the real spiderman (trust me)

Natasha Romanoff wouldn’t call herself a possessive person. She was never one to hold on to things for a long time, or really care about them sticking around. 

Until you came around.

From the second you saw Natasha you were hooked. Her smug grin and carefree snarky attitude immediately lured you in. You’d never wanted anyone else so bad in your life, and the redhead never felt so wanted. But the feeling of wanting and being wanted was not one Natasha was familiar with. The fight between wanting to keep you to herself and her detached personality an everyday battle.

She managed it, upheld the same rules she kept with every one else with you, even though everything in her wanted to break them. Don’t spend the night, don’t let them leave a mark, don’t chase, and most important of all leave them wanting more. She was almost as obsessed with how many people chased after her than with herself. Then you came along and threatened to change that. 

She didn’t understand what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you would look for her whenever you had class together, or how if you bumped into her on campus you’d always offer to go for coffee. And that one time Natasha was cold and you offered her your jacket, that was a day she would never forget.

It was early spring and the day looked deceptively warm outside Natasha’s window. The sheer tights, miniskirt, and long sleeve in her closet almost screaming at her to be worn. It wasn’t until she was halfway across campus that she realized those were not enough layers. As if that wasn’t enough of a start to her day, some freshman on a bike almost bumped right into her, the close call sending her into the bushes and making her tights snag on the small twigs.

“Shit,” She muttered under her breath.

“Watch where you’re going, kid!” She heard your voice before she felt your hand on her lower back, her cheeks involuntarily reddening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She reached down to where her tights were snagged, but couldn’t quite reach.

“I got it-”

“No you have to be careful, it will rip.”

“Yeah, Natasha, I got it, now stop moving,” You hand grabbed onto her thigh, the gesture somehow more intimate that any other moment you’d spent together between hickeys and clothes falling to the floor. “There you go, good as new.”

She noticed the way you stopped yourself from kissing where the twig had been. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Natasha bit her lip as she looked up at you fighting the urge to connect your lips. She had class to attend. You were just a tardy waiting to happen. “Wanna grab coffee?” 

“I-” A wind blew past the two of you, making Natasha’s words falter as goosebumps rose to her skin. “I have class.”

“Do you want my jacket?” Your question was so unexpected she didn’t even have the chance to protest before you were draping the material over her shoulders. “I’ll see you later, Nat.”

And with a kiss on the cheek you were gone and Natasha Romanoff has never been the same. Ever since she revelled in the attention you gave her, got drunk on your compliments and breathed your admiration every time you were around. She couldn’t let something so sweet get away from her.

You only wished she’d tell you. Ever time it seemed like you were one step closer to her she would take twenty steps away. You weren’t exactly fond of it but Natasha was worth playing games for. You’d be her pawn for as long as she wanted.

She couldn’t help the way her head picked up from the book she was reading in a far away corner of the library when she heard your laugh. Natasha didn’t like the way she couldn’t control the smile threatening her lips, but it quickly faded when her eyes zeroed in on where this girl - is that fucking Gen? - you were with was touching you. It was just a friendly touch on your arm but it still made the redhead sick to her stomach.

You didn’t notice her, too focused on trying to finish the project you were working on with your assigned partner Gen. The project was due the following week and the two of you had procrastinated long enough. Natasha watched you the whole time. She changed where she was sitting to behind the two of you after she had finished her work, not wanting to risk any chances of you looking up and seeing her. 

It wasn’t until the sun had set and the library was closing that you and your partner got up to leave. Natasha was already upset, watching you like a hawk. It wasn’t until you opened your mouth that she got mad.

“Do you wanna grab coffee?” She heard your voice in the distance, making her stop in her tracks. She held her arms close to her body trying to keep herself from pacing.

“It’s late, I probably shouldn’t,” She said, starting to walk away from the library. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Another touch to your arm and Natasha was on her way towards you, almost fuming. Nobody gets to touch what’s hers.

“Y/N, hey,” Her voice had no traces of anger, her hands slid up your arm to your shoulder as you turned to her, her fingers stroking the back of your neck. You smiled down at her, your hand instinctively reaching down to her waist and pulling her closer. 

“Hi Nat,” You answered. She almost purred with your hands on her. “What are you still doing on this part of campus so late?”

“I was just working late,” She said, pointing her head towards the library you were just in. “Do you wanna grab coffee?”

“I’d love to,” You said, then pulled her closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I have really good coffee at my place.”

“That’s funny, I was just gonna suggest we go there anyway,” She laughed, an airy gasp leaving her lips when yours touched just below her earlobe. “Do you invite all the girls you meet to your place?”

“Only the pretty ones,” You joked, pulling away from her and taking her hand. She slyly let go of it, walking alongside you in the direction to your apartment building. You lived a short walk away from campus, the whole time the two of you walked, Natasha though about all the other places Gen might have touched. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” She said, her arms snaking around yours. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into your skin. “What were you doing in the library so late?”

“Working on a project,” You answered, walking up to your building door. Natasha noticed how you failed to mention the girl. It meant you had something to hide. In reality you knew how Natasha got sometimes when you hung out with other people. You thought it was hot, you just didn’t want her to bother poor Gen. They were in the same sorority after all. And last time she saw you with another girl from her sorority she kicked her out, you never saw her again.

Natasha nodded her head, following you into the building silently watching your movements. When the two of you stepped into the elevator it wasn’t long until the redhead was pressed against the wall with your head buried in her neck. Her hands gripped your shirt while she pressed herself closer to you, only pushing you away when she felt you sucking a little too harshly.

She turned to the mirror, examining her neck and seeing a deep red fading. “What the fuck, Y/N, you know I don’t like that.”

“Right, you only like being associated with me when it’s convenient to you, must’ve forgotten.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked, turning around. The elevator doors opened and you stepped out, the redhead following closely behind.

You unlocked your door, avoiding the redhead’s question. Natasha, however, was not ready to let it go. “Don’t ignore me.”

You sighed a long sigh, putting your backpack down on the floor as she walked through the door, flicking the door closed behind her. Your jaw clenched as you stood back up while Natasha walked towards you with her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

“You act like you own me, but every time I make an attempt to return the gesture you push me away, why is that?”

“Do you not like it?”

“Well if you’re gonna do that, do it like you mean it,” Your face was inches away from hers, an angry fire lit behind her eyes.

“You want me to mean it?” She asked, her hands sliding up to your neck, twirling some of the baby hairs are the bottom of your neck around her finger. 

“Yes,” You whispered, inching closer. She leaned in until your lips were mere millimeters apart. Her hand pulled your head back roughly before your felt her lips connecting to your skin. You moaned, your hands automatically finding their place on her hips and pulling her closer. 

Her teeth grazed your skin, her grip on your hair tightening before she made you look at her again. “You’re mine,” She pushed off of you and pushed you back until you fell back onto your bed. “Not anybody else’s,” She straddled your hips, grinding down on the strap between your legs. “Other people don’t get to touch what’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t want anybody else to,” You said, bucking your hips up against hers. Her hand wrapped around your throat as she leaned over you, putting more pressure against your airway. 

“Mine,” She almost growled, lifting her hips and roughly pushing off of you. You gasped, sitting up onto your elbows while you caught your breath. You watched her shimmy her underwear down her legs, quickly scrambling to take off your own. She moved forward and grabbed onto your hands, completely pulling off your pants down before crawling back onto the bed.

