#this was the only drawing that worked tonight rip

[gmaybe666]

the duffer brothers told me this moment happened while the cali crew had a pit stop on their road trip in the desert and mike and will were sleeping, but said they had to cut it for pacing :/

[ifindus]

do you have a faroe island and/or greenland oc? also how do you see their relationship with norway or the other nordics?

I have drawn both Greenland and Faroe once before! Greenland is just the canon design with colours I picked, while I made an Faroe oc. Though neither of these two are really considered much in Norway, during lock-down in 2020, the Faroe football league was the only one still active so a bunch of Norwegians became avid followers of Faroe football of a year 😅 Faroe does have a lot influences from both Denmark, Norway, and Scotland.

Greenland was also under Norway before Norway entered the Kalmar Union, and I know there was almost a fight between Denmark and Norway over the area in the early 1900s, where Norway claimed it should be under Norwegian rule (the same argument could be made for Faroe and Iceland too though).

I think Faroe and Greenland bond over complaining about Denmark (their favourite hobby), and Faroe sort of looks up to Norway while Greenland is indifferent about him. The two should also be good friends with Iceland, as he lived with them for most of their life and they are all island in the North Sea.

[moeblob]

As a brief acknowledgment: I checked online for nearby electronics stores stock and sadly, nowhere had what I was looking for in regards to drawing tablets. So I have no ordered one online but it said earliest I’d get it is January 4.

I still plan to update daily but it will be pen doodles for the next... more than a week. Not much I can do about it since it’s the holidays thus the worst time for an electronic to break when shops only wanna stock the expensive stuff in store. If you stick around for pen doodles, thank you. If not, I get it. I really miss digital art already myself.

[aintitfierce]

[petrichorium]

the first time you give in and let shanks into your bed—after months and months of very persistent dashing grins and cloying sweet-talk—you don’t realize until he has you pressed against your bedroom door, with his singular hand tucked beneath your skirts to grasp the back of your knee and hook your leg around him, that the vest you’ve chosen today is held together by a row of small buttons at the front.

it’s an issue it seems he’s only just realized too, as he pulls away from your lips and stares down at your bust.

“buttons,” he says with a pout, thumb tapping pensively against the side of your knee. “is this a test?”

“an accident,” you laugh. “i’ll help—“

“no.” shanks nips at your finger playfully before you can touch your neckline. “not proper to make a lady undress herself.”

it shouldn’t be a surprise, you suppose, but he’s more skilled than you anticipate. with teeth and tongue he manages to undo three before the steady unveiling of your cleavage distracts him. letting go of your leg, he reaches up to work at the fourth even as his tongue runs hot over the newly exposed skin of your chest.

then you feel him pause. he blinks; his eyes are dark and stormy, so deep red they might as well be black. though you often find it difficult to parse out what he’s thinking, it hardly takes a genius to gauge the way that big hand catches hold of the side of your vest, teeth grazing the other; preparing to forego any more delay and simply tear the damn thing apart.

“pop them,” you sigh out, somehow unwilling to speak more than a murmur, “rip it off. i won’t stop you. but—“

you pause just as shanks does the same, eyes darting up to meet yours over the heaving swell of your chest and fingers freezing where he’s gripped the fabric of your bodice.

“you won’t do much more than touching tonight,” you finish.

those eyes sharpen. a thrill goes through you, as his fingers flex for half a moment—and then he’s surging up to kiss you again, hard and heavy and biting, drawing a heady giggle from your tongue. his arm slips around your thighs, tightening to lift you from the solid wood you’ve been pressed against before he turns to take a scant few strides and deposit you onto your bed, not once parting from your lips.

only when you’ve settled does he pull back, just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves his arm to brace himself on his elbow and then giving a surprisingly chaste peck to the tip of your nose as he begins a descent.

he lingers at the edge of your neckline, sucks at your skin, then kisses down your stomach over the fabric that still covers you; his hand is eager but gentle as it slides beneath the hem of your dress again, rough calluses brushing against your foot and ankle and calf until he’s palming your knee and pushing the fabric up over your thighs.

“well.” that look in his eye is more of a glint now, accompanied by a grin and a wink that has you rolling your eyes as shanks disappears from sight. “suppose i’ll find something we can do without taking that damn thing off, eh?”

[hanbinics]

!boxer matt meets !sunshine reader at one of his fights...

the boxing gym was like nowhere you’d ever been in before nor anywhere you usually spend your time. it was loud, gritty, and so alive with this sort of energy that had your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. it had you clutching your best friend’s elbow like a lifeline the entire time she led you through the crowds of rowdy people around you, all of them jittery and chattering excitedly about the two men in the ring.

“hey, just stay close to me, okay?” your friend calls over the noise. when she glances back at you and notices the slight pinch of your brow and your pursed lips, her shoulders relax. “trust me, you’re gonna love it. matt’s amazing to watch,” she reassures you softly, the somewhat familiar name piquing your curiosity. after all, it was the entire reason she’d dragged you here tonight—her boyfriend’s brother is the one boxing.

so despite feeling like a fish out of water, you offer a nod of your head and a small smile, allowing your best friend to pull you towards the front of the crowd to get a better view of the two men entering the ring. you’ve never actually met matt before, but as soon as you catch sight of him finishing up on the layers of tape on his knuckles, you just know it’s him. not only does he look strikingly similar to chris, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that immediately draws you in.

he’s... intimidating—broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and cold blue eyes zeroed-in on the man across the ring from him. you can see fading bruises peeking out from beneath his tape before he’s pulling worn gloves over his hands, and the sight nearly makes you shiver. you’re so focused on how dangerous he looks when you suddenly feel as though someone is staring at you, and when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat at the realization that those cold blue eyes are now focused on you.

it's only for a fraction of a second that matt allows himself to study you, but immediately there’s an almost imperceptible furrow of his brow.

you don’t belong here.

the thought is immediate and unshakable. while the crowd around him roars with impatience, you stand there with wide, pretty eyes and parted lips, clearly out of place—like a daisy growing through a crack in the concrete.

but as soon as the fight starts, his attention shifts, and you’re left reeling from his cold gaze as he locks in on the only thing that makes him feel at home anymore—and it shows. you can’t take your eyes off him as he moves around the ring, even when you find yourself wincing here and there at the punches being thrown. it’s still not enough to make you look away, your body subconsciously leaning forward and your lips parted as if you’re watching a movie unfold before you. you’re amazed by the focus and control he maintains, and by the time his arm is being lifted in victory, your best friend is surprised at the way you clap for the brunette in the ring.

she looks at you with amusement twinkling in her eyes for a moment before leaning closer to your ear. “see? i told you he’s good,” she hums playfully, but you can hardly rip your gaze from matt’s broad shoulders and smug smile as he’s paraded around the ring in celebration.

once the crowd begins to disperse, most of them heading towards the front to collect on their bets, you find yourself being pulled towards the back despite your quiet protests as your friend insists that you have to meet matt. you can’t explain why, but the thought of doing so has your heart racing in your chest, the image of those cold blue eyes gazing down at you from the ring like a warning in your head. but before you can really dig your heels in and insist you should be getting home, you find yourself timidly approaching chris and his brother sitting on a bench in the locker room, one of the employees probably working the fights tonight cleaning up a gash just over matt’s right brow.

“baby,” the girl beside you greets her boyfriend, a wide grin on her face as chris stands from the bench to wrap his arms around her waist. you watch as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to her mouth, but find yourself looking away just before their lips actually meet.

when they pull away, she’s still smiling when she shifts her attention to matt. “matt, this is the friend i was talking about bringing along,” she explains, introducing you to the boxer. you can feel your cheeks warm as your name is spoken to the other man, mortified that he might think you can’t so much as introduce yourself.

from the bench, matt’s head tilts just enough to acknowledge you guys, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly when he looks at you. “so,” he says, deep voice laced with sarcasm, “you brought me a cheerleader?”

slowly, your face falls, and while your cheeks begin to burn, you find yourself blinking, lips parting and then closing as you try to find something—anything—to say to curb your embarrassment. he’s still looking at you, watching you closely, like he’s trying to gauge your reaction, but you feel like you can do nothing but flounder under the cold, subtle hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

despite your obvious embarrassment, your friend just laughs it off. “she’s new to all this, but she thought you were amazing,” she informs him, raising an eyebrow as if challenging the other triplet from beneath chris’s protective arm around her shoulder. there seems to be something unspoken exchanged between the two, but you’re too flustered to decode any of it, especially when matt’s expression shifts into something a little more smug as his eyes flick back to you.

“is that so?” he asks, but there’s an air of cocky indifference about his question, and you watch as he leans his back against the lockers behind him, arms crossed over his chest in a way that makes a few lean muscles flex subtly. you don’t have to see yourself to know your cheeks are a furious shade of pink.

“i mean, yeah, um—you were really good,” you manage to stammer out, voice barely above a whisper. it only serves the burn in your cheeks, and you watch as matt’s smirk deepens.

“really good, huh? high praise from an expert.”

“oh i’m not an expert at all,” you breathe out almost immediately, not catching the teasing tone to his voice, “i don’t even really know much about boxing, but the way you moved—it was like, um... watching a dance? but better. faster, and stronger,” you elaborate. at this point, your hands are wringing together anxiously at the base of your stomach, and your face is on fire. you feel entirely silly after you’re done, especially when you watch the way matt tilts his head to the side, clearly amused.

“a dance,” he repeats, tone dripping with skepticism, “never heard someone call it that before.”

despite your own nerves, you nod your head quickly in response. “it was just that you seemed to know everything that was going to happen next, and you executed it so well... it was amazing, really,” you find yourself admitting, and for a moment, matt’s smirk falters as he watches you seemingly replay the whole fight in your head, looking completely fucking awestruck.

from beside you, chris rolls his eyes. “matt,” he says simply, a light, playful warning just beneath his brother’s name as he shoots him a look as if to say be nice.

you don’t catch it, his expression shifting into one of an easy smile when you look the couple’s way, but your best friend almost looks sympathetic when your eyes meet, and you can’t help but be a little confused and feeling left out of the loop as matt finally stands from the bench.

“it was nice meeting you.” your name rolls off the boxer’s tongue with ease, but he seems almost dismissive about the pleasantry as he throws a t-shirt over his head and picks up his bag from the bench, hiking the strap over his shoulder.

disappointment sinks into the pit of your stomach, oddly enough, and your mouth twitches into a frown despite your best efforts. “oh, uh, it was nice meeting you too,” you reply quietly, the room beginning to fill with soft shuffling as your friends begin to make their way towards the door to end the night.

your fingers toy anxiously with one another as you turn to follow the couple out of the room, but your heart skips a beat in your chest when matt calls your name once more, prompting you to turn back to him, eyes wide with both surprise and curiosity.

you watch as he makes his way towards you, blue eyes twinkling with something you can’t put your finger on as he takes you in carefully. the closer he gets, the quicker your pulse becomes, and you swallow hard when you have to tilt your head up slightly just to look at him because of how close he’s gotten.

“i’ll see you next friday then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. he watches your face carefully, taking in the hint of confusion behind your pretty eyes, the sight making his own mouth twitch into a small smirk as he begins to move past you and towards the door to follow his brother out.

“next friday?” you echo almost breathlessly, twisting around to face him once he’s halfway out the door, his body only half turned towards you as he nods once, that same sarcastic smirk resting so beautifully on his face.

“’m gonna need my cheerleader at my next fight, won’t i?”

a/n. i missed writing. i'm sorry i haven't been posting, but i hope you guys stick around for what's to come. x

©hanbinics

[ddejavvu]

anakin being so pussy drunk that he cant sleep bc he didn’t fuck you at least once that day but you’ve already gone to sleep. he can’t help himself seeing you all so pretty and peaceful sound asleep that he doesn’t even bother to wake you up just sinks his cock in without a second thought.

does anyone know where to get a wet floor sign cause i gushed

obvious cw for somnophilia, very quick and fleeting mention of anal (no actual activity), don't like don't read.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

His cock is already hard from the moment he steps through the door- perhaps if he hadn't spent the elevator ride thinking about sinking it into your wet, warm cunt, he wouldn't be so inconvenienced.

But it's hard, and aching, and only getting worse, so he sheds his Jedi garb as quickly as humanly possible. A belt here, a tunic there, boots sloppily discarded by the door. By the time he gets to your bedroom he's wearing only an undershirt and briefs, but he disposes of the thin cotton shirt in the doorway.

You're sleeping. Illuminated gorgeously by the two of four moons that are visible from Coruscant's surface. They spill a pale halo of light around your sleeping form that catches on your sleek satin gown, pools deliciously in the space just beneath your thighs where the chub of your ass takes over and- Anakin's even stiffer.

It's a gift from whatever god Anakin unconsciously believes in. Whether it's a local legend from his days on Tatooine, or the will of the Force, some higher power has shed ethereal light on your body, and Anakin feels called to indulge in its divine gift.

You're laid out on your stomach with one knee tucked up to your side, and an arm thrown beneath your ribs to offset the heft of your breasts. You complain about pain when you lie on your stomach for too long- Anakin's surprised that you're sleeping like this. But he is not complaining, not when it offers him a perfect view of the gentle curve of your mound that rests between your thighs, parted to offer your leg enough room to bend the way that it does.

His cock begs for your pussy, tearing and ripping and struggling against the fabric of his briefs, and when he yanks them down his thighs his cock springs so tightly that it hits his stomach, leaving a sticky smear there.

No matter - things will get messier.

Anakin can't spot a wet stain on the pad of your panties, but it's no matter. He can supplement until your body catches up. He retrieves a bottle of lube from your bedside drawer- almost empty, seriously, do you guys fuck that much? -and pools some on his palm, stroking his dick with it so that it smears over his length.

He has to be careful not to work himself up too much with his own hand- no self-achieved orgasm will ever be as good as what he'll experience in your cunt.

His dick is properly slicked now, but he squirts a generous stream of the stuff onto your cunt once he pulls back your panties, unable to resist the urge to spread it through the split of your ass.

That's not the hole he's going for tonight, but he's never been able to keep his hands to himself.

Hands braced on either side of your body- one slick with lube - he leans his weight on the mattress, and draws his wet hand back to his cock. He needs no help after the initial guidance of the first thrust, and once he's gently pushed his cock through your artificially slickened entrance, he huffs out a sigh that blows hot against your back. The slip you're wearing is low-cut enough that the heat hits your bare skin, and he's not sure if it's the penetration or the sudden gust of air that makes you shiver.

