#Town of Three Lies

[rabbitcruiser]

Collegiate Church of St Juliana, Santillana del Mar (No. 2)

The construction scheme responds to that of a church with three naves of four sections and transept, three semicircular apses, a cylindrical tower, and dome over the transept. The set is completed with a cloister and the abbey dependencies. The central nave is wider than the lateral ones and equal to that of the transept, so the transept has a square plan. The arms of the transept do not protrude from the side walls, so that they are not visible to the outside. The heads of the three naves are made up of staggered semicircular apses. At the foot of the main nave stood a square bell tower that on the outside is similar to the one that stands over the transept, giving an image of symmetry to those who observe the church from the southern façade.

In the formal and decorative aspect we must mention the existence of an open main portal on the south side that allows access from the square, and another on the north wall that connects the church with the cloister. As a finish of the first, a triangular pediment with a Renaissance air was arranged in later times, replacing the original Romanesque eaves on corbels; shows a niche containing the image of Saint Juliana in an attitude of subduing the devil. Nor is the gallery of fifteen arches that runs through the upper part of the southern canvas original. The flaring of the façade is formed by smooth adoveled archivolts; Above are aligned a series of quite deteriorated human figures, highlighting in the center a mandorla supported by four angels in which a seated pantocrator is framed.

The covering of the naves is carried out by ribbed vaults, and that of the arms of the transept by barrel vaults; The apses are roofed with oven vaults. Above the transept stands a dome in the form of a square tower inside which, at a lower level than the roof, there is a decentered dome that rests on pendentives.

An element of special interest is the cloister attached in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries to the north wall of the church. In a first phase the south wing and a part of the west wing would be raised; already in the thirteenth century this wing would be completed and the north wing would be built. The east side is from later times (sixteenth century) and does not follow the guidelines of the Romanesque style.

The primitive galleries are formed by semicircular arches supported by paired or quadruple columns. In total it has 43 capitals of which the oldest, those on the south side and first section on the west side, are historians with carvings of appreciable merit, while the most recent ones present plant themes.

Source: Wikipedia  

[my-current-obsession]

Taking a break from Rune Factory 4 Special to fantasize about a potential Rune Factory 5 Special. Which probably won’t happen, but I can dream. This is basically just a list of updates/changes/etc. that I would like to see.

- (re)incorporate a lot of the stuff found in datamining, like the ability to run a shop and the DLC love interests - Livia, Radea, & Terry. Whether those three remain DLC or are just added in as new options, I would LOVE to have them. I wouldn’t even care if I have to wait until post-game to properly romance one or both of the girls, since it would be worth it. I’d also like Misasagi to be a love interest but I just don’t think that’s feasible since she has a child already and the writers/developers won’t want to have to deal with you marrying & moving in with someone who already has a kid.

- Speaking of Hina, she and Julien ABSOLUTELY need to grow up some after you’ve had kids. Those two are like... somewhere around 7-11 initially, and there’s at least a three or four year timeskip after having a kid (plus ANOTHER timeskip after the twins). It’s REALLY jarring to see those two looking/acting barely older than your own kids when at minimum they’re seven(ish) years older. Ideally I’d like the “young adult” models/sprites (as in, all the marriage candidates basically) to get a bit older too but that’s less of an issue than the two kids who noticeably Don’t Age.

- Bring back the “reverse” proposals from RF4S. I understand giving the player the agency to choose when to propose, but having an event that ends with their love interest proposing is SO GOOD, and it’s not forcing you to accept, so you can still propose on your own terms later. And several love interests make it clear they WANTED to propose when you do it, so just... let them do it! I think ideally I’d want MOST of the guys (3-4?) and at least one or two girls to do this, while the others still leave the proposing to you. In all cases, they’d need either one more new event or tweaks/add-ons to their final event to flow more naturally into this.

- Make sure the game is actually optimized and performs well on the Switch this time. I’ve heard the PC version is much better, but I got the game when it first came out on Switch, and it’s... not great. Lots of lagging, random crashing and visual glitches... Fix all of that.

- I ASSUME this was an oversight and not intentional, but definitely fix the issue where if you date multiple people in one run and then get married the other love interest(s) still act(s) like you’re together. The pet names are dropped but the romantic dialogue is not. It was SO awkward when I talked to Martin like the day after I married Ryker and he contemplated whether Cecil would approve of “our” relationship. Well, considering I’m married now, and not to you, probably not!

- This is a little less important, but along a similar vein I’d like if the game actually noticed and slightly altered some events depending on who you were dating, or if that’s too difficult make an effort to NOT have “date” events feature multiple potential love interests. Once again, on my first date with Ryker, Martin strolled up and interrupted us which embarrassed Ryker SO MUCH he left. I was pretty embarrassed too, considering Martin then casually said “Sorry I interrupted your date, Love.” Ideally either change date events so other love interests DON’T casually appear, or go immersive and have them react DIFFERENTLY if they also happen to be dating you. There’s also a non-date event where you and a few others play the King’s Game but Ryker is rigging it to help Ludmilla flirt with you. Again, odd to see it when I’m dating him and NOT her.

- It would honestly be nice to set your sexuality/preferred love interest gender at the start of the game simply so you’re not bombarded with EVERYONE’s events and not getting hit on by everyone when you’re talking to them every day. This way you’re only given the events and flirting by the gender you want.

- Bring back dungeon seeds/field dungeons! That’s just a simple and fun way to spend a lot of your time and get random rewards.

- Include more random conversations between townspeople! Literally the only “group” conversations in 5 are between the 6 boys and 6 girls at festivals. Let two or three people meet up during the day and have conversations. I miss that from 4 so much, it really helps flesh out the town and how certain characters interact with each other.

- Newlywed Mode would be nice.

- Murakumo being the only person running the bathhouse often causes problems. Any time he’s NOT there, such as festival days or just when he’s eating lunch/dinner, you can’t take a bath even though the inn is technically open/available. He has an in-universe reason to work alone so you can’t give him a helper, but you COULD do something like leave a note at his desk that we can investigate which says how much to pay. Bado in RF4 had something like that for whenever he was slacking off. Basically, we need some way to access the bath even if Kumo isn’t doing his job.

EDIT - thought of one more! Give us a way to access the flower shop earlier. Having Ludmilla be the sole person running it when she doesn’t even join the town until halfway through the game is... A Choice. It is RIDICULOUS how late in the game this shop becomes available. I think you could have Priscilla run it initially, and just decide where Lucy works between the shop and the bakery. Then when Ludmilla joins and takes over, Priscilla takes the other open job.

[swordmaid]

shri’iia companion au where her backstory changes depending on your approval level bc she is just lying about everything

[arthur-r]

falling asleep worked i did it for three hours. now what i’m still tired i just also wasted the day and looked stupid to my roommate….

[aroace-genderfluid-snake]

my joints: snap crackle pop

me, under my breath: pop it, lock it, polka dot it. country fivin’, hip hop hip. put your-

[swiftispunk]

snowflakes, a fireplace, and you | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | main masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates for fic notifs

pairing: bed and breakfast owner!joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 13.9k

summary: you get more than you bargained for when you end up snowed in at miller's inn on christmas eve. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] fluff, the softest joel you'll ever meet in your life, some mentions of grief, brief smut, reader celebrates christmas, food, alcohol is consumed but no one gets drunk, reader has some family angst (specifically some mother issues), reader's father is dead and the fic will touch on how he died, reader can fit into joel's sweater, found family trope, sexual tension, sweet joel kisses, unprotected p in v sex, brief oral (m + f receiving), joel gets both his daughters, this takes place in upstate new york because i said so. no use of y/n. *note: this reader is basically an ofc. she has a backstory, a family, and several details about her life are relevant to the plot. i wanted to tell a full story with this one. i hope you will still find it immersive and enjoyable.

a/n: thank you to everyone who willed this fic into existence! i had the very best time with it. she's tropey as hell, but ya'll knew what you were signing up for. love yas and merry christmas (one day late) to all those who celebrate! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics

dec. 23 - the arrival

Just beyond the quaint village borders of Cooperstown, New York, lies the cozy, family-owned Miller's Inn. Housed beneath a cover of pines in the lush surrounding forests, this historic cottage has been lovingly refurbished and meticulously kept-up in order to maintain its original charm and architecture. With just four fully furnished rooms, every guest at Miller's Inn can expect to be treated with unparalleled care and service during their stay.

Whether you're here for one night or one week - at Miller's Inn, you're home.

It's all warm and fuzzy - and you're sure it's true to a certain extent - but the sweet little blurb on the simply designed website fails to mention the inn's most appealing feature:

It's not your fucking mother's house.

Christmas spirit be damned, that had been the deal. You'll make the trip home from Austin (half a day's travel complete with flight and drive), you'll even come for Christmas dinner and play along with the whole happy family charade. But only on your own terms, and only with an appropriate level of space. If that means spending your nights somewhere several miles away from the house you grew up in for the few short days you're back in town, so be it.

An uncomfortable sense of familiarity passes over you as you drive through your hometown. Main Street looks much the same as it had when you'd left all those years ago, blanketed now by a thin layer of snow, every storefront decked with garland and fairy lights. Fog rolls off the distant mountain, barely visible through the grey, overcast sky.

You think you catch someone waving at you from the sidewalk; maybe an old neighbour, maybe a family friend, maybe a stranger - if one could really call anyone in Coopertown a stranger.

You don't stop.

No, you keep your eyes straight and drive clear out of town, following the directions on your GPS until the village dissipates into dense, green forest.

It's even further out than it had looked on the map, a solid twenty minutes of driving before you see billowing smoke rising above the treetops, another five before you come upon a clearing and the sign that lines the road beside it: Miller's Inn.

"Turn right and you've arrived at your destination," the robotic, pleasant woman in your phone tells you.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," you grumble, turning off the app and chucking the phone into the passenger seat beside you.

There are three vehicles already parked out front, two with out-of-state license plates and one a rusted old pick-up truck. You pull in beside the sedan from Ohio.

Despite the short walk from the car to the front door, you bundle up in your mittens and coat, steeling yourself before ducking out into the cold winter's day with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder. The flecks of sun peeking through the clouds sting your eyes, reflecting uncomfortably off the layer of snow on the ground, thicker here than in town.

Standing before the front steps of the cottage, you assess it for the first time. A wraparound porch surrounds the small, two-storey cottage, which appears to be built mostly of stone. Christmas lights don the railings of the deck, and a lush, pine wreath hangs on the red-painted door. In the centre of the wreath, there's a neatly decorated wooden placard, painted over with the words, Happy holidays, welcome home - The Millers.

It makes you cringe.

A bell rings above you as you open the front door and cross through the threshold. Inside, you're greeted by an air of warmth, the faint sound of Christmas music, and the smells of burning wood, fragrant pine, and sugar. A front desk, littered with garland trim and popcorn strings stands unattended before you, and you frown, peering around you towards the cozy common area to your right, complete with burning fireplace, mismatched couches, a large, haphazardly decorated Christmas tree, and altogether no people.

"Hello?" you call out to no one in particular.

"Crap - " a voice says to your left. You whirl to face the source of sound, and take in the other half of the main floor of the inn. A long wooden table takes up most of the space there, accented with candles and nutcrackers and a festively patterned runner. Roughly ten chairs surround it, the entire scene bathed in daylight from the wide window on the far side of the room, revealing snow-covered forest just beyond its frosted glass.

Amidst it all, a young girl, tall and curly-haired, barely older than fourteen, clamouring out of a room you can't see beyond the dining set-up, clapping what appears to be flour off of her hands. She all but sprints to take her place behind the front desk, muttering, sorry sorry sorry under her breath the whole way there.

"Hi!" she says, nearly out of breath when she finally meets your gaze with a put-on, beatific smile. "Welcome."

"Um, hi, I'm just checking in," you tell her, hearing the way your voice tilts up a bit at the end like you're asking a question.

"Great!" she exclaims, but then she frowns as she peers down at a mess of papers on the desktop, and you get the feeling she doesn't normally handle this part.

"Um...okay...so...name?" she asks, her curls bouncing as she looks up at you, then down at what appears to a sign-in sheet, then up at you again.

Uncertainly, you tell her and she nods with feigned confidence, glancing back down at the list of names and furrowing her brow.

Who the fuck is in charge here?

"Uh...shit," she murmurs and now you frown, suddenly terrified there's been some sort of mistake.

"Is there a problem?"

The girl chews her lip before hastily shaking her head and softening the worry on her face, for your benefit, you assume. "No, no! I just can't read his stupid writing. Hey, Dad?"

She calls that last bit over her shoulder, towards an open door behind the desk. No one responds.

The girl rolls her eyes. "One sec," she tells you.

"Okay..."

She flits behind the door and you tap your foot impatiently, starting to get uncomfortably warm under all your layers.

You hear another voice now, deep and gravelly, but you can't quite make out the words. Then, a moment later, the girl returns with someone new in tow.

A man, at least forty-five, a smile painting his weathered face adorned with greying scruff under a mop of messy brown curls. He's broad, framed by thick arms and wide shoulders, deliciously accentuated by the green flannel he's wearing, the sleeves of which are rolled up the elbows, revealing tan skin and a black-banded watch on one wrist.

Unconsciously, you stiffen, stand a little straighter in his presence - what's that about?

"Alright, what's the issue?" he's asking the girl, both of them rifling through the stack of papers. His accent gives you pause; it's one you're used to hearing back home, but not here.

"The issue is your chicken scratch," she gripes, pointing at the list of names accusingly.

The man just chuckles, clearly unbothered by the gentle ribbing.

"It ain't that bad," he grumbles. Finally, he looks up at you, his eyes all soft and brown, the right side of face dimpling as he smirks at you crookedly. "Welcome, miss. Sorry 'bout all the confusion. Name?"

You repeat it, your voice coming out a little breathier this time as your body responds to his low drawl and his unwavering eye contact.

Something flashes across his face when he hears your name, something like recognition, something like sympathy, something that makes your insides twist as you drop your gaze and he quickly collects himself.

"Alright..." he hums to himself, the girl peeking up over his shoulder as he trails the tip of a pen down the list.

When he finds your name, he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Come on, kiddo, it's right there," he says to the girl, glancing up at you like he's trying to loop you in on the joke. You smile tightly.

She leans in close to see the name he's pointing at and scoffs.

"Is her name Scribble McScribbleton?" she jokes and her Dad laughs like it's the funniest fucking thing he's ever heard.

"Shut up," he chuckles, noting something beside your name before checking you off his list and playfully hip-checking the girl away.

She's laughing, the sound all trilling and soft as she pops out from behind the desk and starts to make her way back to the kitchen.

"Hey!" her Dad calls after her. She turns back to face him without hesitation. "Go find your sister, please."

She salutes him and then darts off in the other direction, calling for an, "Ellie" as she goes.

"My daughter, Sarah," the man tells you once you're alone, cocking his chin towards where the girl - Sarah - had just disappeared.

"Hm," you nod, fully sweating under your winter coat now, distinctly uncomfortable at all the family comradery. You've never understood how it seems to come so naturally to other people.

"I'm Joel. Joel Miller," he goes on, reaching across the desk to extend a hand out to you. You fumble with your duffle bag as you take his hand in yours and shake, his massive palm engulfing yours, even wrapped in your fluffy mittens.

"Oh, hold on there," he says, hurriedly rounding the desk to take your bag off your hands and hook it over his shoulder.

"Uh, thanks," you mutter, finally slipping your woolly mittens off and unzipping your coat. Your hands are clammy and your mouth feels dry, but with the way Joel's eyes are glimmering in the warm light of the inn, you get the feeling it's not just because of the fire.

"Quick tour," he announces, already turning to lead the way into the room to the left, the one with the long table and the wide window.

"Dining room, obviously," he grins. "Breakfast is from 7-10 every day. Coffee, eggs, cereal, all that kinda thing. Even got oat milk now, if that's your thing."

"Just cow is fine," you tell him. He chuckles.

Properly in the room now, you take it in in all its understated glory. It's clear the space had been an extension from the original structure, the walls here lined with wood panels rather than the stone you could just make out in the living room. There's a small radio on the windowsill, which you now recognize as the source of the Christmas music, the sound slightly scratchy and hollow now that you're hearing it up close.

It strikes you how it all feels less like some stodgy hotel and more like the dining room of a loving family. You swallow hard against the emotion that stirs in you.

"Kitchen's just back there," Joel says, pointing towards the door Sarah had come from earlier, where the smell of cinnamon and ginger is steadily wafting in your direction. "You ever need anythin'; food, water, coffee…just holler for me or one of the girls."

"Great, thank you," you mutter. Then your curiosity gets the better of you. "Are you from the South?"

He smiles as he guides you out of the dining room and back through the front hall.

"S'it that obvious?" he asks, casually placing a hand between your shoulder blades to herd you towards the living room. You're not prepared for the way it makes your stomach flutter.

"I just - I live in Austin. I mean, I grew up here, but I live there now."

That flash of recognition crosses his features again when you tell him you'd grown up here but again, he swiftly reins it in, something more like curious disbelief taking its place.

"Get out," he laughs. "S'where I'm from."

"Oh," you nod, glancing around the quaint little common area, the bright red stockings marked Joel, Sarah, and Ellie that hang above the stone fireplace, the smattering of ornaments dangling from the real pine tree, the various rugs that cover the hardwood. Family photos and vintage photographs of Cooperstown line the stone walls, and towards the back of the cottage, you can just make out the end of a staircase, along with a door leading out to a mudroom marked Staff Only.

"So how the hell'd you end up here?" you find yourself asking, regretting it the minute it slips out. 

When he doesn't answer right away, you backtrack.

"Sorry - I didn't mean - " you stammer. "The inn is beautiful, that's not what I - "

But Joel just laughs, clearly not offended by you putting in your stupid foot in your mouth.

"I just can't imagine choosing to live in Cooperstown when you could live well...literally anywhere else in the world," you confess.

Joel's laughter dies down and then he's looking at you in that way again, all quiet sympathy and understanding. You stare down at your boots.

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.

"Came up here with my brother a while back," he explains. You breathe a sigh of relief. "We loved it so much we brought the girls with us the next summer. We all kinda fell in love after that. Then this place went on the market and we just couldn't say no. Mind you, it was in shambles when we got our hands on it. But Tommy and I fixed it up." He pauses, deep in thought as he remembers. Then he turns to look at you with an affectionate smile, answering your silent question. "S'my brother, Tommy. He's moved on - got a wife and kid out in Wyoming. Just me and the girls now."

You nod, working to keep the conversation away from the past. "They help out around here?"

His smile widens. "Yeah, they're good kids."

You nod, wishing the fondness in his voice didn't make your chest pang with a deep-seated ache.

It twists open into a gaping hole when he speaks his next words.

"Hey, I don't mean to pry or nothin' but when you said your name, I - "

He's blissfully cut off by the door to the mudroom cracking open, bringing with it a gust of cool air and Sarah, accompanied by another girl now, the one you can only assume is Ellie. She's shorter than her sister, though they appear roughly the same age. Her pale cheeks are painted pink with cold and she shakes snow out onto the doormat when she removes her hat to reveal knotted brown locks, dampened with sweat against her forehead.

You note that the two girls don't particularly look alike.

"Found her!" Sarah announces, while they both remove their coats and boots and leave them strewn messily in the mudroom. With the door cracked, you can see a large pile of wood stored there, and what you think must be a chest freezer.

Ellie seals the door shut behind her, locking out the cold and following Sarah to their Dad's side.

"Didn't I tell ya we got check-ins today?" he admonishes Ellie lightly.

"I was just goin' for a walk; don't have a cow, old man," she teases, already helpfully taking your duffle bag from him and slinging it easily over her tiny shoulder. Sarah erupts into a fit of giggles and you're stunned to see Joel take it all in stride, shaking his head with a fond little smirk.

"Well how 'bout you make yourself useful and walk our guest to her room?" he teases right back, mussing up her hair even more with a big hand on the crown of her head which Ellie slinks away from smoothly.

"Okay, okay," she laughs, attempting to smooth out the stray hairs to little effect.

"Room Four," Joel tells her, pulling a key from his pocket and tossing it her way. She catches it with practiced ease.

"Yes, sir," she says with mock obedience.

You all turn towards the kitchen then as a loud beeping noise echoes through the cottage and Sarah throws her hands in the air excitedly.

"My cookies!" she squeals, and in the blink of an eye, she's gone.

"Cookies?" Ellie asks, looking at Joel expectantly.

He hums. "Think she's got gingerbread goin' or something."

"Fuck yeah," Ellie says, the casual curse falling from her lips in a way that feels both completely natural and totally jarring. You can't help but laugh. Joel, on the other hand, gives her a stern look.

"Let's mind our manners, please," he warns her, in a voice that makes it sound like it's not the first time he's had to remind her of that. 

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters absently, waving a hand at him dismissively with a playful smirk. "This way, miss," she says to you, already making her way towards the staircase.

"Thanks again," you murmur awkwardly to Joel as you make your way after Ellie. He nods in response, his smile a little tighter than before, that knowing look back in his eyes.

"'Course," he says, burying his hands in his pockets. "You need anything at all - "

"I'll holler," you finish for him, repeating his words from earlier with a friendly smile.

-

The old, wooden floor creaks below your feet and Ellie hasn't stopped talking for a second.

"Room Four is the best," she's telling you as she leads you down the narrow hallway, past all the other rooms and a few more doors marked Staff Only. "You get the best view, if you like looking at the brush, I guess. Sometimes there's an owl that hangs out on one of the trees but I haven't seen him yet this winter. You'll definitely see a deer though. Do they have deer in Texas? I can't remember. Joel would know."

Joel, you note. She calls him Joel.

"I'm pretty sure they have deer in Texas," you grin.

She shrugs, reaching the last door on the left, the one adorned with a large, white 4.

"Ah, well," she says as she unlocks it and leads the way inside, still chattering away. "There's also the turkeys, they're kinda funny. And Sarah says she saw a bear once but that's bullshit."

She plants your duffle bag down onto the hardwood and spreads her arms wide.

"Here you go," she grins. 

It's cozy, a corner room so there are actually two windows, one that faces the forest beside the cabin and another that looks out onto the back lawn. The snow-covered grass is bordered by even thicker woods, nearly impossible to see through, especially as the already grey sky above begins to darken, evening rapidly closing in.

The room itself consists of a queen sized bed, made up with quilts and a superfluous amount of pillows beneath an intricately-whittled wooden headboard. Warm light bathes the space from the lamp on the nightstand, bringing into view the embroidered wall art and the large multi-coloured accent rug under the foot of the bed.

"Thank you," you tell her.

"Shared bathroom's just across the hall, breakfast's at seven, and uh....I think that's it," she concludes, though she quickly corrects herself when she remembers another detail. "Unless - sorry, shit - do you have any other questions?"

"I'm good."

"Cool," she nods, handing you the key and making her way back towards the door. You inch further into the room, twiddling the key marked 4 in your fingers.

"Oh, one other thing," Ellie calls from behind you. You twist around to find her halfway out the door. "Um, cell service is kinda shitty here, so if you need to make a call or something, just come to the front desk."

Great.

"Thanks."

She gives you one last little nod and a smile, and finally ducks out of the room.

-

It's freezing.

Not at all wanting to trek down to the front desk to call your mother, you'd opted for a text instead, just a note to let her know you'd made it to town and were safe at the inn. It had taken forever but eventually it had sent, and with little else to do, you'd changed into your sweats and curled up into bed, exhaustion quickly catching up with you after your long day of travel.

You'd slept barely an hour before you'd been awoken by the sound of your own teeth chattering, your toes numb even beneath the two quilts you'd burrowed yourself under. 

A glance at your phone tells you it's just after 8 p.m. and that the absence of daylight has apparently caused the temperature outside to drop; it’s now well below freezing. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you now see that it's snowing, the flakes all fat and fluffy where they stick to your window and coat the pines outside.

There's no fucking way you're going to be able to sleep like this.

You pad out of bed, on a mission to find more blankets if it kills you. One of those doors marked Staff Only had to have been a linen closet, surely.

Only when you creep out into the dimly lit hallway, you immediately come face to face with Joel. More accurately, you walk right into him, colliding with his solid chest and stumbling back until two of his hands on your shoulders steady you.

"Whoa, careful now," he hums.

He's still clad in his green flannel, only now paired with a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a thick pair of wool socks.

"Shit, sorry," you mumble, shaking your head as you try to wake up. Joel drops his hands.

"S'alright. You need somethin'?"

"Um." You point a thumb back over your shoulder towards your room, your bravado fading in an instant. You suddenly feel distinctly guilty for having to voice your discomfort. You've never exactly been good at asking for help. "It's just kinda cold in my room. I was looking for blankets if you have any but, I'm sure I'll be fine, it's not - "

"I got blankets," he cuts you off with a smile and if you didn't know any better you'd think he looks a little endeared.

"Oh - great."

"C'mon," he says, beckoning for you to follow him down the hall. Sure enough, he leads you to one of the Staff Only rooms, flinging it open to reveal shelves of sheets and towels and indeed, several blankets.

"How many you need?" he asks, already fishing out two and stacking them in his arms.

"Two is probably fine."

He grabs a third anyway. You hold your hands out for them but he keeps them in his grasp as he walks you back down the hall to your room.

"Sorry 'bout the cold," he adds. "Heat's actin' up. I'm gonna take a look at it tomorrow. What with this storm comin' and all..."

"Storm?"

"Some big winter storm comin' through tomorrow. I think they're oversellin' it," he smirks.

"I hope so." As if things weren't already shitty enough. 

"Don't you go worryin' your pretty little head, darlin'. You're in good hands here."

Your heartbeat inexplicably stutters at that, the way his drawl curls around the pet name and the casual use of the word pretty. You freeze up as the two of you reach your door, Joel at last handing out the pile of blankets in his arms.

"By the way," he murmurs, his voice dropping like he's telling you a secret. He leans a little closer and your breath hitches in response. "You don't gotta go sneakin' around. F'you need somethin' - don't matter the time - you just knock on my door. I'm right down the hall. Okay?"

You nod back at him somewhat dazedly. "Okay."

He pulls away, flashing you that disarming smile again and crossing the hall towards the bathroom.

"See ya at breakfast," he says.

"See you at breakfast," you reply but he's already closing the bathroom door behind him, leaving you alone in the hallway.

You fumble your way back into your room, fan the blankets out onto your mattress one at a time before curling back into bed with just one thought on your mind:

The bed and breakfast owner is really kind of handsome.

dec. 24 - the storm

You unceremoniously jolt awake at the sound of whistling wind kissing at your windows.