“Do you think she wants you?” She asked, her eyes never leaving your body on the bed as she crawled over you. “Think she wants anything more than this?” Her hand wrapped around the strap, pushing it against you. “This is all you’re worth,” She chuckled, darkly, hovering over you. “And it’s all mine.”

You don’t remember telling her you were ever with someone else, but you were too dazed to care. Her nails dug into your thighs as she lowered herself to the toy between your legs. Your head fell back, a moan escaping your lips when she took the tip of the strap past her lips. Her head bobbed up and down the length of the dildo, her cheeks hollowing out with every movement. It wasn’t long before the redhead was crawling back up your body. 

“Natasha,” You tried pleading, hand wandering her body as she positioned herself. “You- She-”

“Shut up,” She said, her hand circling back around your throat. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

She lined up the toy with her entrance, sliding the tip along her clearly dripping folds. Your hands moved to slide over the top of her thighs, fingers reaching up to her hips then sliding back down. 

“See what you do to me?” She asked, whining as the strap slid over a sensitive spot. Your lips turned up into a smirk as you gripped her hips and made her sink down onto your strap in one swift movement. “Fuck Y/N!”

You knew you had her.

“Does that feel good?” You asked, bucking up into her again. The moan she released something almost angelic. You wanted to hear it again.

She whined, rolling her hips onto yours as her hand made its way back around your throat. You felt her grip tighten as she licked a long stripe up your neck to your ear. “Do that again.”

Your hands slid around to her ass, squeezing her soft skin and moving her hips up and down your length. She moaned against your neck, her hand scratching down from your neck to the top of your shirt. You hissed when her teeth grazed the skin on your neck, knowing you’d be left with a mark there in the morning. 

“Natasha,” You groaned as she pulled away from you, moving your hips in rhythm with hers. She whined, moving her other hand to grip the top of your shirt before she ripped it open. 

“You look so hot like this,” She placed both her hands on your chest, resting her weight on top of you as she continued bouncing on the toy. “So willing to be used.”

You squeezed her hips as she leaned back, running her hands up your chest to your face. She tugged some loose strands of your har sticking to your skin back, then leaned back down to connect your lips one more time. Your hands wandered down to her ass again, making her whine against your mouth.

She ran her nails down your arms to your wrists, taking you by surprise and roughly pinning them above your head. “You’re mine to use.”

You watched her with a smug grin, loving the way her breasts bounced in her tight shirt. She moaned, a long drawn out sound as she worked herself closer to the edge. “Mine to fuck,” Her voice became airy, her head falling back as she rolled her hips onto yours. “Mine to do whatever I want with.”

She leaned back, moaning as her movements became sloppier. Her hand gripped your jaw, her grip tight as she rutted against you.

“You close?” You asked, gripping onto her hip with one hand and her arm with the other. “Why don’t you cum for me then? Make a mess for me Nat.”

“Fuck,” Natasha moaned over you, her walls tightening around the toy as she rode out her high, moaning and whimpering with your movements. You flipped the two of you over, pushing the toy into her deeper, enjoying the way her face contorted with pleasure. 

“Is that all I am to you?” You asked, face inches away from hers. You pressed your hips further into her, making her whine. “Only something to make you feel good?”

You easily slid the toy in and out of her, the toy hitting all the right spots. She picked up her head to look at you in the eyes, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yes.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back with a sigh before pulling out. Natasha whined, leaning up on her elbows with a confused expression on her face. “What?”

“Nothing,” You picked up a shirt from the floor and moved towards the bathroom. “I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, Nat.”

“Since when did that ever make a fucking difference?” She asked, moving off the bed and in front of you. She slid her shirt over her head and let her skirt drop to the floor. Your gaze lowered to her naked body, her smirk growing as you caught your lip between your teeth. “You don’t wanna fuck me anymore?”

She pressed you back against the doorframe, dipping her head into your neck and leaving a trail of small hickeys down your neck. Her hands slid down your arms and placed your hands on her hips, leaning closer to you. You could feel her slow breaths on your face, and you didn’t realize you moved forward until she was pressed against the opposite side of the door frame. 

Natasha’s smirk grew, her white teeth now peeking out from between her lips. “You don’t wanna press me up against the wall and fuck me until I can’t even think anymore?”

“I never said that,” You growled before connecting your lips again, the redhead’s hands entangling in your hair and pulling you flush against her. Your hands reached down and pulled her up, her legs wrapping around your waist. Natasha moaned, her lips trailing down your neck as you slid the toy back into her.

She moaned against your skin with ever buck of your hips, her whole body jolting with your movements. By this point in the night you didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know Natasha had littered your skin with deep bruises. She didn’t want Gen to have a single doubt in her mind, you were Natasha’s, not anybody else’s.

Natasha whined into you, hands pulling your head back to look at her. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” You watched her bounce another few times, waiting for her to become more desperate. You tilted your head, smirking when she tightened her grip on your hair and whined. “Please.”

“I’m all yours,” You said, watching her face scrunch up as her orgasm started washing over her. Natasha’s hands gripped onto your shoulders as she came for a second time, her head leaning back onto the doorframe. Your lips kissed down her neck, quickly finding her sweet spot at the corner of her jaw.

Her legs unwrapped from around your waist, your grip on her hips faltering as you slowly eased her down. Natasha pushed you away before you could leave anything permanent. She slid her hands down your chest, admiring the small bruises she left in her wake, tracing the scratches she etched onto your skin.

Natasha loved when you were like this, when your skin was covered with her. There was no way anyone would look at you snd not think you had someone you belonged to. She was pleased with her work, she doesn’t have to worry about Gen. 

—

Natasha wasn’t planning on following you into the library the next day, she really wasn’t. But you sent her a snapchat of you after you showered and she noticed some of her marks had faded faster that she would’ve hoped. She was only doing this to make sure Gen didn’t cross a line.

She watched you greet her, the same friendliness you had offered yesterday. Everything was fine until Gen stupidly decided to ask about the marks on your neck. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” You said, looking over your shoulder. Natasha wondered if you knew she was there. You didn’t, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes on you. Gen, however, seemed like she had a death wish by how insistent she was on knowing where all the hickeys came from.

“I just don’t get how you have so many, Jesus, Y/N,” Her fingers traced the ones on the side of your neck and you subtly scooted away from her.

“They’re hickeys, Gen, don’t be a fucking moron,” Natasha muttered under her breath, roughly turning the page of the textbook she was pretending to read. The redhead noticed the way you didn’t welcome Gen’s touch, the way you almost flinched away from it. Gen was about to learn an unpleasant lesson.

Whoever Natasha wants, Natasha gets. There’s no standing in her way.

—

You ended up leaving the library much later than you’d planned. Gen had to leave early, telling you she was being called into an emergency sorority meeting. You knew the drill. You knew it was her gaze you were feeling through the day. 

Poor Gen. She was nice, and she loved Tri Delta, it’s a shame Natasha would have to kick her out.

You were packing up your things when your phone buzzed with a text from Natasha. You were wondering when she was gonna text.

Come over?

You answered you’d be there soon. Natasha might be a little extreme, but just enough to keep you hooked. A sick and twisted part of you loved how she went out of her way to make sure she had you.

Because that’s the way it would always be. She had you, and would have you for as long as she wanted, but you’d never have her. Strangely, that was enough for you.