You let out a strangled moan- something between surprised and pleasure, and Anakin is relived to feel his cock sliding smoothly through your cunt. You nag him about wasting lube; he's a very generous pour, but if it means you're feeling pleasure and not discomfort, he'll empty the whole bottle.

He dips down to kiss your cheek, his broad shoulders flexed against his muscled back- not that you're awake to enjoy it.

"Shh, s'okay angel," He groans, drawing in a shaky breath as he drags his hips backwards, pushing in once more to the heat of your cunt, "It's- it's okay, I just- agh, I need this. Just- let me have this, angel, let me- let me take it."

[eiightysixbaby]

older! eddie finally having enough of reader calling him old man and he decides to show her how much of an old man he really is😏😏😏

“old man yeah?” he says grinning ear to ear when you whine pathetically underneath him, “wanna say that again?” he coos

18+ only pleaaaase!

The ball rolls down the lane, heavy and awkward, knocking into the pins and only sending a couple falling.

“That was possibly the worst throw of the night, Munson!” Robin says, smiling proudly when Eddie glares at her.

He groans, swiveling his arm to stretch out his shoulder.

“Not fair, this shit used to be easy. ‘S fuckin’ killing my shoulder tonight,” he comments, picking up his bottle of beer and clinking it with the top of Steve’s in a sort of pity toast to his bad turn.

“Oh, come on, old man!” you tease, standing to take your turn. You pick up your bowling ball from the bunch, giving Eddie a devious glance. “Let me show you how it’s done, sans any shoulder pain or back pain or pain in any other body part,” you smirk, earning a laugh from Steve.

“Ouch,” he says. “She’s got you there, Ed. Shoulder pain, really? When we’re not even halfway through this game.”

“Oh fuck off, Harrington. Wasn’t it two nights ago I saw you buying Epsom salts complaining about sore muscles? From a day at the pool with your kids?”

“Listen, the amount of times I had to pick them up and toss them into the water—”

You giggle, letting the two of them bicker as you take your turn. You let the ball go in a more elegant manner than Eddie, standing at the end of the lane as you wait to see the outcome. Sure enough, all ten pins fall with a scattered crash, and you bounce up and down eagerly.

“Woo!” Robin and Steve cheer, Eddie rolling his eyes as you high-five them.

“Alright, sweetheart, so you think you’re the superior bowler?” he asks, pulling you against him.

“I know I am, old man,” you draw out the last two words, pressing a polished finger to his chest. “Unless you really think you can show me up. But I wouldn’t want you hurting that shoulder while you try,” you pout, seeing the way the look in his eyes changes at your teasing. “Can’t have you doing too much… physical activity.”

“Alright, so that’s how you want to be, hm?” he asks, his voice low. “Just wait ‘til we get home, darling.”

The comment makes you shiver, his figure slipping away from you as soon as the words are out of his mouth. You watch him leave to get another drink, your mouth slightly agape as film reels run through your head, showcasing the activities that probably await you when you return home. Chewing on your lip, you return to your seat next to Robin, knowing full well you’re going to get under Eddie’s skin as much as you possibly can before the night is over.

Stumbling through the door just before midnight, a couple shitty bowling-alley-bar mixed drinks in your system, Eddie’s got his finger hooked in the waistband of your too-tight jeans, pulling you into him.

“That was real fucking cute, the way you kept mocking me all night,” he rasps, his warm breath fanning your ear, his lips barely grazing the shell of it. “If I had to hear you call me an old man one more time, I swear I was going to put you in the car and fuck you right there in the parking lot,” he says, kissing at your jaw.

You whine a little, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access.

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks, knowing the answer.

“Ed—” you pant, trying to paw at the buckle on his jeans.

“It is, god of course it’s what you wanted. I know your angles, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with lust.

He presses a hot kiss to your mouth, his tongue licking against your teeth. Your hands climb up his back, clawing at the fabric of his shirt as if your plan is to rip it off of him. He picks you up, carrying you down the hallway without breaking the kiss. He’s tossing you on the bed before he pulls his shirt off, exposing his modest muscles from years of hard work at the shop. You never tire of looking at the tattoos that decorate his pale skin, the ink fading with time.

He’s undoing his belt while you’re stripping bare on his bed, feeling your face heat when you catch him staring at your tits.

“Damn, I’m going to fuck the absolute shit out of you tonight,” he breathes, smiling boyishly, betraying his age despite the soft wrinkles in his face.

“Are you?” you ask, one final taunt, pushing him over the edge.

“Oh, sweetheart. G’na have you crying for me,” he says, moving to hover on top of you on the bed. “You’re not gonna be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

It’s quick and without warning when he slips two fingers inside of you, making you mewl as your hands tangle in his hair. He curls them expertly, he knows your body like the back of his hand by now, knows exactly what to do to have you screaming for him.

His eager mouth licks and sucks on your breasts, tugging your nipples gently with his teeth as your back arches. Your body accepts a third finger from him easily, sucking him right in as wet, filthy noises fill the bedroom.

“Eddie,” you whine, already on the edge of your orgasm. Your breathing is heavy, eyes pinched shut beneath him as he works you to your breaking point.

You cum around his fingers with a cry, body shaking violently as he works you through it. You feel like you’re on fire, his touch igniting every inch of you. All you want is more.

“Old man, huh?” Eddie muses as you come down from your first high of the evening. “Looks like this old man still knows how to please. So do you wanna call me that again, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, knowing you’re already in for quite the night.

“Good,” he says, dipping down to kiss your lips, your jaw, your neck. “Cause we’re just getting started.”

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Tim and Danny are half-siblings

Champagne glasses shine in the light like jewelry on people’s wrists and necks and cuff links and literally anywhere else someone can fit. Honestly it’s giving Tim a headache.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only one suffering at this pointless gala. Not that the fundraiser for homeless kids in the city is pointless, but did they really need to throw an expensive party?

“You okay, Timmy? You’ve sighed like four times now,” Dick comments on the comms they all have in.

“Yea, I just-“

“Mr. Drake! How nice it is to see you again. Have you met my son, Daniel?”

Tim turns to find Vlad Masters, CEO of dalvco, dragging along a teen who looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here. The boy, Daniel, glares at the hand holding him by the arm.

“It’s Danny,” like it was the hundredth time saying the phrase.

Masters pretends he doesn’t hear it.

Tim is already working on how to get out of this conversation. He’s dealt with too many parents pushing their kids in his direction tonight.

He throws on a smile anyway and holds out his hand for a shake.

“Tim Drake-Wayne, nice to meet you, Danny.”

Danny hesitates for a second and it results in a tightening of the jaw and subtle glance to where he was glaring before as if Masters just tightened his grip on the teen. Tim says nothing about the awkward pause.

Danny shifts his weight to subtly step on Masters polish shoes, drawing the attention of the man and allowing Danny to slip a piece of paper into the handshake. Tim raises his eyebrows for Danny to see before falling back to pleasant neutral. He tucks the note into his pocket casually.

“Same.”

Tim’s smile becomes a bit more genuine at the teenage behavior.

“Now then,” Masters jumps in after getting himself situated, “I had been meaning to make an appointment with you, but every time I call you are always busy.”

Tim knew this was coming.

“I’m not receiving any calls about the Drake name, Mr. Masters, as you are well aware.”

“You would think that as a young businessman you would look to someone with more experience.”

He really wasn’t being subtle at all, was he?

“I wonder how Bruce would react if he heard you,” Tim warns even though he knows full well Bruce can actively hear the conversation. He turns to Danny while Masters is recovering from that reminder. “Our newest adoptee is about your age. Duke Thomas. He should be around here somewhere if you want to exchange numbers.”

Danny opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off. Masters’ hand goes from clenching the teen’s arm to squeezing his shoulder in what appears to be a warning.

“Oh no, I forgot to mention, Daniel’s entire family and his friends, along with an unfortunate teacher, all died recently in a terrible accident. I was given custody of the poor boy, of course. He’s like the son I never had. Anyway, we wouldn’t want to upset him by replacing what he recently lost, would we? He needs his space to grieve.”

The condescension with the insensitive wording left Tim speechless for a moment, and with the silence over the comms so were everyone else listening.

Tim finds Danny glaring down at the floor with clenched fists. The teen rips himself away from Masters, and when the man tries to chastise him, he turns and stares the man down with such a hateful expression that Tim had to keep from tensing. He had seen too many of those looks in the field, usually on the faces of those he was fighting.

Whatever silent conversation that was happening between the two was ended with Danny grinding his teeth and running away to what looks to be the direction of the restrooms.

“So sorry about him,” Masters apologizes like it wasn’t his fault Danny almost committed a crime. “He’s a bit sensitive right now. I honestly had hoped he would feel better after getting out of the house.”

Masters sighs almost theatrically, “Enough of that. Here is my business card for when you finally decide to-“

Tim walked away before he could finish.

It’s in the bathroom that he finds Duke talking to the door of one of the stalls. They make eye contact but all that’s there is concern and confusion. Danny wasn’t talking.

“Hey, Danny, right? How you holding up? That was kinda rough, huh?” Tim tries.

Silence. Then, “Did you read my note?” He hears come from the other side, small and thin.

Right. The note. Tim pulls it out of his pocket quickly.

“Yea, yea, I read your note,” he lies as he’s quietly unfolding said note. “It’s just, you know… oh.”

Duke raises his brows in surprise at Tim’s sudden change in tone and expression. Tim couldn’t even guess what his face was doing but it was the least of his worries. The younger leans in to read over his shoulder.

“Oh,” agrees Duke.

I think we are half-siblings. Please help me take him down. I’ll send DNA if you need it. It can’t wait.

Oh indeed.

“What does ‘oh’ mean?” Dick suddenly asks over the comms which Tim forgot were still in. “Guys, seriously, do I need to come in there?”

“No,” Tim answers quickly only to realize that Danny can hear it too. “Duke, can you cover the door?”

“Sure, man.”

Tim takes a deep breath and shoves his emotions way down. Danny was already upset and obviously trusting Tim with this, he needed to be a solid support that his little brother this teen can lean on.

It could also be a trap.

“Danny, can you come out please?”

There was hesitation in the air, but he finally hears the click of the lock and the door swings open. The poor kid was holding himself tightly and shrinking into himself, afraid of Tim’s reaction.

“Danny,” he says gently. Danny still flinches. “Why do you think we’re half-siblings?”

He lets the teen chew on his lip for a few moments before he has to repeat himself.

“I was going through my parent’s stuff,” Danny rushes out, “like paperwork and stuff… I found a box pushed way back with letters. At first I thought they were my parents’ old love letters, but it wasn’t my dad’s handwriting even though he signed it ‘Jack’. There was also a picture of my mom and your dad together on an excavation site. The date on the back made a lot of sense because when you add nine months, that’s my birthday.”

Danny looked at Tim with such a lost expression that Tim felt a bit lost himself.

“I never would have thought my dad would cheat on my mom. He was too afraid of what would happen if he did, I thought,” Tim says, leaning into it a little.

“Right? I never thought my mom would, my parents were infatuated with each other, but maybe they were having problems at the time? I don’t know, I didn’t actually read the letters.”

“Can I look through them?”

Danny blinks and then rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

“I mean, yea, but they’re back at my parent’s house in Illinois. I would have to find a way to send them to you, but Vlad is kinda watching my every move at the moment so-“

“What if I went alone?” Tim jumps in the suggest. “I have enough money to go on a mini vacation. I could sneak in when everyone’s asleep and find them.”

“Honestly I doubt it’s locked. You could just walk right in. If you don’t mind the wasted gas, then okay, sure. Need the address?”

Tim respects the confidence and trust.

“Nah, I got it, but I will still need that DNA sample.”

Danny swallows nervously.

“Right, um, what- what do you need? I don’t know how this works.”

Tim nods and a smile to calm the teen down. His nervousness was definitely noted though.

“That’s okay. I’ve done this plenty of times with women who claim their child is Bruce’s. Always ends the same.”

Funnily enough, Danny relaxes at the reassurance lined with warning.

“Oh, that’s good. Okay. Just tell me what you need. Can we do it right now?”

Danny glances at the door and Tim understands the rush.

“Sure, come here,” Tim waves them over to the little sitting area. He pulls out his pocket knife with a mischievous smirk. “Don’t tattle on me.”

Danny stares with a wide smile and even wider eyes. It’s kinda funny how excited he is when most people would wonder why Tim was pulling a knife on them. Maybe they were brothers.

“Whoa, how’d you sneak that in? There was a whole metal detector and everything,” Danny fans.

“A true magician never reveals his tricks,” he smiles at Danny’s pout.

“Lame. You probably paid off one of the waiters or something.”

He actually planted it in one of the plants inside before the event even started, but the kid was close.

“Or something.”

“I always wanted one,” Danny murmurs wistfully.

“I’ll get you one,” is out of his mouth before he knew it.

“What?” Danny jerks up in surprise. “No, you don’t have to do that. I wasn’t expecting-“

“I know,” Tim cuts off the guilty ramblings. “I want to. You should have one.”

“Aw, little Timmy is bonding with his brother,” Dick coos over the comms.

“We don’t know that for sure, Richard,” Damian reminds.

“He sounds pretty legit to me,” Duke adds.

Tim ignores them for the most part.

“Lift up your leg. I’m just gonna give you a small cut on your calf to get some blood. It’ll be quick, okay?”

“Okay.”

Danny doesn’t make a sound when metal meets skin and slices through. He presses down on the wound with his handkerchief to collect the blood. Of course that wasn’t enough for him to cover all the bases, so he asked Danny to spit in his empty champagne glass, which the teen complied with zero complaints.

“Is that it?” Danny asks curiously.

“Yep! I’ll run them down to the lab ASAP and compare against mine. I’ll let you know about the results when they come back. Let me get your phone number.”

Tim was quietly getting more hopeful with how cooperative Danny had been. He hands over his phone easily with a chirped “sure!” to also let Tim put in his number.

“We have to be careful though. Vlad’s been over my shoulder since I moved in. If he finds anything he doesn’t like, it won’t be good,” Danny laughed it off like that was normal.

Tim had suspected a heavy hand with the shoulder squeezing earlier bordering on abuse with what and how he said what he did, but it was looking worse than his original hypothesis.

