A 6'1, blue-haired, snatched waist, marksman lover

emma leans against the doorframe, tapping her foot impatiently as vicky twirls her keys around her finger, raising an eyebrow at you.

emma speaks up first with a roll of her eyes, "if we miss free drinks at pike because you were too busy arguing with your ex—again—i swear to god."

vicky snorts to herself as she tilts her head up at you on the staircase, "ex being the operative word here. you know, the one you still fuck? manon. while you’re technically with derek?"

you roll your eyes, tossing your phone into your purse with a little too much force before slicking on another layer of gloss. the mirror reflects your practiced smirk—the one that says you don’t care, even when you do. too much.

"derek’s complicated. you know that. manon’s just…" a bad idea. a habit. a fistful of gasoline waiting for a match.

vicky snorts again, shoving the door open with her hip, "manon’s toxic. like, ‘should-come-with-a-warning-label’ toxic. but hey, big dick right?"

emma fake-gags, already halfway out the door, "don’t remind me. last time we ran into her at sig nu, she spent the whole night staring at you like she wanted to either punch you or drag you into the bathroom. maybe both."

you adjust your dress—short to the point where if you bent down you'd give everyone a show, the way manon likes it—and grab your clutch, ignoring the flutter in your stomach.

"well, lucky for her, i'm very drag-able tonight."

vicky groans, tossing her hands up, "god, you’re both insufferable. can we please go before you inevitably end up in her backseat?"

you smirk, flipping off the lights as you follow them out, the ghost of manon’s words still ringing in your ears from the texts. the night stretches ahead—hazy, reckless, and already smelling like bad decisions.

you take a shuddering breath, smoothing down your dress and taking a gulp of your drink. you can feel the bass thrum through your chest, the lights too bright.

beside you, emma is already chatting up some frat guy, and vicky is nowhere to be seen. your phone vibrates in your pocket, manon’s name lighting up the screen. you consider answering, but before you can, a familiar hand slides around your waist, hot breath at your ear.

"baby," you smiled as you smelled derek's colonge, leaning back against his front as you laughed softly at the way his tall frame held you.

kill me now.

derek chuckles, hands roaming over your curves, his lips brushing your neck as he pulls you closer. the touch feels foreign, wrong. it's not manon's hands, rough and possessive.

"you look gorgeous, babe."

his words sound too sweet, too sincere. you force yourself to lean into him, even as your mind keeps drifting back to manon.

he kisses your cheek, fingers tracing the exposed skin of your back with a reverence you know he doesn't feel. you force a smile, taking another gulp of your drink, when suddenly your phone vibrates again. manon's name flashes across the screen, impossible to ignore. derek's grip on you tightens slightly, as if he could read your thoughts.

just as derek murmurs something saccharine into your ear, your phone buzzes again—this time with a text from manon lighting up the screen in bold, undeniable letters.

"u ignoring me now? cute. bet those bitch boy hands on u feel real fuckin’ pathetic compared to mine.”

your breath hitches. derek’s grip loosens as he turns to flag down a drink, oblivious. you swallow hard, thumb hovering over the screen—knowing exactly how this ends, every damn time.

“you're such an asshole.”

the reply is instant, like she’d been waiting, fingers poised.

"yeah? then why're ur legs shaking just reading this?”

a beat. the music thrums. derek hands you a fresh drink. and you—

you knock over the drink in derek's hand and it land on his ralph lauren polo, staining the fabric with alcohol. "i'm so sorry baby."

derek immediately reassures you with a smile and kiss on your cheek, unbuttoning his polo which made you tilt your head at his athletic physique.

huh…

guess that's why you're with him.

derek peels off the ruined polo with an easy laugh, tossing it over his shoulder like it’s nothing—because to him, it is nothing. his abs flex as he stretches, and yeah, okay, the view is objectively good, but—

"no worries, babe. shit happens.”

his smile is all dimples and golden-boy charm. meanwhile, your phone buzzes again, screen lighting up with another text from manon.

"bet he’s got the personality of a saltine cracker too.”

you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, glancing between derek’s oblivious grin and your phone—manon’s words like a match struck too close to gasoline. the night’s still young. and you?