Under layers of woolly insulation, your body is warm and sticky with sweat. But the second you free your arms from your mountain of blankets, you're hit by a stinging kind of cold, pricking at your skin and making you shiver violently.

The forest outside your windows is almost completely invisible, cloaked by a thick fog of blowing snow. You wrap your blankets tightly around yourself, all the way up to your neck, and roll over to check your phone. You must have beaten your alarm.

You tap the screen once, twice, a third time, finally frowning confusedly when it doesn't immediately come to life. Then you realize - it's off. But you'd had it charging all night. What the fuck?

You press down on the power button but are granted only the low battery symbol in return. You check the cord and it's definitely plugged in. Unless...

You reach one arm free from your cocoon of warmth to flip the switch on the lamp on the nightstand and -

Nothing. No power.

Goddamnit.

With a heavy sigh, you steel yourself and throw the blankets off, finally rising up out of bed. Even the rug on your bare feet is cold. The hardwood is worse. Your entire body shakes as you layer up in three pairs of socks and hurriedly slip into the one sweater you'd packed. It's still not good enough. As silly as it feels, you decide to add your winter coat for good measure before ducking out into the hallway.

In the bathroom, you brush your teeth and attempt to warm your hands under the faucet but it's no use; the water stays cold no matter how long you run it.

It occurs to you then that you don't even know what time it is. What if you've missed breakfast?

"Shit," you curse under your breath, stuffing your freezing hands into the pockets of your coat and rushing downstairs.

It gets warmer and warmer the closer you get to the living room, the smell of burning wood tipping you off to the fire there. Unconsciously, you drift closer, allowing the warmth to seep into your bones and bring your frozen fingers back to life.

There are no guests on any of the couches, you note, no teenage girls or handsome bed and breakfast owners.

And as much as you'd like to stay right here in the glow of the fire, your empty stomach is screaming at you to find some food, and fast.

The sound of laughter has you whirling towards the dining room and you breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe you haven't missed breakfast after all.

Only when you reach the threshold to the dining room, you find there are no guests here either. Just Joel and Ellie, sitting beside each other at the table with playing cards in their hands, and Sarah, jotting idly in a notebook across from them. They're all dressed in sweaters and woolen hats.

"Read 'em and weep, old man," Ellie grins, slapping her cards down onto the table with triumphant relish. "Full house."

Joel raises his eyebrows and nods, his expression unreadable as he carefully assesses her hand, and then his own.

"Hey, Sarah," he says to the other girl.

"What's up?"

She looks up from her notebook and Joel cocks his chin, beckoning her to come around the table and join him. She smirks, flitting to his side to peer over his shoulder and peek at the cards he's displaying for her.

"What do you think?" he asks her.

Sarah considers his hand for a moment, eventually pursing her lips and shaking her head sympathetically at Ellie.

"Aw, what?" Ellie groans. "No fuckin' way!"

"Sorry, kiddo," Joel shrugs, fanning out his cards beside hers. "Four-of-a-kind."

Ellie throws her head back in frustration while Sarah laughs hysterically, turning to retake her place on the other side of the table when at last she notices you, wrapped in your winter coat, curiously watching the entire ordeal from your place in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh! Morning!" Sarah greets you, her brows furrowing when she notes your getup. "Uh...Dad?"

He twists in his chair to face you, his eyes widening at you wrapped up in your coat before his expression softens into a smile.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," he chuckles, rising to meet you in the entryway and walk you into the dining room with an arm around your shoulders.

He pulls out a chair for you and you uncertainly take a seat.

"Sorry - my alarm didn't go off. Is the power out?"

"'Fraid so," Joel says, rummaging in a cabinet behind him and setting a plate and utensils out on the table before you. "We got the gas goin' at least, so I can get some breakfast goin' for ya."

"Oh, I didn't miss it?" you ask up at him. He smirks.

"Oh, no, you missed it," he admits. At that, Sarah and Ellie snigger but Joel easily silences them with a look. "S'just after 11:30."

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Embarrassment washes over you - how had you overslept so much? "You don't have to make me anything, it's my own fault - "

"S'okay, darlin'," Joel assures you, placing a comforting hand on your upper back. "We're all holed up here till this storm passes anyway. You want some coffee?"

"Um, sure, okay." 

He nods Ellie and she rises from the table without question, darting to the kitchen in the blink of an eye.

"Sarah, can you see if we still got some fruit?"

"Mhm," she replies easily, closing her notebook and following Ellie into the kitchen.

It strikes you how happy and willing the girls are to help him out, and not in a way that makes it seem like they're afraid of him. It's like they genuinely want to do right by him. You can't begin to understand how he's managed to cultivate that kind of relationship with them; it's completely foreign to you.

"How do you like your eggs?" Joel asks you, backing away towards the kitchen after the girls. "I gotta use 'em up before they go bad."

"Um, scrambled is fine but - Joel, what do you mean we're holed up here till the storm passes?"

He stops in his tracks, staring back at you in confusion like the answer should be painfully obvious. "I mean it's a mess out there, darlin'. Got about three feet of snow last night."

Oh, god.

You turn towards the window for a better look and now you see it - thick layers of snow blanketing the earth and the road and the hood of your car. Ice and snow pellet the window ceaselessly, and the force of the wind outside vibrates violently against the exterior of the cottage.

You also note that your car is now the only one parked out front, alongside the rusted old pick-up you can deduce must belong to Joel.

"Did the other guests leave?" you ask, frowning.

Joel strides back towards the table, and when you turn to face him, you think he looks a bit bashful.

"There was a lull in the storm this mornin' and they got outta here when they had the chance. Most of 'em were here to see family in town for the holidays so..."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Joel must see the worry that's begun to creep across your features because then he sighs and shakes his head, and his bashfulness shifts to look a lot more like guilt.

"I'm sorry, I shoulda woke ya," he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Just - let me get you some breakfast and maybe this'll clear up."

He doesn't sound particularly hopeful. But he seems so eager to please that you can't help but give in and accept. You give him a tight-lipped nod and he smiles, excusing himself and disappearing beyond the kitchen door.

The second you're alone, you let your head fall into your hands with a groan. This can't be happening. Your first Christmas back home in years, your first genuine attempt to bridge the gap between you and your mother, to show everyone that you are the bigger person, willing to forgive and make amends and now - what? You're just the daughter who didn't show up, who couldn't even be bothered to call with an explanation. You can practically hear her voice the second she finds out the truth, when she discovers you're stuck just outside of town, in the bed and breakfast you'd willingly chose to stay in -

This never would have happened if you'd just stayed with me instead.

"Um, miss," a small voice calls and you look up at once to find Ellie poking her head out of the kitchen door. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, um," you clear your throat to dislodge the lump there. "Two milk."

"Cool." She shoots you a thumbs up and slips back into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself. There's still a chance the storm will clear. You can still make it for Christmas dinner tonight. Maybe the power will come back and you can at least charge your phone.

Another moment passes and then Sarah and Ellie emerge from the kitchen at the same time, Ellie clutching a steaming mug and Sarah with both her hands behind her back.

Ellie carefully places the mug on the placemat before you while Sarah stands across the table with a mischievous smile.

"Pick a hand," she grins.

You sniff a laugh out through your nose and Sarah's smile widens.

"Um, left?" you say warily, playing along.

"Aha, good choice."

She frees her left hand from behind her back to reveal an orange. 

"What if I hate oranges?" you ask, but you're already reaching out to take it from her outstretched hand.

"That is unfortunate but we have a strict no take-backs rule around here."

You nod with put-on solemnity. "Of course. I wouldn't want to go breaking any rules."

It elicits a chorus of laughter from both Sarah and Ellie and something warms in you at the sound. You can't help but smile in response.

"Do you need anything else?" Ellie asks from beside you, and her tone lets you know she's hoping the answer is no. You tell her just that, that you're fine for now, and as you'd suspected, she collects the deck of cards off the table and darts into the other room with Sarah in tow.

You set your orange aside for now, much more drawn to the warm mug of coffee that feels like heaven when you take it in your hands. You sip it slowly and let the heat trickle down your throat, let it warm you from the inside out.

A few quiet minutes pass, Ellie and Sarah chatting away in the living room and the wind outside whipping wildly against the glass. It's almost peaceful, watching the storm from inside- if you let yourself forget you're stuck here on Christmas Eve.

"Alright," Joel's voice is suddenly saying, pulling you from your reverie as he comes through the kitchen door with his big hands full. Leaning over you, he sets down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, followed by a small bowl full of various spread packets. With his body so close, you're bombarded by the scent of firewood and pine rolling off him, transfixed by the exposed skin of his arms where he's folded up the sleeves of his cable-knit sweater.

"Scrambled eggs," he says, still leaning in close and pointing with one thick finger at each of the offerings before you. "Bit of local sourdough. And then we got butter, peanut butter, jam, uh...marmalade, I guess."

His delivery wavers on the last one and it makes you both laugh. Marmalade must not be too popular. 

"Thanks," you tell him earnestly, reaching for a butter packet. You expect him to leave you then - go join his girls in the living room - but instead, he pulls up a chair at the head of the table. He grunts as he settles in and stretches his arms up over his head. His sweater rides up his belly a bit, and your eyes widen at the hint of skin that pokes out, soft and faintly hairy.

You shift your focus to toast before he notices.

"Sorry about all this," he says, shaking his head as he drops his arms to place his elbow on the tabletop. "S'bad luck."

"I should've checked the weather," you shrug around a bite of your toast. "It's been so long since I've been up this way. I forgot how bad the winters can get."

"Nah, this is somethin' else, though," Joel posits, glancing out the window and the raging storm. "Been a while since I've seen a storm this bad."

"Figures," you grumble, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. Joel seems to notice, his brow furrowing as he searches your face. You burn under that stare, keeping your own eyes fixed on the plate of food in front of you.

You quickly change the subject.

"They're nice girls," you say, nodding in the direction of the living room, where you can still hear Sarah and Ellie giggling away.

Joel's brows even out and he smiles at that, fondness setting in like it always seems to do when you mention them.

"Yeah, they're alright," he agrees.

You tuck into your eggs, falling into comfortable silence. You see Joel open his mouth like he's about to ask a question - the one you're sure he's been dying to ask since he'd heard your name - but you cut in before he gets the chance.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous or anything but Ellie, she's..."

Your voice trails off, not really sure how to finish the sentence.

"Adopted," Joel fills in for you, clearly unoffended. You nod; you'd thought as much. Not that it matters, of course, but something in you wants to understand their family dynamic. Maybe because of how much it differs from yours. 

You're not really sure what to say to that and you don't want to pry, so you just keep eating and wait for him to tell you more if he wants to.

And he clearly wants to.

"Her parents were old friends of mine," he explains. "We lost 'em when she was real young. She didn't have no one else. It was either I take her in or she ends up in the foster system. And I wasn't gonna let that happen to her."

"Wow," you whisper, genuinely moved and frustratingly envious. Ellie isn't even Joel's daughter by blood and the two of them seem to share a stronger bond than you and your parents ever did.

"Wasn't always easy, raisin' two girl on my own but...if I could do it all again, I would," he smiles, staring off distantly in the direction of the living room with his big arms crossed over his chest.

Christ.

He's too good, you think. Too kind. Too...annoyingly handsome.

You're staring. Until something outside catches your attention.

For the first time since you'd awoken, the films of white outside have cleared, a break in the constant precipitation finally appearing. 

"Oh, shit," you murmur, scarfing down the last of your eggs and hurriedly rising from the table. "I gotta go."

Joel frowns, watching you with concern in his eyes as you quickly shuffle past him.

"Darlin', I don't know if you - "

"It's fine, look, it's clearing up," you insist, gesturing towards the window and the slowly clearing sky.

"For now," he argues. "And the roads - "

"It's Christmas Eve, Joel," you interrupt, your voice oozing finality. "I have to at least try."

He still looks unsure - and maybe a little disappointed - but he doesn't argue it further. Not wanting to waste any time, you race out of the room, flying up the stairs to your bedroom to grab your bag and your boots. You'd been planning to sleep here tonight too but with the weather as bad as it is, you have no idea if your plan to go between your mother's and the inn will even be feasible. You'll just have to cut your time at Miller's Inn shorter than expected. 

You leave your key on the front desk and hurry out of the cabin to your car, ignoring the looks of concern that Sarah and Ellie shoot you as you pass them in the living room.

The wind is still blowing hard, the air bitingly cold against your cheeks. You trudge through the dense, wet snow to your rental car, your hope fading fast when you see the windows coated with ice and the roof buried in snow.

Determined, you wipe at the snow with your arms, desperately attempting to clear it off your windshield. You try not to think about the dense snowbank blocking back tires, how there is absolutely no fucking way you're going to be able to back out of here like this.

You have to at least try.

God, and it's always you who has to try, isn't it? Frustration boils over into wet tears that freeze the minute they spill from your eyes, as you fight with the icy handle of your car door, frozen stuck no matter how hard you pull it. God forbid your mother ever put the effort in - when was the last time she came to visit you? When was the last time she called to talk for more than ten minutes? About something other than herself?

Why is it that everyone else got to shut down when dad died and you had to be the one who kept trying?

You stumble backwards when your fruitless tugging suddenly pries the door open and you fall on your ass, right into a snowpile.

"Fuck!" you curse exasperatedly.

Two hands are on your shoulders then, a gentle voice murmuring, "Hey, hey, you're okay, I got you," before you can even start to hoist yourself back up to standing.

"You okay?" Joel's asking, unwitting tears still pouring from your eyes. "You hurt?"

You wipe away the wetness from your cheeks, putting on a brave face while Joel hooks his arms under your armpits and pulls you upright with impressive strength.

"I'm fine," you insist, pulling yourself free from his grasp. He's still got his arms outstretched like he wants to help you further, his cheeks all pink against the bitter air. He's only in his sweater, his jeans haphazardly tucked into his untied boots.

"Darlin' - "

You ignore him, stubbornly getting into your car and slamming the door shut behind you. You can see him in your periphery, watching you worriedly as you jam the key into the ignition and turn.

All it gets you is a metallic, grinding noise.

"Fuck, come on," you whisper to no one, turning the key again and saying a silent prayer under your breath.

That hollow, clanging sound echoes out for the second time, your car still refusing to start. 

A quiet sob catches in your throat and your head falls forward into the steering wheel. Defeated, you sigh, long and ragged.

A tap on the glass has your head snapping up. It's Joel, of course, peering at you through the ice-coated window.

"Why don't you come back inside, sweetheart?" he suggests, cocking his chin towards the cabin.

He looks so earnest, his brown eyes all soft and full of concern. He really is so handsome. You sigh again and accept your fate, pulling your key from the ignition and letting Joel guide you back into the inn.

-

It's quiet at Miller's Inn. Maybe the quietest it's been since you got here.

Your miserable musing is soundtracked only by the crackling fire and the faint sound of Sarah humming away while she decorates cookies at the kitchen table. You, meanwhile, are curled up on the couch in the living room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace while you try not to stare out the window.

You're not doing a very good job of it, you realize, slung over the back of the couch to get a better view of the scene taking place beyond the frosted window.

Just at the edge of the woods, Joel is chopping wood with Ellie. More accurately, Joel is showing Ellie how to chop. Sure and confident when he wields the axe, Joel demonstrates the swinging motion with practiced ease and breathtaking strength. You watch with wonder as he repeats it, over and over, imagining the soft grunting sounds he's making with each downswing, resisting the urge to bite your lip when his face screws up a bit with the effort.

Perhaps even more affecting is the way he watches Ellie when it's her turn, his gaze intent and protective each time she takes the axe in her little hands. There's something so endearing about the competent manner in which he corrects her grip and adjusts her stance, the approving nod he offers her every time she makes a clean split.

You quickly avert your eyes to the fire when you see them start to make their way back towards the cabin, cradling stacks of chopped wood in their arms.

"How's that fire doin'?" Joel calls to you as he steps inside through the back door and kicks off his snowy boots.

"Uh..." You squint into the fireplace just as a big log in the centre collapses into embers and stifles the burning flame.

"Could use some help," you admit.

Joel grins and gives you a nod, crossing the room with an armful of firewood. He sets it down by the hearth and you try not to stare as he shucks off his brown leather coat and tosses it onto the other couch beside him.

Once again, though, you find it's impossible to look away. Not when he crouches and rolls up the sleeves of his sweater, not when he prods at the dying flame with an iron rod, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he does. Certainly not when he expertly places a few fresh logs onto the embers and purses his plush lips to blow into the coals, the dwindling sparks catching new life as a bright, thriving fire begins to spread.

"You see how I did that, kiddo?" he asks over his shoulder, bringing you right back down to Earth as you finally register Ellie standing behind him, watching him work with rapt attention.

"Add some wood, poke it, blow on it - boom, fire," she shrugs. "Looks easy enough."

Joel rolls his eyes as he hoists himself back up to standing with a hand on his knee, grunting a little in the process.

"You say that now," he grumbles. "But if you ain't careful, you'll singe your damn eyebrows off."

"That would look cool," she argues.

You giggle at that and Joel rounds on you. "Don't you go encouragin' her now," he says.

"What? I think she could pull it off."

"She could!" Sarah yells from the kitchen.

Joel raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief, betrayal written all over his face.

"Here I am tryin' to teach my girls fire safety - "

"Which you've taught us a million-billion times," Ellie interjects.

" - and all I'm gettin' is ganged up on."

You laugh at that, a proper throaty laugh, maybe your first real laugh since you'd arrived. Joel glances over at you at the sound, smiling warmly, his sweet eyes crinkled at the edges like he's genuinely pleased to see you enjoying yourself.

You get momentarily lost in that gaze, the way it lingers a little too long, the corners of his lips dissolving into something more pensive. It makes your cheeks warm, the intensity of his stare hitting you in a rush of fluttering butterflies. Suddenly shy, you pointedly avert your eyes.

Joel clears his throat.

"How 'bout we get some dinner goin'?" he suggests, tearing his gaze away from you at last. You exhale for what feels like the first time in minutes.

"Hell, yes!" Ellie agrees, already taking off towards the kitchen.

You take it as your cue.

"I'll just leave you to it then," you say to Joel, rising up off the couch. He frowns.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Well, I - I don't want to intrude on your Christmas dinner. I'll just go hang out in my room."

His confusion only seems to grow the more you go on.

"But it's freezin' up there," he protests.

"I mean, yeah, but - it's Christmas Eve. I can just...let you be with your family."

"Darlin'."

He places two big, warm hands on your shoulders, his gentle touch somehow placating and exhilarating all at once. His eyes all doleful and inviting, he minutely shakes his head, effectively silencing any further arguments.

"You're part of this family tonight. M'not gonna let you spend Christmas Eve all by yourself. Understood?"

It's all you can do just to nod in response.

"You just stay here by the fire," he goes on, rendering you breathless when he moves one hand to loosely cup the side of your face and trace his thumb across your cheekbone. "And keep warm, alright?"

He does it so casually, letting you go so quickly you almost can't believe what's actually just happened.

"Alright," you agree as though you could possibly say anything else at the moment.

He smiles. "Good. I'll take care of ya, alright? No one's gettin' frostbite or goin' hungry under my roof."

"Thank you," you tell him, and there's an unexpected reverence that coats your words, one you hadn't intended.

You realize you can't remember the last time someone took care of you.

-

As afternoon fades into evening, the storm returns full swing.

Fresh snow begins to fall, squalls of white licking at the window as darkness overtakes the sky outside. You gaze out into the cold and try not to think about your mother's disappointment, all the snide remarks she'll make to the rest of your family when you don't show up tonight, bailing on Christmas dinner with no explanation.

The smell of salt and herbs saturates the cabin and you let the promise of a home-cooked meal distract you. Sarah brings you cookies and lights candles all around you, muttering to you how, "The tree looks kind of sad without all the lights."

But the tinsel there glistens in the glow of the fire, sparkling against all the mismatched ornaments you can only assume were crafted by much younger Sarahs and Ellies. The sight of them makes your heart swell in an unfamiliar way and you think, actually, it might be the most beautiful tree you've ever seen in your whole, entire life.

You eat dinner around a candlelit dining room table, situated between Joel and Sarah, almost like you belong there. Wrapped in the sweater Joel'd loaned you, feasting on the meal he'd cooked up with his daughters, you'd be forgiven for starting to believe it. Outside, the storm rages on, but in here, it is warm - safe.

Joel makes a toast to family and his girls roll their eyes but clink their glasses with his all the same. You do too, internally correcting the sentiment as a toast to this family, this family that seems so happy and comfortable and fond of one another, this family that had so generously let you in on their evening when they could have just as easily turned you away. To Joel, who keeps peeking over at you from the corner of his eye, who smiles softly at you and encourages you to eat seconds, who - every so often - places his massive hand on your upper back soothingly and rubs, a gesture that feels so naturally comforting you're not even sure he's doing it consciously.

Of course, you don't miss the way Sarah and Ellie exchange mischievous little glances across the table each time he touches you. Your skin burns every time you catch them.

Clean-up consists of depositing your dirty dishes into the kitchen sink to become tomorrow's problem, the four of you eventually finding your way back into the living room to cozy up around the fire.

The girls are quick to take the bigger couch, eyeing you and Joel expectantly as you shyly sit side by side on the loveseat, your knees just barely brushing.

Something sparks there, at the place your bodies touch, torrid as the crackling fire.

"I have an idea," Ellie says, sitting up excitedly.

Joel leans back into the couch, fanning his palm out over his full belly and spreading his knees a little wider so his thigh bumps up against yours in the process. "What's'at?" he asks.

"Why don't you play us all a song?" she grins, but she's looking at you.

At that, Joel...blushes? He huffs out a laugh that almost sounds nervous, maybe a little embarrassed.

"Seriously?"

"Come on, it's not like we have anything better to do," Sarah adds.

"Oh, well, now I really want to," he retorts sardonically.

"You know what I mean."

"Please, pops?" Ellie softly pleads. "I'll sing with you."

Joel looks between the two of them doubtfully, but ultimately caves, sighing with a shake of his head as he rises up off the couch to the room behind the front desk.

"Christ..." he's muttering to himself as he disappears from your view.

The girls are sniggering again, watching your confused expression turn to realization as Joel returns with an acoustic guitar in hand.

Oh.

"Can't believe I'm doin' this..." he grumbles as he retakes his place beside you. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as you watch him carefully tune the strings by ear before strumming out a simple chord and nodding to himself.

"What do you wanna hear?" he asks the girls.

"The one with the drunk tank!" Sarah suggests.

Joel laughs and shakes his head. "'Fairytale of New York'?"

"Yeah, that one."

Joel sighs resignedly, sitting up a little straighter in his seat and dancing his fingers along the neck of the guitar. You hold your breath as you wait to hear him begin, but before he does, he looks up at Ellie with raised eyebrows.

"You'll sing with me?" he asks her.

She mirrors him, straightening her spine and giving him an encouraging nod.

There's a beat, as Joel once again appears to steady himself, his eyes quickly darting over to you, watching him with curious wonder and then - he starts to play.

It begins with a stirring introduction as his thick fingers press expertly into the strings, already gorgeous enough to make your heart pang. Then he opens his mouth.

It was Christmas Eve, babe...

You practically feel your jaw hit the floor as the dulcet tone of his singing voice rings out through the cabin. Rich and low with just a hint of rasp, he carries the melancholic opening verse beautifully, with all the comfort and familiarity of someone who's sung these words hundreds of times before.

It's like he disappears inside himself as he sings, his eyes slipping shut almost of their own volition. You're instantly transfixed, your gaze flitting between his lips and his fingers, the shadows cast onto his cheeks by his eyelashes, the relaxed set of his features even as his voice effortlessly moulds around the winding melody.

It's so earnest and raw, you're shocked to feel a stream of salt trickle down your cheek when he sings,

I've got a feeling

This year's for me and you

It's only when his eyes snap open and he nods over at Ellie, counting her in as he concludes his verse, that you tear your eyes away from him and yank yourself free from your trance.

The atmosphere shifts then as the tempo increases. Joel taps his foot and Sarah claps along as Ellie's lilting voice melds seamlessly with her father's. It's all smiles and laughter then, for them and for you, as you allow yourself to join in on their fun - even if it still feels sort of wrong. You clap your hands in time with the song and for the first time, you feel less like an audience to their joy and more like a part of it. That feeling only lingers when his duet with Ellie ends and Joel artfully shifts into a chorus of "Jingle Bells" that has the four of you singing along in varying shades of pitch.

Your voice blends in with theirs more fittingly than you would have expected, and even you have to admit that right now, it sure feels a lot like you're part of the family.

-

Eventually it comes time for the girls to go to bed, their reluctance evident as they bid you both goodnight - hugs for you and Joel - and trudge upstairs to their room. You pretend you don't see it when they flash a pointed look at their father, then you, a look he returns with a bemused frown and a shake of his head.

The moment they're gone, Joel cocks his eyebrows at you and ducks away to the office behind the front desk, returning with a cloth bag full of wrapped gifts.

"Ho, ho, ho," he chuckles and you smile too, thoroughly endeared as he sets them out beneath the tree; a few for Ellie, a few for Sarah, a grocery bag full of stocking stuffers which he splits evenly among all three hanging socks.

"You're a good dad," you find yourself saying as he finishes up.

Joel grins, appearing genuinely affected before he quickly deflects. "That's Santa to you."

"Okay, Santa," you laugh and Joel shoots you a playful wink before disappearing again to chuck his empty Christmas sack back into his office.

"I'll just wait for this fire to die out," Joel says as he retakes his place beside you. "You're welcome to stay." A brief pause. "I'd like you to stay."

"I'd like that too," you reply truthfully.

Joel grins and the fire dances in his sweet, brown eyes.

"You want a drink?" he asks then.

You smile - alcohol and the holidays; now that sounds more like the Christmas you know.

"What are we having?"

"Well - " Joel rises up off the couch with a soft groan, and you ogle at his back as he goes to rummage in a cupboard under the stairs you hadn't noticed before. "Got this nice bourbon a guest left for me or - "

"That."

He twists to smirk at you over his shoulder. "Good choice."

You can't help but return his smirk as he hurries out of the room to the kitchen and returns a moment later with two crystal glasses. He pours you each a generous, neat drink, candlelight glowing in the amber liquid. He leans into the couch beside you and clinks his glass with yours and once you've both taken a long, warming pull, he sighs and stretches an arm out behind you, opening his broad body to yours.