“Danny,” he says softly, like when he talks to a victim as Robin. Which might ring true here and Tim was already getting angry about the whole thing, if the abuse is real, he might fly off the handle and Kon will be forced to reign him back in. “Do you want to tell me about Masters?”

Danny immediately goes on the defensive, looking around the empty room and shoulders going stiff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny denies.

Tim isn’t surprised, but he also isn’t happy.

“I have more power than you might think, Danny. I can help you.”

Danny shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t- You- It’s complicated.”

“Then explain it to me. Please trust me, Danny. I can help get you out-“

“This isn’t about me!”

His words ring off the tile, making it louder than intended. Danny flinches at the sound and looks to the door with anxious eyes.

“Hey,” Tim whispers. It still makes the teen jump. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I know that,” Danny snaps, but Tim knows not to take it personally.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily. That seems to make Danny relax a bit. “What did you mean it’s not about you? It’s your DNA we’re checking against mine.”

Danny bites his lip in anxious contemplation. Looks like Tim is gonna have to pull this one out like teeth.

“Is there someone else involved?”

Danny hesitates but finally nods.

“You can trust me, Danny. I won’t do anything that isn’t in your best interest. I promise.”

Danny’s lip is bleeding but neither of them say a word. He looks desperate and alone. It makes Tim’s skin crawl.

“Promise you won’t do anything yet?”

Tim nearly sighs with relief.

“Yes. I promise.”

“So you won’t tell? You can’t tell,” Danny insists.

Technically it wouldn’t be telling if they can hear him in real time.

“I promise I won’t do or say anything. Whatever is said here is confidential, alright? I won’t tell anyone,” Tim assures.

It seems to do the trick because Danny creeps closer to whisper after checking the door one more time.

“Vlad is my godfather. Uncle Vlad, right? He has always wanted a son and he was obsessed with my mom, so when he met me he, I don’t know, flipped a switch or something and his attention was on me all the time if it wasn’t on Mom. He wanted me to renounce my dad and go live with him. Obviously that didn’t happen so he tried the next best thing apparently and decided he was gonna make a clone of me.”

Danny pauses and Tim needs it to seriously contemplate what even is his life.

“It didn’t work out the way he planned and the only clone to make it was a girl, my cousin, Danielle. Yes, he named her after me. Some things happened, we worked it out, so Danielle was on my side and hates Vlad, right? Well, when everything happened,” he swallows thickly, “Danielle came back from traveling to be with me. Vlad took that opportunity to confine her to the basement. He never wanted a daughter. He never cared about her. So now he’s using her as leverage against me. If I try anything or don’t do what he says, she’s the one that gets punished. If I try to run away, he’d kill her. I know he would. And before I knew about you, she was the only-“

“The only family you had left,” Tim finishes.

Danny nods with a pleading expression.

Tim can understand the primal urge to be close to a blood relative that actually cares.

“Now you have me,” Tim offers with a small smile.

Danny makes the effort to try and smile back, though it falls flat quickly.

“We don’t know that yet. I could be wrong. I’m sorry I threw all this at you, I just- When I found those letters and thought that… I just-“

“I get it.” And he did. He really, really did. “You know, even if we aren’t related I still want to-“

Danny’s phone rings, making the teen jump. He glances at the name calling with a scowl. He doesn’t answer.

“Vlad’s looking for me. I gotta go, but, um, thanks… for taking my word for it and being so nice about it. I promise I’m not trying to pull something for your money. I didn’t even know you were rich until I looked you up-“

“Danny.” Tim was coming to the conclusion that Danny tend to ramble when nervous. He stands and guides the kid toward the door. “It’s okay. I know you’re not lying. I’ll text you the results, okay? We’ll figure this out. Just be patient for me, alright?”

Danny nods and fidgets with his suit coat. He doesn’t make a move to leave yet, instead he turns to face Tim.

“Um, you can say no. I just- is it okay if I hug you?”

Tim blanks for a solid few seconds. It’s only Dick’s cooing and Damian’s sassing that snaps him back to reality. This was real, he has to remind himself. He might have a half-brother and he wants a hug. Tim can do hugs. He can crush a hug, totally.

“Uh, yea. Hugs are okay.”

Danny must not care about his awkward response because he suddenly has thin arms around his waist and soft hair tickling his cheek. They were at the ideal height difference where Danny can rest his head on Tim’s shoulder comfortably. Tim wraps his arms around the teen’s shoulders and just felt.

If Danny really is his half-brother, then fate really is cruel to deprive him of this kinship all throughout his childhood.

Danny pulls away first, face to the ground, and ears red.

With a wavering voice he stumbles out an apology and a thanks before bolting out the door, narrowly running into Dick. He’s disappeared into the crowd in a blink.

“You okay, Tim?” Dick asks.

Tim blinks, “I have a brother.”

“A possible half-brother, but yea, still exciting.”

“The results will come back a match,” Tim says confidently.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Drake. This Daniel sounds pathetic, he would only hold you back.”

“Damian, there is nothing pathetic about trying to protect someone. Danny is thinking about his little cousin,” Dick argues. Damian doesn’t dispute.

“My parents never loved each other,” Tim confesses. “It was a marriage of mutual convenience. It is very possible that my dad found a lover outside their marriage.”

It was weird talking about his parents like that, but it was true. His mother told him once that marriage isn’t about love, it’s a contract between two people with mutual interests and values. His father was always somewhat withdrawn.

Danny had the black hair, the blue eyes, and even the skin tone to match his own. His jaw line was wider and eyebrows thicker, but honestly, they could be brothers if they stood side by side. Half-siblings isn’t even a stretch.

“He’s my brother. I know it.”

Tim spots a flash of silver hair from the crowd and narrows his eyes into slits.

“My brother who is being abused by his caretaker apparently,” he says in a voice that sounds like he’s planning a murder.

Huh. Now that’s a thought.

He could just kill Masters, that would certainly get him out of the way.

“I don’t like that look,” Dick says cautiously, leaning to bring Tim attention to him and not Masters hunting down his little brother. “We’ll help him, Tim. Don’t go overboard here. You can’t afford to get too emotionally involved.”

Tim sends a glare his way.

“Why don’t I prove what I already know, then?”

“Tim-“

He already had the champagne glass in his jacket pocket and his handkerchief in his breast pocket. He shoves past Dick and heads toward the front doors. No one stops him as he leaves the party early and hails a cab back to the manor to start his analysis.

It’s a half a day later when Tim sends a text with an emoji of two males holding hands and a green check mark. It’s an hour later that he gets a shooting star in response. He smiles widely and then gets to work on planning Masters’ demise and his brother’s and ‘cousin’s’ escape into his custody.

[sunshinescribes]

Greedy

Pairing: Donquixote "Corazón" Rosinante x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: Rosinante never knew he could be so greedy until he met you.

Warnings: SMUT! Established Relationship, Pining, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation

Rosinante once thought greed was not in his nature.

He had grown up on scraps, shoving half-bitten fruit and moldering meat into his mouth faster than he could draw breath, uncertain of when his next meal would be. He had lived in the dark alleyways and decrepit homes of strangers lost to history, thankful that the day had not been his last. Even as he lay shivering and sick, he found solace in the fact that a bullet had not found him, nor the punishing hands of those who wished to spill his celestial blood. 

His desires had always been reasonable. Food to sustain him. A temporary place to lay his head. A way to escape his callous brother. Rosinante only ever wished for what he needed, never what he wanted…until he met you.

It’s strange. If Rosinante tries to think back on it, he can’t quite pinpoint when you become so precious to him.Your paths had crossed serendipitously one day, when he had slipped away from Doflamingo and his insufferable company to draft reports for Sengoku. Rosinante found shelter in your humble tavern, a simple little thing at the edge of town—far enough from the Donquixote family’s current headquarters to allow him a moment of respite.

You had been cautious in the beginning, aware of how dangerous members of the Donquixote family were, especially when provoked, but with each visit, you began to shift before Rosinante’s eyes. Your clipped words had turned into full sentences, soft inquiries. Your quick retreat to the kitchen whenever he appeared had stopped. Gradually, you both began to thaw, finding comfort in the other’s presence and soon Rosinante was escaping to your homely tavern regardless of if he had reports to draft or not. 

There was a softness in your gaze that captivated him—a pretty lilt to your laughter that was so different from the cruel humor of his brother’s underlyings. 

Maybe that was when his heart first stirred, the moment you laughed while helping put out the flames that slowly spread across his feathered coat. There was no deprecation, none of the censuring he had come to expect. You had been kind, and Rosinante had not realized how long he had been denied such a simple act—how much his heart secretly craved it.

And in turn, he began to crave you.

“Rosi—”

The breathless call of his name rips Rosinante from his recollections. 

He blinks, forcing the fog in his mind away until the image of you beneath him becomes clear again, and he wonders how he had allowed himself to get distracted in the first place. 

“Hm?” he hums softly, tilting his head to the side as his eyes sweep over your face.

You’re a lovely mess beneath him. Beautiful. The thought finds him every time he sees you, and yet it still feels like a revelation. Your long lashes flutter as you meet his gaze, your bottom lip trembles, looking so inviting. It takes everything in Rosinante not to dip down and kiss you senseless. 

He could…but then he wouldn’t be able to see the lovely expressions you make as he continues to work you with his slender fingers. The pinch of your brows, the way your lips part when you let out a sultry sound that strokes the flames of his desire.

Rosinante wants to kiss you, but he thumbs your clit instead, earning another sweet moan that makes his dick strain painfully against his slacks. 

“I-I’m gonna come—” you whine as you buck your hips, making his deft fingers plunge deeper into your needy cunt, and oh god he feels it again, the way your walls hug whatever they can get a hold of just before you tip over the edge. 

Rosinante has already coaxed one orgasm out of you tonight, but he wants another—wants to watch your pretty eyes roll in the back of your head and that brilliant mind of yours go dumb with pleasure. There isn’t a prettier sight in the world, and it’s enough to get him off, watching you come undone. 

“Come baby, please fucking come…” he rasps, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself. 

Rosinante quickens his pace, fucking you with his fingers while your walls clench around them, trying to keep his long digits where you need him most. His thumb rubs torturous circles against your swollen clit—faster and faster while sweet supplication spills from his lips.

This is worship after all, isn’t it? 

The wrecked whimper you let out is like music to his ears, and Rosinante fucking groans when he feels you coat his fingers with your sweet release. He watches as if caught in a spell at the way you shake through your second orgasm. The sight alone makes Rosinante’s resolve shatter. He leans down, slanting his lips over yours, swallowing those pretty cries as you shake through the pleasure that washes through you.

Rosinante wastes time he doesn’t have kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs. Doflamingo will wonder where his little brother has run off to, but Rosinante can’t will himself to part from you. Not when you’re a lovely, boneless wreck below him. 

Not when he still wants more. 

Rosinante reluctantly withdraws his fingers from your slippery hole just as he pulls away from your lips with a sigh. He blinks, his heavy gaze finding yours once again. You look a little dazed, like you're still coming down from your high. Rosinante can’t help the way his lips curve into a soft smile, or the way he whispers soft praise against your skin with each tender kiss. 

“One more…just one more sweetheart,” he murmurs, slowly trailing his lips down your body. The taste of salt and something sweet linger on his tongue, making him tremble with anticipation as he steadily reaches his destination.

Rosinante makes an appreciative noise at the sight of the mess he’s made of your pretty pussy—the slow drip of your slick like honey, the way it smears your thighs and stains your sheets. He can practically feel his mouth watering, his mind going dizzy with lust.

Rosinante doesn’t realize he’s leaning in until he feels your trembling fingers thread through his hair, gently yanking at his blond curls. He stills, before glancing up at you with an inquisitive look.

“What…about you?” your question is a tired mumble, barely audible. 

Oh, you’re so sweet, even when you’re worked to your limit, hardly tethered to the waking world. It makes the warmth in Rosinante’s chest spread like a wildfire.

His eyes never leave yours, not even as he slowly lowers back down to your needy cunt.

“This is for me.”

You let out a broken cry the moment his tongue slips between your folds. Rosinante knows it’s too much, that you’re still reeling from your last release, but he’s too far gone—craves you like a drowning man craves air. 

This is the greed you inspire in him—this unshakable desire to take everything he wants. It would terrify him if you weren’t so eager and willing. 

Rosinante laps at your sweetness like a man starved. He fucks his tongue into you, licking away the evidence of your last release to prepare for the one you’ll soon give him. He knows it won’t be long now. You’re already a sobbing mess, so needy and sensitive. 

“Ohgod—Rosi I can’t—” your words die out, replaced by a pathetic moan.

“You can…” Rosinante gasps, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy to give you a moment of relief. “Sweet girl, I know you can.”

And he knows just how to prove it. 

Rosinante leans back down, fixing your sopping pussy with an appraising glance before he wraps his mouth around your sensitive clit. He lets his talented tongue glide over the nub, teasing it until your nails dig painfully into his scalp.

You’re close, so so close. Rosinante knows you’re teetering over the edge, nearly on the brink of ecstasy. The idea alone makes his dick twitch in his trousers, ready to burst along with you.  

Rosinante grinds against the bed, chasing a sliver of friction against his throbbing cock. He’s right there with you, hanging on by a thread. 

Let go, he hears a voice in his head whisper. 

Let go. Let go. Let go.

Rosinante sucks on your clit hard and you’re gone, thrashing and bucking your hips—chasing your release with his mouth as a jumbled mix of his name and a curse spill from your lips.

Rosinante chases his own release, grinding his clothed cock against the mattress until he’s spilling into his slacks with a broken sob. You both gasp and quiver, feeling the delicious traces of your climax as you slowly settle from your high.

Rosinante sighs contentedly, gently nuzzling your thigh. It would be so easy for him to just stay here with you, to make a home in your too-small bed and leave his brother and his mission behind. It would be nice, not having to live in fear of Doffy uncovering the truth behind his sudden return—to think there’s a life left for him at the end of all this, even if Rosinante can’t picture it. 

He wants that. God, he wants it so bad it hurts. Rosinante allows himself to dream, lets his mind conjure possibilities and perfect endings…but he still lifts from your mattress, cleans away the evidence of your shared desire, and begrudgingly staggers out of your tavern.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue, and Rosinante finds solace in it as he slowly trudges through town.