“shut up. at least he’s nice to me.”

manon’s reply comes fast, brutal.

"yeah? then why you texting me and not him, princess?”

you roll your eyes before working magic on the screen's keyboard.

"where tf even are u?"

your phone buzzes instantly, manon’s reply appearing with that infuriating, knowing confidence.

"like u don’t already know. look left ma.”

your pulse spikes. slowly, deliberately, you turn your head—and there she is. leaning against the bar across the room, baggy shirt tucked up to show her abs, one eyebrow arched as she takes a slow sip of her drink. her smirk is sharp, dangerous. the look she gives you is pure fucking trouble.

derek follows your gaze, oblivious, “everything cool?”

manon’s eyes lock onto yours. she mouths one word.

”run.”

you stutter a blink as you looked back to derek with a tried smile, "of course, my love. i'm just gonna grab some air." weaving through the crowd inside and heading to the backyard that had an outdoor party going on as well.

your breathing uneasy.

the backyard pulses with music and drunken laughter, but all you feel is the ghost of manon’s smirk burning into your skin. you lean against the railing, trying to steady your breathing—when suddenly, familiar hands slide around your waist from behind, rough and possessive.

"what'd i tell you about coming to this party?"

her voice is a low purr against your ear, her breath warm and smelling faintly of whiskey. before you can answer, she spins you around, pinning you against the railing with one arm braced beside your hip. her smirk is razor-sharp, eyes dark with that same old toxic electricity.

"or were you too busy playing house with captain vanilla?"

your heart hammers. this is a bad idea. this is the worst idea. but when has that ever stopped you?

you breathe out, "he’s nice to me."

manon barks out a laugh, leaning in closer—close enough that her lips nearly brush yours, "yeah? then why’re you shaking?"

you swallow hard. the answer is obvious. and so is the way her fingers tighten on your hip, like she already knows she’s won.

you nudge her with your knuckles pushing her abs, "fuck off. his brothers could see us." turning back around to face the railing and look down back at the party.

manon steps closer, her body pressed against your back, and you can feel the heat from her abs on your skin through your thin dress. her laugh is low, throaty, just for you—a sound that still manages to give you butterflies, even now.

"what? you worried he’s gonna catch you with some other chick all over you?"

her breath ghosts over the skin over your neck, raising goosebumps. you bite your lip to keep from whimpering, trying to keep your reactions in check.

and her hands—oh god, her hands.

her hands trail over your hips, your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your dress—teasing, testing. she nips gently at your earlobe, before whispering, her voice full of dark promises.

"c’mon, princess. you know you missed me."

and you have. you have, so much it hurts. but you can’t say that, not now. you shake your head, trying to cling to the last shreds of your composure, "don’t call me that."

"you call me a whore," you muttered as you took a sip of your drink, "you treat me shit and kick me to the fucking curb."

manon’s grip tightens, her smirk vanishing like smoke. she spins you around, forcing you to face her—eyes blazing, jaw clenched. the party noise fades into static. her voice drops, rough and raw, "yeah? and yet here you fucking are.”

her thumb digs into your hipbone, possessive, punishing. you can taste the vodka on her breath when she leans in, words biting like teeth.

"you wanna pretend you don’t love it? that you don’t beg for it? tell me to walk away right now, y/n. say the fucking word.”

a challenge. a dare. the air between you crackles. and you— you don’t say a goddamn thing. her laugh is bitter, triumphant.

”that’s what i thought.”

then her mouth crashes into yours, all heat and teeth and bad decisions. and you let her.

you always let her.

"fucking dick," you muttered against manon's soft lips that tasted like vanilla.

manon pulls back just enough to smirk at you, her lips still hovering close enough to feel your shaky exhale. her thumb swipes across your bottom lip, smudging your gloss as she laughs—low, knowing, "you love it."

and goddamn it, you do. you hate that you do. you hate that her hands on you feel like coming home, even when home is a house on fire. she leans in again, nipping at your lip just to hear you gasp.

"say it."

you won’t. you can’t. but your silence is answer enough.

she grins, victorious, "i knew it."

then she kisses you again, deeper this time, and you forget derek, the party, everything—because manon’s always been your favorite kind of disaster.

except this was apart of your plan. biting her lip playfully before hitting her groin area with the back of your hand. leaving her doubling down with a groan.