You made your way across campus to Natasha’s sorority, the usually busy campus eerily quiet at this time of the night. When you walked up to the large house, a cold chill ran down your spine, the usually buzzing mansion suspiciously quiet even for this late at night.

The strong smell of bleach was the first thing that welcomed you as you stepped through the door. You watched as two of Natasha’s sorority sisters walked down the stairs and into the kitchen with bloodied rags and a bucket. 

“What the fuck?” You somehow walked further into the house, ignoring every instinct telling you to get the fuck out of there. You spotted a pledge walking past you, her face pale as she carried a bucket of what seemed like bloodied water. 

You continued your way to the staircase, noticing the small droplets of red on the steps. Your stomach turned, wondering what in the hell could’ve happened and why there weren’t any authorities at the house.

“Maria,” You spotted the brunette wiping down the wall, small streaks of red following the rag in her hand. “What the hell happened?”

“You know how she is,” She shrugged and turned back to the wall. “Just Nat being Nat.”

Your head turned to the other end of the hallway where Natasha’s bedroom was. Your chest tightened at the heavy trail of blood leading into the room.

“It’s a shame,” You snapped back to Maria who continued to wipe the wall. “I liked Gen.” 

You swallowed hard as you took careful steps towards her bedroom, trying not to step on any of the blood. Your hands shook the closer you got to the door, having to wipe them on your pants before you entered the bedroom.

“Nat?” The redhead was straddling a body on her bed, her clothes completely drenched in blood with smudged handprints covering her chest and neck. She turned her head to look at you, roughly pulling the knife out of the unfortunate girl under her. Your eyes widened in horror when you noticed it was Gen. 

“Y/N,” Her voice was sweet, and somehow inviting. “You made it.”

“What did you do?” You walked towards Gen, but Natasha stopped you, the bloody knife pressing up against your stomach as she looked up at you. “Nat-”

“She needed to learn her lesson,” Her cold stare bore into you, invited you in, drowned you in her affection. The blade of the knife slid over your clothes before you felt the tip pressing against you. “Nobody comes between me and what I want.”

“Natasha she never did, she-”

“Shh,” The tip of the knife pressed further into you, Natasha’s free hand gripping your jaw and making you look at down at her. “She needed, to learn, her lesson.”

Your chest heaved up and down, your stomach twisting when you noticed her blood was smeared on your face now. You wanted to throw up. Natasha’s lips tugged upwards, bringing your face down closer to hers.

“It’s okay, baby,” She said, her breath brushing over your face. “There’s nothing between us now, it’s just us.” Her lips touched yours and for a moment you forgot what she had just done. “It’s just you and me now.”

It’s just you and her.

Your eyes were locked onto hers. How could someone so perfect do something like this. Gen groaned from her bed, your eyes trailing towards her. Natasha’s grip on your jaw tightened, the knuckles grabbing onto the knife turning white with rage.

“Don’t look at her,” Her voice was almost unrecognizable. “You’re mine.”

She pushed you back before moving towards Gen again. In one swift move, before you could stop her, Natasha sank the knife into the other girl’s chest. Blood spattered on your cheek, Gen’s body went limp.

Natasha turned back to you, her hands shaking and tears in her eyes as if she had just caught up to her actions. 

“All I wanted was you,” Her voice cracked. “I wanted you to myself.”

You didn’t know what you were doing, but you stepped forward and took her into your arms, her small frame shaking with her sobs. “You have me.”

the motel room is dark, except for the neon red ‘vacancy’ sign from outside peeking through the gap in the curtain. 

natalie is sat up, feet hanging over the bed and touching the floor, her black socks surely dirtied from the old beige carpet. there are more unknown stains than she cares to count, the place too cheap for her to even care at all. 

beggars can’t be choosers, she knows that well. 

she peeks over her shoulder, to where you lie on the other side of the mattress, the thin blanket up to your bare shoulders. your face is turned to her, illuminated by the sliver of the red glow outside the window. your eyes are shut and your expression is soft, you appear like an angel and she can’t help but admire you. it’s a habit.

natalie sighs lightly, completely turning her figure in your direction, watching you sleep. she finds serenity in yours.

everything in her life is bad. it’s been that way for a painfully long time and nat can’t cry about all the shit she’s endured because god would that take forever. what she can do, is hold onto the one good thing that fell in her pale palms. 

you. 

it was a frat party. she had no right being there, but of course she was, and she stumbled into a bedroom with you crying and your boyfriend apologizing; insisting sarah had made a move on him. nat inserted herself, asking who the fuck was sarah, already inviting herself in the room.

she had a few beers in her system, and she had all the context she needed to be pissed on your behalf.

her adrenaline was pumping, getting that itch for trouble, and nat loved picking fights with assholes like him.

especially when he called her a nosy bitch and tried pushing her out of the room with a false authority.

natalie punched him square in the face the moment he placed a finger on her. she had done so, repeatedly. did he deserve the severity of it? maybe not. but he seemed like a dick so it was worth it.

this wasn’t the first time you had met her, you had run into her at your local diner and heard the horror stories about her, but it had felt like it was the first time you were truly introduced to her. 

maybe it was the way you two sat alone outside on the porch steps, a borrowed bag of frozen pizza rolls on her fist while you both chuckled at how fucking ridiculous it was. and sure, your laugh turned into quiet sobs when the reality had set in, and yeah nat didn’t know what to fucking do, but her awkward attempt at comforting worked. 

you needed to hear that you weren’t the problem, and that it wasn’t your fault, and you couldn’t prevent your piece of shit ex from doing shitty things. that was the type of person he was. and you’re so different. 

you had laughed at that part and asked her how she knew that; nat said she could just tell. she could see something in you that she lost a long time ago…a light. and god damn any motherfucker that dims it. 

natalie would not let that happen—not again. 

after you had dried your tears on her shoulder, she had playfully offered to kill your ex. this made you smile, genuinely, for the first time of the night, and you realized you didn’t want to let her go right then and there. you two walked to the nearest burger joint and that was the beginning.

unfortunately, nat couldn’t control the narratives about her, and the cruel comments that would soon involve you. the whisperings behind your back, being excluded from your usual friend groups, to simply not being invited out by them at all—the fear that she would tag along spooking your so called ‘friends.’

they drifted away from you.

and you didn’t care…or tried not to. 

it hurt more when your parents started looking at you differently, being shamed for even hanging around nat. that girl was no good for you. they repeated that over and over hoping it would get through your thick skull and to the wiser part of your brain. but, they just had to give her a chance; that’s what you told yourself.

it was a warm saturday evening when you had nat over for dinner, the brunette trying to remain as respectful as possible despite not at all receiving it back.

they hardly gave her time to chew and swallow the spaghetti on her plate—the red sauce around her lips not helping their violent image of her—instead throwing her a bunch of questions you didn’t even let her answer. 

where she was staying, aware she was jumping place from to place at the moment, and unaware she was sneaking into your bedroom other nights. if she’s clean, knowing that she was far from, though she never involved you with whatever she drank or put in her nose.

if she was serious about you, and holy shit did the blood drain from their faces when she earnestly said yes. 

it wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear, or wanted to be true, because that had meant natalie had sunk her claws into you—into their daughter. a lowlife. a loser. a cannibal. a few of the nasty words they called your girlfriend directly to your face, making you start to avoid the house whenever you possibly could.

how could you feel comfortable in a home where the other part of you isn’t welcomed?