Maybe one day this will all be over and he’ll get to stay by your side.

It’s a pretty thought, even if it is only a dream.

divider credit: cafekitsune

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 6 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the third year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning staying

warnings (TW): swearing, alcohol consumption, nicotine use (gross! but perhaps…sexy?), illegal activities, piercings, gore, panic attack/panic-inducing situation, slight sexual themes

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, miscommunication but like with body language?

notes: the end of an era rip stan’s mullet circa 1985 (according to me and me alone). also like i 100% believe Stan plays in the pool mmk, like def rough housing when yall go swimming i just didn’t wanna write it. But in the back of your mind okay- just know deep down that yall had fun

thanks again for the notes and the comments and the reblogs omg i love reading anything yall leave fr lol- ahhh thanks again <3

word count: 6.8k (yo what howd i manage this)

| masterlist | part vii |

February, 1985 

They had decided to go out that night, making excuses about missing the new year. 

They hadn’t noticed the clock ticking by from December into January, consumed with new wiring in the basement connected to the user panel for the portal. 

She had been ranting and raving again, like he had hated in the beginning of it all, but slowly began to crave in the end of it. He had begun to slowly understand those rants in the coming months too, thanks to her hurried chalkboard drawings of random continuous circuits. He closed his eyes now and could identify different AC and DC currents in the lines of the darkness in his dreams. 

Work would consume them at random, and he had begun to find her downstairs late into the night after having dragged her to bed. She’d creep out into the hallway, lingering in his bedroom doorway. Tucking blankets around his broad shoulders, only to find her way downstairs to the last remnants of Stanford. 

He saw his brother in her at every turn as of late, found his last visage in her shaking hands and deep-seated eyes. He’d tie her to the bed if he had to, no matter how the image shook something deep in him. She’d sleep tonight, and he knew of a way to do it. 

Distract her.

So he took her out to the bar singing to her about the new year that had already come and gone, dragged her up the stairs to change into something that wasn’t covered in oil and dirt, and got her out the door within an hour. 

She looked better now, her eyes less clouded and her smile more radiant than he’d seen in days. She had felt cold for months, and he believed it his own fault because he had pushed her away. 

He had had another dream, more vivid than the previous, and it had shocked him awake so fast in the dead of the night that he actually stumbled to her open doorway, making sure she was where he had left her in his dream. The dream where he had touched her where she had never actually allowed, where he had begged her for words and for more and she permitted it. Allowed him to creep into her bed and make her his, but it had been sickening this time, the sweetness he felt for her, and he woke believing it to be an absolution. He didn’t deserve to think of her like that, because she had never allowed it. So he would never allow it. 

That sickening ache he has felt refused to let up though. And it only twisted into something deeper when he thought of her, thought of her as his wife. The only allowance he had of her, in only words. 

The shake of his hands when he reaches for her now is hard to hide, as hard to hide as his racing heart from himself. His subconscious screamed something anxious when he looked at her now, screamed something of promise and something sickeningly sweet like adoration. 

He wouldn’t use the bigger more unexplainable word. She didn’t feel the same, he reasoned, so it couldn’t be that. 

So he ignored his heart, his shaking hands, and the ache in his chest. How his stomach twisted when she laughed and how he forgot about it all when he had a drink in his hand. 

He had been cold to her recently, and she had retraced all the steps in her mind on how it consequently was all her fault. All her fault that he pulled his hand from the back of the couch now, how he twisted weirdly in his car seat when she sang on the way home. How he wouldn’t look at her anymore, peering through her when she talked to him now across the kitchen table. 

It was all her fault, she reasoned, that he was no longer warm.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it whispered dark things sometimes. Her lack of intelligence weighed on her. She wanted to prove she could do what they had both set out to do together. Wanted to prove she could bring his brother home, in hopes his warmth would return. So she had slaved away these past months, in hopes he could look at her again. 

But she had forgotten that for now, drink in her hand and eyes already blurry. Laughing at his usual gag of making fun of people around them, creating fake stories about passerbyers, and twisting tall tales about their mundane lives. He hadn’t dragged his eyes from her all night. 

She had interrupted their usual cadence, a sudden drunk contemplative look in her eyes. 

“Ya know.” She sloshed her drink around, the ice almost being the only thing left. “I still sometimes feel as young as I did when I first left home. When I left for college.” She hums, turning her eyes to him. “Do you ever feel like that?” 

“Ah sometimes.” He answers, finishing off his drink and looking to the bar to get them both another, straying his eyes from her for the first time in hours. “But then I remember how my back feels in the morning.” She laughs. 

“No! I mean like, do you feel just as stupid as you did when you were eighteen?” Taking her eyes off of him, a blush bloomed across her face. 

He feels stupid around her, mostly. But a different weird kind of stupid. So he agrees. “Ya, doll. I get what you mean.” 

“Hey…” she’s giggling now, a smirk creeping around the corners of her mouth. “You can still have my bed, Stan.” She said, referring to his stiff back courtesy of Sixer. 

His dream flashes behind his eyes again, of creeping into her bed at her insistence. How she had peeled the covers back and waved him into her. The swell of her hips and the quirk of her brow. He flees, suddenly feeling sober in the face of her. She didn’t mean it like that anyway. 

“How about another drink, hun?” She perks at that, at the name. But nods her head, moving her glass back to his waiting hand as he makes for the bar. 

Tonight had been good, more peaceful. And the most she’s been able to talk to him in a while without the abrupt interruption of guilt that came with living above his brother's graveyard now. Three years, each one more daunting than the last. That and the usual tirade of her self-conscious mind was dimmed in the wake of her numerous mixed drinks. 

But his company was distracting, was always distracting. So she fell into it with ease tonight. The easy cadence between them, his carefree affection he gave when he was hazy, even the rhythm of the music in the bar was enchanting tonight. She was drunk, she knew that for sure. It made her lips loose and her shoes shuffle weird. 

She wanted to dance, to move across the floor. But she only wanted to if he followed in her shadow. Something she usually wouldn’t ask of him, but the drink had absolved her of her usual anxieties. It made the aching heartfelt feelings for him intensified, the thought of him so close to her. She liked that, that feeling. Craved it most days now, especially in his continued absence. 

He came back to her, bar lights lit the back of his head much like they had when she first laid eyes on him that December day more than three years ago. He had a rugged handsomeness to him, sporting new short hair. Something she had teased him about, fake crying at the loss of his long grown-out mullet. She didn’t linger on the feeling of having missed out on running her fingers through his long tousled curls. 

He was his usual charming self, achingly so. His smirk lit his face as he passed back over her drink to her, but she reached across for it in his haste to give it to her. Meeting him on the rim of the cup as her fingers curled around his big ones. 

“Staaannnnnnnn!” She said, a smile blooming across her face. “We should dance!” Perking up in her seat, twisting her fingers around his own. Tracing her thumb across his large palm. 

He flushes like he always does when she touches him. He's much like her though, buzzed off the atmosphere and her presence. It isn’t completely out of the ordinary that he would say yes to anything she suggests, especially when she looks at him like that. 

Her smile tilted, they leave their new drinks behind. Something that normally would concern him if he didn’t know almost everyone in the room at the moment, having seen almost every local come through his tour in the following years. That and he had evenly glared at every man in town in passing, specifically when he was following in her wake. 

The lights in this part of the bar were different. Dimmer in this corner in particular, only lit up by the continuously changing old jukebox in the corner. The lights reflected off her face made him stumble forward. 

The song was nothing recognizable to him, but she seemed to enjoy the rhythm anyway. Twirling her hands up and unconsciously moving her hips. She laughed at his stiff posture, reaching for his hand and pulling him into her. 

“You gotta move Stan.” She had said between them. “Like this.” Picking up his arm, and curling it around her. 

She’d admit to herself later that she isn’t the best dancer, but she had dreamed of his touch for months since he had pulled away this past October. And she was too much of a craven to do it sober. 

So she placed his hands on her waist without much thought, and she dug her hands into his broad shoulders- just because it felt right. He hadn’t hugged her for a while, the memory of their first embrace, down in the basement rang around her head. He had hummed a certain way that day, her ear in the junction of his shoulder as he tried to soothe her for the first time. 

She would be the death of him. He had swore it up and down. The way she looked in the changing jukebox light was riveting, made him stutter over words, and made his hands wander. She was warm and laughing against him, the song drowned out by the entirety of her. 

Suddenly the song shifts, and her smile gets impossibly brighter. She swings out of his embrace, still holding onto his large hand. Moving with the beat of a familiar song. 

She’s utterly hypnotizing like this, the beat of the song drowning out the sound of his racing heart. He couldn’t tell if it was the song that convinced him of this or her, but she captures a small part of his mind as she drags him around giggling on the dance floor. He doesn’t care much for what his limbs do anymore, pulling her back to his chest and letting her muffle her laughter into his shoulder again. He finds himself laughing with her, eyes drifting up and down her form in his arms now. 

She revels in the proximity. She had longed for his warmth in the past months, aching to have him look at her like he is right now. He was finally looking at her, not through her. It didn’t feel like the normal disjointed affections tonight, he felt whole against her for the first time in months. And she couldn’t help but laugh at how much she pitied her past self for having thought she had to beg for his presence. He gave his attention readily tonight, and it was a balm on her anxious mind and made her drowsy in comfort. 

The song came to an end, but his hold did not waver. His hand reaching from her back to her loose hair, moving it away from her flushed exerted face to see the crook of her smile. Her eyes drooping now, her heart steady against his own. 

“Ready to go, doll?” 

She nods, but stops, dizzy at the movement, and giggles to herself. Burrowing into the palm that rests near her face now. She points to the back of the bar, in the far corner. 

“Restroom, doll?” 

She nods pulling away from his warmth and his palm. She would be back. 

“Mmmk, I’m gonna close the tab and I’ll meet you outside alright?” 

She nods again, moving to the much-needed restroom. He wanted to go outside, she figured so he could have a smoke. Something she had chastised in the very beginning all those years ago, but he had a good habit of at least wondering outside to do it on the porch. Sometimes she would follow him out when they were holding those kind of conversations that would follow you from room to room. It had made her stop and stare that first time, finding the way the smoke curled and left his mouth to be captivating. The way he would talk around it, cigarette resting in the corner of his mouth. Something so life-altering shouldn't be alluring, but he had a habit of doing that to her. 

She makes her way back out of the bathroom, their booth empty except for his winter jacket he had left behind for her. Their drinks were long gone and cleared from the table despite them never having touched them. He didn’t even give her shit about not finishing a drink tonight. 

She slips his big red coat on, running her hands along the corner patch like she always does. The coat smells more like him in the colder months for some reason.

She turns back to the bar, an older woman waving her over and vying for her attention. She swears she has seen her before, her red hair catching in the barlight. Probably in the giftshop at some point, looking for cheap merchandise for the holidays to give to family. 

“You both are just so cute!” The older woman remarks as she gets closer to her, her smile inviting.

“Ah, why thank you.” She smiles, thinking of Stan waiting for her outside.

“How long have you been married?” 

“Just had a two-year anniversary.” She hums, thinking about their usual December diner date that had come and gone. He hadn’t drawn with her that year, though. Something that had become a bit of a tradition between them both. 

It struck her then. That they hadn’t been acting much different in regards to the revelation they had just two years ago when she spilled that she had tied herself to him indefinitely. That they had never accommodated themselves to act more “married” for the sake of illusions. That everything they did had come naturally to them both. This woman in front of her proved it, they hadn’t acted any differently than they usually would have tonight.

For a split guilty second, she wonders if it’s a lie for Stanley if he's just that good of a conman and she’s too achingly sweet on him to notice it all. She shakes the visage off like a bad dream, remembering his glassy eyes that December day all those years ago when he had leaned into her side swearing up and down that he wasn’t any good for her. Stanley never lies about anything that could hurt her. He’d never hurt her. 

She sighs, but he's been so cold. Wrapping his red jacket around her, feeling the warmth and smelling the scent he had left behind in it. They’d be okay though, with time. 

“Basically newlyweds then, dear.” The nice older woman comments. The woman looks her up and down, a contemplative smile on her face. She knew she looked weary. “Bit of advice dear?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Having you around is enough.” She hums. “Just gotta be there for him, stay close dear. Always stay.” The woman reached forward, wrapping her hand around her shoulder. 

Contemplative she nods at the woman, thanking her. Making her way outside and taking the statement to heart. Perhaps she didn’t need to overthink what was wanted and act on what was needed. He must need her, must need her close. She had thought to work herself to the bone to bring back his warmth, but maybe all that was needed was her constant. To be a constant for him. 

She thinks about the way he used to melt into her side on the couch, how he would lean into her palm on his cheek. How he had just reached for her, moments ago. Encasing her in his arms. She didn’t need to find words to soothe him. She never did. 

He was leaning on her passenger side door. A lit cigarette lighting his face. Handsome as all hell like that, his big hand dragging through his stubbly cheek. Dark eyes followed her from the door to the car. Wouldn’t be hard to be a constant for a man like that. And he stole all her words anyway, looking like that. 

He nods, bending to open her door with a quick flourish of his hand, dramatically bowing to her as she ducks into the passenger seat, giggling at his antics. 

He follows suit, bending and folding into the drivers side. Cranking his window down so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger in the car. 

His legs bent and parted, his hand nursing his smoke. She moves to him almost unconsciously, still at a loss for words in his simple presence. Thinking about what the older woman had said to her in the bar, jumbled up in her mind. Stay close, right?

She settles into the middle part of the long bench, reaching for the radio and ignoring his imploring gaze. 

“Hun?” He implores. “You gonna move?” 

She shakes her head, moving her eyes back to his again before straying her gaze to the cigarette stuck between his lips now. 

“No baby.” She slurs, giggling at him as she plucks his smoke from his mouth, moving it to hers. 

She had never called him that before, and it makes him need to readjust in his seat, suddenly hot in the cool February air. She’d be the death of him, he swears. Especially with her eyes tilted like that, and the way the smoke curls up around her face and hair. It’d be burnt into his mind for a while, this image of her. It’d be enough to sate him for months he figures. 

He does not correct her, nor make her move. Just reaches past her, buckling her securely into the middle spot without leaving her tilted gaze. His heart in his throat. His hands begin to shake again. 

That damn song rings out from the radio, pulling her eyes from his as she giggles at the contraption. The song's rhythm almost seems to match his heart, stuttering at her form folded into the middle of the front seat. The cigarette balanced in her mouth.