Maybe it's the drink - or maybe it's the way your skin has been prickling from your proximity to Joel all night - but now you're finally alone, you decide to test the waters.

"Why do I feel like you're putting the moves on me?" you tease him, keeping your tone light even though you'd really, really like for him to be putting the moves on you.

"Shit," he laughs, but he doesn't move his arm. "Would you hate if I was?"

"Not at all," you assure him, sipping at more liquid courage while your heart rate increases tenfold. "Please, continue with any and all moves."

He laughs at that. "Let me work up to the next one."

"Aright," you grin, holding up your glass for another cheers. "I will patiently await your next move."

Then you both laugh, eventually falling into comfortable silence backdropped by the raging storm outside and the dwindling fire before you.

"Thank you, by the way," you say after a moment. "For all of this. You've been more generous than I deserve."

Joel tuts. "Don't mention it, darlin'. It's Christmas. Season of givin'."

While he speaks, the arm he has behind you moves and his hand comes down on your thigh, his thumb tracing absent circles over your knee. Tingles shoot up your spine, both at his touch and the double entendre, but you work to stay level.

"Is that your next move?" you ask, glancing down at his fingers spreading wide over your leg.

He chuckles. "How's it workin'?"

"Little cheesy," you admit but your pulse is pounding in your ears as warmth from his palm saturates straight through your leggings and seeps into your skin.

He nods, not bothering to argue it. "That's fair. Can I keep this here?"

He twiddles his fingers around your thigh to punctuate his request and you nod.

Another few moments of quiet sipping pass, charged by his hand taking up your thigh. You lie your head back into the couch and let the warmth of the bourbon drip through your veins, oddly at ease in spite of your circumstances.

"My mom's gonna be so pissed at me," you confess.

Joel frowns. "Pissed?"

You sigh and take another long pull of your drink, more out of necessity now that you're apparently opening up to this man.

"I haven't been home for Christmas in years," you begin. "Honestly, me and my mom barely even talk. But she decided that this year - this year was gonna be the one we spent Christmas together like a family."

You shake your head and down what's left of your drink. Joel doesn't speak, just tops up your glass and waits for you to go on.

"Of course, all that means is that I had to make the trek up here, to this place that makes me...miserable - which she knows. Paid for all of it by myself, by the way. Just so she can look like the big hero who saved Christmas when I come through the door."

You stare into the fire as the admission pours from you but you can feel Joel's eyes boring into your face. His fingers tighten around your thigh and you take a deep breath.

"And then I didn't show," you shrug, the words escaping you in the form of a humourless laugh. "Came all the way up here just to - "

You cut yourself off, not really sure what you'd been about to say next. Just to...what? Spend the night with a loving family? Get cozy on the couch with a handsome bed and breakfast owner? Smile and laugh and sing and feel cared for, for once in your life?

It feels shameful to admit it, but you think part of you might be grateful for the storm after all.

"Anyway," you conclude around another sip of bourbon, the alcohol starting to tickle sweetly at the edges of your brain. "Guess I ruined Christmas."

You tilt your glass towards his with a self-deprecating smirk and Joel clinks it almost reluctantly.

"Well if that's what she thinks, then..." Joel shakes his head like he's searching for the right words. "I'm glad you ended up here with us instead."

Emotion licks at your insides and you smile in spite of yourself. "Me too."

He shifts a bit in his seat to face you full-on. He's smiling too, soft and sweet, as he reaches between your bodies to pick a small piece of fluff off the chest of the sweater you're wearing - his sweater.

The proximity is overwhelming and for a moment it feels like time stops altogether. You watch his eyes as he traces a line down your arm to take your hand in his. You let him turn your palm over in his grasp, feeling the way his calloused thumb catches on your skin when he drags it over the lines in your open hand.

"This alright?" he asks.

"Mhm," you assure him, breathless as his delicate touch lulls you into a state of peace, underscored by a sudden, burning twist of desire.

"Hey, uh..." His brows knit together, his smile fading a bit even as he maintains the steady patterns he's drawing over your palm. "Somethin' I've been wantin' to ask you..."

That look from yesterday is back in his eyes, the sympathetic knowing. But it doesn't scare you now. You've already opened your heart to him more than you've opened it to anyone in years.

You wrap your fingers around his, stifling his motions to grip his hand like a lifeline. 

"Yes, I'm who you think I am," you tell him.

His eyes remain fixed on the place your bodies are connected.

"I remember you," he whispers. It doesn't surprise you. There are no strangers in Cooperstown. "What happened to your old man...Jesus, what you went through."

He shakes his head and takes a long, ragged breath and you're certain he's thinking about the two girls upstairs, safe and warm in their beds. Doing the math in his head like he's realizing they're about the age you were when you watched your own father die in a boating accident.

"It's okay," you say quietly, squeezing his fingers a little tighter. "It was a long time ago."

"I just can't imagine..." he sighs. "And after all that, for your mama to still treat you like that..."

You shrug dismissively, bringing the rim of your glass up to your lips. "Yeah, well, we all process that shit differently, I guess."

It comes out sounding more bitter than you mean it to and you sip your drink to dull the pang of deep-seated anger in your guts.

Joel just shakes his head again, stealing your breath when he lifts your conjoined hands up to his mouth and lightly kisses the back of your knuckles. There's something so reassuring about the gesture, something so genuine in the way he whispers, "I'm sorry," into your skin.

But something else is clawing its way up your neck, something screaming at you to steer this conversation away from dead parents so you can keep feeling his lips on your skin.

"Is that your next move?" you ask him, your voice shaking just the tiniest bit as his mouth hovers hotly over your hand.

He grins against you. "Why? S'it workin'?"

You take a deep breath, and then you take a chance.

"You could...kiss me somewhere else," you suggest.

His eyes flash up to meet yours from beneath his long, dark lashes, the same thing burning bright in your core reflected back at you in his gaze. You watch with bated breath as he slowly lets your hand fall, collecting your glass and placing it on the coffee table along with his own.

He moves at a careful pace as he turns back to face you, his eyes trained on your already parted lips. His tan skin glows in the orange firelight and you want to taste him.

Unconsciously, you lean in closer as he takes your face in both his hands, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones as his gaze darts from your lips to your eyes, searching.

"Yeah?" he checks in, like he's asking permission.

"Yeah," you nod, eagerness bordering on desperation as he finally closes the space between you to press his lips over yours.

You can't remember the last time someone kissed you like Joel does. Soft and patient, his chapped lips fit perfectly against yours like puzzle pieces. You let him take the lead, let his tongue pour into your mouth and sigh when it does. Bourbon lingers on his tongue, but there's something else there too - a scent and taste that's distinctly Joel, woodsy and warm and male.

Neither of you in any rush, your lips move in a tender dance as your hands loop around his neck and your fingers find purchase in the curls at the back of his neck. A low sound rumbles in his chest in response and ignites a pang of arousal in your core.

And yet...you almost think you'd be content to just keep kissing him forever. One of his massive hands moves to cradle the back of your neck and tilt your head back so he can kiss you deeper and you press your body impossibly closer to his, until you're sure he can feel your heart beating in your chest.

He kisses you until you're breathless and dizzy, finally pulling away to meet your faraway gaze with a sweet little smile.

"How was that?" he asks.

You try to think of a smart response but all your brain can conjure up is, "Good."

"Fire's out," Joel breathes, nodding behind you.

Still entwined in his embrace, you twist to see what he's seeing; the remaining logs burnt away to black, the flue now shrouded in darkness. You shiver, but you don't feel cold.

"I guess that means it's time for bed," you say, refocusing on him, his face only inches from yours.

"C'mon," he hums, unraveling your bodies to help you to your feet. Together, you blow out the candles, sheathing the cabin in near-total darkness. You wait at the foot of the stairs while Joel checks the locks on the front door and closes all the curtains, shielding you from the storm outside for the last time tonight.

He finds you there, and in the black of the night, he guides you up the stairs, sure of his footing in spite of the darkness. He leads you down the hallway, past his room to yours, unlocking it for you with his master key.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispers and your heart falls a bit - you don't want to leave him yet.

"Oh. Goodnight, Joel," you respond reluctantly, reaching out blindly to cradle his face in your hands. Scruff scratches at your palms and you can't help yourself; you crane your neck to kiss him again, quick and chaste. "Merry Christmas."

He hums lowly and presses his lips to your forehead.

"You need somethin', you just knock on my door, okay?"

He pulls back just in time for you to tell him, okay, and then he's turning away, his form lost to the darkness the moment he's out of arm's reach.

Longing overcomes you the moment you close the door behind you.

In spite of everything, Joel had somehow managed to give you the happiest Christmas of your life. Just by opening his home to you, offering you a seat at his family's table, making you feel something close to loved; you're not sure he'll ever know how much it had meant to you.

Warmth emanates from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, curling incessantly in your tummy. It keeps you standing firmly in place, refusing to accept that the night is truly over.

As your eyes adjust to the blackness, something comes into view, something left on your dresser by Sarah or Ellie or Joel - and it shatters what's left of your resolve.

You snatch up the flashlight in a giddy haze and hurry out of your room before you change your mind.

Your feet carry you down the hall to the door marked Owner and then Joel is throwing his door open before you've even had the chance to knock. His eyes rake over you, hungry and curious.

"I need something, Joel," you tell him.

Without a word, he smiles, holding a hand out to you to pull you into his chest.

He's less patient here, in the dimly lit safety of his room, the flashlight falling to the floor as he snakes his arms around your back and crushes his mouth against yours. The moment the door closes behind you, he's crowding you towards his bed as his lips traverse your neck and his hands peel at layers of clothing.

It's all hushed and heady as you let him strip you bare and lay you out beneath him, melting at the way he gazes down at you in wonder, his palms trailing over your skin and leaving traces of heat in their wake, warm enough to combat the whipping winds of cold licking at his windows.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, shaking his head like he can hardly believe it.

"Joel," you softly plead, your fingers clawing at the edges of his sweater. "Let me see you."

He nods, a low growl echoing in his chest as he quickly obeys and lifts away his top layers.

"Oh," you sigh at the sight of him, unconsciously sitting up to run your hands over his belly, dotted with a light smattering of hair leading downward, invitingly soft beneath your touch.

Joel chuckles at your reverence, watching you as you glide your palms up and over his chest while he undoes his jeans and lets them fall away with his boxers.

And his cock might be only the thing perfect enough to draw your gaze away from his belly, thick and hard and right at your eye line. You don't wait - can't wait - just take him in your hand and stroke, peering up at him when he gently cups the side of your face. Something about his soft, lustful stare makes you smile.

His own parted lips twitch up at the corners, and it spurs you on; you lightly pull back his foreskin and sink the tip of his cock between your lips, swirling your tongue around his slit and tasting salt. Joel curses above you and you take him deeper, his musky scent all-encompassing, intoxicating. His hand moves to cradle the back of your head and tangles in your hair just as you begin to bob on him, your eyelids fluttering closed as you sigh around him.

But Joel has other plans. He pulls you off his length with gentle but insistent force, dropping to his knees and pressing you down into the mattress with his hands splayed across your stomach.

"Can I kiss you here?" he murmurs gruffly, spreading your thighs apart to make a home between them, his scruff already dragging across your skin as he nears your wet centre.

"Oh, god, yeah - yes," you nod fervently, breathless just at the offer. Merry fucking Christmas to you.

Joel groans, licking his lips before diving forward to close his mouth around your heat and lap hotly at your core.

He's fucking greedy with it, devouring you like you're his favourite meal in the world, as meticulous and patient as he'd been when he'd kissed your lips by the fire. It doesn't take him long to bring you to the edge, not with the way his tongue easily finds your clit and massages it with such caring intent you swear you feel a tear well in your eye when you come, when firelight burns behind your eyes and Joel holds you flush against his mouth with two arms hooked under your thighs.

It's all a blur after that, Joel repositioning you so he's hovering over you on the bed, hooking one of your legs up over his hip, some exchanged words about protection and not needing it and Joel's grateful groan in response. His skin is soft beneath your fingernails as he sinks inside you, your body making space for him with ease, slotting into the warmth of your cunt like he was made to be there.

He fucks you slow and urgent all at once, his whispered ramblings about how perfect and beautiful and good you are lost to the wind outside. Below the cover of his body, his strong arms braced on either side of your head, you feel perfectly protected, shielded from the storm in every way - shielded from anything bad at all - and as he crashes onto his elbows to connect his mouth with yours, you think that maybe this was always where you were supposed to end up this Christmas Eve, that maybe all the stars had aligned to bring you this; Joel grunting softly against your lips, your bodies and breaths becoming one until he's hastily pulling out to come steaks of white across your stomach.

"You okay, sweet girl?" he asks when it ends, when he's finished wiping you clean with an old t-shirt and pulled you into the solid warmth of his embrace.

"Mhm," you smile into his chest, kissing the skin there and committing the taste of him to memory. "Can I stay here with you?"

Joel strokes your hair, tugging his blankets up over your naked bodies before kissing the top of your head.

"'Course, baby," he whispers. "'Course you can."

dec. 25 - the goodbye

You're awoken by the bright light of day and the sound of knocking at Joel's door.

"Wake up!" a voice is yelling from the hallway. "Joel, wake up! It's present time!"

You blink against the daylight and exchange a sleepy smile with Joel, his soft eyes all bleary with sleep and only half-open when he calls back, "Alright, meet ya down there!"

You laugh as your head falls forward into his chest, feeling his lips press into your hair. You linger in the cover of his body and his blankets for perhaps a little too long before you finally roll out of bed.

-

It doesn't feel strange to be here anymore, sipping coffee around the Millers' fireplace, slotting into their Christmas morning as if it were yours too. You rejoice right along with the girls when they open their presents, soften when the two of them surprise Joel with a gift of their own - a songbook full of Hank Williams songs and a framed photo of Joel and his brother from when they were kids.

The power returns and Ellie calls it a Christmas miracle, the lights on the tree coming to life as the electric heaters whir all around. The storm has passed, and reality is quickly settling in, that as much as you'd like to stay, you have a flight to catch tonight and a family of your own you should make one last attempt to see before you leave New York.

Joel's hand on your knee beneath the dining room table as you share your last breakfast together only makes it harder to imagine leaving. 

But leave, you must.

The sky outside has cleared to blue, the snow having finally stopped falling some time in the night. Sarah and Ellie shovel away heaps of snow and with some careful coaxing from Joel, you're finally able to start your car.

You never could have imagined when you'd pulled into this place two days ago what a lasting impact it would have on your heart. You'd been dreading coming here, and now you can hardly stand to go.

"Thank you," you say to the Millers, your temporary family, who'd given you so much in so little time and asked for little in return. "For everything."

"Come back soon," Sarah pleads, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. Ellie joins it, pressing herself into your side and muttering a simple, "Merry Christmas."

Joel watches on till the girls untangle themselves from you to glance between you and their dad.

"We'll just, uh, leave you guys alone for a sec," Sarah says, making Ellie giggle as the two of them hurriedly make their way back into the cabin.

Alone in the driveway, Joel saunters closer to you with a small half-smile.

"Little matchmakers, huh?" you joke.

Joel shakes his head, but his smile widens. "Yeah, they like to think so."

"With them on your side plus those moves of yours..." You whistle softly. "Good luck to the next helpless young woman who gets snowed in here."

He laughs. "I don't exactly make a habit of this kinda thing, sweetheart."

"So what, I'm just that special?"

You mean it like a joke but Joel's smile fades, his tone deadly serious when he says,

"You are."

You swallow hard against the sudden lump in your throat, overcome with emotion as you throw your arms around his middle to bury your face into his chest. You breathe in the scent of his leather jacket while his own arms encircle you and squeeze.

"What'll you do now?" he asks when he pulls back to hold you by the shoulders.

You take a deep breath, a sigh that turns to vapour between your bodies.

"I'm gonna go spend what's left of this Christmas with my mom," you decide. "And I'm gonna tell her I'm sorry. Then I'm gonna get on a plane, and I'm gonna go home."

Joel smiles, something like pride in his eyes as he leans forward to press his lips to your forehead.

"You're always welcome here," he says.

"Thank you," you sigh. "Thank you, Joel."

He finally lets you go, his hand trailing down your arm as you turn away. You look over your shoulder with one hand on your car door, the two of you exchanging one last fleeting smile.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he says.

"Merry Christmas, Joel."

-

Guided by muscle memory and sheer will, you drive towards your mother's house, your nerves mounting with each passing mile. Your dread reaches a fever pitch when you pull into the driveway and your mother comes bursting through the front door, her face all screwed up with some emotion you can't place.

You take a deep breath and prepare to face the music, bracing yourself for the wrath as you reluctantly climb out of your car and meet your mom halfway through the driveway.

"Mom, I'm sorry - " you begin but you're cut off when she throws her arms around you in a suffocating hug and it's only then you realize she's crying, wet sobs catching on your jacket as she all but squeezes the life out of you.

"Oh, sweetie," she cries and she doesn't sound angry at all. Not snide or cruel or cutting. Over her shoulder, you can see the rest of your family gathering on the front porch, varying shades of relief on their faces.

"Mom - " you mutter confusedly, too stunned to even hug her back. "It's okay, mom, I'm okay."

She releases you at last, patting at your arms and your shoulders and your head like she's checking you to be sure. You frown at her tear-streaked face, not finding any trace of malice there.

"Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're here," she says hoarsely and your heart swells at how much it sounds like she means it. "We were so worried."

"You were?"

Fresh tears well in her eyes, another ragged sob getting stuck in her throat.

"The storm was all over the news - I thought - " She shakes her head stubbornly trying to dispel whatever horrible scenario she'd imagined you in. "I'm just so relieved you're safe."

"Oh," you mutter. "I thought...I thought you'd be mad."

The suggestion seems to genuinely pain her, more hot tears pouring over her cheeks as she cups your face between her hands.

"I'm so sorry," she croaks.

You're not sure either of you know what for exactly, but you let the words wash over you all the same.

"It's okay, mom," you assure her, and least for now, you choose to let it be true.

"Can you stay? For a little while?"

"Yeah, mom. I can stay."

And you do, spending your final few hours in Cooperstown in your childhood home, allowing yourself to feel at peace there. Surrounded by your blood family, you carry with you the memory of the Millers in your heart, all their unconditional love for each other and the unwavering kindness they'd shown you when you'd needed it most.

You think, probably, you'll carry them with you forever.

[punkshort]

'somewhere to run' masterlist

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Series Summary: You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, angst, slow burn, smut (18+ MDNI), domestic violence (mostly just talked about or implied, nothing too descriptive, i will put a big warning on those chapters), implied SA (nothing descriptive), jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol use, drug use (not by Joel or reader), technical infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter but these are the biggies

Status: complete

1: a fresh start

2: book club

3: the statement

4: the carnival

5: first date

6: the confession

7: break the chain

8: restrained

9: three lies

10: austin

11: austin pt. 2

12: the trial pt. 1

13: the trial pt. 2

Epilogue

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:

Joel's Morning Routine

Police Station Layout

Love Languages

Joel's Likes & Dislikes

[iicarused]

##let us adore you

jeff the killer x reader / eyeless jack x reader / ticci toby x reader / UNEDITED

synopsis: general headcanons in which how you met them

beware: DARK THEMES / yandere traits, stalking, implied manipulation, mentions of murder &&* gore //: if there is any that i missed, please let me know !

envelope from the author: masky, hoodie, and kate chaser will be pt 2 of this:)

JEFF THE KILLER

he met you at a convenience store, how funny. this man planned on killing the cashier, take the cash and leave a meal for his cannibal friend out back, then hop to the next town over. yet, you walked through the aisles of the store at the dark of the night. do you know what kind of creeps are out here at this hour?

he waited for you to leave before he got the job done. you should feel relieved, you should feel like the most luckiest person in the world and it’s because he spared you.

“no, i’m staying back.” he would tell his eyeless friend. “it’s my business to know and for you to fuck off,” he’d argue. “i have a… dilemma.” jeff confessed. for someone he only caught a glimpse of, for a voice he only heard a faint whisper from, he didn’t know whether to stay just for you or to leave while he can.

you were a plague in his mind, because he searched for you. it took three days at most to finally find the dorms you stayed in, and another three to know your roommates schedule. everyone in the area was shaken from the murder, everything including you. but why?

he could not understand why you would lock your windows and double check if the door was locked. both of you lived in a secured building where security littered the grounds and constantly checked ID. jeff would know, he stole a carbon copy of himself (in terms of dressing style) just to make sure of your safety on campus.

“hey, watch it!” jeff barked at the random who sped by you. he fixed his mask and came to your aid, a gloved hand coming over yours to help you up from the grass.

“oh, they’re probably just late to class,” you breathed. “it’s fine, but thank you.”

through the thin lens of his sunglasses, jeff drank in your appearance. “they could’ve bumped you on to the curb side — it really ain’t, sweetheart.” you smell great by the way.

“but they didn’t.” you finally looked at him and smiled. “are you a med student?”

you’re so sweet. so pure, and he wanted to corrupt that. he wanted to see those pretty doe eyes flutter up at him like that again, for the sweetness behind your gaze was enough for him to melt. he wants you, no, he needs you.

EYELESS JACK

you were a curious one, a little too curious in this scenario. a detective in a case of which you were to figure out why bodies were missing organs — or why people were waking up with soreness to their abdomen to only find a stitched up wound.

you took this case as an eager detective who wanted to solve the biggest mystery of north america — but you felt as if you just signed your life away. in the next eight victims that fell to their demise, you made notes of when and where it occurred. it would not be until a night after talking with the sheriff and little too much rum, you found something.

to your horror, the first letter of every street spelled something. two words that nearly sent you running if it weren’t for something stopping you from leaving

“found you.” his voice was a gentle whisper, and almost incoherent if it weren’t for the dead silence in the room. you dared not turn but you felt if you didn’t, it would come closer.

the pistol is on your desk and you’re ready to make a ruckus for anyone on the street to hear. “what? was this just some silly little game for you to show me you could spell?” there were only two regrets you had in your entire life.

the first regret was that you wished you never lied to your mother of who broke the plate that was on the floor. the second regret was turning around and facing a being that was too intricate for you to understand.

“i like playing with my food.” he replied before lunging at you.

you made it out alive — but at the cost of remembering how those sockets were nothing but a void. the liquid that cried on to your face when he was on top of you, and that second, you took your pen and stabbed his side. — but that encounter made you more determined than before

this case turned into a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you know who is cat or who is the mouse. chasing each other became a source of entertainment, and conversations ensued between physical fights

he never intended on killing you, oh no. you were too… fun. the chatting, the hunting each other, the thrill of it all made him go crazy. with time, maybe he can finally sink his teeth into your skin without the murder aspect. he just wants to taste you.

TICCI TOBY

your name appeared on the file of people to “take care of.” why? he doesn’t know and quite frankly, he cannot care. you were just another name on the list that needed to be gone.

he would not lie that it took him ages to find you. the town you were supposedly at was a total flunk, and when he told the boss, he was told to figure it out. at this rate, he wanted you gone for the sake of his own sanity. yet, after a month and hopping two towns, he finally found you.

everything he had on file sprouted nothing but lies because you were a doll, quiet literally if he fixated on your skin. he watched the way you moved and the way you made it seem effortless to walk on two feet. he often tripped over his when gawking over you. your scent is just how he imagined it when he peered over your sleeping form.

you made him forget why he was in search of you in the first place. toby fantasized a lot about you: your curves, your voice, your walk, your life. he often daydreamed of it when watching from afar, especially when you went through mundane tasks such as grocery shopping. the only time he remembered why he was told to end you was when he questioned why you were such a threat.

turns out you were friends of a friend who was a foe to his boss — the eyeless man. he made it no secret when in turn he went to find jack, but he didn’t expect to meet you so soon! oh, this is way too soon, how does he look? is it okay, this setting isn’t the right place, i mean, you were supposed to be

“toby? just toby? that isn’t quiet threatening for a man like that, isn’t it?” you werent speaking towards him, but instead asking jack who snorted in return.

you were a prize on the shelf, and toby wanted to keep you behind glass doors. “listen — pal, friend — how about we make a deal.”

while jack couldn’t see it, your gaze was locked with toby’s the entire time. there was something behind them, something that you couldn’t quite place. you weren’t sure whether if it was a good or bad thing considering the work you found yourself in.

“i give you a useful warning from a boss, and i... tag a long sometimes.”

[aconitewolfsbane]

DPxDC prompt/story idea for anyone to use

We've seen a lot of 'Danny is the twin/older brother/clone of Damian/insert other batfam member' fics.

But...

What if it was Sam?

Talia's first attempt at creating Ra's heir was clearly going to be a girl. She knew that would be unsatisfactory for him, and he'd likely just order the baby's death.

So Talia hid the girl. She put her where ra's would never think to look for her:

with an annoyingly daft rich couple from a small town in the middle of nowhere that she met on a business trip.

Her only orders for the insipid pair was to keep the girl away from Gotham, as she was concerned that Bruce would find out and that would lead to Ra's finding out about Talia's small betrayal.

Talia returned to the League, lied to Ra's about the embryo failing. She took a year off to appear to rework the embryos collected to pick out a guaranteed male, and finally started a new one in the artificial womb, and eventually Damian was born.

Sam thought that her parents insistence on not taking her to Gotham for galas was because they were terrified she'd become goth, so... she did exactly that. The Manson's returned from Gotham to discover Sam burnt all the frilly pink dresses she had up until that point.

"What? I had adult supervision."

*points to Grandma Ida, sitting with a bag of marshmellows and a smirk*

Whether Grandma Ida noticed Sam's similarities to young Brucie Wayne, or the Fenton's did a standard contamination test, noticed the DNA and found that the only Manson willing to listen was Ida is up to the writer.

The portal accident happens, blahblahblah. We know the drill by now.

A reveal gone bad, the Fenton's being good parents, the GIW on the hunt, any combination of the above.

The kids are either rushed away by Ida or the Fentons with orders to go to Gotham, to Wayne Manor, or as usual, the kids just go there because it's the only place two half-ghosts, and three liminals can hide their ectosignatures.

Chaos happens, as it only can in a DP x Dc fic, and the batfam find themselves staring at the Batcomputer as the DNA results flash onto the screen, revealing that the young woman they thought was connected to Poison Ivy was actually...

"Dammit Bruce, are you just unable to keep it in your pants for even a second?!"

"Hnnn..."

"Wait, guys..." clicks to the maternal results.

"... Holy shit."

"... Mother?"

"Talia fucking hid another one?!"