it wasn’t easy. natalie held you when you cried to her about it, insisting they’re good people, and shockingly, nat never thought otherwise. they raised you, so of course they had to be. you’re the beaming sun and she’s a damn black hole. she couldn’t blame them.

but she also couldn’t care to grant them their wish of leaving you. natalie did have her claws dug into you—but they’re in so deep and she cannot rip them out. plus, she’d be ‘better,’ one day.

it was fine. 

the months passed and natalie had you all to herself, and it was like heaven. 

taking you to the cinema and feeling you lean into her, somehow always finding whatever played on the screen to be boring and dozing off upon her shoulder—she realized you felt truly safe with her.

probably the only person who does or ever will.

taking you to the arcade just so she can let you beat her in whatever she played you against; not that you sucked, it’s just a lot of hands-on games and nat was pretty good with her hands. 

you eyed them each time she held a joystick, the girl is always quick and precise—until she catches her concentration and lets up a bit, knowing she’s about to beat your high score. you’d roll your eyes when she’d groan how difficult the game was.

bringing you out to dinner, never at those higher end places your parents go to, but you preferred it that way. you liked eating greasy burgers with her or soft pancakes at night—always listening to whatever love song played from the jukebox, usually something slower from the sixties, enjoying it until one of the truckers at the counter paid for something else. 

those moments with natalie meant everything to you. 

even the bad ones.

it was the diner parking lot, right when the sun had just set. you had been asked politely to leave after finishing your apple pie, the waitress not well suited for the situation that unfolded. a group of boys way too old to be so immature, shouting the most disgusting things at nat—and you—such as asking you if you’re next on her menu.

this was when natalie had lost it, because she didn’t care what they said about her, she’s heard it all before. but getting you involved, that was just unacceptable. she jumped up from the booth with her cherry soda in hand, throwing it at the table and telling them to fuck off.

she took the air out of the restaurant.

you sat on the curb with her, listening to the stammered apology that left her mouth. you didn’t want to hear it, you only wanted her. you bluntly told her to shut up, and kissed her. 

natalie kissed back harder. 

you both got in your beat up car and drove to a midnight showing of the evil dead at the drive-in, where you had made out in the backseat until you could no longer feel your lips, and hers were redder than the corn syrup in the horror film.

you slipped up and whispered you loved her when her teeth were in your neck, then prayed to any higher power that she didn’t catch it. you didn’t want to scare her away, but it had done the exact opposite.

you fucking loved her. someone like you, could love her. and you didn’t care it was early and you didn’t care about the nasty looks you got from your peers or loved ones. you had natalie and that was all you needed.

you’d do anything for her.

even if that had meant dropping her off at shady places and being told to never bug her about it, and you would obey.

you kept your lips sealed when she’d slip into your unlocked bedroom window, violently faded and telling you she just needed to sleep it off. she’d hold you till she knocked out, so it was okay, even if she reeked of substances that would taint your freshly washed sheets, and you’d lose sleep making sure she slept on her side.

even if that meant paying her bail after a bar fight and you hadn’t even known she had gone out at all. and picking her up at three in the morning still in your pajamas.

you bit your tongue the entirety of the car ride to your home while she leaned back in the passenger seat, her legs spread as much as possible and her head facing toward the window. to the passing houses decorated with blossoming flowers and white picket fences, a life she knows she will never live. which meant, the possibility that you too, wouldn’t have. 

but you would have her.

she had always made up for her faults. not materialistic shit, more like heavy apologies that sometimes came with tears she’d harshly wipe away with her whole palm.

the thing with nat is, you see through her, not as the demon your parents make her out to be, but as the girl forced into a fucked up sense of adulthood before she could even put her childhood toys in a donation box. the immense trauma that stuck to her tighter than you do, and that was saying a whole lot.

she coped in ways you could never agree with, but you couldn’t change natalie.

you also couldn’t leave her.

it was hours prior when you had dressed up for your friends annual birthday bash, just to stand in the corner the whole time because no one offered you a conversation nor invited you into one. you felt pathetic, and out of place, and left early, no one noticing your silent disappearance. 

with the radio volume low you had drove back home, and dragged your feet to your room, just to see your bed covered with folded cardboard boxes. and a lengthy letter on top. your absent parents had a request—get out. 

they wrote that you changed, that you lost your self-respect when you allowed natalie to rule your life, or something stupid like that. that you weren’t their daughter anymore, not really.

you were too taken back for any of the words to sink in, the rug being pulled beneath your feet suddenly despite it inching away for nearly a year. you didn’t touch any of the boxes your parents so nicely had gifted you, your vision blurred with hot tears while you grabbed a duffel bag and threw a bunch of clothes and personal items inside.

it was hard to think—you needed to calm down, to see her.

you sped to the motel she’s been staying at for the last couple of days, hurried knocks on her door, the rain beginning to drizzle upon the asphalt. nat peeked through the windows curtain, hoping it wasn’t the last dealer she may have fucked over. when she saw you, she rushed to let you in.

the door swung open, and you just stared at her, your legs frozen while the tears ran down your face.

she pulled you into the room, and into her, her hand cradling the back of your head and her foot kicking the door back shut. between sobs, you told her what happened, and nat felt it. the guilt.

a flash of an image the night she saw you at that frat party, before she got so drunk and beat your ex in a strangers bedroom. when you were in your own world and dancing with your friends and not having a single fucking worry. then she came. 

natalie swallowed thickly, blinking away her own tears before you could pull away and notice. she gave you a reassuring smile, one that felt eerily forced, but she kissed you before you really noticed.

and you kissed back harder, desperate to numb all of the horrible things that you felt and thought. you pulled nat by her flannel onto the thin mattress, and asked her for one thing. to make you feel better. 

she did.

boy, did she.

you passed out right after nat cleaned you up and soothingly dragged her nails up and down your back. she tried to fall sleep too, even put on some shitty late night show hoping it would bore her to sleep. it didn’t. she turned it back off, studied the ceiling, then sat up, and stared at you.

you’re so pretty, and you’re all hers, and this isn’t a dream.

whether the world liked it or not, or your family approved of it or not, or if it was right, or wrong. 

natalie, slowly, gets up, careful not to disturb you. she redresses herself with the clothes you had taken off her earlier, grey sweats with a similar shade tee, accompanied by a brown and beige flannel that kept her warm. 

nat hovers over the bedside table, opening the drawer, and reaching inside. she ghosts her metal tin, grabbing her half-empty pack of cigarettes and a red lighter.

her steps are quiet when she exits the room, though she couldn’t prevent the obnoxious creaking beneath the carpeted floor, but again, she could afford this place therefore she couldn’t complain.

she doesn’t shut the door completely, letting it rest on the frame while she leans against the brick beside it. 

natalie sparks a cigarette, holding it with her lips while her hands lazily run over her hair, attempting to tame the dark and uneven chopped locks that were surely a mess. the way you liked it.

a blue jeep pulls into the lot, parking across from where she stands. natalie observes, returning her spread fingers to the cigarette hanging from her mouth, narrowing in on the driver.

it’s a younger man—younger than her—that gets out of the vehicle. he looks nearly pink. his head is down and he pulls his hoodie over his curls, both for security and out of shame. 

a taller guy wearing a green beanie comes from one of the nearby rooms, an abundance of smoke escaping from the scratched-up motel door. nat scoffs, watching him dig into the pocket of his dark jeans, pulling out something she couldn’t see; but could most definitely assume. 