She leans over him, hand finding his chest as she reaches out the open window. Flicking their now shared cigarette into the winter snow. Her palm is warm on his chest, and she drags it to his shoulder as she returns to her seat in the middle of the long bench. A long searing path it leaves across him, she’s warm beside him in his fucking jacket. She’s gonna kill him. 

Something deep in him can’t reason with his stupid logic anymore though, not when she’s like this. So much more carefree than she’s been in months, and something rings around the back of his mind reminding him that it is his own goddamn fault that he can’t control himself. Never hers. Nothing really was ever her fault in his eyes. So if this is what she needed tonight, to feel some semblance like herself for the first time in months, then he wouldn’t flinch away from it. Because it’s all his fault anyway, that rotten part of himselfs fault. That bad part of him, that wanted her for more than this. He wanted to use her, he reasoned. That bad part of him wanted to use her, but she needed him like this. But she had allowed it, so he would do as she needed.

So he lets her curl up into his side in the car on the way home. His hand runs through her hair as she hums the lyrics to that goddamn song into his ear. It’s hypnotizing he thinks, but not the song no, it’s all her. She was that hypnotizing thing, and he had fallen back into her with an ease that would be embarrassing if he gave a shit tonight. But he only has one thing on his mind, and that’s getting her back home. She’d sleep well tonight, he thought. 

July, 1985

“Stan, why didn’t we think of this years ago?” 

“Why didn’t I think of this years ago you mean,” he hums, one arm hung out the open window of the car. “And it’s because I am stupid.” 

She scoffs, reaching across the middle of the front seat to shove his broad shoulder. He laughs, his head thrown back as she grumbles next to him. She hates when he says that shit. She had made a note on the fridge, etched out in her scrawling handwriting that the word “stupid” was forbidden in their house. Mainly because she had found it appalling how used to calling himself sstupid he was. He had joked, reaching for the note on the fridge on occasion. Tearing it down just to say the word, and laughing as she would chase him in and out of the living room to the kitchen. It wasn't allowed, he would joke, but only because it was on the fridge. She’d fume, making a new note, and hanging it up where the old one had resided. He just did it to get a reaction really, when she was annoyed at him it was adorable.

Which was why she was huffing in the passenger seat, and it only made it better when he pulled the note he had plucked off the fridge when they left, from the back pocket of his swimming trunks. 

“Stan!” She whined, reaching across to him again, unbuckling herself to get at him. 

“Ah Ah!” He waved the sign. “It doesn’t count!” Mocking her rule, and watching her squirm over to him to reach across his chest to grab at the sheet of paper she had remade for the fourth time not even a week ago. 

“Stop it!” She said, leaning over him now, her chest to his as she begged him. Was she pouting? 

He can smell her now, so he relents. Kind of all he wanted, he reasoned in his mind, that sickeningly aching part of him that is. 

“Okay okay!” He almost hands her back the sign, but quickly swipes it from her almost-grasp just to tease her. “But only if you get us some ice cream.” 

She hums, nodding along and reaching for the paper again. “Ah ah!” He protests. “You gotta say it.” 

“Yes, I will get us some ice cream, Stan.” She rolls her eyes, hands out and waiting. 

He gives it back, and she successfully puts it back into her beach bag to later hang it back up on the fridge. 

They had both become exhausted by the summer July heat. The AC window unit they had put up to alleviate some of the swelling heat only operated on the second floor of the house. They had been lying around, miserable together, when he had remembered that this tiny town actually had public accommodations in the form of a pool. She had jumped up from the living room ground in joy and had raced upstairs to change so fast he had barely finished explaining how he’d subsequently had forgotten about said pool. 

It was a smaller pool for sure, but this was a small town to begin with. They just needed to be in the water, stat. 

They made their way inside the enclosed pool, finding a seat by the poolside to share that day as the pool was obviously busy in the heat of July. He had grumbled about the lack of shade and trees, thinking about the usual sunburn he and Ford would get when on Glass Shard beach. 

She had found a spot though, setting her bag and towel down, and beginning to take off her shorts and shirt cover. 

He didn’t look, thinking the act to be too intimate to witness anyway. He sat on the edge of the seat, slipping off his shoes and beginning to take off his own shirt, his back to her. 

Of course, she was wearing a bikini. 

The color complimented her well, and although he couldn’t name details on the suit he’d have the image forever encapsulated in his mind. Especially her bent over like that, as she reached down to remove her shoes. 

She made her way in front of him and his slack jaw, her hands on her hips and her head tilted in question. 

“Are you coming?” 

“No.” He said automatically, sounding defensive. Rethinking, he shakes his head. “I mean, yes.” 

He moves his eyes down, noticing something catching the July sun on her swimsuit. No not her swimsuit, on her. 

He squints, reaching forward to grab at her hips, bringing her closer to him so he can see what he thinks he sees in the shade she now provides. 

“Is that… is that a piercing?” 

He had never seen her belly button before. Something that may have shaken a normal husband, but considering she wasn’t actually his he tried to reel in his subconscious insistence that he should have known about this. 

“Yes?” She says, laughing down at him. 

He removes a hand from her hip, moving to touch the belly button piercing himself. It was completely healed, not in any way brand new. Ignoring how soft her skin was, he looked back up at her. 

“When you get this doll?” 

She shrugs. “When I was in college. Someone dared me $50 I wouldn’t do it.” 

Fuck. He leans his head forward, unintentionally nestling into her soft stomach. She did it for money. 

She was almost too much, too good to be true. She fit into him like a puzzle piece sometimes, and he was still continuously amazed by her for some reason. 

Trying to tame some odd part of him he looks back up at her. She’s gorgeous, the sun framing her smiling face. She’s laughing at his reaction, a flush to her cheeks at his casual affection for her. 

She leans forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and tilting his head back. She moves to put her hand under his scruffy chin, asking him again if he was coming along into the pool with her. 

He nods, following in her wake. They eat their ice cream in shared amusement all the way home after a hectic day in the pool. 

*******, ****

“I can’t believe he had it this whole time.” He says, leaning back into the rolling chair stationed in the front of the portal's control panel. 

She hums, peering over his shoulder as he moves back and forth over controls. Flipping and turning things she nudges him in indication to move. The two journals rested on the workbench, the third picture they had taken from the third journal most recently, which had rather unsurprisingly been in the young boy’s possession. 

“You know Dipper. He’s too curious for his own good.” She hums, looking back over his broad shoulder to the portal beyond the protection glass. They had successfully gotten a reaction out of it just the following night, and it had shocked to life, throwing gravity off normal equilibrium for a few moments. She had taken that into consideration, floating around potential reasons for the anomaly in gravity and the correspondence to the potential space-time hole they had punched into their basement wall. 

He leans back in the chair, turning to look at her fully now. Weathered and handsome now, gray hair curling around his ears and his glasses. Just as whole and broad and goofy as he usually was. His wedding band glints on his finger as he reaches for her, a smile growing on his face. 

“You knew didn’t ya?” He says, laughing at it all. “You knew he’d find the stupid thing?” 

“I had an inkling that he may have found it.” She sighs, leaning forward, exhausted, as he runs his large hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. 

He huffs. She’s always one step ahead of everyone. Not that she would tell anyone but him, her husband. He found it amusing when everyone was surprised by her intelligence. It wasn’t a secret to him in the slightest, that she overthought and rewrote a hundred different ways to handle situations in her head. She was weirdly graceful like that, but subsequently also filled with an edge of constant anxiety. 

She had been anxious about the little things today, he could tell. She woke up earlier than normal today but hadn’t moved from his arms. Eyes open and staring at him endearingly in the early morning sun. Usually, it was the other way around. But she had been like that since the kids, really. 

She was also worried about the party, and the townsfolk visiting so close to an active portal. But she had quickly become distracted by making snacks for the celebration tonight, and coloring posters with the girl about their “karaoke family group”. Something with a stupid name he couldn’t remember, but something he figured she helped the girl come up with. 

“You’re too soft on him.” He says, pulling her closer to him, lifting his head to rest on her chest as she stands in front of him. Her brow twists, a contemplative frown on her face. The argument they’ve been having silently for the past few weeks arising once again between them. 

“No.” She sighs, running her hand over his scruffy warm cheek. “You’re too hard on him.” 

He hums. “You know why though.” 

She nods. “I know, dear.” 

Her hands fall to his shoulders, pulling him away from his usual place along the front of her. Pulling his scruffy chin up with the tip of her finger, all the while smiling at him. Tonight had been good, she thought. The kids were happy, and the girl was excited to entertain the town and her friends. The boy had been upset at the reprimand he had received earlier, but she doubted that really deterred him from his mission to uncover the oddities in that journal he carried around religiously now. He’d be over the reprimand by tomorrow, she figured. She worried he may get himself into trouble one day though. 

But her husband had been right in his assessment. Between the two of them, they had agreed there was too much Ford in the young boy than they could manage between the two of them. She was constantly worried about him, worried his curiosity may lead him to unexplainable and more dangerous situations than they could pull him out of him. But his twin, the girl, just as easily wrangled him in. The young girl was a balm on her conscious, constantly reminding her that being so young had been a true pleasure. She just hoped the girl could also remind her brother of this too. There was a lot of her husband in the young girl, she was just as charming. 

Stan was looking at her though, his typical flirtatious smirk on his face. It had been a good night. The portal whirled behind them both, and the music upstairs spoke of the fun the kids were having. She leaned into him, wanting to meet his lips halfway. 

An alarm blared throughout the basement. The security alarm breach that they had put on the upstairs shack door in case of burglary, but more for the warning in case the government came knocking. 

Their faces turn to the giftshop's security camera, the image of the boarded-up front door settling unevenly in her stomach. The kids. 

Something was bursting, punching in and rattling the front door. The children were moving furniture and chairs in front of the entrance. Speaking and screaming between themselves as they made a barricade. 

She runs, removing herself from his warmth. They both make for the elevator, hastily hitting the button to go up a story so they could go from the sub-basement to their actual basement. He was breathing heavily next to her, his large hand folded into her own smaller one. His hair a mess from pulling at it in anxiety. 

The stairs came to view in dim light, and she raced ahead without a thought. Taking the stairs two at a time as she dragged him up to the back of the vending machine that led to the stairwell. 

She let go of his hand, making to move the vending machine out of place to enter the gift shop. To get to the scrambling, scared kids. But it wouldn’t budge under the weight of what lay in front of it. What had amassed in front of the front entrance, they hadn’t caught a glimpse of. But she could smell it, the stench of rotten flesh and the mellowing bellow of the whining undead. Fear ripped through her, but she kept shoving because the fucking kids were in there. 

She yells at him, frightened as she advances her shoulders away and back into the door. Shoving her whole body to move the entrance. “Stanley!” She yells, anxiety running through her. 

But he’s already shoving too. Already has his arms flush to the door, digging his feet into the step for traction as he pushes his whole weight against it. He’s almost caged her in, dwarfing her in his effort to put his own momentum to the door too. His eyes frantic and his breathing hasty. The kids were all alone in there. 

Desperate, she beats her hands against the door, calling for the children in hopes they would seek them out in safety. “Mabel!” She gasps, fists bloody against the wood. “Mason!” 

He drags her back, taking her fists in his hands as he begs her to stop. He takes a lunging step back, pushing her against the stairwell railing. He shoves his whole body against the door, his broad shoulder first, and his suit ripped due to the movement and the force. His own hands and fists bloody from the abrasive door and his haste to get to the twins. 

The door breaks under his weight, and he uses the leverage of the new material to work against the amount of dead bodies that had amassed in front of the vending machine. She follows him out, not thinking twice about the undead surrounding them. Her heart in her throat, her hand wrapped around his bicep as he reached for the bat they kept near the entrance to the Mystery Shack from their home. She screams their names again, clawing to get through the crowd of undead.

“Babies!” 

She gasps, spotting them in the sea of bodies. The young girl's sweater ripped and torn under the hands of all the undead. The boy’s hat missing, his usual jacket she had tucked over his shoulders that morning also torn to shreds, covered in inky black blood. Their eye’s lifeless. 

Stanley turns to her, his eyes hasty and clouded, and his breaths loud. He looks down at her, his shoulders shaking from pent-up tears. His hands meet the sides of her face, and he chokes out something that could be a question. 

“Honey?” 

“Honey!” 

He leaned over her, his hands still on the sides of her damp face.  

He had rushed from Stanford’s room to her open doorway. The cool October air leaking in from his open window, leading him to her room. She had called for him, called for Stanley, and it had shaken him awake so suddenly he had tripped in the hallway to make it to her side. 

She had been dead asleep, and sweating heavily despite the crisp air. Curled into her multiple blankets and tucked into a sweatshirt he had sworn he had misplaced, but she had laughed at in secret. Tucking away the sweatshirt that held his imprint to wear to bed and fold herself into. 

It was drenched now, and her eyes were blurry when she woke to his call. She was breathing erratically, heart stuttering in her chest and mouth dry from her calls. Her eyes searched his for what felt like hours, as he reassured her that it had all been a dream. 

“Hun? Hun, it was a dream. It was just a dream.” He reasoned, his large hands running through her tangled messy hair. Finding their way to the back of her neck so he could hold the entirety of her upper half in his palms. Breathing easy in her presence to show her how to slow her heart. 

She didn’t say anything until he moved from her, beginning to reach around to her dresser to pull out a new shirt for her to wear. 

“No.” She mumbled. “No.” 

“I ain’t leaving, just getting you something new hun.” He reassures but doesn’t let his hand leave hers as he steps towards the dresser in her small room. Pulling open the top drawer, as she sat up in bed behind him. His hand still clutched in hers. Her eyes were still far away, searching dark corners of the room for children. 

He turns back to her, handing her another one of his large shirts. She had all but stolen his wardrobe in the past three years. Sometimes he would wander to her dresser to find some of his clothes that had made a home in her dresser. Something he wishes he could have done himself, by choice. Put his clothes next to hers. 

She takes the shirt, releasing his hand to undress herself from the sweatshirt. He turns around, thinking to step back through the doorway to go back to Stanford’s bed. 

“No.” She says again, pulling at his own loose shirt, stopping him in his move. So he stops, back still turned as he listens to her change. She tugs the end of his shirt again, and he turns to look at her in the dark room. 