"pathetic," you scoffed as you leaned down to her ear, "nice balls of steal dude…"

manon hisses through clenched teeth, knees buckling slightly as she clutches herself—but even in pain, that infuriating smirk doesn’t fully disappear. she glares up at you, equal parts pissed and impressed.

"fuck—! you planned that?!"

you straighten your dress with a cool flick of your wrist, leaning down until your lips brush her ear, "maybe i learned a thing or two from you, asshole."

her laugh is ragged but sharp, like she can’t decide whether to throttle you or kiss you again. you saunter off before she can choose—but not before tossing one last look over your shoulder.

"embarrassing."

the party swallows you back into the crowd, leaving manon wheezing on the patio—stunned, aching, and undeniably into it.

game on.

later, the party still raging, you find yourself on the dance floor—twirling around with your sorority sisters, drinks in hand, trying to get the image of manon out of your head. but then you feel someone watching you—and sure enough, over the shoulder of emma, you see manon leant against the wall, arms crossed and gaze locked onto you.

her eyes are dark, heated, and so goddamn intense it makes your heart race. this might be a bad idea. hell, maybe it already was. but you can’t look away.

she pushes herself off the wall with a lazy smirk, prowling towards you with a dangerous kind of grace. you can feel her eyes drag over your body, lingering on your neck, your chest, the curve of your hip—like she wants to devour you alive.

you swallow, hard, fighting back a shiver. emma and vicky are still dancing, unaware, lost in the beat. and all the while, manon stalks closer.

except manon stops in front of a sorority girl. chatting her up with a smile and then nodding her head to upstairs.

you frown, a pang of something sharp and ugly twisting in your gut. is she—is she flirting with someone else right now? someone who is not you? she says something that makes the girl laugh, the sound grating on your ears, and then they both start up the stairs together.

your friends keep dancing, oblivious, but you feel like all the air's just been knocked from your lungs—because who the hell does she think she is?? you push through the crowd after them, ignoring your friends' confused glances.

as you pass derek and his friend's, you grab his hand and stalk up the stairs with him in your hand.

derek chuckles, a little confused but not exactly complaining at being led up the stairs by his pretty girlfriend. he glances behind him, noticing the frown on your face, and squeezes your hand reassuringly, "babe, you alright? you look pissed."

you see manon escape inside a room with the blonde sorority girl and it makes your face flush.

"where's your room again baby?"

derek raises an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden question, but still easy-going as he nods towards a door down the hall.

"uh, just down there at the end. why?"

you turned around to the tall boy and flashed him a smile, "hungry?" insinuating something that had nothing to do with food.

derek’s eyebrows shoot up—then his grin turns slow, cocky, like he just won the jackpot. he tightens his grip on your hand, pulling you flush against him.

"starving."

he doesn’t waste time, steering you toward his room with a smug swagger. but just as you pass that door—the one manon disappeared into—you hear a sharp, unmistakable sound: the squeak of bedsprings. a moan. her laugh, low and rough. your stomach twists.

derek doesn’t notice, too busy fumbling with the doorknob. you force yourself to smirk up at him, pushing down the wildfire in your chest.

the door shuts behind you. the party rages on. and somewhere down the hall, manon’s having the time of her life—while you do exactly what she’d want you to.

god, you hate her.

you hate her so much it burns.

you hoist yourself on derek's desk and hike your dress up carefully, as derek sunk to his knees like a spell was put on him.

derek’s hands burn hot on the exposed skin of your thighs, his eyes wide and dark as he looks up at you, all pretty blonde curls and eagerness to please. his smile is soft in a way manon’s never is, unmarred by the rough edges of the world. he fits you in a way manon never will.

"god, you’re so beautiful…"

you thread your fingers through his hair, a little too firmly. you imagine another girl with a sharp smirk on her lips.