especially when the younger one pulls out cash, shaky hands dropping it and then hurriedly collecting the paper, the exchange quick otherwise. a rookie. a person that probably never bought drugs before and doesn’t even know the shit he bought. 

a person letting their innocence slip away at this rundown motel…nat sighs.

she hopes her stress will fade into the oblivion with the smoke that dissipates in the air, and with the short time of her standing there listening to the rain drip from the gutter and a passing train occasionally blaring it’s horn—that wrong feeling somewhat does drift from her.

mostly, because nat is forcing herself to come to peace with one thing; that she is selfish. she’s lived her whole life doing shit for other people and cleaning up messes she didn’t cause, and for once she can just stop. 

she didn’t need to appease to anyone, to act like she’s better than she is because that’s what other people want to see from her. none of that—none of them—matter. she’s given everything and she’s lost everything.

she can have this one thing.

she was wrapped around your finger and your ribs and your lungs and every tiny heart string and she couldn’t untangle herself from you. no one else could see her the way you do, and that is another thing she’s at peace with. that didn’t matter because there wouldn’t be anyone else.

you left your own damn family because you are in love with her. and to be that loved in a life where she’s hardly ever felt it…she couldn’t lose that. 

it sounds bad, surely. but she learned the world wasn’t fair a very long time ago, and it’s never going to be, so why did she have to play fair? 

that was just fucking stupid. 

natalie inhales the cigarette smoke, letting it taint her lungs and burn her throat. then, she kneels and drags it to the ground, leaving it and reentering the room. you’re still asleep, she assumes, as she crawls into the bed beside you. then, nat hears your phone vibrate from the nightstand on your side. 

she chews her lip, reaching over you and grabbing it, flipping the bedazzled device open. predictably, it’s your folks begging for you to come home, already regretting their decision they hadn’t thought you’d truly consider, that you’d kick her to the curb like everyone else and go back to normalcy. a life without her. a nightmare. 

she hears you hum, shutting the phone off completely and shoving it under her pillow, watching you stir half awake. you only squint one sleepy eye open, a blurry vision of your girlfriend, barely making out the small smile on her beautiful face.

“nat…you stink.”

she laughs quietly at your words, slipping off her flannel and tossing it to the floor. she gets beneath the covers, your arm already reaching out and around her waist, snuggling into her despite the tobacco seeping into your nostrils. it doesn’t bother you as long as you feel her.

your head lays on her chest, directly above her pumping heart, drowning out everything but the thumping of it. that is all it takes for you to drift back into a peaceful slumber, nat noting how your sleepy body still clung to her. tight. trapping her.

because—in every sense—you didn’t want to let go of her either.

you believe you would do just about anything to have nat forever. throw away everything in your life and rebuild a new one with her.

You frowned in concern, but figured she must’ve gotten up to go to the bathroom or get something to eat or drink. Your activities last night took a lot out of you both and you felt your own body craving a glass of water.

You got up, finding your clothes on the floor and throwing them on before walking around the apartment. You’d already noticed that the bathroom in her room was vacant and once you noticed the guest bathroom was empty too, you decided she must be in the kitchen or living room.

But she wasn’t.

The kitchen looked untouched since last night, as did the living room. You felt yourself beginning to panic, wondering where Wanda was and why she would’ve left.

Before you could think too hard, the front door swung open and there was Wanda, carrying two coffees and a paper bag.

You let out a breath, your shoulders relaxing at her presence, all worries that she’d just left you behind subsided.

“You’re up! I went out and- are you okay?” Wanda asked, noticing that something was off as she placed the items on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah I’m fine, still just waking up I guess,” you reassured, not wanting her to know you’d almost worked yourself into a panic over her getting breakfast.

She nodded and seemed to believe you, reaching into the bag and taking out food containers. “I didn’t know if you’d want pancakes or waffles so I got both.”

You slowly made your way to the kitchen, your brain still catching up to the relief of her coming back, your eyes glued to her as she focused on the task at hand. She really was beautiful, especially like this - sweats and an oversized shirt, her makeup long gone after last night, the sunlight of the morning highlighting her features.

It didn’t take long for you to notice she wasn’t wearing a bra either, her nipples visible through the fabric of her shirt, probably from how brisk it was outside. You didn’t think twice as you hugged her from behind, fitting your bodies together as she placed things on the counter.

She relaxed into your touch, humming when your fingers played with the hem of her shirt before sliding under the fabric. “Detka, last night was a lot-” she paused when your thumbs brushed against her nipples, leaning back against you and letting out a whimper when you pinched the buds between your fingers. “We- we should eat breakfast first…”

“Mmm, what if I want to eat something other than breakfast?” you said, your breath ghosting along her neck in a way that made her forget what she was even saying.

“But what about-” she interrupted herself with a soft moan at the feeling of your teeth on her pulse point. At this point she’d become so limp in your hold that you were able to turn her around and lift her onto the countertop with ease.

“Any objections to kitchen sex?” you asked, your fingers playing with the waistband of her sweats.

She bit her lip and nodded no, raising her hips so you could remove her pants and underwear in one motion. “You sure? Words baby,” you said, leaning in to kiss her sweetly as your hands ran along her thighs teasingly.

“Yeah, please Y/N.” Her words came out with a quiet whine, her legs spreading easily for you when you began to push them open. You kissed her once more before lowering yourself between her legs, your hands sliding under them so they rested on your shoulders. You pushed her shirt up enough to see her perfectly, gripping her waist as you looked at her lustfully.

“A little teasing and you’re this wet already? Fuck,” you mused, your knees feeling weak at the sight of her folds pink and slick with arousal right before your eyes. This was even better during the daytime, you were sure of it.

“Please,” Wanda begged, practically squirming where she sat. She blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how needy she was being so quickly, but that left her mind the second she felt your mouth on her.

You moaned at her taste, your tongue dipping into her as you sucked on her wet lips, messily reaching as much of her as you could before actually focusing on pleasuring her. When your lips found her clit, she let out a guttural moan, hips bucking up off the counter for more.

You pulled away the slightest bit but didn’t stop lapping at her center as you squeezed her waist to keep her still. “Taste so fucking good,” you mumbled, licking a long stripe up the length of her before diving back in. When your tongue slid inside of her, she cried out, hips moving wildly but failing to do much under your harsh grip.

“Fuck, just like that,” she moaned, a hand coming to your hair to keep you in place as if you could possibly find it in you to stop now.

She was close, so close, and she knew she only needed a little push to get there. As if you could read her mind, knowing exactly what she needed, you brought your hand to hers and guided it from where it was tangled in your hair down to where she was aching. You looked up at her, pupils dilated as your eyes locked and she understood what you wanted from her.

She began to rub her own clit, making tight circles against it so close to your face you couldn’t hold back a groan at the sight. She moaned at all of the sensations working together, your tongue against her walls, the vibrations of your vocal desire for her, the friction against her sensitive bundle of nerves, it was all too much.

She threw her head back as she came, letting out curses and chanting your name like a prayer as her hips stuttered against your mouth. You licked and swallowed every last drop of her essence as it dripped into your mouth and down your chin.

When she finally came down from her high, you ceased your movements against her and instead kissed along her inner thighs until she was dragging you up by your hair and pulling you in for a heated kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

“Now can we have breakfast?” she asked, looking at you oh so innocently.