"Langauge, Miss Steph. Master Dick."

"... New sister?"

[taylor-titmouse]

The Masson Circle Collection (18+)

OUT NOW!

Even killers can fall in love. Set against a backdrop of early 70s Europe, The Masson Circle is a collection of illustrated queer romance novellas between assassins, thieves, and the criminal mastermind at the middle of them all. Originally released between 2020 and 2021, these three stories have been remastered with revised text, 30 brand new illustrations, and an exclusive bonus story. This collection is roughly 69k words.

All three stories contain some violence, references to alcohol, and explicit sexual content and images. They are intended for adult audiences only. Comes in DRM-free PDF and EPUB formats, and includes an image gallery ZIP containing all book illustrations, plus all the sketchbook content included in the original releases.

Daffodils

Retired assassin Ezra Platt loves his wife, Tessa, more than anything else in the world. For the first time in six years, the two are both in town for their anniversary, which means it has to be made special. What do you get the woman who is your everything, especially when she's an assassin herself? Perhaps the answer lies in Ezra's memories of meeting her...

18.2k words. Features fem dom, face sitting, and pegging.

Carnations

The Duplessis is hosting its biannual masked bacchanal, and art forger and thief Leonard Lacroix has been hired to empty its safe. Infiltrating the classy gentlemen's club is easy, but when he runs into an old flame, getting out with all he wants is not. 

17.4k words. Features gay sex in a private office. Contains the use of a homophobic slur.

Laurels

French couturier Mathieu Masson is a man with one foot in the underworld, the one to call for anything from a killing to a Caravaggio. But when a new client demands what he can't give, he has only his bodyguard, Jean Martin, to lean on. 

16k words. Features a trans male lead and tender lovemaking. Contains some queerphobia, and references to child sex abuse in a character's past.

This collection also includes Narcissus, Dianthus, and Sweet Bay, each an extra short story connected to their corresponding book, from the perspective of the love interest. Narcissus explores Tessa's memory of her and Ezra's first night together. Dianthus recalls the time Lionel and Leonard fooled around in a professor's office in college. Sweet Bay takes place just before Laurels' epilogue, as Jean and Mathieu settle into their partnership and open up about themselves. Sweet Bay contains discussion of child sex abuse in a character's past.

Read it today!

[rabbitcruiser]

Santillana del Mar, Spain (No. 3)

The place that today occupies Santillana del Mar was called Planes since the Roman conquest, as attested by a Latin document of the year 980: baseleca Sancta Iuliana locum qui dicitur Planes. Plans could come from the Latin planum (clear place between mountains). From that moment the importance of the religious complex exceeded that of the place, and as a result of the belonging it had with the Asturian kingdom, in 1228 it is called Villa de Sancta Illana ("Illana" in Asturian is "Juliana"). It is believed that the current toponym is a derivation of this, to which it was added from the Sea simply because of its proximity to the Bay of Biscay.​

Thus, the original name of Sancta Illana is united in the form Santayllana in a document of 1326. In another of 1338 it reads Santillana, and in another more than 1390 Sancta Illana, Sanctayllana, Santyllana and Santillana are used indifferently. In another of 1453 there is only the Santillana form.​

​ ​Source: Wikipedia  

[yuujispinkhair]

Brother (Part 2)

When you start dating Yuuji, you don't know that your sweet sunshine boy has an evil twin who wants to have his brother's girl, too.

Part 1 ++ Halloween Masterlist 2023

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) + Yuuji x Reader Genre: Horror, smut Word Count: 6k Warnings: 18+, dark content, consensual sex with Yuuji + noncon with Sukuna. Rough sex, degradation, humiliation, getting called slut, whore, cheater. Forced orgasms, pussy spanking, squirting, cumshots, creampie, kind of forced breeding. Sukuna isn't a nice guy in this story. Sukuna and Yuuji look completely alike. Sukuna doesn't have his tattoos. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

The flashbacks of that night haunt your every thought. The memories of being forced to watch yourself in that dirty bathroom mirror and Sukuna standing behind you with his hands all over your body. His sneer, his mocking laugh. The helplessness you felt. The humiliation of cumming against your will and getting taunted for it.

Sukuna broke you that night. And maybe you would have stayed there on the bathroom floor lying in a puddle of squirt and cum after he was finished with you, waiting for someone to walk in and find you. But there was one thought that kept repeating in your mind over and over again: Yuuji must never find out!

You knew he would blame himself for what his brother had done to you out of jealousy.

And so you scrambled to your feet and hastily cleaned yourself before you stumbled back to the party with a fake smile plastered onto your face. When you spotted Yuuji in the hallway, all your instincts screamed at you to run the other way. He looked too much like his brother.

But you forced yourself to stay and smile as he walked towards you and smiled that big sunshine smile and pulled you into his strong arms.

"Cutie! I was wondering where you went. Did you meet some friends? Oh, why are your clothes wet?"

You forced yourself to lie to him when his gaze trailed over you with a worried expression on his pretty face.

"Oh, I knocked into someone, and she accidentally poured her drink over me. It's ok, baby, don't worry."

You forced yourself to go home with him after the party and sleep in his arms. Arms that felt exactly like the ones that had held you captive.

And since that night, you keep forcing yourself to act like everything is fine. You do it to protect Yuuji from a knowledge that will hurt him.

It's been three days since the party. Three days since you met the evil twin. And the shame and disgust still cling to you.

And the fact that the man who did this to you has the same face as your boyfriend makes this whole thing even more fucked up. Anytime you look at Yuuji, you now also see his brother.

And another thing bothers you: Yuuji lied to you.

You remember your first date very clearly. The typical small talk the two of you exchanged to get to know each other. What are your hobbies? What is your favorite color? Do you have any siblings?

You remember loud and clear that Yuuji said he has no siblings.

You are currently sitting on Yuuji's bed, watching a movie, but all you can do is stare at his side profile, watching him with narrowed eyes. Was it a misunderstanding? You can't stop yourself from blurting out,

"Yuuji? Do you have a brother?"

"Huh?"

Big golden eyes blink at you in surprise, and Yuuji shakes his head,

"I only have my grandpa. Didn't I tell you?"

Your heart is beating too fast. He is doing it again!

"I thought maybe you have a sibling who lives somewhere else....goes to college in another town or something, and you forgot to mention them."

"Oh, I see! But no. I am an only child."

He grins at you, that cute big boyish grin, and stretches, causing his hoodie to ride up and expose some of his firm tan abs before he laughs softly and lunges towards you to wrap you in his strong arms and pull you into one of his bear hugs.

You feel irritation well up in you. Why is he lying to you? Yuuji is such a sweet guy. Always smiling, always helping others, always so sweet and fun to be around. He always seems so genuine. And yet. He is keeping a dark secret from everyone. But why?

Is he worried you will leave him if you find out there is another guy who looks like Yuuji but is a violent and cruel sadist? You blink. Maybe that is it.

It must be hell for Yuuji to have a twin like that. Sukuna said he is the family curse. Now that you think about it, you realize that this is true. He is Yuuji's curse. Anytime Yuuji looks in the mirror, he sees the face of his evil twin. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about Sukuna! No wonder he moved far away from his hometown to attend college here!

But what was Sukuna doing at that party? Did he travel here to visit his brother and then see the two of you at the party? Is he gone again now? Or is he still somewhere near? Is he lurking in the shadows? Is he watching his brother's every move?

You gulp hard. It scares you to think Sukuna might be here, stalking you and Yuuji.

Instinctively, you snuggle closer to your boyfriend, seeking comfort, seeking his protection. And Yuuji reacts to it immediately, cuddling you tightly and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, sighing softly before he tells you how happy he is to have you and how much he loves you. His lips find yours and kiss you sweetly before they wander down your body, kissing, licking oh so tenderly, the complete opposite of his brother's touch.

Your anger at him has dissipated. Yuuji is a victim, too, cursed with a twin like Sukuna. And so you let Yuuji touch you. You caress his soft pink hair and moan his name as you spread your legs for him willingly when he asks you in that sweet, low voice if he can please eat you out.

And when he is lying on top of you later that night, fucking you into the mattress with deep but loving thrusts, you find yourself digging your nails into the buff muscles of his back, clinging to him, scratching his skin, as if you want to make sure he will never leave again.

You need him here with you. As long as Yuuji is here, you are safe from Sukuna. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, arching your back to meet his horny thrusts, begging him for a second round, begging him to fuck you again and again and stay inside you all night.

He doesn't know it, but you need him to claim you back. You need the good twin to overwrite what the evil twin did to you.

You feel guilty the next morning when Yuuji gets up and stands before the bed with his back to you, and you see the deep red scratches your nails left on his muscular back.

But he just shrugs and grins that cute sheepish grin at you,

"Don't worry, cutie. It doesn't hurt, and I really loved how you didn't want to let go of me. That was so cute! I love knowing that I made my girl feel good."

It's party time again on Saturday, but you go there with an uneasy feeling. You cannot stop the shudder running down your back. You cannot stop your gaze from wandering restlessly through the room, watching, waiting, worrying.

Is Sukuna somewhere near?

You cling to Yuuji desperately, holding his hand the whole time, hugging him, burying your face in his broad chest, unwilling to let go.

He thinks it's cute that you are so clingy and kisses you sweetly, smiling at you so innocent and sweet. It breaks your heart. You need to protect this smile, this innocence.

You realize with horror that Sukuna isn't just Yuuji's dark secret anymore. He is also yours.

He managed to force his way into your life, into your relationship, into your body, and into your mind.

Yuuji gently pries his hand out of your grasp, smiling apologetically before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and tells you that he has to use the bathroom real quick.

"I'll be back in a second, cutie!"

You feel like an idiot at how terrified you feel when your boyfriend leaves the room. You stare after him, watching him make his way through the crowd, taller than most of them, his pink hair standing out. Your gaze stays glued to that flash of pink, watching him walk further and further away from you, and with him, the safety you felt leaves you too.

You grab the cold bottle of coke from the table next to you, holding on to it as if it is your lifeline. You feel your breath speed up, and your hands cramp from how tightly you clutch the bottle while your gaze is fixed on the open doorway, heart hammering fearfully in your chest as you count the seconds waiting for Yuuji to come back. This time, you won't leave your spot. You won't wander around alone.

A flash of pink appears in the doorway, and you slump against the wall as a relieved smile lifts your lips. Until your mind provides a disturbing thought. Is that Yuuji? Or is that the wrong twin? How can you be sure this is Yuuji and not Sukuna, who is walking towards you? Isn't that gaze too devilish? Isn't that a smirk instead of a smile?

The relief you felt a moment ago is replaced by panic. Your heart is racing, your vision dancing with black spots. The bottle you were clutching so desperately slips out of your hand and lands on the floor.

You are frozen in place, watching an Itadori twin walk toward you without knowing which one it is. You stare at him like a deer trapped in the headlights, eyes wide, heart hammering wildly.

But then he blinks, and his lips lift in the typical broad smile. You can hear his happy laughter, even across the loud mix of voices.

You exhale loudly and shake your head to clear your thoughts. Stupid. You are so stupid! Of course, this is Yuuji! You curse yourself for being so paranoid and confusing your sweet, loving boyfriend with his evil twin.

Yuuji reaches you and leans down to peck your lips sweetly. He pulls away, and worry washes over his handsome face.

"Are you ok, baby? You look a bit sick. Do you need some cold water? Or some fresh air? Do you want us to leave?"

You smile at him weakly, shaking your head, still feeling shaken but refusing to let the memory of Sukuna ruin your evening.

"No, I'm fine, baby."

You step closer and wrap your arms around him, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply, trying to chase every trace of his twin away. You just have to keep kissing Yuuji. When he kisses you, you know who he is. You know that this is the right twin. That this is your sweet Yuuji.

Your left foot steps in the small puddle of coke, soaking through the canvas of your Converse, dampening your sock uncomfortably, but your lips keep moving against Yuuji's desperately.

You spend the night at Yuuji's, falling asleep in his strong arms, spooned by his warm buff body, finally feeling at ease here in his bed with his body pressing so reassuringly against your back.

But your dreams aren't that comforting.

You dream of a black hallway with hundreds of mirrors lining its walls. On the other end of the hallway stand two men. They both have the same pink hair and undercut. They have the same face and the same build. And they watch you with the same eyes as they both lift a hand, reaching out for you, silently beckoning you over. Come here, come to your boyfriend.

You wake up with a gasp. The red neon digits on the alarm clock tell you it's still the middle of the night. Yuuji's strong arms are still wrapped around you, his body is still pressing against your back, his warm breath is on your neck.

Warm lips close around your skin and suck. You moan softly, pushing your ass against the warm body behind you, rubbing it over the growing bulge in those boxer briefs. Maybe a good fuck with Yuuji will chase away the lingering uneasiness from the bad dream.

The lips on your neck become bolder, sucking roughly on your skin. The arms around you tighten, making you squeak because it's painful. Large, strong hands dig firmly into the soft flesh of your belly.

Your eyes widen, your body turning rigid as fear crashes over you. Cold dread fills your every fiber as you realize this isn't Yuuji behind you.

"Missed me, brat?"

Sukuna's low, mocking laugh fills your ears, and you spiral into the dark again. You tumble from one nightmare into the next. But this time, you can't wake up from it.

How did Sukuna get into Yuuji's apartment? Does he have a key? Or did he break in? And most importantly...

"Wh.. where is Yuuji?"

Sukuna's nails dig painfully into your skin. His voice sounds rough, angry,

"I don't like it when you talk about him while I am with you! You have no manners, brat!"

His hands grab your tits firmly, kneading them roughly through Yuuji's shirt that you wear for the night. The huge hard bulge of his erect cock is rutting firmly against you, letting you know what he will do to you.

And you know there is no escape.

You are once again trapped in the evil twin's arms. You cannot run from him, and you can't even scream, or you will alert Yuuji. Yuuji, who is probably in the kitchen or bathroom, and if he comes in here and sees you with his twin... You must protect him! He must not know!

And that leaves you here in the arms of this monster.

Sukuna shoves one hand under your shirt, groping your tits roughly, squeezing them possessively, and pinching your nipples between his fingers until they sting from a mix of pain and pleasure.

His other hand pushes between your thighs, forcing them apart so he can yank your panties to the side and expose your pussy to him, giving it a mean, hard slap from behind that makes you gasp.

Sukuna's mocking laughter fills your ear.

"Gotta remind that pathetic little cunt again what it feels like to get fucked right."

His unrelenting fingers slip between your pussy lips and push inside you, making tears well up in your eyes. Sukuna doesn't give you time to adjust but starts fingering you instantly, fucking you with two long fingers, hard and fast, making your whole body tremble from fear and pleasure. To your horror, you can hear the filthy squelching noises of your wet cunt, creaming up against your will.

"Oh, do you hear that? Your slutty little cunt is weeping for me. You thought about my cock every day, didn't you? Don't be shy, tell me all about it, slut! Tell me how much you missed getting fucked by me!"

Against your better judgment, you try to beg for his mercy,

"S...Sukuna, please just stop..."

A long finger curls brutally inside your cunt, pressing against your g-spot and massaging it with firm, rough circles, making your thighs press together and your body shake.

"Uh uh, what did I tell you?"

Of course, you should have known there is no mercy in him. You know his game by now, know what he wants. Sukuna fingers you brutally, torturing your g-spot, laughing when your hips jerk uncontrollably. Your resistance breaks, and you sob softly as tears of shame run down your face, and you tell him what he wants to hear,

"I'm sorry... I missed your cock so much, Sukuna. Please fuck me. Please let me cum on your cock again."

He laughs, opening his mouth and letting his canines graze over your neck,

"Bet you thought about me anytime my brother fucked you. A naughty cunt like yours isn't satisfied with a guy like my brother. You cheating little slut need my cock to fuck you right."

Your breath hitches, and your body goes rigid because you know what will come when Sukuna pulls his fingers out of you.

For a moment, your pussy flutters around nothing, but then Sukuna rams his thick hard cock deep into your wet heat, impaling you on his fat length with one brutal thrust.

Long fingers get shoved into your mouth, stuffing it with them, muffling your cries, filling your mouth with the taste of your own juices. You choke around them, but Sukuna just presses them firmer into your mouth, forcing you to take him from two sides, stuffing your cunt and your mouth as he uses you for his sick pleasure.

He humps you like a rabid animal, fucks you with brutal hard snaps of his hips while he groans in your ear, voice filled with glee and arousal,

"Ah yeah, that feels good. My brother fucked that little cunt so often that it molded to our cocks. You're such a dirty little cock slut, so insatiable, huh? Wanting every Itadori dick to fuck you stupid. Good thing you have two of us to fuck that greedy cunt."

His pace is brutal and unrelenting. His fat mushroom head hammers against your g-spot, torturing you with his cock, making your body react to the stimulation against your will, pussy creaming up for him, body jerking from pleasure in his violent hold.

Sukuna growls in your ear as one large hand grabs your wet pussy, keeping you in place, pulling you back against him. You keen around his fingers when he pinches your swollen clit meanly between two fingers, making your hips buck wildly.

"Take my cock, you slut!"

His taut balls slap heavily against your cunt with every rough thrust. Sukuna's fat cockhead is pressed against your g-spot, hitting it brutally, while his fingers attack your clit with rough strokes, rubbing hard, fast circles around it.

It's too much, too intense. The pleasure is hot and red, making your whole body jerk uncontrollably as you cry and sob around Sukuna's fingers. Your cunt shudders and pulses hotly around his brutal cock.

Heat floods your body as an intense orgasm gets forced out of you. Hot and wild, making you cum so hard that you think you will black out from it.

Your body is shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, pussy twitching hard around Sukuna's fat cock, which doesn't go unnoticed by him, of course,

"You little slut. Milking my cock so eagerly. You want more, huh? Want my cum this time? Was the greedy little cockslut sad that I didn't fuck her full last time, hm? Want to have your pussy fucked full like a big girl? Yeah, tonight you're gonna take my cum. I'm gonna fuck that greedy cunt full of it."

He growls, wrapping his arms around you and manhandling you into another position, on your belly, your face pressed into the pillow as Sukuna mounts you from behind. One of his hands is in your hair, grabbing it painfully and pushing your face down, keeping you firmly in place. But you couldn't go anywhere anyways. Not with his heavy body on top of you, fucking you brutally into the mattress.

He fucks his cock into your tight heat with erratic wild thrusts, giving himself over to pure primal need, punishing you with every hard thrust, chasing his orgasm with rough horny thrusts until you feel him cum in you, flooding your pussy with his hot seed.

"Yeah, take all of it, you greedy slut! I hope you get pregnant and have to carry my brat!"

He groans and growls as he leans down, cock still deep in your pussy, as if he wants to plug you up. His voice is amused when his lips brush over your ear,

"Now say thank you, you little slut."

You sob softly, hiding your face in the pillow, crying from the humiliation you feel as you mumble,

"Th... Thank you..."

But Sukuna's fingers twist painfully in your hair and yank your head up, forcing you to look at his sneering face. You hiccup as you stare at him with wide, tear-stained eyes. His mocking smirk looks even more evil here in the dim red glow of the alarm clock's light.

"Where are your manners, brat? Look at me while you thank me."

You sob weakly but force yourself to do as he commands,

"Th.. thank you, Sukuna. Thank you for f... fucking me.. and for g... giving me your cum."

He chuckles at your words, a sound full of mocking and triumph. One of his large hands grabs your chin, strong fingers pressing into your skin as he leans closer to lick over your cheek, licking up your hot tears,

"See, you can be a good girl if you want. It's a shame that I have to leave already, but my brother will be back any second now. 'Til next time, princess. Can't wait to make you cry with my cock again."

He leaves you lying there, pussy throbbing and full of his cum. You feel dirty, debauched, crying softly into the pillow.

You hate Sukuna so much, and you hate yourself, you hate your body, for reacting that way to him. How can you do this to Yuuji? Cumming on his brother's cock right here in Yuuji's bed? Lying here with your pussy filled to the brim with Sukuna's cum, while sweet Yuuji has no clue. Maybe Sukuna is right, and you are really a slut.

The door opens, and your body goes rigid. Which brother is it now? Sukuna or Yuuji? Somehow, both options sound terrifying at the moment. You are scared of Sukuna, but you feel guilty when you think of Yuuji.

You hastily wipe your tears off and force yourself to calm your breathing as you roll onto your side, pretending to be asleep.

The heavy weight of an Itadori man makes the mattress dip as he gets in bed behind you. You gulp hard. You don't dare breathe as a pair of muscular arms slips around you and a warm, buff body presses against your back.

But then a soft kiss is breathed on your neck, and a happy sigh exhaled against your ear.

Yuuji.

Sweet, strong Yuuji.

You snuggle against his buff body instinctively, needing him, needing his love and strength, even while you are drowning in shame and guilt.

Yuuji chuckles happily,

"Aww, hey, cutie, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry. I got hungry and had to make a sandwich. Come here. I'll cuddle you so my princess can sleep again. Or maybe we can do something else that will make you sleepy..."

His voice turns into a low, raspy whisper, making your pussy flutter even in this situation, as if you are conditioned to react with arousal to the sexy sound of his voice when he gets horny.

Yuuji's strong, muscular arms tighten around you as he nuzzles his face against your neck. You can feel his smile, and it makes things better and worse at the same time.

The guilt makes you feel sick. Here you are, lying in your sweet and loving boyfriend's arms, with your pussy still leaking his brother's cum.

Yuuji's lips trail tender kisses up and down your neck while he hums softly, oblivious to your inner turmoil. His large hands start wandering over your body. But it's such a different touch from Sukuna's. Yuuji's hands are gentle, loving when they slip under the old t-shirt he gave you, caressing your tits sweetly, circling your nipples tenderly until they are stiff and pleasure throbs in your lower belly.

Yuuji moans softly against your skin,

"I love you, baby. You feel so soft and sweet. I wanna spoil my pretty girl."

You can feel his fat cock hardening and pressing hotly against your ass through his boxers, so needy for you. But Yuuji is sweet about it, not demanding, not aggressive. He slips a hand into your panties to lovingly caress your clit with gentle slow flicks, pampering your pussy with his tender caresses.

Your head is spinning, lust pulsing hotly in your clit, making you spread your legs eagerly for Yuuji, pushing your throbbing cunt needily against his loving fingers, wanting to feel him, wanting him to chase away every trace of his brother.

He moans loudly when he feels more of your hot wet cunt, voice so sweet and sexy,

"Fuck, cutie. You are already so wet. That's so hot."

And your eyes fill with tears. You are choking on the guilt and shame. Knowing that most of the wetness is from the orgasm, Sukuna forced out of you and from his cum that's seeping out of you and coating your pussy lips so obscenely.

Suddenly, you see red. You can't take it anymore. You can't just lie here and spread your legs and let Yuuji pamper you as if you deserve it. As if everything is ok.

Nothing is ok! And it's all because of that monster, Sukuna! You hate him! You hate him for doing this to you and to his brother! You hate him for driving this wedge between you and Yuuji! But you won't let him destroy what you and Yuuji have! You won't let him win! Yuuji is the only Itadori brother you want to belong to, and you will prove it tonight!

You turn around in Yuuji's arms, making him gasp in surprise when you attack his lips with a fierce kiss, your hands running roughly through his pink hair, tugging on it and biting his bottom lip as you moan his name.

"Yuuji... I want to fuck, you baby. Let me ride you."

He moans in answer and rolls onto his back, pulling you with him eagerly while he licks into your mouth. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, taking his fat cock in your hand and giving it slow, firm strokes that make him throw his head back and moan loudly.

Your mouth falls open as you watch him in the dim light. He looks just like his brother, just like Sukuna, but the difference is that you are the one in control now. 

Yuuji is just as strong as Sukuna. He could manhandle you and use you just like his twin, but he isn't like that. He is so sweet for you, such a good boy, obediently giving himself to you. You are the one who can do anything you want with him.

It sends a thrill through you, making your skin tingle with excitement and pleasure.

You are breathing heavily, grunting and gasping, lost in a feral need. You hastily pull your soaked panties to the side, not bothering to take them off, too lost in this primal need to get your man's cock into your wet needy cunt.

Yuuji moans loudly when you bring his fat mushroom tip to your puffy wet clit, rubbing it against your little bud, using Yuuji's cock to pleasure you.

Hot waves of pleasure shoot through your whole body, your clit pulsing hotly as you rub it against Yuuji, almost in a frenzy now in your need to fuck him and fuck every thought of Sukuna away.

You feel exhilarated by the power you have. Rubbing your wet messy pussy over Yuuji's twitching fat cock, hearing him moan and gasp. You're teasing his fat cock, basking in what you can do to him, how you can reduce an Itadori brother to a whimpering needy mess.

You watch that pretty face as he moans and whimpers, so openly showing you his pleasure. So submissive and good for you. His lips open in a loud, strangled moan, and then he starts begging you,

"Fuck... ah ah baby! Oh, cutie, please fuck me. Fuck me, baby, please. I need you, please wanna feel you. Please let me feel your pretty pussy around my cock!"

Your cunt is twitching hornily at his words. The power surge almost makes you cum all over Yuuji's swollen tip. But you need more. You need all of him. You finally sink down on his fat length, taking him in you in one eager motion until you sit completely on Yuuji's muscular thighs, his cock buried all the way in you, and your feral groan fills the small bedroom.

You feel dizzy with lust, dizzy with power, unable to hold back now that your boyfriend's cock kisses your g-spot and fills you so fully. You cry out softly, cumming just from sitting on Yuuji's fat cock.

You dig your nails into his buff pecs as you let him feel your pussy twitch around his cock, watching his pretty eyes roll back when he feels your orgasm around his cock.

"Yuuji! Ah, baby, you feel that? That's what you do to me, baby! I love you so much! I love you and your pretty cock, oh god!"

Sukuna could never do this to you! He can break and humiliate you, force you to cum on his cock. But he can never make you want him! You clench your teeth, not giving yourself or Yuuji a break, and start bucking your hips against him, riding his cock eagerly.

Soon you are bouncing wildly on Yuuji's fat cock with your head thrown back, moaning and screaming his name as you ride him hard, not holding back. And he lets you use him, lets you fuck him while his large hands knead your ass. His hips buck needily fucking his cock even deeper into you, so eager, so horny. And so sweet with his loud, needy moans and mewls, with his moaned love confessions and sweet praises.

Your sweet Yuuji.

He doesn't know he is fucking his brother's cum deeper into you with each deep horny thrust of his cock. He doesn't know he is mixing two Itadori seeds in your greedy pussy when he cums with a loud cry and fills you to the brim with his hot seed.