"taste me already."

derek doesn’t hesitate—no games, no teasing, just eager devotion. his mouth is warm, worshipful, and so damn good at what he does that your head falls back against the mirror behind you with a sharp thud. you bite your lip to stifle a moan, nails scraping his scalp—but all you can think about is how manon would’ve made you beg for it first, how she’d laugh at the way you tremble, how she’d—

you're a genius. mid moan, you fish your phone from your purse on the desk. recording derek between your legs as he devoured you.

sending it to manon. before resting the phone back down with a smile.

hands tightening tighter in derek's blonde curls.

your phone buzzes. then again. then twice more in quick succession. manon’s name flashes across the screen.

your pulse spikes. this was a bad, terrible idea. but you click on the text notifications anyway.

it’s a video. and you hit play. it shows manon and the sorority girl in the room you saw them enter—the girl on her knees, eyes glazed, hands running up the toned planes of manon’s abs. her mouth full of manon. the image makes your mouth go dry, your grip on derek loosening. the sounds coming from your phone are obscene—and something in your stomach twists at the sound of manon’s laugh.

"god, you’re so good for me, baby. you gonna make me—?"

your cheeks burn in the darkened room.

you lie.

"he's inside me."

"he's bigger than you."

such a painful lie.

your phone buzzes again. this time, a string of text messages from manon.

"bullshit."

"he’s not. he’s pathetic."

a bitter taste coats your mouth. manon knows your body better than derek ever will. but you bite back the ache of her words, and hit reply.

"he does it better."

you hold your breath, heart in your throat. and then a new video comes through.

it shows a different angle now—manon on her back on the bed, hair askew, cheeks flushed and eyes dark as she stares into the phone. the sorority girl’s head is buried between her thighs. and a rough laugh escapes from manon’s lips, cocky and low, just for you.

the girl does something, makes a motion with her tongue on manon's tip that makes manon gasp. and you can feel it, like a punch to the gut. you snap your phone shut.

you reel an two day old picture of derek's not-so-small dick on your tongue. you were planning to send it to manon.

and this was the best time for that.

the second the photo is sent, the typing bubble pops up on the screen instantly. there’s a beat. then you watch manon start and stop typing several times—each time the bubble disappearing after a second. it’s as if she can’t decide what to say. you start to feel a rush of pride at the thought of manon finally losing her cool, for once in her life.

then finally—

new text message from manon. just three words.

"you win, princess."

you blink at the screen, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. win? you… you actually won?

no way. this has to be a trick. but you can’t deny the way your skin flushes, the way your fingers shake—because you actually got to her this time. you actually shut her up.

you almost don't realize you're smiling.

and that makes your stomach snap. you're such a terrible person. you thighs shaking around derek's head in satisfaction.

the realization hits you like a punch—you are a terrible person. and god, it feels good. derek groans beneath you, oblivious, hands tightening on your hips as he worships you like you're something sacred. but all you can think about is the way manon’s eyes would burn if she saw you right now—how her jaw would clench, how she’d hate this, how she’d hate you for letting him touch you like this.

your phone buzzes again. you don’t check it. you don’t need to. you already won.

and for once, the taste of victory is sweeter than the taste of her lies.

your skin still feels too warm, and your friends are still dancing, but you feel light, floaty—like you’re on a high. manon got in your head, tried to play with you like she always did, but this time you walked away, and it was so goddamn good.

and then you see her.

manon is on the staircase heading up, eyes dark and locked onto you—and your pulse skyrockets.

"go ahead baby," you yelled to derek over the loud music,"i'm gonna grab something i left in your room."

take the bait manon…

derek smiles, all dimples and blissful ignorance. he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the sea of dancing bodies, leaving you completely alone with manon. her eyes have never left you once. she stands at the top of the stairs—a predator ready to pounce.

you can practically feel the sparks crackling through the air between you. you take a step forward, heart pounding against your ribcage.

slipping back into derek's room as you undid your boots. knowing what was to come in the next few seconds.

the lights are off, the music thudding faintly outside now—but the room feels thick and heavy, almost smothering. you don’t need to see to know manon is standing behind you, watching like a lion waiting to strike. she shuts the door with a click that reverberates through your veins. silence, save the sound of your ragged breathing.

your fingers don't tremble surprisingly as you slide off your panties, tossing them onto the floor.