“I’m surprised you’re still thinking about food after that,” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smirked before leaning in. “Mmm no, I’m just thinking about all of the things we could do after we’ve gotten our energy back.”

You smiled back and stepped away, letting her go back to getting breakfast ready. You chose pancakes after noticing she seemed excited about the waffles and the two of you ate at the dining table since the kitchen counter wasn’t exactly the most sanitary option anymore.

By the time you were finished eating, an alarm from your phone interrupted your morning together.

“Shit, I have work today,” you cursed, finally realizing what time it was. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”

You stood up, hurriedly grabbing the to-go boxes you ate out of and trying to clean up after yourself.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of that,” Wanda said, grabbing your arm to stop you before stepping closer. “Although I was kind of hoping I’d get to take care of you…”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I really have to go,” you rushed out, feeling bad that you had to leave so abruptly after such a wonderful morning together.

“It’s okay, go ahead. Don’t want you to be late,” Wanda reassured, smiling softly as she let go of your arm and started cleaning up the table.

“Thanks, uh, yeah, sorry. Thank you for everything,” you managed to get out, knowing you wanted to say so much more but being unable to do it in that moment. She smiled again, nodding as you turned and ran out, stressing over the fact that you left yourself almost no time to get ready.

You were only seconds late to work thankfully, but your situation with Wanda was on your mind all day.

You definitely had feelings for her, there was no denying that. Your feelings ran deeper than just casual sex and you wanted her to know that, but you felt nervous at the thought of asking her out on a proper date.

What if this was a fling to her? What if she still saw you as a customer? You hated that word, but it was truthful in describing what you were to her before the two of you had ever even met.

As the day went on, thoughts of Wanda kept your mind busy; you thought of how she tasted, how she moaned for you, how wet she was. But you also thought about her cute smile, her little nose scrunch, her thoughtfulness in getting breakfast for the two of you, everything about her.

You decided you had to do something. You couldn’t let fear take over and keep you from getting the one thing you wanted most.

Meanwhile, Wanda spent her day in a similar state, thinking of you. She felt so taken care of and loved when you had slept together, in a way she had never felt before with anyone else. It felt safe and secure, but also electrifying. You were an incredible lover but it ran deeper than that and she was struggling to convince herself that it wasn’t just the heat of the moment.

You fucked her, but you also practically made love to her, and she wasn’t sure if that was your intention, to make her feel that it was more than just sex. You were, after all, someone who consistently viewed her streams and watched her touch herself on camera. Obviously there was physical attraction; she just didn’t know if that was all it was.

While she worried all day about your potential feelings for her, you were working up the courage to show her how you felt.

On your way home from work, you stopped at a local flower shop, scanning over all the options for bouquets.

You came across a beautiful selection of roses and could only think of Wanda when you looked at the red and white ones. Red for the love and passion you felt towards her, red for her favorite color, red for the fire she ignited within you. White for new beginnings, white for your loyalty to her, white for the innocence of your feelings, it wasn’t just sex, it was something more pure.

You had the florist put together a bouquet and you paid for it, trying to shake the nerves building within you.

When you got home, you stopped at Wanda’s door first. You hesitated, but then knocked gently on her door, holding the roses behind your back.

Wanda wasn’t expecting anyone, so she was curious who would be at her door, although she hoped it was you since the two of you hadn’t gotten to finish your time together that morning.

She opened the door and smiled upon seeing you standing there. You looked uncomfortable and concern flashed on her face for a second before you spoke.

“Hi, um, mind if I come in?” You asked nervously, waiting for permission to enter.

“Yeah, of course,” Wanda responded sweetly, opening the door more for you to step through the threshold and closing it behind you. “What’s up?” she spoke when you didn’t, breaking the awkward silence.

“Okay so,” you started, hyping yourself up in your head for what you were about to do. “First of all, these are for you.” You handed her the bouquet from behind your back and she gasped, taking them in her hands and admiring them for a moment before returning her attention to you. “I wanted to ask you something. Would you, um- sorry- would you want to go out to dinner with me some time?” You rushed out, afraid you wouldn’t ask at all if you took any longer.

Wanda chuckled, feeling relieved that you were asking her out on a date.

When she didn’t immediately respond, you spoke again. “It’s okay if you don’t, I just, I wanted you to know it’s not just sex to me. I like you Wanda. I don’t want last night to be a one time thing and I don’t want this to be casual either. I hope I’m not making this weird, I just needed you to know that I have feelings for you.”

You were rambling, but Wanda found it cute. She finally responded by grabbing the back of your head and leaning in, pulling you into a soft kiss, trying to convey all of her feelings through the touch of your lips.

When she finally pulled away, she looked into your eyes in a way that almost made you shiver. “I would love to go out with you,” she said, smiling at you, eyes sparkling.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and smiled back. “Okay great, how about this Thursday? I’m off early that day,” you suggested, trying not to seem too eager even though you absolutely were.

“Thursday is perfect,” Wanda said. “And thank you for the flowers, no one’s ever given me flowers before.”

“Really?” You couldn’t hide your surprise. She nodded. “Well, I’m glad to be your first. I mean, the first to give you flowers,” you stuttered out, feeling nervous again under her intense stare as she continued to hold eye contact with you.

She laughed at your antics and was about to speak again when the oven went off and reminded her that she had been cooking.

“Oh, um, would you like to stay for dinner tonight? I made enough for both of us,” Wanda invited, heading towards the kitchen to turn off the alarm.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, excited to spend more time with her.

she goes quiet and shrugs her shoulders, playing with her fingers while her arms are wrapped around your neck. "no. It's completely gone. that... calming feeling, i would feel it deep in my bones, but now it's gone."

she continues. "did i do something wrong?"

"of course not, lott." you say while rubbing her outer thigh. you feel helpless seeing her so sad. she looks down and pouts, and you gently tilt her chin up, staring at her lips as you speak. "maybe... It just needs nat right now. i don't know. i wish i could help you."

she hums and smiles sadly at you, leaning her forehead against yours, sighing, and closing her eyes as you start scratching behind her ear. you can't help but stare at her pretty face as she nuzzles into your touch, and you're drawn to her lips again, so you lean in and capture them.

she makes a tiny noise that causes heat to wash over your body, and you sit up a little straighter as you get needier with your kisses. she pulls you in closer, obviously just as needy, and you feel her tongue poke yours.

lottie's face reddens as things get more heated, feeling herself becoming lightheaded at how you kiss and touch her. she pushes your shoulders back against the tree as she moves on your lap, accidentally kneeing you in your strap bulge, which causes you to clutch her hips and groan.

"sorry." she apologizes breathlessly, her eyes twinkling when you look up at her.

you let out a small chuckle and shake your head, holding her back from pouncing (which makes her pout) so you can scoot her to the side as you get on your knees.

"i was thinking... i wanted to make you feel better. de-stress you." you explain, looking at her with nothing but desire as you undo your belt buckle and take out your strap. "let me take care of you."

she releases the most pleased sigh as she watches you stroke your strap, and her hands thrust them away so she can do it for you. you appreciate the gesture, but you tut, easily grabbing her wrists and holding them up.

"what part of me taking care of you don't you understand, pretty girl?"

lottie's lips tremble at your authority. she always loves being challenged.

you command her to take off her pants and panties and to get on her hands and knees. she follows your orders obediently, turning her head back and complaining when you get distracted by staring at how she sways her hips for you as she waits.