You won't let Sukuna win! You won't let him spoil what you have with Yuuji! Yuuji is the one you love. Yuuji is the one who deserves to cum in you and who deserves your pussy, and who deserves your orgasms. You will give him that! You will be his girl! You will fuck him even harder and cum even more for him than you do for his brother!

You moan Yuuji's name, not stopping but going for another orgasm, smiling when Yuuji lets you, even though he is mewling from how overstimulated his cock is.

And you slide up and down on him feverishly, letting his fat girth drag over your swollen clit until the pleasure peaks again and you feel your next orgasm wash over you in hot waves.

And this time, you finally squirt on him, feeling your hot creamy wetness gush over Yuuji's fat cock and his heavy balls, giving him your all.

He moans loudly when he feels it, his large hands kneading your ass firmly, guiding you up and down on his cock, letting you cum and cum and cum.

"Fuck, baby!! Yeah, make a mess on me, cutie. Fuck!"

Your pussy is overstimulated and puffy from how hard you fucked yourself on Yuuji's gorgeous cock. But you don't stop but keep riding him wildly. It's messy, slippery, and wet from your combined fluids, your cream and squirt, and Yuuji's hot cum that is seeping out of your cunt.

But you need more! You are in a frenzy, driven by the urge to cum on him again and again, making sure Sukuna loses this fucking game!

Yuuji is mewling under you, overstimulated, but letting you use him regardless, so eager to give you pleasure. And you ride yourself to orgasm after orgasm on his gorgeous fat cock, while moaning and screaming his name over and over again.

"Fuck! Yuujiii! Yes yes!! You're gonna make me squirt again, baby!"

You almost black out when the next orgasm rips through you. Your body is shaking uncontrollably, so weak that you just slump on Yuuji's lap, moaning even louder when his fat tip presses even firmer against your g-spot.

But Yuuji's strong hands catch you and hold you, lifting you up and down on his fat cock, letting you ride your orgasm out on him, his golden eyes watching the spot where your pussy and his cock are connected. The spot where you squirt all over him again, making a sticky mess on his cock and his abs, showing him how good his cock makes you feel.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, Yuuji!! Oh, baby!! I love you! No one could ever fuck me as good as you!"

I hope you are still here somewhere, Sukuna. I hope you hear me fuck your brother and how much I love it. I hope you hear me scream his name like I will never scream yours.

You spend the following week being a clingy girlfriend to Yuuji. Always hugging him, always snuggling against him, following him from room to room. He notices it but doesn't mind. He wears a bright, sunny smile on his pretty face, happy that his girl loves him so much. And he moans so sweetly for you when you keep him up every night for hours, fucking him almost desperately until the bed is a mess from your combined cum.

You try to keep Sukuna away by always being by Yuuji's side, telling yourself that the evil twin will not dare approach you while his brother is by your side. 

But it is hard at times.

Yuuji, Sukuna. Sukuna, Yuuji. They look the same, and it fucks with your mind. Sometimes, you get scared. Sometimes, you think Yuuji's fingers dig too firmly into your flesh. Sometimes, you think he is smirking at you. Sometimes you shudder when he fucks you from behind with hard, fast thrusts, and his low voice growls in your ear, sounding too similar to his brother.

You hate that the evil twin has that effect on you. That Sukuna somehow always seems to be with you, even when you are with Yuuji. But you have to make the best of this. You will love and fuck Yuuji even harder. You will spend even more time with him. Maybe this way, you can chase Sukuna completely away from your mind.

Maybe after college, you and Yuuji can move far away, making sure Sukuna will never find you again.

An old friend of Yuuji visits for the weekend. A guy with tousled black hair and dark blue eyes who watches his surroundings with a cool, intelligent gaze.

Fushiguro Megumi. He grew up with Yuuji. Went to school with him. They played together as little kids.

You wait until you are alone with him before you ask,

"Megumi?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever met Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna?"

Megumi's head whips around, and he frowns at you. His gaze is surprisingly hostile. Blue eyes narrow as he looks at you and answers in a cold voice,

"What do you mean? What sick game are you playing? Of course, I haven't met him. Sukuna died in the womb! Yuuji consumed his brother before he could be born. It's something that bothers him a lot. That's why he doesn't talk about it!"

The world around you seems to crumble away. You stare at Megumi, eyes wide, fingers tingling. For a long moment, a heavy silence fills the room. And then hysterical laughter bubbles out of your mouth. You can feel your mouth lift, stretching your cheeks in a horribly grotesque shape as your loud, hysterical laughter carries through the apartment, sounding shrill and insane.

And deep inside Yuuji, his evil twin throws his head back and laughs, too.

Do you understand it now, you stupid girl? There is no running from me. He is I, and I am he.

Thank you so much for reading the last part of "Brother"!! I hope you enjoyed it!! I had a lot of fun planning and writing this story. I love the horror elements, and I hope it could give you an uneasy feeling too lmaooo. It's so terrifying to me to imagine that the guy you love has the same face as the guy who does all those horrible things to you.

And how did you like the ending?? Ahhahaa, I am laughing with Sukuna. So much for running away together with Yuuji to escape his evil twin ;)

The smut part with Yuuji affected me A LOT. I hope my fellow Yuuji lovers had a feast with this!!

I hope you enjoyed this horror mini-series! Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be sweet.

[dollfaceksj]

reminder | jjk (m)

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: Whenever he flies back into town, your doorbell is the first he rings. When he has to fly out again, your bed is the last he lies in. However, you’re not stupid. You know your ex-boyfriend, that also happens to be an up-and-coming professional boxer, Jeon Jungkook, doesn’t come to you only. Unfortunately, you have no right to be jealous, not when you’re the one that ended the relationship.

➥ GENRE: angst ⋆ smut ⋆ bit of fluff ⋆ exes with benefits

➥ CATEGORY: three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, exes, second chance, angst, fuckboy!jk, possessiveness, jealousy, exes with benefits, boxer!jk, unprotected sex(STAY SAFE), creampie, fingering, squirting, pussy slapping, oral sex (f. rec), handjob, spanking, toxicity (a lot if it), shower sex, heterosexuals (sorry), fluff if u squint, mutual pining, sooooo much pining, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 8.7k

a/n: ck jungkook has given me brain rot and i just had to write something about it. sorry in advance.

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

Change is inevitable. Everything changes. Everyone changes. You love change, though. You don’t like clinging to things and you’re always up to try out new things. You’re the one in your friend group that’s always trying new items on a menu, always checking out random music, trying different things with your hair.

Maybe it’s because of the way you’ve grown up, always taught to move on and enjoy new things because life is short. No dwelling on the past, no asking yourself ‘why me?’, no fear of change in your life. That’s exactly how you’ve always been.

So, what you have trouble understanding is how you allow yourself to be in this situation right now, a book you should’ve closed a long time ago.

With your face pressed into your wet sheets, back arched, bare ass in the air and lewd moans spilling from your lips as you get fucked into your mattress by the man you broke up with 2 years ago.

“Jungkook! Slow down, I’m gonna–”

You’re cut off by a harsh slap to your left asscheek, your teeth sinking into the bunched up sheets in front of your face as the stinging and warmth from the spank spreads through your skin. You yelp in pain yet pleasure, your fingers gripping the sheets even tighter. You usually don’t orgasm from solely penetration but the overstimulation is causing you to physically feel every single one of your nerves electrifying in your nether regions.

“Cum, then. I’ll fuck you through as many orgasms as you want.” The pace of his merciless pounding never falters and it has you seeing every celestial body in the universe every time you blink. He grunts loudly as you start clenching around him, his hand reaching for your forearm and pulling it back to press it into your back as he continues to fuck you.

Your other hand reaches behind you, pressing flat into his lower abdomen to get him to slow down but he just swats your hand away. You attempt it for a second time and this time he grabs your wrist, bringing it next to your other arm that he’s already pressing into your back, now caging both of your arms in his grasp against your back as his hips slam into your ass.

A cry rips through your throat, eyes tightly squeezing shut as you drool into the covers. Your orgasm hits you like a fucking train, the knot in your stomach snapping and your entire body heats up as if you’ve been set on fire. Your slick walls constantly clench around Jungkook’s dick, making him grunt your name alongside a few swear words. His hips stutter in their movement, speed faltering as you continue to cry out in pleasure under him.

He curses under his breath, letting go of your arms. He presses his hands down on your ass until you’re fully lying on your stomach, face still pressed into the sheets. He never pulls out, on the contrary, he continues to fuck into you as you sob under him, the overstimulation has you squirming like a fish out of water.

There’s a pressure against your upper back, one that you quickly realize is his bare chest as he leans into your ear. “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathlessly says into your ear, a soft moan following his words and you feel his dick twitch inside of you. He’s close.

“Fuck,” he grunts, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. His thrusts start getting inconsistent and sloppy.

“Jungkook,” you sob, a sniff following your cry and it’s the final thing you know he needs to get that knot in his stomach to snap. It doesn’t take long after for him to shoot his load into you, coating your walls with his cum.

He moans in your ear softly, something you swear is the single best sound on Earth. Paired with the best feeling on Earth, having Jungkook fuck the shit out of you.

After a few more lazy thrusts, continuously fucking his load into you, he comes to a full stop. His hips are still pressed into your ass and his forehead is pressed against your shoulder.

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2 hours ago

You’re scrubbing the last of your dirty cutlery with your soapy sponge when you hear 3 soft knocks on your front door.

It’s him.

You glance at the clock that’s hung up on the wall in your kitchen, your hands automatically reaching for the kitchen towel that you slung over your shoulder when you started washing your dishes. 10:45PM. You dry your hands and neatly drape the damp kitchen towel back over the cupboard’s handle before heading into the hallway.

You peek through the peephole but it’s blackened out, already knowing who it is with the way he always presses his thumb into your peephole to keep you from seeing him. You fight the smile that’s trying to force its way onto your lips as you reach for your keys.

With a sigh, you slowly unlock your front door. Your hand pulls on the door handle, creating a bigger gap and allowing yourself to be seen as your eyes make contact with his big brown ones and his sheepish smile.

There’s a cut on his cheekbone, bags under his eyes, his long black locks pulled back into a small bun. The layers that are too short to fit into the bun frame his face so perfectly, kissing the top of his brows and tickling his temples.

Still as gorgeous as ever.

He’s wearing a black shirt and grey sweats and he’s got luggage with him, allowing you to assume he probably came here straight from the airport. He must be absolutely exhausted. Or at least jetlagged.

You cross your arms, closing your cardigan around your torso in the process. “You’re back.” It’s all you can say, really. It’s all you ever say when he’s suddenly in front of your front door every few days or weeks.

Like it’s become some kind of inside joke, an inside joke just for the two of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he says without any hesitation right after the words leave your mouth. He always replies with these exact words but it catches you off guard every single time.

He doesn’t wait for you to invite him in, he knows you’ll let him. Like you always have, like you always do, like you always will.

He struts in, kicking his shoes off his feet but neatly placing them by the door next to his luggage before returning his attention to you, his big hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you closer. You lean back a bit to glance up at him, your thumb gently grazing the cut on his cheekbone.

He doesn’t react, just stares at you as he lets you do whatever you want. He’ll always let you do whatever you want.

Because it’s no secret that Jungkook is still in love with you.

“Does it hurt?” you ask softly, bringing the same thumb down to rub his bottom lip, peeking at him through your pretty lashes.

He shakes his head, parting his lips as he takes your thumb into his mouth and slowly circles the tip of your thumb with his warm tongue.

“You must be hungry if you came here straight from the airport. I just made some pasta, you want some?” You move your other hand up to brush some of his hair out of his face.

“Hm, I can have you for dinner as well.”

You roll your eyes and take the opportunity to take your thumb out of his mouth and pry his hands off your waist to head into the kitchen. He huffs but quickly follows you, trailing behind you like a stray kitten.

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With your empty dinner plates in front of you, your conversation goes on. He’s just staring at you, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. It makes him look like a bunny.

“How long are you staying in town this time?” you question, already assuming since he usually stays a week or 2 before he flies out again.

“5 days.” His answer is almost immediate, like he knew you were going to ask that question. It’s only natural, though, you usually ask him that.

“How was Paris?” you ask as you reach for your glass of water and bring it to your lips, keeping eye contact with him over the rim of your glass.

“It was good.” He leans back into his chair, rubbing his stomach which he always does after dinner. “Cold, though.”

“Yeah? I bet some lucky ladies kept you warm, no?” you tease, knowing he hates talking about that with you. You watch as he cringes, adjusting in his seat as he sits straight up.

He glances at you for a moment with a slight frown on his face and then rises to his feet, gathering the dirty plates and utensils before heading into the kitchen. You’re used to him completely ignoring questions like that.

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you momentarily look out the window. You’ve always pushed him to try new things like you do, that includes moving on from you.

He simply refuses.

You need him to move on from you so you can move on from him. It’s that simple. But every single time he stands before you, it’s like he sucks all the strength to turn him down out of your body.

The water runs and you hear the clatter of dishes, assuming he’s washing them. You get up and clean the table before walking up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his back.

He dries his hands with your kitchen towel and turns around in your arms, cupping your face delicately, his pretty brown eyes scanning your features.

“Will you let me kiss you?” he quietly asks, thumb rubbing back and forth on your cheek.

He always asks this when you see him again. You always agree.

Your eyes shift from his left eye to his right repeatedly, a look of contemplation on your face. You both know that you really, really want him to, though.

Does he kiss the other people too? Does he caress their faces like he does you? Hold them so gently?

With a curt nod of your head, he finally leans down and presses his lips to yours. With your chin tilted up to meet his lips, your eyelids flutter close instantly, your heart rate picking up whilst a bubbling heat spreads through your body, starting in your stomach and growing all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

His lips were made to be on top of yours.

His kiss gets a bit needier, his hands holding your face so gently yet so firm, as if he’s scared to let you go. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, a soft muffled sound resounding in your throat.

The wet muscle you feel poking your lip doesn’t go unnoticed by you and you happily welcome his tongue, letting him lick into your mouth. By now his kiss has gotten heavy, tongue ready to devour you and swallow you whole.

With your hands still on his waist, you squeeze him gently, wanting to feel more of him. Needing to feel more of him.

After a few more minutes of passionate making out, he pulls back and deeply inhales. He’s still holding your face, tilting it even more to make you look up at him. “Will you let me fuck you?”

He always asks this when you see him again. You always agree.

Your heart jolts in your chest at the unexpectedly expected words. If the making out didn’t already leave you soaking, those words surely did.

You quickly nod to his question. As if you’d ever decline. He drops his hands, moving one to wrap around your wrist as he starts leading you toward your bedroom.

He sneaks his arm around your waist and pushes you toward your bed again, slowly letting you down onto your mattress. You reach for your pyjama shorts and yank them down, leaving you in your tank top and panties.

He drops down onto his knees in front of the bed, dragging you to the edge of your mattress by your thighs. You softly gasp at the sudden force pulling you, propping yourself up on your elbows as you set your gaze on him between your thighs, intently.

He takes his time, bringing his index finger to your clothed sex to gently rub all over your slit. Your hips jolt up like they’ve got a mind of their own but Jungkook presses you down by your lower stomach with one hand, shaking his head.

“Let me take my time, baby. You know I’ve missed this pussy.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, you let yourself fall back on your mattress. You’re sprawled on your bed with your ex-boyfriend in between your thighs and if you told yourself at 16 that this is who you were going to be when you grow up, that girl would’ve laughed at you.

Because you don’t dwell. You don’t go back. You don’t cling to the past.

But all those thoughts instantly disappear like fog in your head the moment Jungkook presses a kiss to your clit through your panties. A soft gasp leaves your lips, your fingers tucking under the hem of your panties as you try to yank them off.

He simply chuckles as he allows you to take them off, his eyes glued to your glistening sex. He wastes no time latching his tongue onto your wetness, licking a thick stripe up your slit before wrapping his lips around your pulsating clit. He hums in delight at the taste of you.

A cry falls from your lips, your fingers making their way to the top of his skull. You tug on the loose strands that frame his perfect face so well as you grind into his mouth.

“Hm, missed me?” he purrs, pressing you back down by pushing on your pelvic bone. He slides his hands up the back of your thighs from your ass to the back of your knees, pushing them back as he continues to devour you.

Soft moans spill from your lips as you arch your back off the bed, toes curling at the sensation of your clit being sucked on with so much fervor. “Jungkook!” you cry, pressing your palms into your eyes to try and keep yourself from bursting into tears at the pleasure.

He simply hums against your sex, dark eyes peeking up at you. His tongue slides down your slit, teasing your hole before licking back up to your clit. “There’s nothing better than the taste of this pussy,” he mumbles before wrapping his lips around your clit again, gently sucking on it.

A soft moan bubbles up the back of your throat, leaving your lips which makes him smirk against your skin. “Hm, even better than your little girlfriends?” you tease. You always use the words ‘little girlfriends’ to refer to all the girls in the city he fucks besides you, all the girls he fucks overseas, all the girls he fucks that aren’t you.

He peeks up at you again, this time a frown on his brows. You steal a glance at him when you sense him looking at you, a sheepish smile on your face. He pulls back and wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand as he lets go of your legs and rises to his feet.

You eternally groan at the fact that made him stop fucking you with his mouth but the show he’s giving you as he removes his shirt almost makes you thankful that he did.

“Yeah. And I fucked a bunch of ‘em in Paris,” he replies as he tugs his sweatpants down his legs, kicking them somewhere across the floor.

The slight raise in your eyebrows shows that you’re surprised. Jungkook never comments on your attempts at provoking him and mentions of other women.

You just shot yourself in the foot because you really, really don’t want to imagine him fucking someone else. You usually bring it up to provoke him and he usually dismisses it but this time, he puts a vivid image in your head and you don’t like it.

You huff as you sit up on your bed, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His response is immediate, his hand reaching for the hem of your tank top. You let him pull it off your body and allow him to ogle at your breasts.

He tosses your tank top at the growing pile of clothes on your floor before licking his thumb and bringing it to one of your nipples, rubbing circles around it with his wet thumb.

You sigh at the stimulation. “Were they good?” You can’t help but ask him this question, your voice coming out a bit choked but he doesn’t comment on it.

“They were fucking great.”

You almost bite a piece off your tongue, the entity that’s called Jealousy menacingly looming over your body and ready to devour you whole. You know you always provoke him but you only do it because he never responds.

You don’t comment further, you just reach for the hem of his boxers but he stops you. He swats your hands away and pushes you further back onto your mattress, so you scoot back whilst still sitting up right. He climbs into your bed next to you, sitting down on his ankles as he leans over you.

You place your hands behind you, leaning back on them as you glance up at him. He’s staring down at you, hand sliding up and down your thigh. With a little pressure, he spreads your thighs further apart and his fingers find their way back to your sex.

You grunt once his fingers make contact with your clit again, a tiny shiver running down your legs. You bend your legs at the knees, placing your feet on the edge of your bed and spreading your thighs further, still looking up at Jungkook who is staring you down like he wants to absolutely ruin you.

The tips of his middle and ring finger start rubbing consistent circles onto your pussy and you scrunch your eyebrows together, mouth falling open.

“Whose pussy is this?” he murmurs, fingers sliding down your slit and rubbing in between your folds. You moan softly at the sensation, thighs jerking in the process.

You quip, “Mine.” You know that’s not the answer he’s looking for, especially with the way his eyes narrow at you.

“Mad because I finally answered your stupid questions for once?” he scoffs, fingers sliding straight into you which earns a surprised gasp from you.

Your eyebrows scrunch together even more, your mouth still agape and your big eyes pleading for more. It’s the face you know Jungkook can’t resist, he usually kisses you right away.

But this time, he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss you. He just stares you down as his hand starts slamming into your sex, fingers rubbing against your slick walls with each movement.

The lewd sound of your wetness almost embarrasses you but your mind is too clouded, his lustful eyes never leaving yours.

Before you can fathom what just happened, you yelp out in painful pleasure. Jungkook has retreated his fingers and brought his palm down with a slap to your wet pussy, making your legs jerk and your hands reach up to grab at his biceps.

“Ah!” you cry out at the sudden impact, your nose warming up and you know you’re about to start tearing up.

“I asked you a question.” His voice resounds inside your head, it almost makes the return of his fingers inside of you go unnoticed by you.

He fucks his fingers into you, palm slamming down on your clit whilst his fingers thrust in and out of you.

Moans spill from your throat as you hold onto his neck now, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious torture on your sex.

“Answer me, Y/N.”

You cry out when he slaps your pussy once again, your hips jolting under him but he pushes you down by your lower abdomen. He enters his fingers again, palm still continuously slamming down on your clit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you manage to say without sobbing, the pleasure he’s giving you is making you dizzy.

“Bullshit,” he grunts, picking up the pace of his hand.

You want to pull his face closer by tugging on his neck but he doesn’t budge, his hand adamant on making you cum and it’s succeeding.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, clenching around his fingers with your eyes shut tightly. You wince when he pulls his fingers out but you have no time to react when he suddenly rubs all 4 fingers in a waving motion against your clit at an incomprehensible speed.

You cry out again, squirming under him when a different kind of knot in your stomach snaps. You open your eyes just in time to watch yourself squirt all over his hand, all over your sheets, all over your floor.

All the strength in your body dissolves and you fall back against your mattress, the sensation of squirting all over your mattress still going as you writhe under him.

His torture never stops, the demonic speed in which he assaults your clit is enough to have tears bursting out of your eyesockets and the longer he keeps going, the more you keep squirting. “You gonna answer or want me to keep going?

His name falls out of your mouth in a series of sobs. “Fuck–! Yeah, I’m mad!” you admit, pushing against his arm to try and get him to finally stop.

And he does, he pulls his hand away. He takes a while to just stare you down and if you weren’t already, you’d describe the feeling as feeling naked under him.

“So then, why do you keep asking me if you know you’ll get mad?” he asks as he starts tugging his boxers down, allowing his erection to spring free. He kicks his underwear off the bed as he uses his wet hand to pump himself, essentially lubing himself up with your slick.

Not that you’d need any type of lube now, you are completely and disgustingly soaked.

You’re still on your back, trying to catch your breath when his hand slips under the back of your knee. He spreads you for him again and circles his tip all around your sensitive sex.

“Jungkook,” you warn, the effects of overstimulation making anything you say sound like a pathetic cry.

“Shhh, I know.” He pushes into you and usually circles your clit with his thumb but he doesn’t this time, for obvious reasons. You’re grateful, though. Jungkook can get pretty rough with his so-called punishments – that are absolutely sublime – but you don’t think you could take any more clit stimulation now.

He places his hands on either side of your head and leans forward, his silver chain dangling in your face. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he pulls away to watch your face as his hips start slamming into you.

You sob his name, legs falling limb after an attempt at wrapping them around his waist. He leans down and presses his lips to your cheeks, softly kissing your tears away.

You sniffle, enjoying his proximity as he continues to fuck into you. Soft moans escape his throat too and it’s your favorite sound in the whole world. He sounds angelic. His lips retreat from your face in the meantime as he watches your face, a look of admiration on his.

“Do you kiss them as well?” you quietly whimper, sincerity in your eyes instead of the usual teaseful look.

He observes you for a moment longer, gaze dropping to your lips quickly before returning to your eyes.

You’d tease Jungkook about being with other women, something he hated and he never took the bait, and in the two years after your break up of the two of you casually having sex whenever he’s back in town, you’d never crossed the emotional territory. Because you had always taught yourself to move on, to not dwell, to not beat yourself up.

But with Jungkook, it’s just inexplicable. You want him, you need him, you breathe him.

You didn’t expect this time to be so emotional. So raw. So unchanged.

“Would kissing be worse than fucking?” he asks, dragging you out of your thoughts. You try to fight the quiver in your bottom lip but you can’t help it, your hands wrapping around each of his wrists that are caging your head in between them.

You turn your head to look away from his overwhelming gaze, pressing your lips to the side of his arm.

Out of the blue, he picks up the pace and starts fucking into you again. Several moans and cries fall from your lips, muffled by the skin of his arm. You sense his eyes on you from your peripherals but you don’t return the eye contact, you can’t. You might burst into tears. And this time it won’t be from pleasure.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips to your neck, kissing the skin under your earlobe and making his way down.

The words ‘I love you’ are stuck in your throat, threatening to blurt out. With all the strength you can gather, you swallow them down, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

“No one will ever compare to you.” His voice is muffled from kissing your skin but you can hear him loud and clear, aside from the skin slapping and the wet sounds from your pussy being pummeled by his hips.

You shake your head in response to him, not wanting to hear that at this moment. You’ll just fall in love with him all over again and you’d rather die, you’d much rather die.

“Shut up,” you mumble after another sniffle, turning your head to face him again. He takes his lips off your throat, letting his gaze drape all over you again and it makes you feel so small.

His thrusts come to an abrupt halt, making you wince. In one swift motion, he pulls out of you with a grunt. He sits back on his ankles and gently – yet with a firm grip – turns you around onto your stomach. His hands return to your body with a tight grip around your hips, yanking your ass up into the air.

“You want to know how I fuck them? I’ll show you,” he says breathlessly as he shoves himself right back into your wetness, fingers sinking into your skin as he pounds his hips into your ass and the back of your thighs.

This is how he fucked you when you’d have an argument back when you were together, when he was mad at you, when you were acting up. He would say he didn’t want those eyes of yours looking up at him if he was fucking you with no emotion, with no warmth, with no love.

This is his way of answering your annoying questions, you suppose.

You mewl under him, your hands gripping the soaking sheets tightly to support yourself from the momentum of his thrusts. A low grunt rumbles in his chest when you clench your walls around him. His speed is almost demonic at this point, your body being sent into overdrive as your stomach tightens again.

“Jungkook! Slow down, I’m gonna–”

You’re cut off by a harsh slap to your left asscheek, your teeth sinking into the bunched up sheets in front of your face as the stinging and warmth from the spank spreads through your skin. You yelp in pain yet pleasure, your fingers gripping the sheets even tighter. You usually don’t orgasm from solely penetration but the overstimulation is causing you to physically feel every single one of your nerves electrifying in your nether regions.

“Cum, then. I’ll fuck you through as many orgasms as you want.” The pace of his merciless pounding never falters and it has you seeing every celestial body in the universe every time you blink. He grunts loudly as you start clenching around him, his hand reaching for your forearm and pulling it back to press it into your back as he continues to fuck you.

