relief. the realization was subtle initially, revealing the bits of truth you were reluctant to hear. however, one thing was for certain— the image of abby never once left you. 

“so how’d it go last night?” dina asked, her voice pulling you away from your thoughts. 

you snapped your head towards her, “what?” the two of you continued to class although your mind consistently found its way back to abby’s door. 

maybe she knew? oh god, she knew. 

technically you hadn’t done anything wrong but you couldn’t help but feel nervous. last night instilled you with a new, daring sense of bravery that you hadn’t experienced all semester. in your hands, you fiddled with the new bouquet— this time they were a collection of pink roses, all varying in color. you weren’t how long she’d keep it up but then again you weren’t complaining.

“last night with abby? they turned the music down so i’m guessing she must really have a thing for you.” her voice was drenched in all types of suggestive undertones, most of which you consciously chose to ignore. you despised yourself for feeling this way— there was nothing special about the way abby looked at you. she was the campus player and only a fool would be deceived into believing otherwise.

during chemistry you sat in your usual spot, secretly hoping abby would walk in. today you made more of an effort towards appearance, applying a bit more makeup than usual. wearing an even shorter outfit and dousing yourself in perfume. now that you knew abby was watching you wanted to impress her even if it was only for a short while. you rarely if ever sought attention from anyone in class but with her it was different. you wanted to stand out, vying for her attention amongst others. 

halfway through the lecture, abby strode in, blue eyes directly locking with yours. a slight smirk took shape on her lips as she made her way towards you, taking the seat right beside you. your heartbeat sped rapidly, hammering against your chest. she leaned back in her chair completely disregarding the professor. to be honest, abby hadn’t planned on coming to class, and she had no intentions of staying. 

she began, “y/n—“

“i have to focus.”

“i’ll be quick,” she leaned over closer, nearly brushing your thigh, “you got any plans for tonight?” shit— the thought of homecoming had completely slipped your mind. let alone what you planned to do. hanging out with dina was out of the question. and you preferred not to attend any fraternity party alone in addition to one of abby’s. you’d rather not spend most of the night watching her tongue your entire class for hours on end.

“i was thinking about having a party in our resident hall for homecoming, you wanna come? you can bring your friend—“

“i have a date,” you said louder than intended, it garnered a couple of stares from fellow peers and abby included. although this couldn’t have been further from the truth. yet it seemed better in hindsight. she fell silent for a moment, cerulean eyes peering through yours. for the first time, she was at a loss for words— and it was unusual for her. abby rarely had to chase, especially not against other people on campus but with you, she almost felt obligated to. somehow, someway it acknowledged the budding feelings that began to stir deep inside of her.

“if that falls through you know where to find me, promise i’ll make it worth your while— and if you do happen to show up, you should wear that perfume again, you smell really nice,” she whispered, the corners of her lips tugging up into a cocky grin. you expected her to leave right after although she made no attempts to. rather you felt her gaze settle on you, forcing the heat to buzz underneath your skin in response. everything about her demeanor was so arrogant and unbelievably hot. you hated admitting it you refused to. but you didn’t mind the attention, even more so you welcomed it. 

soon the class drew to a close and you were the first one out. the surface skin felt like it was on fire, overwhelmed by an unprecedented force. you couldn’t think straight. memories of abby and last night refused to let up occupying more space in your mind than usual. you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of her. yet the only thing you could focus on was the fact that she’d complimented you. still, you could feel it, her breath against your ear and the gentle brush of her skin against yours. it was small but impossible to forget.

as time inched by classes emptied with most students choosing their preferred method of celebration, except for you. your room was empty so you took advantage of the extra space by dressing yourself for the second time that day. you opted for a tight outfit one that revealed your assets without showing them outright. from the room over you could hear people begin to pile for abby’s party, queuing your exit. not before spraying yourself with perfume once more. 

you walked along campus with no real goal in sight. the sky was a captivating mixture of cobalt and rosè, a sight that left you in awe. the sun was slowly easing its way down, shielded by the fluffy white clouds littered across the expansion. it was utterly beautiful. high pitched sounds from nearby insects rang out into the void as more followed suit. you continued even further heavily immersed in the nature around you. and it communicated one thing. 