She pulls his forearm, her small hand grasping at his large arm as she tries to strongarm him closer. He moves to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, searching her far-away eyes for something. She brings his large palm to her face, resting her now cooling cheek in his grasp. 

“Stay.” She commands. 

He would do anything she asked. He had been so rattled by the call of his name, the rip of her voice, how scared she sounded. He doubted he’d leave her side for a while, until she asked him to go. Then he would leave again. So he crawls into bed with her, shuffling her to the other side, to the wall. He takes the side she used to reside in, her warmth leaking into him. The imprint she left behind encased him. He’s closest to the door, reasoning in his mind that the dark shadows of the hallway would just frighten her more. 

She shuffles over, still sitting up as she rearranges blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in, in an odd way. He doesn’t say anything but chuckles at the sentiment. She then lays next to him, facing him in the middle. Her blankets shuffled up to her own shoulders. 

She sighs deeply, soothed by his presence after waking up in shock. It had been so real. Like she couldn’t tell the difference between them, between wakefulness and dream state. Like she had dipped her toes into another reality entirely. 

Her heart races again, and she reaches for his hand, bringing it back to her face. His heavy presence was a balm on her weary heart. He smiles slightly at her, humming under his breath as he scoots a little closer to her. Whispering between them as he fades back into a dream, hoping his company brings her enough peace to let her rest for a little while longer until the sun rises. 

“Goodnight hun.” Grumbling in his deep voice, she hums against his hand, burrowing deeper into his palm against her cheek. Her eyes can’t help but drift to corners in her room, again subconsciously looking for scared children in crowds of bodies.

She turns from the darkness in her room, triangles of shadows creeping in from the dark doorway into the hallway. She looks back to him, slumbering next to her now. His head dug deep into her pillow, his breaths shallow and his brow unfurred. 

The dream. In the dream, were they her’s? She can’t remember, looking at him now, it’s like it’s fading into the background. The vivid dream seeping from her mind. 

“Were they ours?” She whispers between them. Asking it out loud, just so she could remember that one part of the nightmare. The one part that made her ache, and wish for something far off that she’d never really had. Were the children ours?

[symbiomancy]

be aware wolf —werewolf

—summary: you venture into the woods to hunt for werewolves | 1.5k | AO3 | monster masterlist

—warnings: monster x human, monsterfucking, p in v sex, knotting, creampie, stomach bulge, mounting, outdoor sex, implied voyeurism

It’s a simple cycle. Enter the woods. Keep the local werewolf population under control. Retrieve any animal carcasses you come across in the woods. Make pelts out of said carcasses. Keep them or sell them. Receive payment from the town for your hard work. Pack your things and find the next town with a werewolf problem.

There are quite a few steps, but it’s a simple, straightforward cycle.

You sling your shotgun onto your back and place a hand onto the handgun at your hip. Your other hand rests on the belt of silver bullets around your hips. The ground is dry and this place hasn’t seen rain in weeks. There are no tracks to go off so you settle for scouting tufts of fur.

Something catches in the corner of your eye as you step around a grand oak.

You whip your head to the side and meet the pair of yellow eyes from the distance. It’s late August, and the blessing of the summer solstice only lasts so long. The sun is long gone and the full moon has crested. Darkness creeps around you, the tall trees shielding you from the moon’s glow. A cool breeze caresses your bare arms. You can just about make out the creature’s outline in the shadows. It’s large, maybe about 6 feet tall.

Slowly, you slip the shotgun from your shoulder and raise the barrel in the wolf’s direction. You whistle.

“Here boy,” you call. The pair of eyes blink at you languidly. “C’mere. I got treats for ya.” Indeed, you do; an opened pack of beef jerky in your back pocket. “C’mon, I have a whole pack of you to hunt tonight and I like to be efficient with my time.”

The werewolf rises onto its hind legs. Oh, great, you think, there’s different species in the same genus for these fucks. Perhaps 8 feet tall is more accurate.

You adjust your hold and cock the shotgun.

The werewolf is gone in a blink.

Your pulse picks up and you whirl on your heel, shotgun still raised. These things are fast, always are but they’re also big. How hard is it to shoot one?

The sound of a branch breaking has you whirling around, finger on the trigger to take the shot —

A claw strikes out at you and catches on your belt, ripping it like it’s paper. Your belt and the bullets in their holster disappear from your waist, your pants ripped and a superficial gash in your hip. You lose your footing on a protruding root and fall onto your back, barely keeping your head from slamming against a thick root.

The werewolf drops onto all fours legs, standing over you, its front paws planted on either side of your head. Its warm breath fans against your face, your arms. Its teeth are bared. Saliva dribbles from its maw.

You spare a glance away from its face to assess your situation — maybe there’s a way to roll out from underneath it and scramble towards your shotgun, wherever it landed. Instead, you find yourself staring at its bulbous member, fully erect. It’s long and thick, precum glistening on its tip. You look away, heat flooding to your cheeks and cunt. In your defense, it looked at you first.

You slowly draw your foot back and strike out, hit the beast’s hind leg. It howls in pain and you scramble out from underneath it, roll onto your stomach and stumble upright. Your shotgun is just a few steps to the right.

A heavy weight slams into you from behind and sends you onto the ground. Your jaw collides with the ground and your teeth snap together. You groan, rest your weight on one elbow and place your free hand against your jaw, pressing against the sore muscles. Hot breath fans the back of your exposed neck and something heavy and slick presses against the flesh of your hip. U kick again and scramble forward, your gun just about in reach. Claws swipe at ur body, snag on your shirt and tatter ur barely intact pants.

The cool night air hits your throbbing cunt. You try to ignore it, want to ignore it so bad, to finish the job and go take care of yourself — the werewolf shoves its fanged snout against the back of your neck. You still, heart leaping in your chest. Its heavy member rests on the swell of your ass, hips rocking back and forth, shallow thrusts as if it’s looking for a warm hole. Your pussy clenches at the thought.

It finds that warm hole, pressing its cock against your entrance, just barely breaching it, and you groan. It’s not going to fit but damned if the beast won’t try to make it fit. Maybe it will fit. The wolf grabs your waist — fuck, it’s hand is big enough to nearly wrap around your entire torso — and jerks its hips forward. You gasp as it pushes in all at once, filling you so completely, so deliciously that you nearly see stars. It’s so big and thick, you swear you can feel every vein and ridge of it.

The wolf snarls, beads of saliva dripping onto the back of your neck and thrusts forward shallowly. You struggle onto your knees. It pulls out shallowly and thrusts back in until the bulb at the bottom of its shaft nudges against your pussy.

Heat pools in your stomach as the werewolf drags its cock in and out of your hot cunt. The ridges and veins of his cock feel like bliss, have you gasping for air. Its furry hips connect with yours, the sound of your bodies colliding muffled by his coat. But you’re so wet, every thrust into your sopping cunt is nothing but a wet squelch. It thrusts in without resistance, going in all the way and pulling out with ease. It pushes so deep into you, drags against your walls like nobody ever has. Your thighs are wet, almost shaking at the strain of holding yourself up on all fours.

Your hand slips out from underneath you and your shoulder collides with the ground. The werewolf presses forward — it mounts you, places a clawed hand next to your head for balance and drives in with newfound vigor. The tip of its cock hit so deep in you that you nearly see stars, try to blabber something, something incoherent between ‘no’ and ‘yes’ and ‘more’ and ‘please please please please’. The wolf pistons in and out of our shopping cunt. Its tongue lolls out of its mouth, slobbers onto the back of your neck. The bulb at his crotch nudges against our opening with every thrust and dives slightly in each time. It’s wide and big and you gasp a pitiful sound when it slips into you with a painful stretch. It’s too much and too little at the same time. You try to clench around it.

The werewolf pauses and you want to cry out, beg it to keep going, to bully its way into your pussy until you can take its knot. You’re so full, so full, this thing is everywhere, in your pussy, in your guts, in the back of your throat. All you can manage is a pitiful croak before the beast is back on you again, resting its weight on your back. It picks up the pace, ruthlessly pistoning into you, bullying your throbbing, leaking pussy, rutting his bulb against it, almost stuffing it inside. It places one large clawed hand onto your thigh and pulls it to the side like that will give it more room. Perhaps it does but the stretch of your cunt and your thighs is too overwhelming to not focus on.

You press back against him as much as u can from your contorted position, meet his hips with urs in a frantic attempt to get your release. Your chest heaves as you attempt to match his pace, pressure building in the pit of your stomach. You’re babbling now, you absolutely are, begging for it to push you over the edge and stuff you full. It speeds up as if it understands you, pressing its weight on top you. Your cheek scrapes against the ground and in the corner of your eye, you can make out the bulge in your stomach as the werewolf thrusts in. It’s too much, too good, too deep, rubbing against that spot, knocking the breath from your lungs with every thrust.

You come with a wail, pussy throbbing and clenching around its cock, sucking it back in to keep it there. The wolf howls, head thrown back and buries its knot inside you. Its cock spasms and spills into you. Rope after rope of hot cum coasts your insides until you’re full, and then some. You feel it slide down your thighs, dribble from your pussy. You try to adjust yourself to get a look and clench involuntarily around the beast when you spot the shape of his cock protruding from your stomach.

The cool night air feels pleasant against your heated skin.

You look away from the unholy sight buried in your guts and let your eyes unfocus to bask in your post-orgasmic bliss.

One, two, three, four —

There are at least four pairs of yellow eyes observing you from the darkness.

note: I'm open to hearing about dead batteries!! be as graphic or non-graphic as you'd like:)

banner & divider by @/cafekitsune

[rivatar]

“Love Bites”

Pairing: Adult!Neteyam x fem!human!reader

W/c: 1.2k

Warnings/content: MDNI smut!, biting/marking, blood thirsty neteyam, a lil somnophilia but not much, established relationship, fingering, demon Teyam

A/n: this is prompt 6 for Pandora’s Bloody Moon, I’m sorry it’s 2 days late, I was so busy this weekend😩 also I’m sorry if it’s not good, it’s def not my best work but still hope you guys can enjoy :)

“I’ll see you tomorrow, paskalin,” Neteyam sweetly bid you goodbye with a peck on the cheek.

“Okay, Teyam,” you softly smiled in return.

He had walked you back to the lab and as much as you both stalled already, it was time to part ways. The upcoming Blood Moon tonight meant an early goodbye for the day. You two have been dating for months now, and the future Olo’eyktan has made it clear he wants to be mates with you, only when you were ready. However, it is not always easy handling your differences between your two species. Like tonight, for example; all the other Na’vi could participate in the night of the Blood Moon but you couldn’t, you’d be ripped apart and possibly killed. So, Neteyam made sure you were safe and sound back in your room in the lab complex well before nighttime settled in. He couldn’t have his little paskalin get eaten by the wolves.

…

Neteyam missed you at dinner but he knew it was for the best. He wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. Safe from the others and even himself. He didn’t know what he would be capable of doing to you. He didn’t even wanna be anywhere near his family, so he set off deep into the forest.

It was now eclipse and the Moon made its appearance. The moonlight made his skin tingle and he watched in bewilderment as his skin faded from azure to a milky gray. Though this happens every year, it never fails to bring an unsettling feeling of not having control over the effects. His breaths quickened and he felt strength and power spread through his limbs, creating the urge to break something. His little bioluminescent freckles turned to red speckles, much like the red irises he now possessed. His brain was processing the physical changes to his body as well as the feelings and urges that flooded his mind. His tongue felt his sharper canines and he thirsted for blood. Not just any blood though, your blood. He imagined your human blood would be much sweeter than anything else here. He knew his right mind was slipping away when his body naturally started carrying him in the direction of you.

…

He forcefully entered the lab and went straight to your room. Opening the door carefully, as to not wake you.

You were peacefully sleeping away, probably having sweet dreams. In the very back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t disturb you— knew he shouldn’t wake you and then watch you be terrified of the way he looked right now. But his instincts consumed him and controlled his thoughts now. He had to have you.

Walking over carefully, he noticed you were wearing a loose tank top, exposing much of your skin. He slowly lifted the cover off of your body and was met with the precious sight of you only wearing panties for bottoms. You were so sweet and small to him, your dainty little night clothes driving him absolutely insane. You were too good to be true in his opinion.

He gently slid his hand over your legs and arms, loving how soft and plush your smooth skin was. You moved some in your sleep, still not noticing him yet. He tried to keep his breathing in control by breathing in his nose and out his mouth quietly.

“So beautiful, yawne,” he whispered admiringly.

He started kneading your flesh, getting extremely aroused by you. He wanted nothing more than to dig his sharp canines into your skin and bite you—hopefully drawing some blood. But he needed you to wake up first so you wouldn’t be scared and flee from him.

He softly shook your form, beckoning you to wake up. You slowly stirred out of your slumber and your eyes blinked open—only to see those red eyes staring back at you. You jumped back at the sight of him and gasped.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s me!” He tried to calm you.

“T-Teyam?” You choked out weakly, “You’re n-not supposed to be here” your mind quickly registered.

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop myself from coming to see you… you’ll have to forgive me for what I’m going to do”

Your body was stiff and your eyes were full of concern for what he meant and what he might do to you in this state. But you slowly nodded as you relaxed some because it was still your Teyam and you trusted him.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he cooed while stroking your cheek tenderly. You smiled in return, still feeling a bit hesitant.

Then suddenly he leaned back down to your thighs and latched his teeth onto one of them.

“Teyam!!!!” You flew up to sit upright on the bed and looked at him. The pain of his canines impaling your skin combined with the pleasurable feeling of his warm mouth overwhelmed the nerves on your skin.

He only hummed and moaned on your flesh in response. You slightly winced, still staring at him in bewilderment. Then he smoothed his tongue over the wound, licking away the blood from the little pricks he made. He pulled back to admire his work, loving how his bite now marked you as his.

“Don’t think I can’t smell you, sevin. You liked it, didn’t you?” He smirked.

You blushed, still feeling confused at the mix of pain and pleasure and how it really did turn you on. You nodded and got out a weak “yeah..”

This only aroused him more. He wanted to see how you’d look writhing under him as he pleasured your pussy while marking other parts of your body. So he lifted your legs up to your chest and slid your panties to the side to see your glistening little cunt.

“Fuck baby. I might have to bite you more from now on,” he gloated.