Your other hand reaches behind you, pressing flat into his lower abdomen to get him to slow down but he just swats your hand away. You attempt it for a second time and this time he grabs your wrist, bringing it next to your other arm that he’s already pressing into your back, now caging both of your arms in his grasp against your back as his hips slam into your ass.

A cry rips through your throat, eyes tightly squeezing shut as you drool into the covers. Your orgasm hits you like a fucking train, the knot in your stomach snapping and your entire body heats up as if you’ve been set on fire. Your slick walls constantly clench around Jungkook’s dick, making him grunt your name alongside a few swear words. His hips stutter in their movement, speed faltering as you continue to cry out in pleasure under him.

He curses under his breath, letting go of your arms. He presses his hands down on your ass until you’re fully lying on your stomach, face still pressed into the sheets. He never pulls out, on the contrary, he continues to fuck into you as you sob under him, the overstimulation has you squirming like a fish out of water.

There’s a pressure against your upper back, one that you quickly realize is his bare chest as he leans into your ear. “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathlessly says into your ear, a soft moan following his words and you feel his dick twitch inside of you. He’s close.

“Fuck,” he grunts, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. His thrusts start getting inconsistent and sloppy.

“Jungkook,” you sob, a sniff following your cry and it’s the final thing you know he needs to get that knot in his stomach to snap. It doesn’t take long after for him to shoot his load into you, coating your walls with his seed.

He moans in your ear softly, something you swear is the single best sound on Earth. Paired with the best feeling on Earth, having Jungkook fuck the shit out of you.

After a few more lazy thrusts, continuously fucking his load into you, he comes to a full stop. His hips are still pressed into your ass and his forehead is pressed against your shoulder.

He pulls out and collapses onto your mattress, right next to your body. You crack one of your eyes open to peek at him. He’s on his back, the back of his hand pressed into his forehead with his eyes shut tight as he’s focused on steadying his breath.

You stare at him for a moment, captivated by his utter beauty. Your eyes trail the bridge of his nose, his pretty black lashes, his red cheeks and swollen lips. The thin layer of sweat makes him look like he’s covered in glitter, his cheeks glistening like a glazed donut, the pretty moles on his face making his soft skin look like a starry night sky.

The small cut on his cheekbone doesn’t go unnoticed by you, of course. The wound has seemingly healed but the skin around it is still purple and has some traces of yellow too. He’s way too beautiful to be fighting for a living.

You quickly avert your eyes when he opens his eyes again, staring straight at you as if he sensed you staring at him. You clear your throat awkwardly as you slowly turn onto your other side, giving him your cold back.

A finger starts drawing patterns on the bare skin of your back and you’re incapable of stopping the goosebumps from popping out of your skin. The mattress dips, telling you he’s scooting closer until he’s completely pressed up into your back.

He places his lips on your shoulder blade, not moving them, not kissing your shoulder. Just keeping them there, like they belong there, like they’re magnetized.

Neither of you say anything.

Nothing has to be said. You just enjoy the moment.

Because you know once he walks out your front door, you won’t see him until the day he has to catch another flight.

You know where he goes, you know what he does, you know how he spends the nights when he’s not with you.

He just showed you.

And you have no right to feel any way about it. You broke his heart.

Shattered his heart into so many pieces that you’re still the first one he sees when he’s back in town, you’re still the only one he actually lies with.

You’re the only one.

But you’re also not the only one.

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You stir, eyes fluttering open in the darkness of your room. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and recognize your surroundings. It’s then when you notice Jungkook’s tattooed arm lazily slung around your waist. Soft puffs leave his mouth, his breathing slow and very quiet snores fill up the room.

You silently reach for your phone, turning the screen to you and almost being blinded by the light of your phone. You squint as you try to figure out what time it is. 6:01AM.

You’re startled by the sudden jerk of his arm and you realize he’s waking up. With a turn of your head, you glance at him. He peeks at you through one eye, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Sorry,” you start, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He shakes his head, his lips puckered as he leans into your face. He places his lips on your jaw, softly kissing down your neck which awakens the goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin.

You squirm once his breath hits your neck. “That tickles,” you giggle as you scoot away from him but he doesn’t let you get too far, quickly climbing on top of you.

You turn onto your back, tired eyes staring up at him, his beautiful hair falling forward which frames his face beautifully. It’s now that you’re reminded you’re both still naked and it makes your cheeks instantly heat up. Not because you’re embarrassed but because Jungkook’s body is temptation itself.

His muscles are soft and squishy now that they’re not flexed but you know how tight and hard his body really is. Your eyes trail the contours of his pecs and biceps, at least what you can make out in the dark.

His black locks must’ve escaped the elastic that kept his hair together in a bun whilst he was sleeping. Your hands automatically reach up, running your fingers through his beautiful hair to push it out of his face. “It’s getting quite long, hm?” you muse, ruffling through it in the meantime.

He lets you, of course, a soft chuckle leaving his throat as you play with his hair.

“You don’t like it?” he quips, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. You can hear the attempt at making it sound like a joke but you know him well enough to know he values your opinion about him.

Your tongue slides over your teeth from left to right, fighting your smirk. “Are you crazy? I love it.” You tug the hair on the back of his head, smirking when he hisses at the grip you have on him.

He pokes your rib which makes you release his hair, a quiet yelp leaving your lips at the feeling. “What time is it?” he mumbles as he buries his face in the crook over your neck, leaving wet pecks all over your skin.

“6 in the fucking morning,” you groan as you squeeze his waist, nails grazing his skin gently, rubbing patterns on his exposed skin.

He grunts as he pulls away from your neck, rolling off of you in the meantime. Your eyes are greeted with his bare back as he sits up in your bed, your hand automatically tracing the back muscles he’s putting on display for you. “I should leave, Yoongi-hyung needs me to go take new photos for my passport,” he mumbles as he lazily rubs his face.

Your eyebrows raise at the mention of Jungkook’s coach-slash-manager, Min Yoongi. You haven’t seen him since the breakup. “Already?” you ask as you crawl toward him. “Can’t you stay a little while longer?” You press your bare chest into his back and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing soft kisses to his earlobe.

His hands automatically move up to yours on his chest, bringing one of your hands up to his lips to press a kiss to it. “I was supposed to do it yesterday because I ran into some trouble at the airport. I have to fly to Australia in a couple of days.” He peels your hands off his body and gets up, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go take a shower, we passed out in all that shit,” he laughs as he nods towards the big wet patch, right where you squirted. You’re instantly reminded of the fact you both passed out right after that intense fuck session, you didn’t even clean up after yourself. Gross.

You wince in disgust and scrunch your nose up as you nod quickly, swinging your legs off the bed and placing your feet on the floor. You stand up and let him lead you to your bathroom, he could do it blindfolded – obviously, he used to live here.

You awkwardly wobble to the bathroom, the load he fucked into you last night threatening to spill out of you with each step you take.

You switch the lights on and let him close the door behind you, trapping you against it in between his arms. He takes this opportunity to kiss you softly, catching you off guard by the sudden affection.

You welcome his kiss nonetheless, your hands roaming all over his shoulders and squeezing his muscles. You can’t get enough of him.

He abruptly pulls away and rubs your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, something unfamiliar pooling in his dark eyes as he stares you down. He parts his lips and it looks like he’s about to say something but he doesn’t. He closes his mouth and takes a step back, turning around and reaches for the lever to let the water run before he enters the shower.

A frown climbs onto your brows but you don’t comment on it. You won’t push him to talk. You quietly follow him, simply just getting into the shower and sliding the glass door shut. You cross your arms nervously as you wait for the water to heat up.

Jungkook is already used to cold showers so he hops right under, letting the droplets of water trickle down his honey skin. You reach out to him, suddenly getting the urge to slap his buttcheek, and you do.

He grunts as he glares at you over his shoulder, his buttcheeks clenching in response. You laugh as you reach for the body wash, squirting a generous amount onto your palm before you rub your hands all over his back. It’s almost like it happens automatically, he always used to ask you if you could wash his back for him.

You rub down to his buttcheeks and he whines your name childishly, making you laugh loudly. “Come on, you know I love your booty,” you tease, reaching around his waist from the back to grope his pecs.

He throws his head back in exasperation but he can’t help but chuckle, the lukewarm water finally hitting your skin. You sigh as you hold onto him, feeling his heart drum against your palm.

It’s quiet for a moment, the sound of the water hitting your bodies and the tiles filling up your eardrums. That is, until Jungkook breaks the silence.

“Have you been with anyone?” he quietly asks. The sudden question knocks the air out of your lungs for a moment because he has never asked this before in the 2 years you’ve been broken up.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he could feel your heart thumping against his back.

“Yeah.”

Jungkook’s body tenses under your skin and it isn’t long until he turns around to face you, a blank expression on his face but he doesn’t say anything.

“Do you know how it feels knowing you’re overseas fucking other people? Even when you’re here,” you explain in a panic, heart racing as he just stares you down intently.

“You’re the one that walked out on me, Y/N.”

His words sting.

“You know why I did that, Jungkook,” you whisper, tearing your gaze away from him as you pull your arms away from him to rub your own arms in an attempt to comfort yourself.

He huffs, “Yeah, and it was bullshit.”

Your head snaps back in his direction, anger bubbling in your chest and threatening to burst out of your throat in a pathetic cry. “What’s that supposed to mean, you dickhead?”

“Exactly what you think it means.” He nonchalantly shrugs, looking away from you for a moment as he rinses the bodywash. “Breaking up with me because I was ‘gone all the time’ and had a ‘dangerous job’, but you’re still here. You still let me hold you, you still let me kiss you, you still let me fuck you.”

You scoff, pushing against his chest but he doesn’t budge. You spin on your heels and reach out to the glass door of the shower, ready to make your exit but Jungkook is quicker. He doesn’t let you.

He pulls you back by your bicep, tugging on it until your back meets his chest. “You’re not going to rob me of the little time I have with you,” he mumbles as he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Let go.”

“No.” His reply is instantaneous, arms strongly caging you in.

You blink back the tears threatening to fall, his proximity enough to calm you down yet drive you crazy. You shake your head and begin, “Jungkook, I–”

“I’ll always want you, Y/N. Just say the words.”

You freeze, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You already know this. Jungkook doesn’t shy away from telling you about his feelings and reminds you every once in a while.

Before you can let your mind wander even more, you’re turned around by his strong arms in one swift motion, both his hands moving up to cup your face.

He tilts your face to make you look at him but you stay quiet. The words he’s yearning for you to say never come.

“Kiss me,” you whimper, not able to take this silence and not in the mood for a staring competition.

He doesn’t waste any time, he instantly leans down and presses his lips against yours whilst slowly pushing you backwards until your back collides with the cold tiles.

You deepen the kiss, your hands roaming his chest as he licks into your mouth. A grunt resounds in the back of your throat at the feeling of his hand slowly making its way down your waist, to your hip, to finally your bum.

He grabs a handful of your asscheek, squeezing it and it elicits a lewd moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to feel his growing erection inflating against your lower stomach and you reach for it.

You pump him slowly, making him grunt into your mouth. You rub your thumb all over his tip, gathering his precum and spreading it all over the head of his dick.

He pulls away from the kiss, his head dropping to your shoulder as you continue to pleasure him. His hand continues to knead your asscheek, a low swear word escaping his lips.

“Look at me,” you whisper, hand still jerking him off at a torturously slow pace.

He lifts his head off your shoulder slowly and let’s his eyes meet yours, head tilted downwards as he towers over you.

“How does it feel, knowing I did this with another man?” you ask him, a clear attempt at provoking him as you peek at him through your pretty lashes.

Something between an angry scowl and a confused frown etches onto his face and he merely grunts in response. His hand stops kneading your asscheek and before you know it, he’s turned you around, your front pressed into the tiles.

You’ve let go of his dick, hands now on each side of your breasts against the tiles in front of you. Your cheek is pressed against it as well, head turned enough to see him over your shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear about that fucking garbage,” he grunts, his hand pressed flat against the spot in between your shoulder blades as he holds you against the wall firmly.

You huff, but before you know it, his hand comes down to your asscheek in a powerful slap. It makes you jolt under his hold, a yelp ripping through your throat.

He spreads your asscheeks and slowly rubs the tip of his dick between your folds, earning a moan from you and you relax under his touch.

He pushes into you, eliciting a gasp from you at the intrusion. The delicious burn makes you arch your back more. He doesn’t really wait, he just starts slamming his hips into you, a series of cries and moans falling from your lips.

“Gonna fuck me like one of your hoes again?” you snark in between moans. Another slap to your asscheek makes you grunt and you look over your shoulder at him again.

He doesn’t even look at you, just snakes his hand around your face and drapes his palm over your mouth as he peels your face off the tiles and toward him, making you arch your back even more.

He continues to fuck angrily into you. “I fucking hate you,” he grunts, eyes glued to his dick disappearing inside of you.

You moan into his palm, eyes rolling back as the head of his dick repeatedly kisses your cervix. “Jungkook–!”

His other hand grips onto your waist, keeping you steady as he pounds into you. The strength in his hand has you seeing stars, if he put just a little more strength into it, you’re convinced he could crack your ribs.

“Come with me to Australia,” he whispers in your ear, lips softly brushing against the shell.

You close your eyes as you listen to his words. He’s often offered to take you with him, offered any way to keep seeing you, to keep being with you, to still have you.

“Please,” he whispers in desperation, the hand on your waist moving down to your sex as he furiously rubs your clit.

You cry into his hand, squirming and writhing under him but he has you under control. His thrusts never falter in speed and it has your eyes rolling back as you recognize the familiar knot in your stomach growing.

“Am gonna cum,” you whimper into his palm, but he doesn’t comment as he continues to destroy you.

He presses a kiss to the back of your ear, teeth gently nibbling on your earlobe and you slowly start losing control.

Your entire body is set alight, his hand leaving your mouth so he can listen to your pretty moans for him. Your orgasm comes to you like a punch to the gut, your eyes shutting tightly as pure bliss takes over you. You squirm under him, hips involuntarily jolting and knees buckling.

Both his hands return to your waist as he continues to fuck into you, wanting to get to his own release.

You’re fucked out, pressing your cheek against the tiles as moans continue to spill from your lips.

It doesn’t take long after for Jungkook to cum, shooting his release straight into you as he moans your name softly into your ear alongside a few swear words, which you’ve grown used to.

His thrusts get inconsistent, his breaths heavy and his grip on you loosens until he comes to a complete stop.

You stay there, mind clouded with nothing but Jungkook.

You’d considered going with him often but being on planes and having jet lag every few days wasn’t your dream, it was his. And while you would give up your life for him, you didn’t want him giving up his life for you. You know he’d start taking less fights, training, matches just to please you, to be with you, to love you.

He quietly pulls out but you don’t budge. When he notices, he takes it upon himself to clean you up, draping the showerhead over you, washing your body, your hair, his body, his hair.

The rest of the shower is quiet.

Not a single word was spoken.

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You both get dressed in silence, the occasional clinking of metal and ruffling of fabric being the only sounds in the room.

After he’s fully dressed and you’re back in your comfortable pajamas, you head down the corridor with him closely following behind you.

A soft exhale pushes past your lips when you unlock your front door as he puts his shoes on. You suddenly slouch, pressing your forehead against the front door. You think about the situation for a moment, the ruffling of him putting his shoes on being the only thing you hear.

“What?” he asks once he straightens his back and sees you looking out of it.

You push yourself off the door, turning to glance at him before momentarily looking away. “What are we doing, Jungkook?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is not right.” You shake your head, your hand moving up to adjust the earring in your earlobe. “Why do you keep showing up at my front door?”

You’d never asked him that before so he’s surprised, the slight raise in his eyebrows being proof of that.

His brown eyes stare you down, a look of contemplation on his face before he takes a step closer to you – making your heartbeat mess up its perfectly fine pace.

“Why do you keep opening it for me?”

He knows he’s got you, that much is clear. You’re at fault as much as he is. You know you shouldn’t keep letting him in but you do and you always will. You’ll always want him.

He reaches for the door handle but you make no effort to move out of his way, essentially letting him cage you in between him and the door.

You really don’t want him to go.

You prepare to speak, clearing your throat in hopes that your voice doesn’t give out. “I’m trying to forget about you. You know that.”

His gaze burns holes in your irises, a whimper threatening to burst from your throat at the intensity. He leans down and presses his lips to yours in a quick kiss but pulls away too quickly for you, your lips chasing his for a split second before you realize he has already pulled away.

“I will never let you forget about me.”

The words leave his mouth with a certain arrogance yet desperation before he pulls you toward him by your waist. You think he’s going to kiss you again but he’s simply pulling you out of the way, to allow himself to open the door and leave.

And he does, your sad eyes intently watching as he exits your once-shared home and closes the door behind him, luggage in hand.

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⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

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[zhongrin]

“honey, can you… get us a pet?”

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, al haitham, childe, tighnari, kaveh, pantalone, cyno

◇ tags ◇ fluff, crack, dragon!li

◇ a/n ◇ all i want in life is a zhongli and a al haitham with their chosen pets is that really too much to ask

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli, predictably, brings back a dog. before you ask, it’s a very normal dog that isn’t the size of a mountain and is unable to control the elements. it’s a common house pet, a sign of luck and auspiciousness, plus he’s a very good boy!

………. just. don’t coddle rex jr. too much, okay? rex sr. is still a half-dragon after all.

al haitham brings back a pot of some rare plant he got at the grand bazaar... what? plants are pets too. an even better version, he argues, especially since this particular one should bear small edible fruits when they grow enough. plus, they’re quiet and will let him read in peace.

hey, it’s your fault for never specifying what kind of pet you wanted him to get.

childe brings back an otter. where did he get it? no one knows. don’t ask. where will he put it? uhhh. no worries, he’ll put the otter in your bathtub for now, but he’ll commission someone to dig up a pool for them to float around! it’ll be fineeee!

tighnari sits you down and lectures you about the responsibilities of a pet owner for two straight hours to make sure you truly understand what you’re asking of him first. adopting a pet is a huge step in your life and he wants to make sure you fully understand what you’re getting into.

plus, you might want to take into consideration that your fox hybrid lover inherits that territorial behavior from his ancestors…?

kaveh jumps at the opportunity. to him, that’s like you’re giving him the green light on bringing animals home. a mistake on your part, honestly.

it’s day three and you’re now housing: an unexpectedly tame dendro slime with a withered flower on its head, two very weakened and starving desert foxes, one forest fox with one eye, and a little bird with a broken wing.

good luck.

pantalone merely chuckles yet the very next day you find the most elegant, purebred siberian forest cat delivered straight to your lavish shared abode’s doorstep. she’s groomed to perfection, well-trained, and a joy to be around.

the most beautiful cat for the most breathtaking person in his life - he thinks it’s very fitting.

cyno unexpectedly brings back a rabbit; a snow-white furred darling with ruby-red eyes that fits on top of your palm. such an innocent-looking, wee little being has become a lethal weapon in cyno’s hand. whenever you deny him of something, you will now see two pairs of eerily similar-colored eyes looking up at you with wet bunny eyes.

darn it.

like father like son, you suppose.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[wandasaura]

IT WAS NEVER MINE

summary — as your year long contract with natasha come to an end, all the feelings you’ve been trying to ignore come to the surface. you didn’t think they were yours to lose in the first place, but you’d never been so wrong in your life

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of panic attack/spiraling thoughts, confession of feelings, soft!wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, bratty behavior, face grabbing, fingering, ruined orgasm, degradation, praise, mommy kink, daddy kink, doggy position, oral, grinding, mutual orgasms, threesome, finger sucking, cum tasting, literal filth? men/minors dni

authors note — russian translations are included at the end of this work. we finally got the confessions of feelings! the trios officially a couple! everybody cheered!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Everything around you had been cemented in false permanence that you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet, or ever. The weather, the sunsets, the arms you fell into at night; a month into the summer holidays and you could no longer deny that your feelings for Wanda and Natasha were merely a result of the situation. You wanted them, in every way they would give themselves to you. You yearned for their laughter, and to join in on the soft kisses that came by the kitchen window every morning like a sacred routine. You wanted their eternal company and the lingering presence of where their gentle touch had lied even when they went away. To put it simply: you crave something that will never come. The terms of your contract were made clear when you signed them, but you were naive to have ever thought you wouldn’t catch feelings. 

With June halfway through and July on the cusp, the bed the couple fell into each night was practically your own now too, and clothes you wore frequently had been given an official place in the master en-suite closet beside Natasha’s. Some mornings, when sleep had been hard to claim and exhaustion carried over into sunrise, you couldn’t distinguish between what was hers and what was yours. When those days came like unexpected storm clouds, the gravity of your predicament clung to your skin like the disappointment of cold rain on a tropical vacation. 

Westview came alive in the summer months, like most shore towns in Jersey did once schools were out. The small town wasn’t one that you had been familiar with prior to signing the contract, rather isolated and forgotten about between the bigger beaches that bordered it, but now you that you knew of it and had seen it in the winter, you couldn’t imagine hard days without that small ice cream shop four blocks from the Maximoff’s, nor do you think you could survive hard semesters without escaping to the deserted edge of solid ground only locals visited when pale snow kissed tan sand. 

When sunshine became too bright to ignore, you were the last in the house to stir awake. The master bedroom was quiet, too quiet, save for the blue jays that chirped just beyond the sun-warm window. You sighed at the muted colors that adorned the walls and furniture within the room, wondering how some places could feel so lived in and empty in the same breath. You had to force yourself out of bed, though you would’ve rather stayed burrowed beneath thick blankets and pillows made of clouds until they fused to your three-day-old marked skin. Your routine may not have been as sweet as the married women who lingered somewhere beneath you, probably cuddled up close on the couch in the living room or laughing together in the kitchen over a memory you weren’t privy to knowing, but it had become something cherished since joining them in bed at night. Your fingers, cold from their lack of use throughout the night, trailed over the hickies that discolored your skin. The touch was softer than silk, fear clouding your impulses as you wondered if today would be the day they disappeared into nothing but another memory. In prior relationships, you’d always hated when your partner left you with physical remnants of the intimate connection you’d sought from them. It had always felt cliche and admittedly demeaning when you’d then have to walk around with splotches of burgundy peeking out from beneath clothes, but there was something different about the way you allowed Wanda and Natasha to claim you. Perhaps it was the sick pride you harbored just by knowing that your body was solely theirs to mark, or maybe it was your own twisted need to convince your mind that they cared for you the same way you did them like your heart so desperately wanted to believe. Either way, the love bites strewn across your neck lived to see another day if the intense sensitivity was any indication of their presence, and with the confirmation that everything you’ve devoted yourself to hadn't completely fallen away yet, the dread you faced like an endless mirror melted away to be stared at later on. 

With no energy to actually get dressed, because even a full night's sleep had felt like simple minutes recently, you didn’t even bother walking into the closet where your favorite outfits remained hung up on expensive metal hangers. You’d only stare at them blankly, no pull to anything in particular, until you walked away still clad in paint splattered shorts and a t-shirt you’d owned since high school. Every morning Wanda would say that the pajamas you wore weren’t allowed to exist outside of the house, and every day Natasha would drag you out for a walk while still wearing them. It was like they couldn’t agree on how to help you, but both women had noticed your shift in attitude even if they didn’t know the cause. You weren’t their lively girl anymore. You didn’t jump at the chance to skip down the pier holding tightly onto Natasha’s hand, you didn’t fling yourself off the countertops just because you knew it worried Wanda, and you didn’t bounce between offices seeking attention from whoever gave it first. As each day passed and another one came to the surface, you only got farther from the woman that they had loved. The woman you believed was unlovable. 

They tried to stand firm on the rules and expectations, having seen what happens when they try to soften their edges for you, but even doubling down on their control had been in vain. Your ass had been over both of their laps countless times in recent days, but all that seemed to do was fuel your desire to push back and retreat inward. Wanda had tried various other methods of punishment to break through whatever wall you were trying to keep up, hoping that getting you to relinquish control would settle whatever storm you had brewing beneath those dazzling eyes. Edging you had failed. You had blatantly refused to let her see how desperate you were, taking each edge with impressive neutrality until eventually she’d given you a full orgasm out of her own guilt and need to comfort. She had made you sit at the dining room table and write lines when you’d dared to try and talk back to her one night, but when she had come back to check on you the sheet of loose-leaf paper was blank and the pen hadn’t even been picked up. That was the first time you’d received the silent treatment from Wanda. She’d merely collected the paper and pen with a hum of dissatisfaction before she moved on with her evening as normal. There was no question about if you were still cared for, she tucked you in and kissed your head, but it wasn’t until the next morning rolled around when you’d heard her voice being directed toward you again. She could see that the punishment had affected you. It wasn’t typically one she resorted to, knowing how it could impact a submissive's emotions, but everything else had been falling flat on its face and she just wanted her girl back. She’d tried to amend the situation at the first chance she got, tried to comfort you in the way she knew you’d needed done, but you were more or less unresponsive to her attempts. 

As the nights of summer carried the end of your contract nearer, your sadness only grew and presented in agitating ways that were winding both of the redheads up – there was only so much more of your attitude that they could take before they snapped and you wouldn’t blame them when it came. The contract was practically the only thing on your mind anymore, namely the part of the document that disclosed the length of your agreement; twelve months. You were on month ten, and although a large part of you desperately wanted to enjoy these last few weeks entirely, the smaller, more stubborn part of you, felt like you had to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that was to come. Change was unavoidable, you kept reminding yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for how truly fast it was happening. Natasha had promised you a glorious summer break. She’d promised s’mores and beach days and near permanent attachment. It wasn’t her that broke those promises, it was you. Even the thought of spending individual time with the Russian made panic flare within you, and though it wasn’t fair to her, you continued to cancel plans regardless. Today was another day of plans that wouldn’t happen, and there wasn’t even the slightest ounce of remorse in your belly as you descended toward the kitchen. You had been wrong for getting attached in the first place, you wouldn't add fuel to the fire so close to the once unimaginable end. 

 The lawyer owned a Harley-Davidson LiveWire. It sat covered by a thick black tarp in the two car garage that at some point during their relationship, had been converted into an at home gym. The very first time you had gotten a peak at the bike, you knew that you wanted to join her for a ride, but you found out weeks later that riding wasn’t something Natasha did often or at all, not anymore. Wanda had been the one to tell you why during one of the first conversations you’d had. She told you how Natasha had been in a bad crash, how the bike in the garage was a replacement for the one she’d used to have, how even the sight of it sent her spiraling and thus was why it remained permanently covered. But, after hearing about your interest, Natasha had spent months working through her anxiety just to give you a taste of the biking life she’d adored for so many years. She’d told you three weeks ago that she was almost ready to get back on, that she would let you know when she could trust herself not to panic. Months of working through trauma that could’ve easily stayed untouched just to see you smile, and now you didn’t even want to go. You were probably the shittiest person ever. They had every right to hate you come August, but you convinced yourself that that would make everything easier. If they still cared for you, you’d think about crawling back to them every second of the day. 