"still hard?"

manon snorts at your attempt at snark. but you can hear the edge behind it, the sharp heat behind her gaze even now. she takes a step forward, a low rumble in her voice.

"still cocky?"

"mouth was full of it a while ago," you dryly comment as you began to unzip your dress, "past tense though."

letting the dress pool around your feet.

manon exhales through her nose—sharp, irritated. like she’s trying to rein herself in. but you know her too well. you see the way her fists clench, the way her jaw tightens, the way her eyes dart over your body like she wants to wreck you right here on this bed, "you think you’re funny.”

you shrug, tilting your head with a smirk, "i think i won.”

manon steps forward—one, two, three strides—until she’s crowding you against the desk, hands braced on either side of you. her breath is hot on your skin, whiskey and spite.

"say that again.”

you don’t. but your pulse screams it for you.

then she kisses you—hard, punishing, like she wants to erase every trace of him from your lips.

and you let her.

"gonna fuck me on my boyfriend's bed?"

manon pulls back, breath coming fast and ragged—eyes locked on yours, dark and wild.

"yeah, i am. so what you gonna do about it, princess?”

you smiled against her lips before gripping her forearm, "then fuck me on his sheets like he did last night…"

manon growls, low and possessive. jealousy sparks in her eyes, and she spins you around with a quick motion so you're facing the bed. she presses her body flush against your back, lips brushing the nape of your neck. you can feel her smirk against your skin, "then get on that bed.”

"you're practically throbbing," you whispered with a smile before getting on all fours, derek's cologne marinating the sheets. wiggling your ass for manon.

manon exhales sharply—a barely restrained noise caught between frustration and something much darker. her fingers dig into your hips as she leans over you, breath hot against your ear, "you're gonna regret this."

you grin into the sheets, arching your back just to feel her twitch against you—undeniable proof that she’s wrecked by you.

she doesn’t make you wait.

you hear the unzipping of manon's pants and the clatter of her belt hitting the floor. before feeling the large tip enter you slowly, both of you gasping at the feeling.

manon hisses through clenched teeth, gripping your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow—marks she’ll smirk at when she sees them. the stretch is familiar, intoxicating, her body fitting into yours like a key turning in a lock.

you bite back a moan, fingers twisting in the sheets as she presses deeper, her groan rough against your ear.

“fuck—still so tight for me.”

she pulls out just to slam back in, and the force knocks the breath from your lungs. the bed creaks, derek’s cologne clinging to the fabric beneath you—a taunt, a dare. manon’s hips snap forward again, her laugh dark as you shudder, "bet he never made you sound like this.”

you don’t answer. you can’t. not when she fucks you like she owns you.

manon doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath—she just takes, claims, ruins you in the best way possible. the slap of skin against skin echoes in the room, mingling with your gasps and her ragged breaths. she leans over you, lips brushing the shell of your ear as her thrusts turn brutal, purposeful.

"say it.”

you whimper, nails digging into the sheets, "s-say what?”

she bites your shoulder—hard—before growling.

“who’s better?”

you moan, your body betraying you before your words can. but she doesn’t let up, her pace punishing until you’re shuddering beneath her, lost in the heat and the hate and the way she fucks you like she knows you’ll always come back for more.

and you will.

you always do.

"nghhh" your body betrayed you as you felt the mess you were making all over manon's cock, "take a v-video."

manon chuckles, breathless and dark, as she reaches for her phone with one hand—the other still gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. the camera clicks on, capturing the way you fall apart beneath her, the way your body trembles and clenches around her like it’s begging for more.

she angles the phone just right, making sure every gasp, every shudder, every filthy sound is recorded in perfect, damning detail.

your cream rimming around the base of her cock. a white crown of cream.

"look at you. fucking dripping for me. bet your sweet little boyfriend would love to see this.”

she thrusts harder, deeper, just to hear you cry out—just to make sure the video catches the way your eyes roll back when she hits that spot inside you. the one only she knows.

she thrusts harder, tilting the screen so you can see yourself—lips parted, eyes glazed, skin flushed. the sight makes your stomach flip. then she leans down, teeth grazing your ear as the recording continues.

"say hi to derek for me, baby.”

you choke out a moan—half protest, half plea—but she just fucks you through it, merciless, until the only thing left in your head is her.