He slowly pushed a finger into you and you moaned at the sensation, your head already swirling from the intense pleasure he gave you. He started pumping the digit, stating in awe at the mess you made and the loud squelching sounds.

He hovered over you and positioned himself closer to your face, connecting your lips in a needy kiss. You greedily took the kiss, tongues swirling and your lips getting all puffy. He moved down to your neck and latched onto it, pulling out a guttural moan from you. He hummed in the satisfaction of tasting your sweet blood again and it turned him on more, so he mindlessly dry humped your side and the bed, dying to get some kind of friction for his cock.

His efforts made you cum on his fingers, spewing out whimpers and moans in the process. He was still cleaning your neck wound while you were coming down from the high.

It seemed that having a taste of you only made him want more.

It was going to be a long night.

Taglist: @neteyamssyulang @bambithewriter @professional-yapper @property-of-neteyam @hidden-snow @live-laugh-neteyam @nonamevenus @loakstahni @ikeyniofthetayrangi @sugarsong78 @inolaphoenix @strongheartneteyam

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 3

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, mentions of emotional abuse (Chrissy’s mom), absent parent, daddy issues, jealousy. Billy being Billy… it’s not what you think

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Someone you don't want to see shows up at your doorsteps.

Word count: 6.7k

Note: @mysticmunson thank you for helping me as always, you're the best! @somethingvicked thank you for the idea with Billy, it's working perfectly for this story

series masterlist

-

Steve had been so on edge ever since he found out about you and Billy. He knows that Tommy and Carol aren’t the most honest people. They strive off of chaos, they live for the drama and the lies and constantly make up new things to gossip about but for some reason, he believes their words this time. Billy had been following you around ever since he broke up with you– he had been running after you for some time now but never like this. You always rejected him, you were taken and not interested but now Steve can’t help but wonder, were you truly not interested or were you just rejecting him because you were with him? Were you secretly into Billy all this time? The thought of it makes him feel sick. 

He sits in his car, bouncing his knee as he stares out the window, waiting for his girlfriend. The parking lot is filled with students, he hears laughter and different voices. He sees Billy walking towards his car, the usual smug and arrogant look resting on his face. He straightens up, looking around to see if you’re around too, wanting to see if you will get in the car with him. What will he do if you do get into his car? 

“Hey!” 

Nancy’s voice startles him a little, he tears his eyes away from the blue camaro and turns to look at his girlfriend. 

“Hey Nance,” he smiles. He instantly leans closer to her once she’s seated, she meets him halfway, kissing him on the lips. Her eyes are closed, his are open and they flash with curiosity when he sees you through his window. You look his way and it’s enough for him to tense up. 

He expects you to get into Billy’s car but instead you go the other way, you pass by his car and look straight ahead, pretending to not see him or her. He breaks the kiss, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind, she leans back and puts the seatbelt on as she begins to talk about her project. Steve hums and nods along, turning his head to see where you are going. 

Are you going to Heather’s car? To Chrissy’s car? It turns out to be neither of those, instead you leave the parking lot and walk into the direction of the football field. Where are you going? 

“I figured that we could rent a movie tomorrow since we can’t hang out tonight,” Nancy says, “I really wanna get it done. It’s been nice to hang out with Jonathan again though, we should all go out together sometime!”

“Sure,” Steve mumbles and turns back to her when he no longer sees you. 

Her brows are raised and a confused smile is on her lips, “were you even listening?” 

He nods, “yeah, you want me to hang out with Byers,” he says with an eye roll. 

“Hey,” Nancy mumbles, hitting his arm, “he’s nice, you just gotta get to know him.” 

“Sure,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair, “nice.” 

Nancy shakes her head at him, raising her arm, she pulls down the sun visor and flips open the small mirror, a piece of paper that was tucked into it falls into her lap. Her brows knit together as she looks down at it. She picks it up, it’s just a simple brown paper that was ripped out of a notebook, she turns it around. Annoyance bubbles inside of her when she sees the writing on the note. It’s not much but it’s from you, it’s not signed but she recognizes your handwriting and the little heart, only you draw it like that. 

I love you 

She presses her lips together and glances over at Steve who is staring into blank space. 

How long has the note been here? Does he even know that it existed? 

“Here,” Nancy mumbles and throws it into his lap. 

Steve glances at her first, brows furrowed and lips parted, he notices the annoyed look on her face. He looks down at the note in his lap. Oh. 

“I didn’t know you still kept her things.”

Steve blinks as he stares at your handwriting. You drew a little heart next to your I love you. He swallows harshly. The weird feeling in his chest returns yet again. He didn’t even know the note was there– you did things like that all the time, leaving little notes everywhere for him to find. He kept them all. 

“I don’t,” he lies as he puts the note in his pocket after folding it, “I didn’t even know it was there. I’ll throw it away later.” 

Nancy nods, eyeing him from the side. She doesn’t like the way he folded the paper so neatly. He should’ve crumpled it up and thrown it out the window. 

“Okay.”

-

The scented candles in your room are lit, making the air smell like pumpkin spice and cinnamon. The light of your salt lamp makes everything appear softer, you never use the big light in your room, you hate it. The police’s every breath you take is playing in the background. 

“Are you going to the winter formal?” Chrissy asks as she flips to the next page of her new fashion magazine. You are both laying on your bed, the decoration pillows all over the floor. You look at the pretty dresses in the magazine. You would be wearing one of those next Friday if Steve wasn’t such a cheating asshole. 

“Nope.” 

She glances at you with a sad look in her eyes, “we could go together.” 

You give her a small smile as you shake your head. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say, “I don’t feel like going anyway, he’s gonna be there with her.” 

She sighs, her lips are set in a frown, “you know, I never liked him. As much as I hate to say it, I’m not surprised about his actions but Nancy?” She mumbles, “who would’ve thought that she’s such a.. bitch.” 

“Yeah, looks deceive, huh?” 

“Totally.” 

You told your friends about what Nancy said in the girls bathroom when she didn’t know that you were there. 

“She looks like one of those church girls.” 

A surprised laugh leaves your lips, “a church girl?” 

“Yeah, she wears those ugly long skirts and those preppy blouses that my mom forces me to wear when we go to church on Sunday’s,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes. 

“Is she a church girl?” You ask. 

She snorts and shakes her head, “I don’t think so, I’ve never seen her around.” 

You nod. 

She flips to the next page, eying all the dresses before her eyes land on the ugliest one, a giggle falling from her lips, she points at it with her pink nails, “looks like something she would wear.” 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“And that’s why she won’t ever be prom queen, that’ll be you,” you say, expecting to see a smile on her face but instead it falls and a frown settles in her features. 

“It’s not prom yet,” she mumbles, “and I don’t really wanna be the queen to some asshole’s king.” 

Raising your brows, you tilt your head as you look at her. Cupping your cheek, you lean your elbow on the pillow beneath you, “you mean, you don’t want to be Jason Carver’s queen?” 

A look of disgust crosses her features and she shudders at the mention of his name. 

“Mom forces me to go with him,” she says, looking like she’s ready to break down out of frustration, “I don’t want to go with him.”

Your gaze softens, you place your hand on her back, “then don’t go with him.”

She keeps her eyes locked on the magazine, “you know how my mom is, I can’t just not go, she’ll make my life a living hell if I don’t do what she says.” 

You never liked Chrissy’s mother, she was always horrible to her. Always pushing her to do and be ‘better’, forcing her to associate herself with people who already climbed up the social ladder, like Jason Carver. 

You sigh, wishing you could help her. 

“What if you just stop doing what she wants you to do?” You shrug. 

She sighs and opens her mouth to speak but you cut her off, holding your hand up, you sit up on your knees, “I know, I know, easier said than done but–” you pause, looking around your room, you eye the freshly washed and ironed cheerleader uniform, the cassettes in the little box on your floor, bands that are his favorites, singers that your friends love so much, you stare at the baby pink wallpaper and the colorful clothes in your messy closet– you should’ve closed the door, the sight of the mess makes you want to groan in annoyance. 

“But?” Chrissy mumbles as she waits for you to continue. 

You blink, tearing your eyes away from all the things in your room that you didn’t come to like on your own. You look back at your best friend. 

“If you do things for others, if you do things because they want you to do them or because they expect you to do them, because they like those things– you will end up feeling miserable at some point, you will lose yourself and one day you’re gonna realize that you don’t even know yourself, that you don’t even know what you like, what you truly want or… who you even are..” 

She lets your words sink in. For a moment it’s silent between the two of you. You look down at your hands while she stares at you. Sadness and realization crossing her features. You are trying to help, she knows it but you are also realizing something about yourself, she can tell by the lost look in your eyes. 

“I know that things would be tense if you just started going against her stupid rules or wishes but you can always come to me if things get tough at home,” you say, reaching out to take her hand, “I’m here and you know my mom won’t mind you staying with us.” 

Her eyes light up at your words, a smile tugs at her lips, she turns her hand around and squeezes yours, “you’re the best, you know that right?” She whispers. 

You smile at her words, you tilt your head, “no, I’m not.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes, “yes, you are.” 

“Says who?” You chuckle. 

“I do,” she says, proudly. 

“Oh,” you smirk, leaning closer to her, you don’t notice the way her eyes widen or the way her cheeks flush a little red, “you do, huh?” 

She blinks, her lips part and she stares at your face. Your face hovers over hers for a second before you lay back down on your bed and reach for the bat shaped pillow, the one you excitedly bought for your ‘halloween’ decoration, hugging it to your chest, you stare up at the ceiling, not noticing her stare or her tense body. 

“A-Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the winter formal?” She asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She looks down at her hands, “okay,” she frowns. 

“Hey,” you whisper, glancing at her, “you’ll still have fun.”

“With Jason?” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, “I doubt that.”

“You can still go with someone else. If your mom is gonna act like a bitch, I’ll kick her ass for you.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she shakes her head as she looks at you with a smile on her face. 

Rolling on your side, you prop your head up on your hand. Curiosity sparks inside of you. 

“Who did you really want to go with?” You ask, “I know there is someone.” You notice the blush on her face and it only deepens the longer you stare at her. 

“Oh uh–” she chuckles nervously, “n-no one, I just, I don’t wanna go with Jason.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

She nods. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know that, right?” 

“I-I’m not.” 

“Good, we’re best friends, we tell each other everything, right?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers and gives you a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes. “I’m gonna go now, I still have to study for the math test tomorrow,” she groans. 

“Oh.. yeah,” you mumble, trying to hide the disappointed look on your face. You hate being by yourself, there’s too much going on in your mind when you’re all alone in this house– you used to love it but ever since he left, it’s just been hard. “I gotta start working on the assignment.” 

Chrissy rolls her eyes just the way she did when you told her about who you got partnered up with. 

“You know, you could still take Billy up on that offer.” 

You snort at her words, “I don’t think we need Billy to kick his ass, Heather will do.” 

“Did you know that she accidentally bumped into him at Nick’s party last weekend? He was holding a drink and it got all over Nancy,” she giggles. 

Your eyes widen, you can’t even fight the grin off your face, “no way?” You gasp.

“Yes way,” she laughs as she reaches for her backpack, “he got all pissed and looked like he was ready to fight but when he saw Heather, he got all quiet– he even looked scared.” 

“He should be,” you chuckle. 

“And Nancy got all hysterical and ran off.”

You snort, “she deserved it.”

“She deserves worse for what she did– they both do,” she sighs. 

She never liked Steve, even before you started dating him, she couldn’t stand him. His presence annoyed her and more so when you two got together and she had to watch how he continuously messed with your feelings. 

“Yeah well, I don’t care anymore, I’m moving on…” 

She knows that there is no truth behind your words, you are not moving on. You still love him, she thinks that you always will. You always looked at him like he was the only light in your life, like he was the one who hung every star in the dark sky, it made her hate him even more because he never looked at you like that. 

“I’ll walk you to the door–”

“No, it’s fine,” she smiles, “you don’t have to.” She walks towards you and pulls you into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She squeezes you tightly before she lets go, giving you another smile. 

“Yeah, still gotta help you pick out the right shoes for your dress,” you say. 

She nods, “and maybe I’ll manage to convince you to come, after all,” she says as she pulls away and begins to walk out of your room, “I’d rather go with you than Jason,” she says quickly before she turns around and leaves the room, saying ‘bye’ in a sing song voice. 

You chuckle and throw your head back against the pillow. 

“Jason Carver,” you mumble in disgust. Not a single person could ever force you to go to the winter formal with him but Chrissy’s mother is the epitome of an evil witch, you know that she will make her life more miserable if she doesn’t do as she says. You understand why Chrissy would rather suffer through the night with him than risk a fight with her mother. 

Not even five minutes after she left, the doorbell rings. Looking around the room, you try to see if she forgot something, that’s what usually happens when she leaves, she rushes back in a few minutes later because she left her keys or something else. Sighing, you push roll out of bed and rush out of the room. 

The doorbell rings again. 

“I’m coming!” You call out, “since when are you so impatient..” 

Your socks are a little slippery on the hardwood floor, careful not to fall, you hold onto the railing as you hurry down the stairs. Grabbing the doorknob, you are already smiling in amusement, “let me guess, you forgot–” with your words caught in your throat and your smile falling quicker than ever, you only manage to stare at him in confusion. 

There he is, Steve Harrington, standing on your front porch with his hands in his pocket and an unreadable expression on his face. What does he want? 

Even though it was him who came here to see you, he stands frozen in place. He stares at you and you stare at him. You are both frozen, time stops, everything stops moving, right now, it’s just the two of you in this world. 

It’s the first time you look at him again, properly. All the sadness, all the pain and the longing comes creeping back. It was there all this time, hidden beneath all the anger but it was easier to deal with it when you started pretending like he didn’t exist anymore, when you forced yourself not to look at him anymore, when you threw all his things away, when you let go of him. How dare he show up here? 

Steve watches the way your eyes flash with confusion, anger and sadness, they soften for a split second. This is the first time you actually look at him again. This is the first time you are forced to acknowledge his presence again. A feeling he can only describe as relief rushes through him when you finally look into his eyes again. 

It feels like forever that you look at each other when in reality only a minute passed since you opened the door. You blink and take a step back, rolling your eyes, you go to shut the door without wanting to hear an explanation as to why he is here– “no.” Is all you say before slamming the door in his face but he is quicker than you, he always was. He places his palm on the door, stopping you from closing it, “wait–”

“Get lost, Harrington.” 