As expected, Wanda and Natasha were sitting together on the couch when you reached the end of the stairs. The windows in the living room were open and welcomed the fresh breeze inside, but despite the warmth that lingered with the wind, you shivered. Wanda’s head craned toward the stairs first, and then Natasha’s. It always took the Russian longer to notice you, and you wondered if Wanda really did just have a sixth sense because she never took more than a second to spot you, even if you tried to be as soundless as possible. They offered you sweet greetings and easy smiles, but they went unreturned. Three weeks ago, you would’ve melted into their laps and grinned eagerly, but now you merely rolled your eyes and shuffled into the kitchen where leftover ice cream from Billy’s remained in the freezer. 

Wanda had brought it home a few nights ago, her form of an apology for being kept at the office so late. It wasn’t yet fall, just barely summer really, but already their workload was starting to increase. You could see it in their eyes that carried permanent exhaustion, and though Natasha had thus far kept her promise of not being away, she worked in her office a significant amount more. Maybe your attitude is what pushed her to spend time with mind-melting files and cases, or maybe she was just accepting the end of the contract better than you. 

Your ice cream was decorated with sprinkles softer than sunsets. Their pastel shades were unlike the sprinkles sold at chain ice cream restaurants near your University and hometown, and you adored the simple detail that set Billy’s apart from everyone else. The first time Natasha had shown you to the parlor, you had claimed so boldly that despite being made of the same ingredients, the sprinkles tasted sweeter then the other ones you’ve tried. Another thing that had changed in your dynamic were the rules. Wanda was strict, hovering and well-alike to a helicopter parent, and when she’d realized that you only ate meals when they were prepared by either her or Natasha, she’d wasted no time in implementing another rule into your dynamic; you needed to eat at least one real meal a day. It wasn’t hard in the summer months. You were with them every day and you ate what they ate when they ate, but your late wake-up time had given you the perfect opportunity to make your lingering bad mood known in yet another way. You pulled the freezer open without any hesitation, heading straight for the half-eaten ice cream with your name on it. You’d scribbled your newest nickname, utenok, on the cover when you feared Natasha would eat it on you. The silliness and untainted delight that you had felt in that moment was practically unimaginable now. You tried to grasp at how light you had felt as you sat around the dining table joking with Wanda who had a smudge of peanut butter sauce on the tip of her nose, but you had come up empty handed quickly. 

Shaking your head, not wanting to spiral down another path of inconsolable tears, you directed your attention to finding a spoon. The many cabinets in the kitchen had once confused you, as they would anyone who was randomly dropped in a lavish kitchen with too many drawers to count, but now they were engraved in your memory and you hadn’t even stopped to question if you opened the right one, knowing confidently that you hadn’t messed up in months. The silverware was in the drawer closest to the sink, and you found a spoon easily. You hated how before you could even dig into your ice cream, that your mind felt the need to remind you about how in eight weeks, you’d have no right to this kitchen and the silverware inside of it. The first bite on your tongue felt wrong, and your stomach churned in thick guilt, but you ignored how badly you wanted to beg Wanda for forgiveness and went in for another mouthful. The sprinkles didn’t taste as sweet, but you knew that Wanda could see you from the living room so you kept up with the action. 

Her voice made you feel sick to your stomach when it finally attempted to reach your ears. “What are the rules, milaya?” She asked you with sternness, her eyes set into a thin glare that could end wars if the military let her loose on the battlefield. Nobody would go against her, they’d stand no chance, but you did. You had learned how to ignore the rush of guilt and shame that set in when she looked at you that way, and were becoming quite good at it if you had any say in the matter. No, that was a lie, the biggest lie that you had ever told yourself, but you had to try. You felt like the absolute worst person in the world when you went against Wanda, but in eight weeks there would be no Wanda to go against, so you tried to remain unbothered despite how bothered you actually were. 

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Your clipped tone had made her flinch, had made her reel back into Natasha and pull her eyes away from you. Your heart dropped to your feet, your eyes stung with unshed tears that had come at least once every day since you realized how near the end was, but you didn’t apologize. You didn’t backtrack and attempt to amend what you were breaking. Instead, you scooped up another bite of ice cream that was significantly bigger than the last, and shoved it all into your mouth at once. The creamy flavor melted onto your tongue and tried to clear your mind, but the guilt made it difficult to win. You needed this. You needed them to hate you so that you could hate them, but it felt like a knife stabbing into your least important organs over and over. You could live without a spleen, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt for a while. You knew that you could live without them and their praise and reassurances, but that wouldn’t mean that even if they hated you it wouldn’t hurt. There was no good way out, but you were being forced closer and closer to the day with every minute that passed. 

“Put the ice cream away and get something else to eat, detka. You agreed to these rules.” Wanda came back at you harder, sterner, colder, and when you met her eyes from across two rooms, there was a fire beneath them that had made her near unrecognizable. Her publics were blown and darker than midnight as it hung over Westview, her lips were set into a firm line that would give her wrinkles by the time she was forty. She was miles away from the sweet woman you had seen glimpses of since dropping your what was your initial attitude, but even the woman you’d hated hadn’t been so harsh. Your nose crinkled, and for the softest second she believed that she had won, but when did you ever give in so easily, though nothing about this was easy. 

Raising your chin, the handle of the silver spoon felt heavy between your fingers that held it up to your lips where the taste of your treat lingered. She wasn’t going to make you back down when in eight weeks you’d be back on campus and without her. As horrible as it was to admit, you didn’t know who you were without them anymore. Natasha laid out outfits for you that paired sweetly with hers. Wanda made breakfast and dinner, and always asked you to help with lunch. They helped you sleep through storms and nightmares. They had satisfied you and completed you for ten months, and in turn you were just expected to know how to keep going without their rules. You’d drown before you even had the chance to swim. “Make me.” 

Daylight drenched the house in warmth, but the room felt cold when Wanda shot to her feet and started to approach with footsteps that were silent and deadly. You had half the mind to run in the opposite direction, to avoid whatever she was coming over to do, but you stayed firmly planted to the floor of the kitchen and dared to even take another mouthful of ice cream between your lips. For days you had been dismissive and hostile toward them, quieted by silence and fear, but those initial feelings were quickly folding into anger that begged to be released. 

You stiffened when her ringed hand caught your jaw, her fingertips squeezing your cheeks together not unkindly, but not softly either. You had amended your limits just as you had amended the rules now that Wanda was an active participant in your dynamic, but none of your new allowances had been used on you yet, there hadn’t been a reason. You had just given her a reason though, and your eyes, despite your willingness for them to remain slitted and annoyed, widened in shock immediately. You’d been adamant against Natasha grabbing you like this, a fear response from childhood that at the start of your relationship hadn’t yet been processed, but as your trust in their control had grown over time, so had your curiosity for harsher elements of kink and submission. Your core throbbed at the sensation of her fingers digging into your skin, and you wanted to kick yourself for folding so easily. You’d never accomplish anything if your body craved their touch, but getting them to hate you was just as hard as getting you to hate them. 

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to like that. Mommy expects little girls to do as they're told the first time they’re asked, but it seems you’ve forgotten who you're with. One last chance, go put away the ice cream and find something else to eat. You will not take your attitude out on me when I have given you every opportunity to tell me what’s wrong.” If you thought she wouldn’t grab you any harsher, you were wrong. The grip she had on your face was painful now, and you could feel every grove in the metal around her fingers as they pressed into your cheeks and jaw. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to listen to her, to just find something else to eat or ask her to make you something instead, but your anger had grown fond of disobedience, and you shook your head before you could process what would happen next. “Very well.” The hand on your face had fallen away just as quickly as it had come, leaving you with an ache on your face and soon an emptiness in your hands when she plucked the cup from between your grip and walked it over to the garbage can beneath the skin. You wanted to sob when you watched her throw it away, the bright colored cup a flash of pigment before it was completely out of sight and at the bottom of the bag. 

“What the fuck?” You complained, throwing the spoon down on the island countertop. The metal clanked against the marble when it made contact, but you didn’t care about how you might have scratched the surface they kept so perfect and tidy. There were too many bigger feelings coursing through your nerves to recognize how Wanda’s eyes snapped to the island before they fell upon yours again. She was getting sick and tired of your attitude. The sadness she’d felt when she first realized something was wrong hadn’t quickly become anger, but she was reaching that point now. You were forcing her over the edge with every minor act of brattiness you could even think to initiate. 

You were pinned between her body and the edge of the counter so quickly you hadn’t even realized that she had backed you in, but in a moment of forgetfulness, drunk of the state of her radiating dominance, your hands gripped onto the hem of her shirt and your eyes burned with desperation for her touch. You scolded yourself when you realized, but Wanda had already seen it and smirked knowingly down at you. You hadn’t responded to edging, but maybe you’d respond when someone properly ruined your orgasm for the first time. You never did take too kindly to their teasing, and it seemed that even in whatever funk had taken hold of you, your body was calling out for her attention. Who could blame you though, the three-day-old hickies on your neck were an indication of the last time you’d been touched, and you shared a bed with the hottest women in the world. 

Wanda’s hands were ruthless as they didn’t waste time with teasing. You’d been teased enough, there was no need for her to drag out your punishment. As cruel as she intended to be with you, she didn’t think you could handle being nothing but putty in her hands. Her and Natasha weren’t quiet when they ripped orgasms from each other in the shower at night as you laid in their bed waiting for their return, and they certainly weren’t quiet when they snuck into one of their offices upstairs in the middle of the day. Just because you hadn’t been touched, didn’t mean they hadn’t been, and the sounds of their pleasure had been torturous each and every time. They’d been waiting for you to come to them, waiting for the breaking point where you begged for their attention and any toy you were desperate enough to name at the moment. Asking for what you wanted was still hard, but they were patient enough to let you figure it out, and they had hoped that not immediately offering attention like they had a habit of doing would pull you out of your head. Clearly it hadn’t. Clearly, they’d failed to help you in yet another way. 

Wanda was in no mood to be patient anymore, and when her hands dipped beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, that fact became very apparent to you. You gasped at the sensation of her cold fingers seeking out your clit with intent and eagerness. Your eyes snapped up to hers, a million silent questions buried beneath the haze of desperation her aggressiveness had provoked. You grinded down against her fingers, not being stopped. So much control was being placed in your hands, or at least that’s what you were being led to believe as she eased two fingers into your pulsating entrance and allowed you the freedom of grinding down on them however you wanted. You wanted to push her away, wanted to keep up your act and attitude, but that had all melted away from you the second her fingers curled into your soft spot. 

“Nobody’s touched this sweet pussy in three days.” Wanda hummed, her voice laced and dripping in false sympathy as she scissored you open and made you ache for more. There was no question to be answered in her observations, and it confused you. She almost always followed up with a question because she liked to see you squirm in pleasure unable to answer her. She liked to belittle you and force you to see just how pliable you were to her every direction. Everything that you had grown to accept and adore had been ripped away. Her lips hovered above yours, but they didn’t lean down to kiss you. Everything about this moment felt so impersonal and detached, and it made you cry out in frustration. She was only doing what you had done to her, she knew that, but you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around it at this moment. When you’d eventually realize, she hoped it was enough to set you straight, because she desperately wanted to close the gap between your bodies and love you the right way. She kept her face mere inches from yours, her eyes open and hard and dilated. She was looking at you so cruelly, it made your insides feel like they were on trial. When a desperate moan fell from your lips, Wanda doubled her pace, ruthlessly rubbing circles on your clit that had become stiff beneath her thumb. “Gonna cum for Mommy, little slut?” 

“Y-Yes!” You only just barely managed to cry out, and you expected her to slow her pace and reprimand you for not asking her correctly, it had been three days since you’d called her Mommy and though you were aching for her to be just that to you, there was still bite left in your bones and Wanda merely hummed as she registered that fact. You would not like what was to come. She knew you would hate it. You liked full satisfying orgasms, and she couldn’t blame you for that, but the feeling you were about to become familiar with was the exact opposite. Only she was privy to that information though. 

“Then go ahead.” She shrugged haphazardly, a third finger daring to stretch you open and fill you up. Your walls accepted the burn, leaned into the pleasure, craved her touch and thanked every star in the universe for sending her down to you. With her permission to let go, you didn’t fight the coil from snapping within your belly. Your eyes fell closed at the sharp sensation of approaching, promised pleasure, but just as quickly as she’d let you think you were about to taste it, her fingers pulled away and left your hot cunt to pulsate and throb with no help or satisfaction. Your eyes shot open in shock, your hips writhing and bucking against the countertop as tears glistened in your eyes. You could feel it wash over you, just beneath the surface, but that was all that came from it. Your entrance sobbed at the loss of stimulation, your clit twitched and jumped in protest, but nothing could bring her back to you, and as quickly as you had tasted relief, it was gone and just nothing. 

“No!” You sobbed, your hand shooting out to grab Wanda’s wrist and drag it back to your uncomfortable core. She merely laughed at your distress, the sound foreign and cold as it rolled off her lips. Wanda had been mean, she’d been harsh and unforgiving, but she’d never been cruel. Not like this. Not with you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself as you stomped your feet and wiggling helplessly against the edge of the counter, unable to form the words that wouldn’t convince her to help you, but again, you didn’t know that this had been her plan all along; that no matter how much you begged and cried, she wasn’t going to make you cum. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not even for the rest of the week. It depended on the state of your attitude. 

With a frown of sympathy that didn’t even attempt to be perceived as authentic, Wanda had the audacity to coo at your distressed expression and reach her hand out to gently cup your cheek that was damp from falling tears. “You didn’t like that, huh?” She questioned, her green eyes unwavering in their position of dominance. You shook your head feverishly, unable to stop the twitches of movement that made your entire body tremble. She offers you no support, no endearing kiss and soft reassurance, she’s allowed you to make your bed, it’s not her problem you’re expected to lay in it now. “You weren’t supposed to, devchonka. When you’re ready to talk about what’s bothering you, like the contract that’s been open in my office for the last week, we’ll see about fixing your little issue.” 

You swallowed thickly at the words she whispered against the sensitive shell of your ear, at the fact that she had figured out where your thoughts laid without you even saying anything. You wondered if she had told Natasha, wondered how long she had known what your attitude was about and had just been waiting for you to bring it up to her yourself. You had so many questions, but you always seemed to have questions when it came to Wanda and the ways in which she worked. Of course you had your own copy of the contract, they’d be horrible lawyers if they sent you away without one, but it had been thrown into a random box with the rest of your belongings when you had moved out of your dorm room in May. When you remembered the terms of the contract one afternoon, or more specifically when the agreed upon end would be, you’d sought out one of their copies, and Wanda’s was easiest to find. Her office was so meticulously clean and organized that it hadn’t been a hard task, but that should’ve been your first sign of caution. You were stupid to think she wouldn’t notice you’d been in there snooping around, you were even dumber for forgetting to put it back. So clearly in your mind you could remember how you fled in a state of panic when your eyes reached the black printed end date, August Third. You hadn’t been back in there since, and for the week that had followed, the contract had surely been sitting open and tear stained on her desk. You were an idiot. 

The only thing you could think to do as panic flared in your chest like a category five hurricane, was run in the opposite direction. Never in your life had you stood and faced a problem head on, and now was no time to start. Would she terminate the contract early? Would she berate you for having been in her office at all? You knew they had confidential files in almost every available drawer, and your heart raced with the possibility of her thinking you’d read them. You hadn’t, you’d only been looking for the contract, but you’d messed up too badly to even beg her to believe you on that. When the initial shock subsided, and you were aware enough to realize that Wanda had stepped away from you and offered you space, you didn’t even bother to grab your phone before you headed for the exit. You hadn’t stepped into your flip flops that had gained a permanent place beside the front door, didn’t even look back at Natasha calling for you to calm down and come back to her, you needed to get out of there before you could make things any worse. You're certain that Wanda hadn’t meant to rattle you so severely, she was just tired of dancing around the issue, but the damage was done, and you couldn’t stick around to see how it unfolded. 

The front door didn’t close behind you like you’d hoped. Your hand had barely even grazed against the edge of the door when you’d flailed your limb out towards it and you’d left in too much of a hurry for the gentle touch to matter anyways. Unfortunately for both them and you, it gave them the perfect glimpse of your form as it shot straight down the familiar route toward the beach. You hadn’t wanted them to know where you were going, hadn’t even considered it much, but it was an unconscious response after so many late night walks with Natasha. A sense of ease washed over Wanda when she could at least predict where you’d be going, but Natasha, who didn’t have the privilege of knowing what Wanda knew, was left to question whether she should go after you or not. You hadn’t brought shoes, and even if the shore was only seven blocks from the house, the asphalt would burn your skin in seconds. Despite the comfort that should’ve come with the fact that you were headed in the direction of a familiar and relatively safe location, Wanda could hear the rushing of blood in her ears as she retreated back to the living room and dropped down beside Natasha on the couch. Her face was the only indication of her worry, as her shoulders took the precision of a lawyer and sat aligned with her hips. 

Natasha sat absolutely stock still on the couch, her green eyes bouncing between Wanda’s crestfallen face and the open front door where she could vividly picture you standing so tensely before you were gone entirely. She’d known there was a problem, known that Wanda was on her last ounce of patience with your persistent disobedience, but she had placed all of her faith into her wife’s ability to handle things. She was accustomed to your bouts of bad days, aware that most of them came when your mother attempted to stir trouble in your life, but this felt different, this felt personal. Natasha’s gut clenched in guilt that she couldn’t even fathom the reason for. They’d been strict, and they’d been lenient, but any side of them hadn’t been received well, even when they approached you as equals. What you needed in this moment was anyone's guess, because anyone she tried to be for you only failed to help. Brokenly, like the world had just run away from her heart, Natasha kept her gaze steady on Wanda, begging to know what had happened. “What was that about?” The softest hint of not being a born and raised American played on the edge of her words, an indication that she was beyond upset. 

Wanda sighed, knowing it was never an easy conversation to be had when Natasha was too emotional to keep her accent out of her words. The woman preferred the American accent she’d adopted after nearly twenty-five years in the States, but no amount of practice could ever fully take Russia out of her heart. Natasha might put it on thick when she was trying to wind her up, might throw it out boldly when she wants to catch you off guard, but when it was soft, when it was gentle and broken, the Sokovian knows that it isn’t intentional. After so many years together she’s become fluent in the subtle tells of the woman's emotions. “She was looking at the contract a couple of days ago.” Wanda knows what her wife needs, and so she lets her own native accent lace her words. In this moment, they’re just two women from places of destruction that thought they had finally found something good. They’re not CEO’s with enough money to buy a country if they so pleased, they’re not dominants who seek to have control and obedience, they’re merely two hearts that just watched a piece of them run away in tears. 

“Why?” Natasha frowns when she finally processes the simple sentence Wanda whispered into the dry and heavy air around their warm and lonely bodies. She tries to wrack her brain for anything that she might’ve done in recent days that had violated the terms you’d agreed on, but she can’t find a single reason for you to have sought out Wanda’s copy of the contract and fled the way you did. Things had been going so well, only a few weeks ago she had asked you how you wanted to spend the anniversary of your dynamic, and she’d not seen even an ounce of reluctance in your eyes when you said you just wanted to spend it with her and Wanda. She’d been looking forward to it since then, meticulously sneaking off to her office and planning little things to fill the day with that she knew you would adore. She’d already drafted a new contract, one that was void of an end date because as much as she knew she wanted you eternally, that wasn’t yet a conversation that she had come to you with. Did you not want that now? Had she been a fool to ever think you did? 

Wanda’s face melted at the utterly crushed gleam that rested within Natasha’s typically vibrant green eyes. Sadness wasn’t even a strong enough word to abridge the kaleidoscope of emotions that crashed against her features like the shore, but Wanda didn’t need words, she already knew. She was feeling it too. “O, milaya.” She smiles sadly, knowing that as sharp as her wife can be, she was blind to the little gestures of love you’d been throwing out. She reciprocated them all, went above and beyond for you, but her own past had tainted the purity of affection. That was not something Wanda could blame her for missing, but didn’t stop her from hating. “She’s scared. As much as you have a hard time realizing that girl is head over heels for you, my best guess is that she thinks all of this,” Wanda gestures around the visible rooms, her eyes sweeping over your shoes in the entryway before they fall on the baby blue blanket Natasha had bought solely with you in mind that now lives on the loveseat in a ball. There are so many subtle traces of your presence that linger in their perfectly kept rooms, and Wanda adores each and every one. “is because of the contract.”

Natasha feels so stupid for not having realized the cause of your apprehension toward her sooner. If it were possible for her heart to break into a million pieces of sharp glass, she’s sure the organ would have crumbled into dust by now. She wonders how many nights you had laid awake between her and Wanda and tallied them off as one of your last chances to do so. The exhaustion on your face makes sense now, the inward spiraling she’d watched you do wasn’t so random anymore. She hates that she spent the first ten years of her life in a family void of love, she hates that even now at thirty-four, she hasn’t figured out how to show how she feels clearly. If she could just get over herself, maybe you wouldn’t be questioning your place in her home. “No.” Natasha shakes her head, her eyes begging with Wanda to believe the next string of words that fall from her tongue, “I-I love her.” 

Wanda smiles that same sad smile again, and her hands that are free of scars and calluses hold firmly to Natasha’s cheeks. It’s not the same grip that she’d held you with in the kitchen, it’s softer and tender and expels all of her unspoken emotions that nobody has found the words for yet. Tears glimmer in her eyes as she nods her head to the whispered admission that had been danced around for four months. Wanda’s always known that her wife has found another home in your heart, just like she’s always known that you’ve found a home in hers. She’s accepted that, but beyond that, she’s found a home in you too. “I know that, Natalia. YA nikogda ne zadavalsya etim voprosom. Nikodga. YA tozhe yeye lyublyu. YA lyublyu vas oboikh.” 

Natasha’s eyes brim with tears at the whispered confession in her native language. Sokovian and Russian are close enough to understand without having to learn the other, but Wanda had gone the extra mile to make her feel at home even thousands of miles away. Russia had never felt as soft as Wanda does in this moment, and Natasha can’t even begin to explain how disgustingly in love she is with the woman sat beside her. “My skazali, chto eto ne bylo nikakikh usloviy. My smotreli Pinokkio, i ty spel mne etu pesnyu. YA obeshchal tebe nikakikh usloviy.” Tears leak down Natasha’s face in single streams that resemble rivers, but Wanda’s quick to wipe them away, thinking her wife’s face is too beautiful to hold such sorrow. 

A wet chuckle falls from Wanda’s lips as she shakes her head, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her mouth that can’t quite stay in place with the sadness that keeps her still. “Vsegda byli kakiye-to usloviya, dorogaya. Menya ustraivayut eti struny. YA khochu eti struny.” There’s understanding and acceptance in her eyes, and Natasha doesn’t understand how she’s done something good enough to deserve a wife so accommodating. Wanda’s always known that Natasha was never fully hers, much like she’s always known she was never fully Natashas. Their hearts were forged in the same fire of pain and suffering. Wanda lost her home to bombings and war, Natasha lost hers to violent abuse. They were the best and worst parts of one another but you; you fit on them like a glass slipper made by magic. You fulfilled every part of their traumatized souls that they’d thought would remain empty until death took them whole. You showed them unconditional love, and yeah, you were blemished and traumatized too, but that just made it better.  

“I should have gone after her.” Natasha whispers into the silence that hasn’t fully come over the house in weeks. There was never silence when you were around, even when you slept whispered words of sweetness fell into the air as you wiggled and tossed in a dream she could only hope was innocent as you are. Her head falls forward until her forehead rests against Wanda, their green eyes that are so vastly different but similar connecting passionately. There’s worry brewing in her chest that she just can’t ignore, not when you’re out there without any way to communicate with them. You’re a perfectly capable adult, she knows that you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to; not when you have her. 

“She needed space, moya lyubov’. She’ll come back to us.” Wanda mumbles, her lips ghosting over Natasha’s. It’s not quite a kiss, neither one of them lean into it, but neither of them pull away either. Right now, they just need to be close, they just need to hold onto hope that wherever you are, you’ve found the peace you needed. 

“She has to.” Natasha lets her eyes fall closed, and she silently counts the beats of her heart that she can feel against her ribcage. She loves you. She hadn’t been ready to admit it before, but it’s the only thing she can think of now. 

There’s a wistful smile on Wanda’s lips, and her eyes are so far away that Natasha knows she’s thinking of something specific. Whatever memory it is, she doesn’t ask. She just leans into her wife and hopes that she’s right, but Wanda’s never wrong, so there's no reason to worry. “She will. She always does.” 

-

The sand is coarse beneath your feet as the shore gets farther and farther behind you, off in the distance there's a seagull swooping down to steal the sandwich that one of the shoobies has packed from home, but you don’t witness the chaos unfold as you pace your way toward land. You don’t know how long it's been, but you know that the sun has shifted in the sky and the faintest wisp of pink clings to the horizon. The end of daylight is an approaching promise, and when it dawns on Westview you want nothing more than to be wrapped up safely in Wanda's arms for the duration of it. Even if it ends tomorrow, you need just one more night where you can pretend it’s all real. 

There’s a pair of vibrant seafoam green flip flops on your feet that aren’t yours, but the child who left them behind doesn’t miss them too much, hopefully at least. They barely fit, the heels of your feet hanging over the edge, but you're willing to suffer if it means avoiding the searing hot pavement on your journey back to the Maximoff residence. You don’t know why you ran, don’t know why you allowed yourself to fall back on that learned response to anything going awry, but there was nothing you could do to change how you reacted now. The time away had forced you into sounder thoughts, and the song of the ocean as it crashed against land had eased you down from panic quite well. All that lingered through your body now was longing for arms that felt forbidden, but you hoped they would make an exception just this once. The seven blocks back to the Maximoff residence was well known. You watched as the pastel homes that lined the coast as far as the eye could see became muted buildings and beige houses, counting down the sharp corners until the last number that remained was one. Six blocks had passed too quickly, in the estimated eleven minutes that it had been since your back faced the shore and your mind had made the decision to return, you hadn’t had the time to prepare yourself for what could possibly await you when you entered. The house could be ripped to shreds, or it could be still in perfect silence. Those had been the only two options when you were a child, but you found that it was neither when you finally mustered up the courage to set your hand on the unlocked knob and twist. 