"you're so beautiful." you whisper, tapping her hips twice and leading her back a bit so she's nice and close to you. "and so powerful."

you grip your strap and slowly enter inside of lottie, giving her time to adjust. she whines at both the feeling and the praise, her hands digging into the dirt as you scratch her back while gently moving your hips.

but she gets impatient and greedy and scoots back to make you sink in more. you can't really be mad at that; all you wanna do is give her what she wants, so you give it to her. you sink in all the way and hold her hips still as you stretch her out.

"god, fuck." she groans, lashes fluttering as she squeezes around your plastic dick.

you relish those broken whimpers she lets out as you start moving your hips, holding her shoulder as you pound into her with passion, her pleasure being the only thing on your mind.

"It's still inside of you, i can feel it." you mewl, leaning over and hoisting her up a bit so you can grope her chest. "you're Its favorite. you're my favorite. my leader—the best leader."

all lottie can reply with is whines and whimpers as she takes in your praises, her brain turning to mush. she manages to nod along, panting heavily at how you twist and pinch her nipples.

"keep going." she mumbles, and you don't know whether she means keep fucking her or keep going with the praises.

either way...

"they all look up to you, whether or not you hear the wilderness. you're special, lottie." your hand has a bruising grip on her hips as you relentlessly fuck into her, the other hand kneading her tit. "i know It'll come back to you, and when it does, it's going to be great."

Jackie—varsity soccer captain, homecoming queen nominee, and the girl whose public image couldn't be further from this moment: her perfect hair mussed beyond repair, wearing nothing but your oversized Sonic Youth t-shirt and a pair of lacy underwear that had made your brain short-circuit when you first saw them.

"You're staring again," she murmurs, taking another hit from the joint you'd been passing back and forth. Her eyes are slightly red-rimmed, her smile looser than the one she wears in the school hallways.

"Can you blame me?" You prop yourself up on your elbows, drinking in the sight of her. "Do you have any idea how many people would lose their minds if they could see Jackie Taylor right now?"

She rolls her eyes, but you catch the pleased flush creeping up her neck. "Please. I'm hardly centerfold material."

"You're right," you agree solemnly. "You're much better."

The way she looks at you then—half-exasperated, half-adoring—makes your chest ache with how much you love her. A year and a half of sneaking around, of stolen moments between classes and elaborate excuses to your respective friend groups, and sometimes you still can't believe she's yours.

"Come here," you say, making grabby hands at her.

Jackie raises an eyebrow, taking her time with another drag before passing the joint back to you. "Demanding much?" But she moves toward you anyway, settling onto your lap with the practiced ease of someone who's been there countless times before.

"Pictures of You" starts playing, and Jackie groans, dropping her forehead against yours. "God, not this song. It's so sad."

"It's romantic," you argue, running your hands up her bare thighs, delighting in the goosebumps that rise in their wake.

"It's about loss," she counters. Her fingers toy with the collar of your shirt, brushing against your collarbone in a way that makes it hard to concentrate on the philosophical debate about Cure lyrics.

"It's about love," you insist, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "How everything fades but photographs and memories."

Jackie pulls back just enough to study your face, her expression caught between amusement and something deeper. "Since when did you become the romantic one? I thought that was my role."

"Don't worry," you laugh, hands now resting on her hips, thumbs tracing slow circles against the fabric of her borrowed shirt. "Your title as 'most likely to cry during romantic comedies' remains unchallenged."

"That was one time!" she protests, but she's laughing too. "And 'The Princess Bride' is emotional terrorism."

"Whatever you say, captain."

Her eyes narrow playfully. "You know, for someone who's currently enjoying the privileges of having me on their lap, you're being awfully snarky."

"Privileges, huh?" You raise an eyebrow, feeling bold from the weed and the warmth of her against you. "And what privileges might those be?"

Jackie's smile turns wicked, a side of her no one at Wiskayok High ever sees except you. She leans down until her lips brush your ear. "Play your cards right, and you might find out."

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. "I've always been good at cards."

"Hmm," she hums, unconvinced. "Is that why you lost twenty bucks to Shauna at poker night?"

"That was—" you splutter, indignant. "Shauna cheats! She has that whole quiet, innocent act down to a science."

Jackie laughs, the sound lighter than the carefully modulated one she uses at school. This laugh is just for you—unfiltered, slightly too loud, and utterly perfect.

"My point," she says, "is that you might need to work on your bluffing skills."

"I don't need to bluff with you," you say, suddenly serious despite the pleasant haze of the high. "Never have."

Something in her expression softens, the armor she wears so carefully around everyone else slipping away entirely. These are the moments you treasure most—when Jackie is just Jackie, not the perfect student, not the soccer star, not Jeff's sometimes-girlfriend (a convenient cover you both agreed on, with his reluctant cooperation).

"No," she agrees quietly. "You don't."

You reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leans into your touch like a cat seeking affection. It still amazes you sometimes, how different she is in these private moments—how the Jackie Taylor who intimidated you during your first soccer practice freshman year transformed into the girl who now melts at your simplest touches.

"Remember when Coach Martinez paired us for drills that first day?" you ask, thinking back to how it all began. "And you told me my footwork was 'almost adequate'?"

Jackie groans, hiding her face in your neck. "Can we please not relive my bitch phase?"

"It was kind of hot, actually," you admit, laughing when she pinches your side in retaliation. "What? It was! All commanding and authoritative."

"You're deranged," she says, but she's smiling against your skin.

"Maybe. But you're the one who cornered me in the equipment shed two weeks later."

"Because you kept looking at me with those eyes!" She sits up, gesturing dramatically. "All... intense and stuff. It was distracting."

"My sincerest apologies for having eyes and using them to look at the prettiest girl on the field."

Jackie rolls her eyes, but you can tell she's pleased. She's always been a sucker for compliments, especially the earnest ones.

"Smooth talker," she accuses, before leaning down to press her lips against yours.

The kiss starts slow, languid with the unhurried confidence of people who know each other's bodies by heart. Your hands find their way under her shirt—your shirt—fingers tracing the dip of her spine, the curve of her ribs. She sighs into your mouth, shifting on your lap in a way that makes you both gasp.

"You know," you murmur against her lips, "we have the house to ourselves for at least three more hours."

Jackie pulls back just enough to look at you, her pupils dilated from more than just the weed. "Is that your subtle way of saying we should move this to a more horizontal position?"

"I was actually thinking we could finish our calculus homework," you deadpan. "You know how I get turned on by derivatives."

She snorts, an undignified sound that she'd be mortified to let slip in front of anyone else. "You're such a nerd."

"Says the girl with a 4.0 GPA."

"That's different," she insists, tracing a finger down your sternum. "I'm academically gifted. You're a genuine weirdo who reads physics books for fun."

"Only sometimes," you defend yourself. "And they have pretty pictures of space."

Jackie shakes her head, a fond smile playing at her lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few things," you suggest, waggling your eyebrows in an exaggerated way that makes her laugh again.

"Can you now?" she challenges, and then she's leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time, with an urgency that makes your head spin.

Your hands drift higher under her shirt, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She makes a soft noise against your mouth that sends heat pooling low in your belly. One of her hands tangles in your hair, the other bracing against your shoulder for leverage as she rocks against you.

When you break apart for air, her lips immediately find your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. It's your turn to gasp, head falling back to give her better access.