college was most definitely a scam, but this certainly wasn’t. 

in all your days of living on campus, you hadn’t noticed this. largely because you’d been so concerned with yourself to really explore and truly venture out of your comfort zone. in many facets, it reminded you of abby, and more specifically what you felt for her. honestly, you didn’t know what it was, or what to call it. you had these preconceived notions of her of who she was that you hadn’t even bothered to investigate yourself. thus it kept you in a bubble one in which you’d never be able to confront your desire for her.

upon realizing this you turned on your heel sharply, speeding back towards your residential hall. as you pushed past the doors you were gearing up to fight— homecoming parties were usually a battle zone. yet once you stepped foot inside it was completely silent— alarmingly so. you continued towards abby’s door searching for an indication of a party but there weren’t any traces of one person let alone dozens of people. 

you knocked on abby’s door once before it swung open. there was no party, no music or stray girls, and beer cups scattered across the room— just abby. a small grin spread across her lips as you stepped inside, the room was dimly lit by white candles. the sweet aroma of vanilla and cinnamon wafted in the air, reminiscent of your first encounter yet with a noticeable difference. you sat on the edge of her bed, purposely leaving a few feet between the two of you. the mattress dipped as abby took a seat on the opposite side, allowing for more tension to accumulate in the atmosphere.

she turned towards you, “where’s your date?”

“i don’t wanna talk about that,” you whispered. a warm giddy feeling aligned the pit of your stomach stirring nausea. but it was almost pleasant? abby affected you, one that you couldn’t quite describe. it was powerful and enticing enough to lead you back to her room and stay. it mimicked a fierce wave edging along a wet beach shore— you knew what was coming, nonetheless, you chose to remain. 

“why are you so far away?” her voice was light, bordering on insatiable. it took everything not to look her way, let alone even make eye contact. you pressed your legs together fighting to contain the desire that was slowly mounting itself inside you. abby could sense it but she wanted— no needed to ease it out of you.

“you make me nervous,” you admitted, biting down on your lip with enough force to draw blood. sheer hints of aluminum lingered on your tongue but a bloody lip couldn’t have been further from your concerns. the air was thick and the scent grew stronger as abby stirred beside you. she didn’t move any closer although you secretly wished she had. since the moment you’d laid eyes on her a part of you, although tamed longed to be near her. you wanted to feel her muscles against the surface of your skin, observing the way they contracted underneath her clothes, bearing the utmost strength and intensity. 

she chuckled, “is that what you came here to tell me?” 

you shook your head, silently picking at your cuticles. the pain was distracting but not enough to force the words from your mouth. it wasn’t a matter of knowing it— abby already knew it. she could smell the lust practically radiating off your skin but she wanted to hear you say it. it served as confirmation— the girl she’d wanted all along was in the very palm of her hand. 

your eyes flickered between hers, “you meant what you said earlier….making this worth my while?”

“come closer.” hesitantly you lifted yourself from the edge of the mattress, taking a seat just a mere inches away. you hadn’t been this close to her since earlier on, but even then it was never of this magnitude— never this sexually driven. 

“what do you think?” she whispered, cupping a hand over yours. slowly she ran her thumb over your skin, fulfilling only a portion of your desires. your eyes fell towards her lips before trailing back up to her eyes. a similar need lingered in her gaze but abby refrained from making the first move. which wasn’t a stance she took often. 

you slipped your hand out from under her grasp bringing them to her face. you pulled her in closer, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. abby’s hands traveled up your arms stopping at your elbows where she held them there, ushering you closer. 

breathless, you pulled away, “is this okay? am i doing this right?”

“you’re perfect y/n, keep going,” abby cooed. she scooped you up in her arms pushing you back on the bed. your tongue swirled over hers allowing a low moan to escape from your lips. abby pressed against you harder, bringing her hands further south where they slipped under your knees. her touch felt magical making it even easier for you to lose control of yourself. you reached for the hem of abby’s shirt pulling it over her head as you kissed down her neck. offering extra attention to the skin just above her shoulders. 