You felt the eeriest sense of deja vu ambush your already hypersensitive nerves as you set your gaze on Wanda and Natasha cuddled together on the couch, watching old sitcom reruns beneath the blanket that had been bought by Natasha, and until this moment, solely used by you. Wanda had put up such a fuss about how it clashed with the theme they’d decorated the room with, you thought she might demand Natasha return it the very instance she saw it peeking out of a shopping bag, but that threat never came, and after seeing how in love you were with the feather light material, she had never even dared to move it into the linen closet where every other blanket they owned resided. Seeing them cuddled beneath something that had been bought specifically for you stirred feelings in your chest that you would much rather avoid but you wouldn’t run from your problems again. 

When your presence was noticed, it was merely seconds before two sets of strong and familiar arms wrapped tightly around your neck and torso. Wanda’s head burrowed deep into your chest seeking darkness while Natasha’s found a comfortable home in your shoulder demanding promise that you were real. It was never you in this position, with women clinging onto you desperately like you might vanish, but now that it was, you didn’t know what to do to console them. You mirrored the actions they’d done for you so many times before, hoping that it was the right move. One of your hands fell on the center of Wanda’s back, while the other curled into Natasha’s hair tightly. A strangled sigh escaped from your lips when you submitted to the comfort they radiated, but you knew that forgiveness was too good to be true, so you waited with baited breath for the other shoe to drop. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” Wanda mumbled into your chest, your skin kissed by unrelenting sunlight unsurprisingly warm beneath her cheek as she craned her head to look up into your eyes that were already looking down at her. Her knees must be bent, because otherwise she’d be nearly six inches taller than you, but you appreciate the shift in position even if it’s foreign. You’ve never noticed how thin the bridge of her nose is until now, and softly, unable to help yourself, you leaned down to kiss the unblemished and freckle-free skin. Her eyes fluttered closed at the close proximity of your faces, but if you thought that would’ve been enough to quell her scolding, you were wrong. “Do you hear me, dorogaya. Do not ever leave like that again.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of your sleep shirt and you felt your heart sink with guilt. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, not even sure if the weight behind your words was strong enough to reach her ears comprehensively. Tears brimmed within your eyes before you could stop them, and you felt small in your skin like it didn’t really fit on your body. Wanda pulled away from your embrace first, her head shaking firmly left to right as she unmade you with one simple look. You didn’t understand how she could do that, but you felt properly vulnerable beneath her heavy stare.

Her words were soft, and her hand reached out to tenderly hold your face. It would be weeks before they could trust that you wouldn’t go running away again. “Don’t apologize. There’s no reason to apologize.” She promised genuinely, even though you felt like that was the furthest thing from the truth. “I just need you to promise you’ll never run like that again. You don’t even know how badly you scared me, angel.” Her voice was raw, thin and shaky, and you realized quickly that the anger you’d been expecting was nowhere to be found. In place of it however, was worry and concern that could make even the worst person weak in the knees with sympathy. 

“I won’t.” You returned the gentle whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to collect yourself. Natasha still gripped you firmly and persistently, her hands clawing at the loose fabric of your sleep shirt like she was trying to get beneath it without really removing it at all. You’d never seen her so distressed before, and your eyes met Wanda’s in a panic not knowing what to do to console her. 

Wanda smiled softly at you before her hand fell onto the small of Natasha’s back and rubbed gentle circles. You absorbed the little pieces of information that was being provided, pocketing them for a later date that in full transparency, you hoped never came. You didn’t like seeing her so out of sorts, and you especially didn’t like being the reason for it. “Ona nikuda ne denetsya, dorogaya. Teper' ty mozhesh' otpustit'. Posmotri na neye, ona nastoyashchaya. Ona bol'she ne uydet. Vse normal'no.” Wanda’s words were quick and soft, delivered in what you could only assume was Russia, but they seemed to work effectively because not even a second later, Natasha was pulling away from where she had attached herself to you and her eyes searched your face and body for any visible injuries. 

“I’m okay.” You promised softly, not entirely sure if your word meant anything to her anymore, but hoping that they still did. You didn’t need to hear her internal questions to know what answer she wanted from you, and you were more than willing to provide what little information you could if it meant sparing you the heartbreak of having to witness her so broken down again. You didn’t have all the answers she wanted though, and that part pained you deeply. As much as you knew why you had run, and you could explain it to her if she asked, you didn’t have any valid reason as to why Wanda’s words had spooked you so much. Maybe it was the confirmation that things were really changing, or maybe it was something entirely different that you would never know. “A little sunburnt, but I’m okay.” You added when you sensed her hesitation to believe you, and she nodded curtly at your added affirmation. There was no denying the tautness in your cheeks, the only indication that sat on your skin that you’d wake up in lingering pain tomorrow. Sun burns had never been so common for you, but now you have one nearly every week. 

Wanda guided your attention back to her carefully, not wanting to rattle you like she had hours prior. Your wide eyes stared into hers without any hesitation or reluctance, clinging onto the open silence that rested comfortably overtop of you. The walls that you had slowly been building for the last week were finally gone, and in their places was the girl that she knew was just desperate for affection and tender care. Wanda hadn’t realized how much she missed you until she had you back, and she promised herself she’d never let you slip so far away again. “Are you ready to talk to us, milaya moya?” 

You nodded your head at her simple question, not wanting to avoid the topic any longer then you already had. It wouldn’t get any easier the longer you waited, and desperately you wanted all to be forgiven so you could lean up and kiss her. It didn’t feel right to do that now, not when you hadn’t offered her any kind of explanation or apology for your ongoing behavior. She took your hand routinely, a small habit that had formed in the weeks that followed the change in your relationship. She was always leading you around, always hovering and assuring that you were content and okay. If you were in a public space, she set the expectations that if you weren’t holding onto her or Natasha, you were within eyeshot. If you were in the car, even if she’d heard your seatbelt click into place, she was leaning over to fix it and assure it fell over your chest correctly. There was so much love in her simple actions, you felt like crying just recounting a few of them in your head. She guided you over to the couch, only letting go of your hand so that she could ease you down onto the soft cushions that welcomed your weight without protest and drape the soft blue blanket across your sun kissed thighs. You were thankful for the addition of your blanket, already cold from the abrupt displacement of the unfiltered sun against your skin. 

“Can I go first?” Wanda asked cautiously once all three of you were settled on the couch. Natasha was curled up against the arm of the sofa, looking entirely unlike herself as she gnawed nervously on her bottom lip and flickered her gaze between you and Wanda. The Sokovian was in a similar position, though her hand was grasping yours securely and her thumb ran over your knuckling soothingly. Natasha made no attempt to touch you, and you tried to swallow down your disappointment. You didn’t deserve her touch, you were lucky enough to have Wanda. 

You nodded at the lawyer's question, your eyes briefly trailing over to gaze at Natasha, wanting to assure that it was alright with her that you allow Wanda to take control of the conversation for the time being. It would give you time to get your own thoughts in order, and Natasha had no protests about the idea, inclining her head the slightest inch. Wanda smiled softly at the both of you, her grip never wavering around your hand. “I’ll start with what I think spooked you so badly this afternoon.” Wanda’s voice was soft and patient, no ounce of anger lingering in her tone like you’d been expecting. It was as if you’d already been forgiven for your week-long attitude and misbehavior, something that was still foreign to you after nearly a year of being treated this way. The Maximoff’s never went to bed angry, it was a rule within their own relationship that had also fallen upon you, but you aren’t sure that you’d ever get used to it. “I found the contract on my desk a few days ago. I thought nothing of it until I noticed how you started to pull away from Natasha and I.” You winced slightly, shame rushing over you, but Wanda merely smiled encouragingly down at you when she felt the minor movement. “I had hoped that you would come to us when you were ready to talk about it. I didn’t want to rush you into a conversation you couldn’t handle. Natasha and I work so well because we communicate with one another, sometimes it takes a couple of days for us to sort out our thoughts on something that we don’t agree with, but we make it a point not to hold any judgment until we have the full story. This is all so new to you still, I figured you might like the same curiosity. I can take responsibility for not addressing the issue sooner; for not letting you know that I saw you were upset right away. It must’ve seemed like we didn’t care about what was going on in that pretty little head of yours, but that was never the reason we didn’t say anything. Your feelings matter just as much as ours, this is not a one-sided relationship. You don’t have to make yourself small just so we’re not inconvenienced. With that being said, I shouldn’t have approached you the way that I did in the kitchen. That was a lot of new things all at once when you were already feeling pretty confused, huh?” 

You listened intently to Wanda’s words, hanging onto her every syllable as you gave her your full undivided attention. At some point, Natasha’s body had curled into yours, but you barely even recognized the way she was trying to hold you as you let yourself fall into a world where only you and Wanda existed. Behind her, daylight had melted into blackness, nightfall in full swing overtop of Westview. The weight of her apology had struck a chord within your broken heart, and you’d almost violently flinched away from it, but by some miracle, you remained perfectly still. It didn’t feel right to be receiving such an honest apology, but you knew she’d only fight you on the matter if you spoke up about how undeserving you felt. You just barely managed to nod your head at her question, squeezing her hand tightly. “Yeah.” 

“How did you feel about it?” She smiled encouragingly, always eager to hear your opinions on the new things they implemented when you were in the proper headspace to accurately communicate how it had made you feel. It was all still so new to you, and talking about sex felt like something cliche, but you tried your best for them. At the follow up question, you became faintly aware of how Natasha’s hand slipped beneath your t-shirt and sat firmly on the warm skin of your back, reassuring you that she was there as well and at the first sign of trouble she’d pull you out. 

“I… liked it.” You admitted shyly, your gaze flickering down to the blanket that covered your thighs and brought a comforting warmth over your body that goosebumps had threatened to adorn had she not covered you so quickly. You found that running your fingers over the soft blue checkered pattern was more interesting than meeting Wanda’s intense stare, still not entirely used to the way that it made you feel vulnerable. “I didn’t like when you pulled away though.” 

She smiled sympathetically, and this time it was genuine. Flashes of the earlier afternoon settled at the forefront of your memory, and you could distinctly recall how her grin had been anything but what it was now when you were pinned between her body and the counter writing in frustration. “You weren’t supposed to like that part, milaya. How do you feel about keeping ruined orgasms as punishment?” 

“Okay.” You shrugged, not really having an opinion on the subject. It wasn’t something you hated, not even really something you minded if you were going to be honest, but the idea of incorporating it into your sex life felt too bold. If you were going to be giving yourself over to Wanda or Natasha, you didn’t want the decision of if you were going to be allowed to enjoy your climax fully to be fully over your head the entire time. You were aware enough to know that a situation like that would only trigger your anxiety. 

“Okay.” Wanda copied your words, a teasing smile pulling at her lips when you finally mustered up the courage to meet her eyes again. A timid blush settled across your cheeks with heat that rivaled the summer sun, a shy smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you sat beneath her pride filled expression, but you didn’t back away from her stare, slowly gaining back the confidence you had lost. “Now, do you wanna tell us why you were so upset about the contract? I think we have a pretty good idea, but we need to hear it in your words.” 

You swallowed thickly, almost tempted to shake your head and push the conversation off for another time, but Natasha gripped your waist soothingly and spared you a smile that felt limited now. You hated that you had been the cause of her distress, hated that it still lingered on her face and there was nothing you could do to amend it. You took a breath, trying to keep yourself together before you fell apart again. How do you tell two married women that you love them? There’s not exactly a handbook that goes through step-by-step explanations for this sort of conversation. “The contract ends soon. In less than eight weeks. I don’t– I can’t– I don’t want to just– You’re married!” You finally bellowed, frustration lacing your tone at the jumbled mess of words that got caught in the back of your throat before they’d even become full sentences. “You’re married and I’m just a contract and I– I like this. I like being here with you, and I’m scared about what happens when it ends and you have no obligation to keep me around. I thought that if I pushed you away it would make having to leave easier.” 

You didn’t want to see the expressions on their faces as you cracked, everything you’d been meaning to tell them for weeks and long days finally out in front of you for them to analyze and criticize however they pleased. Maybe it wasn’t everything, maybe you’d kept some very major things to yourself, but it was enough to leave you feeling vulnerable and raw. Your eyes glimmered with tears, the lights in the room reflecting off of them in a way that allowed them to resemble stars. Wanda thought you were too pretty to cry, but she also couldn’t help but get lost in the galaxy you allowed the world to witness. It was Natasha’s voice that captured your attention, and your head snapped in her direction when the first words out of her mouth were an apology. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear to you how much I want you here, moy malen'kiy utenok.” Her voice cracked as she held onto your stare, feeling just as vulnerable as you as she let herself be less than a world-class lawyer for the time being. She was just Natalia right now, sat beside you with her own set of tears dampening her eyes and a pout that wasn’t quite a frown on her lips that were the same color as fresh unskinned peaches. She wasn’t Natasha, the version of herself who had her entire life figured out and laid in perfect rows ahead of her, but Natalia, the woman who had just barely survived childhood in Russia before she was adopted by a family that had just barely escaped years prior. Even if Melina and Alexei weren’t perfect parents, they tried so hard to be the remedy that her shattered heart needed. The words Melina had engraved in her mind were the only thing that kept her talking as she stared down at you. You didn’t realize that behind you, Wanda was mouthing the words like a mantra, an added element of encouragement that Natasha didn’t really need, but appreciated nonetheless; ‘Pain only makes you stronger, big girl. Do not cry over the growth you are experiencing’. “You are not just a contract. You’ve never been just a contract, I hate that you even think that’s all you are. Before I met Wanda, the only person I had ever known how to love was Yelena. And even then, I didn’t do it right most of the time. My parents… they believed that love was your greatest weakness. They taught me how to hate, and how to hide who I am. I’m still learning how to let people in.” Natasha drew a shaky breath in, her fingers that rested on the skin of your hip clutched you tightly, begging you to stay; to see and believe the truth in her words. “I put that end date on your contract so that you would have the choice to decide if, when the year ended, you wanted to stay. It was never meant to be an official end. Honey, I could never let you walk out of my life. Not fully. Not without at least trying to get you to stay. I look forward to coming home to you just as much as I look forward to coming home to Wanda. YA tebya lyublyu.” 

Your breath caught in your throat at the whispered confession she was certain you couldn’t understand. You heard her and Wanda whisper sweet nothings in their native languages often, but you never paid close enough attention to them. It had always felt intimate, like a secret only they were allowed to know, but you’d spent countless hours teaching yourself simpler phrases and sayings. A wet smile pulled your lips firmly upward, and you leaned just close enough for your forehead to brush against Natasha’s. You didn’t know she’d done the same thing to Wanda earlier, but Sokovian smiled softly at your likeness, even if the both of you were painfully blind to it. 

“I love you too.” You whispered back, your eyes locked firmly on the Russian’s. You smirked smugly at the expression of pure surprise that easily captured Natasha’s features, and you fondly remembered a similar look crossing Wanda’s face when you had pleaded with her to stop teasing. “I’ve been teaching myself. Little phrases, nothing major, not yet at least. I can’t speak it very well, but I can confidently understand when you call me an idiot and think I’m none the wiser.”  Wanda laughed softly at your admission, though Natasha’s cheeks flushed crimson knowing she’d been caught, on multiple occasions. She always did it affectionately, that was never a question in your mind, but you enjoyed teasing her, and you especially enjoyed seeing that warm smile come back to her face. “YA tebya lyublyu.” You whispered to her, your face mere inches from hers. 

“Say it again.” Natasha demanded, her eyes laced with lust that hadn’t been taken care of by your hands in days. You would certainly need to fix that. You merely remained smug against your spot on the couch, acutely aware of how Wanda’s arms circled around your waist and pinned you to her chest. You raised your hands to cup her still flushed cheeks, gingerly pressing your lips to her nose in a kiss too soft to fully quench her need for you. With her face in your hands, you briefly flashed back to the impromptu escapade you’d embarked on in the shower on the morning of their Memorial Day barbeque, more specifically how quickly she’d managed to flip your position in a matter of seconds, but you still dared to try and remain the one in control anyway. 

You shook your head at her request, certain that your lips would remain in a permanent smirk if she didn’t do something about it soon. “Show me.” You uttered, the need to taunt her thick and evident in your simple demand that only further drove her crazy. “Show me how much you love me, Nat.” The breathiness of your words brushed against her face, and she didn’t hesitate to comply for a single second. She’d be a proper full to turn you down. 

Lips that tasted faintly of cherry met yours in a passionate embrace that had a moan slipping from your open mouth and into hers. The force of her attack had been unsuspected, and it sent you falling backward into Wanda who accepted the heavy weight of your body against hers greedily. There was no fight for dominance, no urgency in Natasha’s kiss. She had kissed you a million times before but none had ever felt so vulnerable and real and right. You weren’t kissing her as your dominant. No, for the first time ever you were kissing her as the woman you loved. She licked at you slowly, tasting every inch of your mouth like it was the first and last time she’d ever have the opportunity to do so, and you allowed her that freedom without complaint. Your tongue clashed with hers on multiple occasions, the both of you too eager to prove your love that rhythm failed you. Each time your tongue touched, you moaned in tandem and grew red in the face. Not from embarrassment, but because neither of you had come up for air since leaning forward. Wanda, despite not being a part of your make-out session, had made herself busy behind you, not wanting to miss out entirely. Her soft lips ran over the skin on your neck, dampened by her tongue that had swept across them eager. She was careful not to hurt you, knowing all the places that became especially sensitive when you were turned on, but she made every effort to make her claim against your skin as she bit and sucked on expanses of skin that had miraculously remained unmarked until this moment. When Natasha bit down on your bottom lip, you couldn’t take the pleasure any longer, and your head tilted backward in pure ecstasy.  

“I want– I want your clothes off. Both of you..” You choked out breathlessly, just barely managing to pull yourself away from Wanda’s mouth on your neck, despite wanting to drown yourself in the sensations she was causing to shoot down your spine. You could appreciate their slow pace another day, but right now, all you wanted was to have them fully, to take their bodies into your hands and make them cum. It had been far too long since you’d last had the privilege. 

“Look at you making demands.” Wanda teased, her teeth nipping at your neck one last time before she complied with your request. You had half the mind to push her away and roll your eyes in fond exasperation, but Natasha feverishly stripping out of her clothes had distracted you before the words could fall from between your lips in a rushed mumble. The Russian wasted no time in making the act look sexy, you’d seen her be sexy about three million and one times. Right now was not about appearances, it was solely about connecting with the two women you loved. The women you loved. The women who loved you. Even if Wanda hadn’t said it, letting you have your moment with Natasha, you felt it. You felt it in the way she’d held you so tightly at the door. You felt it in the way she made sure you had a blanket when she sat you down to talk. You felt it now as the tenderness of your neck set in firmly. You were so beyond loved, and you loved them so beyond much. Natasha’s hair was a tousled and properly frizzy mess by the time she had actually managed to pull her shirt away from her body and discard it haphazardly on the floor to be picked up later, but you thought she looked stunning with wild curls framing her face and a flush blush to her cheeks and neck. Her leggings went next, and with them came a set of royal blue panties you’d never seen before. You’d definitely be making it known how much you loved them when you were in the proper mindset to speak full sentences. 

Wanda forced your head in her direction after her clothes had joined the already existing heap of fabric on the floor. Your sleep shirt and shorts were nestled somewhere between the both of their more presentable outfits, but you couldn’t help but think the difference of wardrobe perfectly summarized your relationship. It felt especially fitting in this moment with your body pressed between the both of them. Wanda pulled you in for a desperate kiss, her lips softer then Natasha’s but her teeth crueler. You whined when she pulled away too soon for your liking, but it was replaced with a desperate moan when she breathed out instructions against your lips, “You’re going to eat me out, and Natasha’s going to finger you.” 

“What about– What about Nat?” You questioned, but Wanda was already lowering her position on the couch and spreading her legs for you to see her fully. You groaned at the wetness that clung to the inside of her thighs, not even sparing a single second before you dove straight into her dripping cunt. The first taste of her arousal against your tongue had forced you into autopilot. You’d become fluent in the language of her pussy, and it hadn’t failed you yet as you lapped at her clit with a heavy pressure and let your fingers explore her entrance before they dipped in fully. You hadn’t thought that this could get any better, but then you felt Natasha’s warm cunt settle firmly against the back of your flexed calf. Your doggy position gave her the perfect chiseled surface to grind against however she pleased. You didn’t have questions about her pleasure anymore, knowing exactly how the Russian planned to cum; on your leg. 

The groan that slipped past your lips when two of her fingers pushed against your weeping entrance shot right into Wanda’s clit, and the Sokovian moaned loudly at the sensation that tickled up her belly and through her spine. Your tongue worked double time against her sensitive bundle of nerves, and eventually your fingers found a brutal pace that matched Natasha’s. Every time the Russian’s fingers curled into your softest spot, yours curled into Wanda’s. Every time the Russian’s hips stuttered against your calf, your tongue flicked harshly at Wanda’s clit. Your motions were perfectly in sync. They weren’t romantic, they lacked grace and care, but they were exactly what you all needed in this moment. When Wanda cried out in pleasure that came solely from your mouth and fingers, a complete sense of pride washed over you. Your tongue didn’t stop caressing her clit, working her farther and farther up the hill Natasha had you climbing steadily. 

It was only when the Russian’s thumb rubbed a particularly harsh and tight circle against your clit that you came with a body shaking moan that effectively pushed Wanda over that same edge. Natasha wasn’t far behind, and when you’d only just started to come down from your intense high, she was reaching hers. Her hips stuttered and jerked against your naked calf that glistened with her juices undoubtedly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from flexing the muscle beneath her weight. You collapsed against Wanda’s chest the second you had felt Natasha go slack behind you, and slowly, you pulled your fingers from where they rested in her cunt. Cheekily, you licked them clean, maintaining eye contact all the while. Natasha wasn’t as selfish. Her fingers shot out to Wanda’s lips in a second, and the Sokovian allowed their weighted presence in her mouth as she lapped up for juices. The sight was unreal, and if you hadn’t already been jello against her chest, you were certain you would’ve melted into her. 

“Wands?” You called out sleepy, not having the energy to even crane your head and search for her eyes in the dim lighting of the living room. 

“Yes, dorogaya?” She answered you softly, her own eyes fluttering closed just as Natasha found a comfortable position against the back of the couch. Your limbs were entangled, thighs between thighs and ankles crossed over, but you made it work. It would leave you with a serious kink in your neck tomorrow, but for tonight, it was the only place you wanted to be. 

“I love you too.” You whispered in Sokovian, having practiced them tirelessly since the first day you realized that your feelings for Wanda had never been hatred. You found that the languages merged beautifully together, but you wanted Wanda to feel just as seen and special as Natasha. You didn’t see her face when the words fell from your lips, you wish you’d had the energy to look at her when you finally admitted defeat and gave into your confused feelings, but just feeling the way her breath hitched in your chest was enough for you in this moment. 

Her hand, still adorned with rings that were cold to the touch, fell onto the small of your back like they’d always belonged exactly there, and held you to her chest tightly, not wanting to risk for even a single moment that if she wasn’t touching you, you’d fall away and never return. “I love you too, sweetheart. So much. You don’t even know.” 

“I do.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy and unable to fight against sleep, but there was one last thing that you wanted to say before you gave in entirely and left this perfect moment to be just another memory. “Natty?” You called, hoping the Russian was still awake against your side. 

“Yes, moya lyubov’.” Her voice was thick, gravely as it fell into the silence that was pulling you deeper beneath the blanket of dreamland that hadn’t felt peaceful in days. 

“YA tebya lyublyu.” You barely managed to get out, but you did, and just before you fell asleep, you heard her mumble back the same. 

It may not be perfect, but it didn’t really need to be.

I know that, Natalia. YA nikogda ne zadavalsya etim voprosom. Nikodga. YA tozhe yeye lyublyu. YA lyublyu vas oboikh. — I never questioned that. I love her too. I love both of you.

My skazali, chto eto ne bylo nikakikh usloviy. My smotreli Pinokkio, i ty spel mne etu pesnyu. YA obeshchal tebe nikakikh usloviy. — We said it was no strings attached. We watched Pinnochio and you sang the song to me. I promised you no strings.

Vsegda byli kakiye-to usloviya, dorogaya. Menya ustraivayut eti struny. YA khochu eti struny. — There was always going to be strings attached, honey. I'm okay with these strings. I want these strings.

Ona nikuda ne denetsya, dorogaya. Teper' ty mozhesh' otpustit'. Posmotri na neye, ona nastoyashchaya. Ona bol'she ne uydet. Vse normal'no. — She's not going anywhere, darling. You can let go now. Look at her, she's real. She's not leaving again. It's okay.

moy malen'kiy utenok — my little duckling

[thestoryofusstan]

I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader

request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??

summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.

warnings: cursing, not edited

--

you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.

rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.

tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.

with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.

“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.

“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.

“late?” nancy asked.

“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”

—

by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.

you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.

“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.

“long line at the coffee shop.”

“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”

you nearly choked on your drink.

“you finished those edits, right?”

“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.

“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”

“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“

“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”

“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.

“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“

you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.

and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.

“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”

your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”

he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.

“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.

“yes, sir.”

he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.

you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”

“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”

“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”

—

right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.

“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.

“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.

“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”

you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.

“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.

“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.

“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”

“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”

even you could tell he did not mean that.

“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.

“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”

you all chorused variations of yes.

“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”

you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.

“i expect an answer.”

“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.

“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“

“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”

josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”

mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”

“yes, mr—“

“so why aren’t you doing it?”

“i— i’ve been.. busy.”

“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”

“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”

“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”

“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“

“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”

josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.

you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.

“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“

“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”

“you better watch what you say to me—“

a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”

you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”

you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.

you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.

"miss townes, correct?" he asked.

"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."

he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."

you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"

"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."

"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"

"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."

his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"

"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"

you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.

"yes, mr. styles."

it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.

"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"

you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.

"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."

josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"

"i'm not asking."

mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."

"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.

"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."

you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.

"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.

"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"

"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."

"really? i mean.. are you sure?"

"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."

"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.

right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.

"oh, and y/n?"

you turned around with a furrow in your brows.

"let me know if you have any other problems."

you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.

--

a/n: part 1!! i really love this request