"fuck baby," you moaned out as you reached behind your for her hand or arms, anything to feel her neediness.

manon takes your hand without a moment's hesitation, lacing your fingers together—and the act is so tender, it makes you ache. she presses closer, her body molding against yours as her lips find the soft skin of your neck.

"you like that, princess?"

you nod, breathless. i love you, you want to say, you always want to say. but the words won't come, because what good is love when all you do is rip each other apart?

she keeps the phone recording.

"you love this pussy manon," you managed to whine out, purposely tightening around her length that stretched you out. fucking yourself back on her with an expertise, your ass jiggling every time it came in contact with her hips.

manon groans—deep, guttural—her grip on your hip bruising as she slams into you harder, fucking you with reckless abandon now. the slap of skin against skin is obscene, drowned out only by her ragged breaths and your choked whimpers.

"fuck—yes, i do. fucking love it."

she leans over you, chest pressed to your back, lips dragging along your shoulder as her thrusts turn desperate, uneven. you feel her unraveling—that sharp, cocky control slipping—and it makes you dizzy with power. "this pussy’s mine, y/n. always has been."

her voice breaks on the last word. and for the first time tonight, it doesn’t sound like a taunt.

it sounds like a confession.

"put it on the table," you spoke, referring to the phone, "keep recording." letting manon slide out of you momentarily before looking at her with a smile.

manon doesn’t argue—just sets the phone on the bedside table with a smirk, angling it perfectly to capture every sinful second. she watches you with those dark, knowing eyes as you crawl onto your back, spreading your legs for her like an offering. her chest rises and falls fast, fingers twitching at her sides like she can’t decide whether to choke you or kiss you, "you’re gonna be the death of me.”

you grin, hooking a leg around her waist to drag her closer—until she’s hovering over you, heat and hate and something else crackling between you.

"then hurry up and die already.”

she barks out a laugh—sharp, surprised—before sinking into you again, and the camera catches it all: the way her hips stutter, the way your back arches, the way neither of you can pretend this is just about winning anymore.

not when it feels like this.

"oh my fuck baby," you whined as you scraped your nails against manon's abs. watching her slide into you with a loud squelch.

manon pants, head thrown back—a line of sweat runs down her neck. she’s beautiful, but right now she just looks wrecked. her eyes lock with yours, and for a moment that cocky smirk falters, her gaze dropping to your lips like she wants to… like she’s tempted to kiss you. and you don’t know if it’s hate or love or just the burning heat between you that makes you lean up to brush your lips against hers.

"manon. look at me. now."

in that instant, a sound you'd never heard before erupted from manon's lips. a cry mixed with a whine. she was falling apart and becoming desperate.

you needed all of it.

manon's eyes darken into pools of pure, undiluted lust. her fingers tighten around your thighs, a low, guttural sound rumbling deep in her chest as she looks down at you—helpless, helpless against you. you are the only person who's ever been able to break through her walls like this—and it's like a drug, addicting.

"y-you… fuuuck—"

there it is again, that needy, almost pathetic sound escaping her lips, and the fact that you are the reason behind it is like a wildfire burning through you.

manon crumples—her rhythm faltering, hips stuttering as she grinds deep, forehead dropping against yours with a shattered groan. her breaths come in ragged bursts, her fingers trembling where they grip you—like she’s fighting to hold on, to last, but you’re unraveling her too fast, too completely.

"fuck—fuck, y/n—”

her voice cracks, raw and unrecognizable. and then—

she breaks. her entire body goes taut, a choked cry tearing from her throat as she buries herself inside you one last time, pulse pounding where you’re joined. the camera captures it all: the way her face twists in pleasure, the way her muscles lock, the way she whimpers your name like a prayer.

you smile, dizzy with power, and drag your nails down her back—owning her even as she claims you, "yeah. that’s it. give it to me.”

and she does.

she collapses against you, breathing harsh and quick. her limbs feel like jelly as she rests her forehead on your shoulder, fingers digging into the sheets. you run your own hands along her spine, tracing the places where you’d marked her skin, and the contact makes her shudder.