“fuck— i wanna taste you,” abby purred, sliding the lace panties down your legs. you pulled your dress up, offering her an ample view of your body. however she refused to rush, she wanted to prolong the experience turning her attention towards your chest. she cupped your tits in her hands, bringing them to her mouth. needing at one mound she latched onto the other, swirling her tongue around your nipple. she continued sucking fervently allowing her free hand to roam down your thigh. 

“yes, yes— just like that,” you cried digging your fingernails into the surface of abby’s skin. creating sharp crescents all along her bicep. she brushed her finger to your pussy watching as you shuddered away.

abby pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, “you gotta relax for me, alright?” you nodded, spreading your legs open further she began at your clit. going back and forth in slow torturous circles. you attempted to move your hips forward, desperate for more when abby pulled away, shaking her head. 

“be patient. i’ll take care of you, i promise.” the pleasure was practically overwhelming. you threw your head back as abby applied more pressure to your clit, slipping her index finger into your dripping pussy. wet squelching sounds pervaded the air around you the faster she went. curving her finger up to meet your spongy g-spot. her pace increased, revealing veins that traveled up the expanse of abby’s arm- however it didn’t deter her. 

“how’s that hm? better?” her tone was tauntingly low and addictive. moans spilled from your lips in response as you clutched onto her, near the verge of seeing stars. 

“c’mon baby, tell me.” this time she slipped in her middle finger, watching as it slid in effortlessly. instinctively you clenched around her yelping at the newfound contact. your entire body was set ablaze, engulfed in flames as abby worked bringing you to new heights. soon began to move along with her hand, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

“i’m so close— fuck— don’t stop, don’t stop please.” your voice became caught and your vision darkened, pitch-black shards clouding it. you buried your face in her neck as abby held you close. her arm pressing into the small of your back.

“i know it’s a lot, but you can trust me,” she whispered. you pulled away from her, hot tears brimming the corners of your eyes. you expected the sex but you hadn’t expected this. there was a certain level of vulnerability present between the two of you, it was both raw and completely unprecedented. before you even had a chance to comment on it, abby silenced you, pressing her lips to yours.

“i want you to sit on my face.”

“what?” you sputtered, unsure if you’d heard her correctly. however, abby’s face remained completely unchanged. she shot you a reassuring smile before laying flat on her back. huffing a quick breath you inched over to her, placing your legs on either side of her head. you lowered yourself on her mouth, moaning at the warm contact. abby wrapped her arms around both of your thighs, hungrily pressing you to her face. 

it was nearly impossible to move under her grasp. abby kept you bound to one place as she ran her tongue along your pussy. sloppily lapping your fluids that escaped into her mouth. she hummed at the taste, relentlessly flicking her tongue against your folds. a small knot began to develop at the pit of your stomach, growing and tightening with each movement. abby worked tirelessly against you, desperate to push to your last and final high. your moans grew louder and more ardent, replicating that of the mystery woman from earlier.

“abby, abby, abby,” you cried, doubling over as your legs gave out, surrendering completely to abby’s will. she continued lapping your fluids, sucking feverishly until you were a babbling mess— way past the point of oblivion. triggering the massive knot at the basis of your stomach. 

shakily you tumbled over on the opposite side of abby, out of breath and sweaty. when she joined you clear fluids coated the outskirts of her mouth and her chest was completely doused. with the last bit of strength you could fester you turned towards her placing a kiss on her mouth before pulling away. clear remnants of your orgasm still immobilizing you. 

“thank you,” she whispered, running her hand across your back, gently easing you into a slumber as you nuzzled into her. the gentle thump of abby’s heart lulling you.

you awoke to hushed whispers coming from the door. abby’s space beside you was empty. she stood by the door, her face beet red and contorted. across from her was a blonde woman, she looked utterly unfamiliar but she blended in perfectly with abby’s past hookups. she wore little to no clothes and her under eyes were decorated with red at the rims. indicating that she was most definitely high. 

“got your text abs, c’mon let’s get outta here,” she giggled, tugging on abby’s arm. 

“now isn’t a good time, you need to go.” her voice was alarmingly serious which was a rare sight. you did your best to remain silent, yet the nature of their conversations left a bad taste in your mouth. 

“why?” she sneered, pushing her way into the dorm, “is it because of her? she know you have a girlfriend?” 

girlfriend? girlfriend? 