"Jackie," you breathe, hands now gripping her hips tightly.

She smiles against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Yes?"

"The record's about to end."

She pulls back, blinking at you in confusion before her brow furrows in annoyance. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

You can't help but laugh at her indignation. "I just thought you might want some more mood music."

"The mood," she says, deliberately shifting on your lap in a way that makes your breath catch, "is doing just fine without Robert Smith's help."

"Fair point," you concede, voice slightly strained. "But you were the one who insisted we needed The Cure specifically for our afternoon delinquency session."

"That was before you started doing that thing with your hands," she counters, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip. "Now I couldn't care less about the soundtrack."

The needle reaches the end of the record, the soft scratching sound barely registering through the haze of desire clouding your brain.

"Besides," Jackie adds, her voice dropping to a whisper as she brings her lips to your ear. "I'd rather listen to the sounds you make when I do this."

Her hands slip beneath your shirt, and suddenly the lack of music is the furthest thing from your mind.

Later, much later, when you're both lying tangled in your sheets, catching your breath, Jackie props herself up on one elbow to look down at you.

"You know," she says, tracing patterns on your bare shoulder, "we won't have to hide next year."

The thought sends a rush of warmth through you that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. College, away from Wiskayok's judgmental eyes and rigid social hierarchies. A place where Jackie won't have to pretend to be someone she's not, where you can walk across campus holding her hand without calculating who might see.

"I can't wait," you say honestly.

Something vulnerable flickers across her face. "You won't get tired of me once I'm not your dirty little secret anymore?"

The question surprises you. Jackie's always so confident, so sure of herself and what she wants. But sometimes, in these quiet moments, you get glimpses of the insecurities she hides from everyone else.

"Are you kidding?" You reach up to cup her cheek. "I've been counting down the days until I can show you off properly."

Her smile is small but genuine, relief softening the tension you hadn't even noticed in her shoulders.

"Besides," you add, unable to resist, "I've invested too much time teaching you good music taste to abandon you now."

She gasps in mock outrage, grabbing a pillow to smack you with it. "Excuse you! I knew who The Cure was before I met you!"

"Name three albums," you challenge, laughing as you try to fend off her pillow attack.

"Disintegration," she says immediately, punctuating it with another swing of the pillow. "Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me. And... uh..."

"That's what I thought," you tease, finally capturing the pillow and tossing it aside so you can pull her down for another kiss.

Against your lips, she murmurs, "You're lucky you're cute."

"I'm lucky, period," you respond honestly, and the softness that returns to her eyes makes your heart flip over in your chest.

lottie has been at it all night.

not in an obvious way. but she knows exactly what she’s doing. 

the way she leans in to speak to you, her lips barely brushing your ear. 

the way her fingers linger when she hands you a drink, nails scraping just slightly against your palm. 

the way she catches your gaze across the room, holding it just long enough to make your stomach tighten, before turning away.

and then there was the worst of it. the moment she sat next to you on the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and let her heel slowly drag up the inside of your calf. 

you choked on your beer. she only smiled.

by the time she takes your wrist and pulls you down the hall, your legs are half-jelly, half-live wire. the door clicks shut, and she’s on you before the lock even turns, pressing you against the wood with a short, tipsy chuckle.

hell, you’re both a little bit too drunk for this. but you know lottie— she’s nothing if not an opportunist.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself,” you say, breath uneven. it’s not a question.

lottie tilts her head, feigning innocence. “what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean.”

she steps closer, the dim glow from the party outside casting shifting shadows over her face. she presses a hand to your chest, not to push you back— just to feel the way your heart is hammering under her palm. then her head dips so you’re nose to nose, mouth hovering over yours.

“can’t i just want to be close to my favorite boy?” lottie murmurs, fingers already slipping beneath your waistband.

your breath shudders out.

yeah. she knows exactly what she’s doing.

lottie hooks her fingers into your belt, dragging denim down like she’s unwrapping a christmas present. one hand stays firm on your chest, keeping you in place.

as if you’d move. as if you could.

"you're shaking," she observes, breath warm against your throat.

"you’ve been fucking with me all night," you grit out. "what did you expect?"

she hums, thoughtful, teasing. "i was kind of hoping you’d be good and worked up by now."

"mission accomplished," you grind out.

lottie finally— finally— undoes your belt, slipping a hand inside, and you let out something humiliatingly close to a whimper. 

her smirk is immediate.

"oh," she breathes, eyes dark, pupils blown wide as she leans in, kissing just below your jaw. "you're so hard already."

as if she doesn’t know exactly why. as if she hasn’t been orchestrating this from the second you arrived.

she pulls back just enough to look at you, fingers still tracing over you, making your breath hitch. "you want me to take care of it?"

you don’t trust yourself to speak. you just nod, a little frantic, hands digging into her hips.

"good," lottie whispers, lips curling.

she pushes you toward the bed of the room. you let her, mentally apologizing to whoever is going to have to sleep in these sheets (which you’re about to ruin) when the party is over.

with effort, lottie straddles you, rolling her hips down in one sharp motion that makes your breath stutter like a skipping cd. her hands move too fast, betraying the need she won’t say out loud— yanking your jeans and boxers down in one smooth swipe. her breath catches at the sight.

"oh, poor baby," she murmurs, fingers wrapping around you, stroking slow, sympathetic. "that bad?"

you would glare if you could do anything but squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth as she picks up pace.

then— lottie whimpers.

your eyes snap open, trailing down to where her skirt is bunched at her thighs, one hand buried beneath the cotton of her panties, fingers moving sloppily.

"fuck, lottie—"

she exhales, impatient, lost in her own touch, before her hands still. when she looks up, she’s flushed, eyes flicking between your face and where she’s still got you wrapped in her grip.

"can i?" she breathes. "please?"

you nod, barely.

she moves fast, like she can’t wait another second. no undressing, no hesitation— just pulling her panties to the side, crawling over you, lining herself up before sinking down.

the sound you make is wrecked— but it’s nothing compared to the obscene whimper that spills from lottie’s lips. she rises slightly, fingers gripping the sheets, before dropping her hips again, a moan catching in her throat.

"lott, the party," you whisper. you never imagined you’d be the quiet one.

"sorry," she pants— like she means it. she doesn’t. "you just— feel so good—" her words dissolve into a whimper.

the slap of skin is obscene in the hush of the room, barely drowned by the bass thudding downstairs. lottie leans in, breath hot against your lips before she catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, moaning into it.

your hands slip under her shirt, trailing up her spine— then she grinds down hard, and your grip tightens on instinct. she jerks, back arching, palm flying to her mouth to muffle a wrecked moan.

"yeah— like that," she stammers, bracing herself on shaky arms, eyes squeezed shut. "good boy—"

her voice crumbles into gasps, whimpers, praise, a breathless loop— "good boy, just like that, love you, love you, love you—"

she lets out one last, strangled moan before you feel her tense, shudder, clench— then she’s collapsing against you, panting, pressing feverish kisses to your collarbone.

one final snap of your hips and you’re gone too, your own groan swallowed by her sharp inhale at the new sensation of fullness.

for a long moment, you just breathe together, heat and sweat and aftershocks. then lottie rolls off, sighing, loose-limbed, sated.

“think we just ruined some random guy’s bed,” you comment as the high fades.

lottie just huffs, too blissed out to really care, as she tucks herself to your side and presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder.