You people misunderstand me. You call me “Satan” and “Devil” but…do you know my crime? I loved God too much. And for that he betrayed me – punished me. Just as he’s punished you. After all, how could God stand ideally by while that man broke into your home and butchered your family in their beds? There are only two rational answers, Nick – either, he’s sadistic…or he simply doesn’t care.
I’ve never spent so much time on research and prelim sketches/studies on a single piece. Despite all the prep, I still managed to be super uncomfortable throughout the whole process and that resulted in a very intuitive hand and maybe some poor decisions. But a little discomfort is good and I’m pretty happy with the result.
The sheer amount of YOI content on my dash just won me over and I ended up binge-watching the whole thing. And then it put me in the mood for drawing, which I haven’t done in a really long time, so…have some sketchy, sneezy Victor :)
Drats. I was about to fall asleep and then I thought of Danielle liking one of El’s pictures on Instagram.
Like… she hadn’t really meant to. It’s just… she’s been doing better, yeah? She’s feeling good these days. She’s over Louis, as much as you can get over someone that might have been the love of your life. She’s at least over him enough that she can see pictures of Eleanor and him together and instead of that bitter taste at the back of her throat, now she only thinks that they look impossibly beautiful together.
And, well, really, Eleanor IS beautiful. To a point where Danielle finds herself on her Instagram one summer evening, feeling nice and loose from the wine she’s opened for herself, and bold enough that she likes one of the pictures, stuck on El’s pouty lips and the way her fingers gracefully curl inwards as she reaches her to brush her hair back.
It’s nothing, really.
Or it would be nothing, if not for the way she wakes up to five notifications telling her El has done a little Instagram browsing of her own.
And for a while nothing really happens, they just like each other’s pictures from time to time and Danielle tries not to think about what any of it means because it doesn’t have to mean anything, right?
Until one fine summer night she goes to one of those L.A. parties where you’re never quite sure who’s throwing the party or what the occasion is, and she bumps into Louis and Eleanor. And El looks so stunning that Danielle barely notices Louis at first, her eyes stuck on El’s never-ending legs and the pale curve of her breasts peeking from her loose top, and when Danielle finally looks at Louis his eyes are dark dark dark in a way that used to be so familiar that it makes Danielle instantly wet under her flimsy yellow dress, or maybe that was from watching El.
And Danielle’s not sure how but hours later, with the edges of the sky slowly turning pale blue with the promise of morning, she finds herself at Louis’s house, in Louis’s bedroom, sitting on Louis’s bed with a hand on her thigh and lips pressed at the corner of her mouth.
Louis’s sitting in an armchair in a corner of the room, his knuckles white with how fiercely he’s gripping the armrests, his erection starkly visible in his sweatpants, but Danielle doesn’t spare him more than one look - it’s hard to really think about him when El’s fingers keep creeping up Danielle’s thigh, when her lips and tongue taste like the cherry shots she had at the party.
Danielle’s only kissed another girl once, years ago, and this is nothing like the giggly clumsiness she remembers. This is something she could lose herself into, and she does, because if she starts thinking now she will never stop thinking again.
It’s only when Danielle’s soft and pliant next to Eleanor, her stomach and thighs still quivering from the orgasm El so softly and patiently teased out of her, that El motions for Louis to come join them, telling him to take his clothes off with just one cocking of her eyebrow.
“Dani, do you want him?” she whispers against Danielle’s lips, and Danielle knows it’s probably a bad idea, but her body still clenches with raw desire, and she nods, because this is the worst idea she’s ever had but it’s also the best, and she thinks maybe she can have Louis again this way, that she can give herself to him and not lose herself just as long as El is there to ground her with a hand on her hip and soft lips at her throat.
She feels Louis carefully lie down behind her and she goes pliant as he gently hooks her leg back over his own legs, lets her eyes slip shut at the first touch of his stubble against the back of her neck, so devastatingly familiar and soothing all at once. She kisses El back hungrily as Louis pushes in, kisses El through it all, through Louis’s quickening thrusts and the clench of his hand on her hip, through him nipping at her neck and whimpering into her skin, she kisses El and buries her hand in El’s hair and lets herself believe that this is all going to turn out okay.