“you hear that? i’m her girlfriend,” she shouted.

you could throw up. your head spun in circles, spurring nausea already building in your stomach. abby had a girlfriend? confusion laced with anger completely distorted your vision. yet you didn’t spare another moment. it was too late for explanations, now you were the fool.

you should’ve seen it coming. 

abby whipped back towards you stammering, “shit y/n— just let me explain.” 

it was too late. the girl wrapped an arm around abby’s waist planting a kiss to her cheek that only made you taste the bile. you needed to get out of there with whatever was left of your fragmented dignity. you pushed past abby and the blonde, ripping your arm from abby’s grasp when she tried to touch you. it no longer had that same effect— it was foreign. 

“y/n wait— hear me out please.” 

you tuned out abby’s voice storming into your room before slamming it shut. a sharp pang ricocheted throughout your body as you seethed, grappling with your emotions. you hated this. you hated the control she maintained over you, it was paralyzing. but what made it even more infuriating? all the more screwed up and deranged? you still wanted her. 

The first pale gray of dawn is bleeding through the gaps in her curtains. Somewhere outside, a barn swallow's tuning up. In the distance, a cow lets out a long, low moan—breakfast's late, and she's letting everyone know it. There's hay to haul. Stalls to muck. A fence line Abby meant to check yesterday. All of it's waiting, same as it always does.

But you're here. And suddenly none of that feels urgent.

Your face is smushed into the crook of her neck—smushed being the only word for it, because there's nothing elegant about the way you sleep, and Abby's never loved anything more. One leg's hooked over hers, lazy and possessive even in unconsciousness. Your fingers are loosely fisted in the front of her threadbare henley, like you were holding on when you drifted off and never let go.

You're so warm. So soft. Every breath you take puffs slow and steady against her collarbone, and Abby swears she can feel it all the way down to her bones. Down to the marrow.

She's not gonna move.

Not to check the fence. Not to feed the stock. Not for anything short of a five-alarm fire or the Second Coming. Because this—this right here—is the quietest her head's been in years. The barn, the chores, the endless list of things that need doing—it's all still there, but it's like someone turned the volume down. Muffled it behind a door she doesn't have to open yet.

Abby looks at the clock on the nightstand. 5:23.

She looks back at you.

And something in her chest goes tight—not painful, exactly, but aware. The way a muscle feels right before it gives out. The way the ground feels when you've been on horseback so long you forgot what standing still was like.

This is how it starts, she thinks. Not with grand gestures or dramatic confessions. But like this: lying awake at dawn with a woman in her arms who makes her want to blow off the only life she's ever known.

And fuck.

She should move. She knows she should move. The chickens won't feed themselves, and the horses get ornery if breakfast runs late—especially that chestnut mare, who'll bang her feed bucket against the stall door until someone pays attention. Ellie's already gonna give her shit for sleeping in past six. 

Abby shifts just slightly. Tries to.

And you make this sound. This tiny, unconscious mmmpfh of protest, your brow furrowing for half a second before your arm tightens around her like you're anchoring her to the bed by sheer will. Like you'd wrestle the sun itself back below the horizon if it meant getting five more minutes.

She actually laughs under her breath. Soft. Low. Just a huff of air through her nose, because Jesus, you're not even awake, and you're already bossing her around. Already telling her no, stay, you don't get to leave yet.

Abby's resolve crumbles like a biscuit in gravy—instant, messy, and so damn satisfying she doesn't even try to put it back together.

Her chin comes to rest on top of your head, and she breathes you in deep: your shampoo—something floral, she'll have to ask about it later—your skin, warm and soft against her lips, the faint sweetness of whatever perfume you'd been wearing last night that's still clinging to your collarbones.

God. She's gonna smell like you all day now.

The thought does something dangerous to her chest.

The morning light is barely starting to filter through her curtains—pale gold and soft grey, the kind of light that makes everything look like a dream she's not ready to wake up from. Dust motes drift lazy through the air. Somewhere outside, the world is waking up, starting its noisy, demanding, get-to-work morning chorus.

But in here? In here, it's quiet.