"jesus—christ—”

you smirk, tilting her chin up to look at you and the way her eyes glaze over, the way her lips part—she looks completely, utterly spent—like you're the only thing holding her together.

"i didn't finish," you whispered as you pushed manon onto her back and steadied your hands on her shoulders. grabbing her still hard cock and lining yourself up against her.

manon groans, hands flying to your hips as you sink down onto her—her pupils blown wide, lips parted in shock. she’s still sensitive, still shaking from her own climax, but her body responds instantly to yours, twitching inside you as you roll your hips slow, deliberate.

“fuck—you’re insatiable.”

you lean down, lips brushing her ear—your voice nothing but a taunt, “and you love it.”

she does. god, she does. her hands tighten on your waist, helping you move as you take what you need—watching her come undone all over again, just for you.

there’s no more games, no more taunting. just the feel of her skin under your hands, the way her breath falters with each thrust, the way she's looking at you like you're the only person in the world.

and you want to hate her for it, you want to push her away, because she broke your heart. but right now, you can't remember the reason why, when there's so little space between you and you can hear her moaning your name like a prayer. like a secret.

you hate her, and you love her, and you just—

you just cupped manon’s face and stared deeply into her eyes as you rode her, whining just for her.

leaning in to connect your lips with her lips.

manon’s hands fly up to cradle your face—rough palms against your skin, her thumbs brushing your cheeks as she kisses you back with a desperation that steals your breath. it’s messy, it’s needy, it’s nothing like the sharp, controlled way she usually touches you. her lips move against yours like she’s trying to memorize the shape of them, like she’s afraid this might be the last time.

“baby…”

it sounds like an apology. it sounds like a plea. it sounds like love.

and when you come, it’s with her name on your lips and her heartbeat against yours—no space left between you for lies, for games, for anything but this.

maybe you’ll regret it tomorrow.

but right now, you don’t care.

the silence that follows is thick, heavy—both of you breathing hard, skin still damp with sweat, hearts still racing. manon’s fingers trace idle patterns on your back, her usual smirk nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s something raw in her gaze, something unguarded.

"…we’re fucked up, huh?”

you let out a breathless laugh, resting your forehead against hers—because yeah. yeah, you are. but for once, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing, "took you long enough to notice.”

she rolls her eyes, but her arms tighten around you anyway. and for now—just for now—that’s enough.

the two of you clean up each other as much as possible in derek's surprisingly freakishly clean bathroom. slipping back on your clothes, before sneaking out derek's bedroom door with a laugh, hand in hand.

coming in contact with emma and vicky who waited against the stairwell. vicky cheering as emma rolled her eyes and placed a $50 bill in vicky's hand.

emma sighs dramatically, crossing her arms as vicky fist-pumps the air, waving the cash in manon’s face like a trophy.

"told you they’d end up fucking in derek’s room.”

manon just grins, tugging you closer with a wink towards emma, "shoulda bet higher, em.”

you laugh, bright and unburdened—because yeah, maybe this thing between you and manon is messy, maybe it’s toxic, maybe it’ll burn you both to the ground one day.

but right now?

it’s fun.

and that’s enough.

"guess that's our cue to y'know…" you started as you turned to manon with a half guilty-pleased face, "seperate."

an almost imperceptible flash of something crosses manon's face—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something much deeper. but she quickly schools her features, grinning in that infuriatingly charismatic way of hers.

"guess it is.”

her fingers brush yours one last time before she steps back, stuffing her hands in her pockets. the loss of contact makes your skin tingle, "see ya around, princess.”

as manon disappears down the stairs and back into the crowd, both emma and vicky turn to you with an all knowing look.

"shut up," you muttered with a laugh, wrapping your arms around them as they teased you.

emma fake-gags while vicky cackles, squeezing you tighter in their arms as you all stumble down the stairs in a tangled, laughing mess.

"oh, we are never letting you live this down you little homie-hopper."

you groan, cheeks warm—but the weight in your chest feels lighter now, like you can finally breathe again. and as the music swallows you whole, as your friends tease you mercilessly, as manon’s laugh echoes somewhere in the crowd—you realize something terrifyingly simple.

it'll never end.

and that’s enough for tonight.