And for the first time in her entire goddamn life—the first time since she was a little girl falling asleep to the sound of rain on the tin roof, safe and small and untroubled—Abby feels her eyes grow heavy again.

Not restless. Not wired. Not that familiar hum of anxiety under her skin that's been there so long she forgot what silence felt like.

She's so comfortable. You're so comfortable. Like you were made to fit right here in her arms, like the universe carved out this exact space just for you and spent the rest of eternity waiting for her to find it. Her shoulder cradles your head like a missing puzzle piece. Your knees slot between hers like they belong there. Every breath you take nudges you closer, and every time, Abby just holds on tighter.

Her muscles—usually strained with the day's first tension, already braced for whatever needs hauling or fixing or wrangling—go slack. One by one, like dominoes. Like her body's been waiting for permission to stop.

Her mind—usually already racing through a to-do list a mile long, jumping from feed stock to check fence to call farrier before her feet even hit the floor—goes quiet. Not empty. Just… still. Like a pond after the wind dies down.

All she can hear is the soft rhythm of your breathing. The occasional sleepy murmur you make when you shift. The distant crow of a rooster she's now fully committed to ignoring.

Abby's eyes flutter closed. Then open again. She glances at the clock—5:37—and for a second, the old habits twitch. Get up. Get moving. Don't waste daylight.

But then you sigh against her neck, content and soft, and that voice gets real quiet real fast.

Tomorrow, she tells herself, I'll be responsible tomorrow.

It happens about an hour later—or maybe two, or maybe three—Abby's lost all sense of time buried under you like this. The morning light's shifted from pale gray to something warmer, golder, spilling across the foot of the bed like honey. She's been drifting in and out, not really sleeping, just being. Listening to you breathe. Counting the tiny flutter of your lashes against her skin when you dream.

She's never done this before. Never just… stopped.

And then it comes.

The first knock.

Not a gentle one, either. A full-on, knuckle-busting bang bang bang that rattles the damn door in its frame. Abby flinches like she's been caught stealing.

"Anderson!"

Ellie's voice. Of course it's Ellie. Sharp, teasing, way too loud for this hour—or any hour, really.

Abby's eyes snap open, disoriented for half a second before the last few hours come rushing back: you. Her bed. The fact that she has never missed morning chores. Not once. Not in years. Her daddy used to say you could set your watch by her, and he wasn't wrong.

"You alive in there?" Ellie calls out, rapping again, harder this time. "It's past seven!"

Past seven.

Abby's internal clock screams in protest—a visceral, full-body betrayal. The horses are probably staging a revolt. The chickens have unionized. 

She should've been mucking stalls an hour ago. Should've hauled hay, checked water troughs, done about fifteen things she hasn't even started.

But then you stir.

Just a little. A soft, sleepy sound muffled against her neck—not quite a word, not quite a whine, just this tiny mm of protest at the noise. Your nose burrows deeper into the crook of her shoulder. Your fingers flex against her chest like you're holding on tighter.

And Abby's whole body goes rigid.

Don't wake up. Please don't wake up. 

She needs Ellie to shut up. Right now. Immediately. Preferrably five minutes ago.

"I'm fine," Abby hisses toward the door, voice low and rough with sleep—and something else. Something that sounds almost like begging. "Go away."

"The hell you are," Ellie fires back, completely undeterred. "You've never been late a single day since I've known you. Dina's taking bets on whether you got abducted by coyotes or finally keeled over from a protein overdose."

Another bang on the door. Louder this time. "Seriously, Abs, you okay? I'm coming in—"

"No—don't—"

Too late.

The door swings open with a groan of old hinges, and Ellie barrels inside like she owns the place—all smug concern and messy ponytail.

She takes two steps in. Three.

Then freezes mid-stride.

You're still curled around Abby like a koala—no, like a vice, like you're trying to fuse your body to hers in your sleep. Your face is tucked into her shoulder, half-buried in the collar of her henley. One of your legs is hooked over both of hers. One of Abby's hands is splayed flat across your back, fingers spread like she's been guarding you. The other is tangled in your hair, frozen mid-stroke, like she fell asleep like that and never let go.

Ellie's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"Oh," she breathes, drawing it out into about four syllables. Her eyebrows are somewhere near her hairline.

Abby's already bright red. The flush has crawled up her neck, flooded her cheeks, probably reached the tips of her ears by now. She looks like she's been standing in a field fire.

"Don't," Abby warns, voice low and dangerous.

"Oh my God."

"Ellie, I swear to God—"

"So this is why you didn't show up." Ellie crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe like she's settling in for a show.

"Keep your voice down," Abby hisses, glancing down at you—still asleep, thank every god she doesn't believe in—and then back at Ellie with murder in her eyes. Actual murder. The kind you read about in true crime podcasts. "She's still sleeping."

Ellie's grin somehow gets wider. It's almost impressive, honestly—like watching a cat stretch before it pounces. She looks at you, then at Abby, then back at you, and her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. There's a long, deliberate pause, the kind that's meant to make Abby squirm.

It's working.

"Holy shit," Ellie breathes, her voice pitching up with pure, undiluted delight. "You're domestic."

"I will end you." The words come out strangled, half-threat, half-plea. Abby's grip on you tightens instinctively, like she's protecting you from Ellie's chaos—or maybe holding on for emotional support. Hard to tell.

"You're in bed." Ellie jabs a finger toward the tangled sheets like she's presenting evidence in a courtroom. "Cuddling." She draws the word out, savoring every syllable. "Look at you. Big scary Abby Anderson, built like a brick shithouse, can deadlift a baby cow, and you're the little spoon."

"I am not the little spoon—"

"You're literally wrapped around her like a goddamn blanket." Ellie gestures broadly at the two of you.

"Get out of my room."

"You haven't even heard my favorite part yet."

"I don't want to hear your favorite part—"

"Your face is the color of a fire truck." Ellie's grin is practically feral now. "Like, full-on tomato territory. I didn't even know you could blush. I thought your blood was just, like, tractor grease or something."

Abby's face is on fire. Not metaphorically—she's pretty sure actual flames are licking up her neck, across her cheeks, probably setting her hair on fire at this point. She can feel the heat radiating off her own skin.

She grabs the nearest pillow—one of the ones that got shoved to the foot of the bed sometime in the night, victims of all that restless shifting before she finally settled down with you—and hurls it at Ellie's head with embarrassing accuracy.

Thwack.

Ellie catches it—catches it, the show-off—laughing so hard she's practically wheezing, and holds it up like a shield. "Okay, okay, I'm going! Jesus." She's backing toward the door, but she's not done yet, because of course she isn't. 

"Personally, I was rooting for alien abduction, but this is way better."

"Out."

Ellie holds up both hands in surrender, still cackling, and slips through the doorway. But she pauses there, half-in and half-out, her laughter dying down to something quieter. Something real.

Her expression softens, just a fraction—just enough for Abby to catch the genuine warmth underneath all the teasing. The way Ellie's looking at her isn't mocking anymore. It's almost… proud. In a weird, Ellie-shaped way.

"For real, though," Ellie says, quieter now. She jerks her chin toward the door, toward the rest of the ranch, toward all the chores and responsibilities and people who are definitely gossiping about this right now. "I'll cover for you. Tell Jesse you've got the flu or something. Tell Tommy you're doing inventory." A smirk tugs at her lips. "Tell 'em you're busy."

Abby blinks, her flush finally starting to fade from "volcano" to just "embarrassed human." "You will?"

"Yeah, well." Ellie shrugs, that crooked grin softening into something almost kind. She glances down at you—still curled up, still dead to the world—and something flickers across her face. Recognition, maybe. Or memory. "If I had her in my bed, I wouldn't wanna leave either."

She's gone before the pillow Abby throws next can connect.

Abby exhales—long, slow, embarrassed, and weirdly grateful—and lets her head fall back against the pillow. Her heart's still pounding. Her face is still warm. Her entire body is still humming with that strange, unfamiliar feeling of being seen.

She looks down at you.

Still sleeping. Cheek squished against her shoulder, mouth slightly open, lashes fanned out across your cheeks like little crescent moons. Your breathing is slow and even, completely undisturbed by the chaos that just unfolded six feet from your head.

Still perfect.

Still completely oblivious to the fact that your existence just derailed her entire morning.