He sighs, he didn’t expect anything else from you.

You try to close the door again but he doesn’t let you, keeping his palm pressed against the wooden door, he stares at you with a stubborn look on his face. God, you want to punch him. 

“What do you want?” You ask as you finally give up and let go of the door, you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back, not looking into his eyes. You raise your brows and glare at him when he invites himself into your house, he shuts the door behind him. You shake your head in disbelief. 

He is wearing the stupid flannel that you used to love so much, the one you always stole from him– does it still smell like you? 

“We have to work on the assignment together.” 

Is he serious? 

“I told you, I’ll do it myself,” you snap at him before you turn around and make your way into the kitchen in hopes that he will leave but instead, he follows you into the kitchen. 

“We’re partners, it wouldn’t be fair to let you do all the work by yourself.”

You clench your jaw at his words, how ironic of him to say that. Turning the light on in the kitchen, you walk towards the fridge and open it, distracting yourself from his presence by staring at all the food and drinks. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to doing all the work myself, my previous partner wasn’t much of a help,” you murmur, “in any way.”

Steve scoffs at your words, though he looks down in embarrassment, knowing exactly what things you are talking about. He places his hands on his hips and glances at you through his lashes, he eyes you for a moment before he speaks up, “listen, I-I wanna do better in school and I really want to work on this assignment.” 

You close your eyes, shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Why did he have to sit next to you today? 

“Since when do you care about being better in school?” You ask in annoyance, reaching for a water bottle, you close the fridge again and turn around to face him. He breaks eye contact the moment you raise your brows in question. 

He shrugs, “I wanna graduate next year and Mr. Higgins said that I–”

“Don’t care,” you interrupt him and sigh of boredom. 

He looks a little taken aback, furrowing his brows, he stares at you for a moment as he presses his lips back together. When he came here, he didn’t expect you to be so.. mean. Steve only ever knew you as the sweet girl, not once did you treat him badly in all the years he has known you. You never gave him the cold shoulder, not even when he deserved it. You were always kind, gentle and forgiving. 

Heartbreak changes a person but not like this, right? What happened in those two months ever since he left? 

While Steve tries to figure you out. You try to figure out how to handle this situation. 

Should you curse him out and kick him out of your house and show him how hurt you still are? Should you really give him that satisfaction? Or should you pretend to be okay, give him the cold shoulder that you should’ve given him years ago and act like you are fine with this, with working with him? 

You opt for the latter. You don’t want him to see the power he still has over you. You don’t want him to see how much you still want him.  

You can feel his eyes on you, burning into you, it makes your skin crawl. 

You take deep breaths before you look back up at him. 

“Don’t you have better things to do on a Thursday night?” You scoff. You know damn well that he never worked on homeworks or assignments when he was still with you, he had ‘better’ things to do. You were the one that did all these things for him. 

“Can we just work on this?” He sighs.

You roll your eyes and shrug, “yeah.” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes, he didn’t think that it would be that easy to convince you to work with him. For weeks, you wouldn’t even look at him, you wouldn’t even glance into his direction. He figured that it was because of how hurt you were after the breakup but now he begins to doubt that that is why you stopped acknowledging him. 

“Come on then,” you mumble as you make your way out of the kitchen, brushing past him. He nods, looking down at the floor, he turns around and follows you into the hallway, turning the light off on the way out. 

It feels weird to be back in your house, it feels so familiar yet so… strange. There isn’t much in your room that has changed since the last time he had been in here– only the lack of his things is noticeable to him. The bottle of his cologne that used to be on your dresses is gone and so are the collection of polaroids. He frowns, a weird feeling tugs at his heart. You got rid of everything. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He looks around the room that haunts his dreams– a piece of clothing that neither belongs to you or him is draped over the chair by your desk. It’s a black denim jacket. Clenching his jaw, he wonders if it belongs to Billy. The thought of you wearing his clothes, of you being with him makes him so.. angry. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You mumble without looking back at him. You are already back on your bed with your notebook in your lap. He stares at you, the moment feels too familiar. He remembers climbing up to your window one night, he wanted to surprise you with flowers. You were sitting on your bed just like you do now but instead of the notebook you had a magazine on your lap and you were wearing pajamas. You looked so cute. 

“We gotta settle on a topic,” you say and raise your head to look at him. 

Steve’s brows are still furrowed, he still stares at you. He feels confused, irritated and a little hurt. You seem so.. okay. You look at him and talk to him as though nothing ever happened. Are you okay without him? Are you happier without him? 

He blinks, snapping himself out of his thoughts, he walks towards your desk, he pulls out the chair and sits down. 

“Yeah.. what do you wanna write about?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, we could totally write an essay about snakes, there’s one in my room, right now.” 

His lips part and his face scrunches up in confusion, it takes him a moment to realize what you mean. His shoulders slump and he scoffs, “very funny.”

“I know,” you smirk. 

“We could write about basketball–” 

Your scoff cuts him off, causing him to roll his eyes. 

“Or about cheerleading–”

“Are you crazy?”

“I think you know more about cheerleading than I do, you were the one who convinced me to do it after all,” you say, tilting your head at him, “remember?”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs, he nods at your words and clenches his jaw, “yeah..”

There is so much tension in your room, his presence makes you angry. 

After the initial shock subsided and the sadness turned into anger, you began to curse him for what he did, especially when you found out that he had kissed her while he was still with you. That is something you will never forgive him, the lies and the cheating. 

The anger makes you feel stronger, it keeps the sadness away, for the most part, at least. 

“How about we do something more classy– although, you don’t do classy, so…” 

Steve rolls his eyes at your words, “not like you do it either,” he mumbles. 

You snort, not showing him the anger or the annoyance that you are feeling right now. You tilt your head and stare at him in question.

“I mean, given that you fucked Billy Hargrove out of all people,” he says with a looks of distaste on his face. 

What? 

You almost laugh in his face but you hold yourself back. 

He eyes your expression slowly, waiting for a reaction. He expects you to scoff, to look caught, to look embarrassed, to blush or to deny it all– just the way you always denied your attraction to Billy every time he brought it up but he gets nothing from you. Absolutely nothing and it only fuels his anger even more. The burning in his chest and stomach worsens when you look at him with a straight face. 

You look at him for a while, not moving, not saying anything, he can’t even read the look on your face. After a while, you sigh and look down at your notebook, “so how about we write an essay about Romeo and Juliet?” You ask, “you know, since it’s the only book you actually ever touched.” 

His brows knit together, his cheeks grow red, “are you not gonna say anything?” 

His irrational anger amuses you a little but you don’t show it. 

You look at him through hooded eyes, not raising your head, “I just did?” 

He rolls his eyes and stands up, walking towards you, “I mean about Billy.” 

“What about him?”

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks. 

His eyes flash with desperation. He wants to know, he needs to know. 

How ironic it is to see him beg for an answer when he has no right to even get one. He never gave you the truth so why should you? You are not his anymore.

His eyes are pleading. Why does he want to know? Why does he even care? He has the girl he truly loves, why should it matter what you do or who you do it with? 

“So, I’m not sure if you remember the story but in Romeo and Juliet, there’s obviously that tragic ending so–”

“Y/n,” he sighs. 

You close your mouth and glare at him, you used to love hearing him say your name, now you hate it. 

“Would you rather write an essay about Billy Hargrove?” You ask calmly, giving him a fake smile. 

“No,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Good, cause I don’t either.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs in frustration, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“We could write about pride and prejudice.”

You lift your chin and look at him in surprise. You used to reread that book all the time, he knows it’s your favorite– he used to steal it out of your hands, reading some of Mr.Darcy’s lines in a mocking way, back then it made you laugh. 

“You didn’t even read it,” you murmur. 

“I can read it now,” he shrugs, “you still have it, right?” 

“We got a week to finish the essay, Steve. It’ll take you days to even finish and understand that book so don’t even bother–”

“No,” he says stubbornly, “I want to.”

You throw your hands up, “why?” 

‘Cause you wanted to choose the book for your next essay, you told him that weeks before.. her. ‘Cause you love it so much– or used to love it. 

He doesn’t look at you, he stares at the ground and shrugs, “just let me do it, please,” he says, “I can get started on the essay while reading it.” 

You try to figure him out. Why is this so important to him? He used to make fun of that book, of you reading so much. He would laugh whenever you offered to read it for him and now he suddenly wants to read it himself? 

Sighing, you get up and walk towards your bookshelf. You bend down and reach for the book before you turn back to face him. 

It feels weird to see him back in your room– a place he spent so many nights in, a place he used to kiss you in, a place he used to touch you in. 

“Here.” 

You hold it out to him, keeping distance between the two of you as though you are scared to come near him. His fingertips brush yours when he takes the book from you, warmth spreads across his skin and he finds himself looking at your face. 

You quickly pull your hand back and cross your arms over your chest, avoiding his eyes, “well, you should probably get started then,” you mumble, nudging your chin into the direction of your door, subtly kicking him out. 

“Yeah,” he breathes and looks back down, eying the cover of your beloved book, “what are you doing tomorrow night?” 

Just leave, please. You think to yourself. 

“Why?”

“Well, we could start working on it tomorrow,” he offers. 

“Yeah sure.” You don’t want to work with him, you don’t want to see him but agreeing to it will get him out of your house sooner, “I’ll call you.” 

“Okay.” 

You can feel his eyes on you, he is staring and it makes you want to both scream and cry. Leave, just leave. 

“I’ll get going.” He steps away, taking one last look at you before he turns around, “good night, y/n.”

You don’t say anything back, you stay silent, refusing to even look at him. You don’t notice the way he halts in his tracks when his eyes fall on the picture on your wall, the only one left of him. Steve knows that you didn’t keep it up because of him but it still makes something inside of him burn. There’s no other reminders of him left, only this one. You could have cut him out but you didn’t, you kept him there. His eyes soften and he glances at you. You are still standing there in the same spot, with your arms crossed and your gaze stuck to the floor. The urge to– no. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to leave. 

Your fingernails dig into your arms, you bite your lip as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. The lump in your throat begins to grow. Why did he show up? You hear him walking down the stairs and it feels like forever until he reaches the door. The sob begins to threaten to escape. 

You slowly make your way towards your bedroom door, shutting it quietly. You press your back against it and look up at the ceiling. Tears roll down your cheeks the minute you let your guard down. 

“I hate you, Steve Harrington.”

-

Cold water dribbles down on him, making goosebumps rise up on his skin, he shivers at the feeling but sighs in content when he feels himself getting more energized again. Basketball practice tired him more than usual but that was probably because he stayed up all night, reading pride and prejudice. To his surprise, he ended up liking it more than he thought. Though he can’t stand Darcy for some reason. 

Another thing that kept him up was you. Your indifference, your lack of emotions, the anger and the sadness he had seen in your eyes the last time you had looked at him was gone. There is nothing in your eyes now, just simply nothing. It shouldn’t bother him, in fact, it should make him feel relieved to know that you are not hurting anymore but somehow it hurts him to know that you just don’t care anymore. 

He didn’t love you but you loved him, at least that’s what he always believed. 

Did you realize that you never loved him either? 

“What’s wrong, Harrington? Did you realize that you’re a shit player?” 

He can’t even help but sigh in annoyance. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. He waited until everyone was done showering, not feeling like interacting with anyone, he didn’t know that Billy was still around, if he knew, he would’ve been the first in the shower. 

He opens his eyes and glares at him. 

Billy looks at him with a smirk on his face, he turns the water on and closes his eyes as he steps under the stream. 

Steve decides to ignore him, turning his head away from him, he reaches for his shampoo with shaky hands. Just the presence of Billy is enough for him to shake out of anger. He hates him so much. 

“Heard you were at y/n’s house last night.” 

At that, Steve tenses up. How and why does he know? He keeps his eyes down as he begins to wash his hair. 

“Yeah, so?”

Billy chuckles, taking a moment to reply. 

“What were you doing there?” 

“How’s that any of your business?” Steve mumbles in annoyance. 

Billy shrugs, narrowing his eyes at him, “when assholes like you go to their ex-girlfriends house it’s usually to fuck,” he says, smirking. 

Steve shakes his head, “we’re working on an essay together.” 

“Mhm.” 

To his surprise, Billy keeps quiet for the remaining time. Steve quickly finishes up and leaves the shower after wrapping a towel around his waist, wanting to escape him as quickly as he can. 

Steve can’t stand to be in the same room as him for longer than a minute, he always felt that way about him but especially after hearing those rumors about you and Billy from Tommy and Carol. It still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Back in the locker room, he scrunches his face up in disgust, it smells like sweat, too much deodorant and cologne in here. No one is around anymore, everyone has already left. 

Steve reaches for his dirty clothes and stuffs them into his duffle bag before he starts getting dressed. He puts on a pair of boxers and his jeans and reaches for his belt when Billy walks back in. 

Steve’s jaw feels tense from all the clenching but he can’t stop it. Every time he sees him, he thinks of you and him together. He thinks of you being touched by him, of you being kissed by him, of you being– god, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the thought of you being touched by Billy Hargrove or any other man for that matter.

He knows that there is a huge chance that you aren’t with him or with anyone else but he can’t be too sure. 

“Did you fuck her?” 

Billy smirks when the question finally tumbles out of Steve’s mouth, he knows that he has been dying to ask. He stays silent and puts his clothes on instead, taking his time with it. 

Steve puts his sweater over his head and turns around to face Billy, who is already staring at him smugly as he dries his hair with the white towel. 

Steve’s nostrils flare and he feels like throwing a punch at him already, he clenches his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. 

“Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?” Billy smirks. 

He stiffens a little, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to do what he so badly wants to do. 

“I don’t know the answer, that’s why I’m asking.” 

“Why do you want to know?” Billy chuckles as he tilts his head to the side, he throws the towel back on the bench and puts his white tank top on, “you dumped her.” 

Billy walks towards him slowly, he looks confident, he always does. He looks directly into his eyes, the smugness remaining on his face. 

“Let me tell you something.” 

Steve drops his arms to his sides and puffs out his chest, raising his chin slightly. His heartbeat quickens, not out of fear but out of anticipation. 

“When you came to school with your new little plaything, she left. I found her behind the school, she was crying.” 

Nothing good will come out of his mouth next, Steve already knows it. The thought of you crying over him does little to mend the anger in his chest. 

“Wanna know what I did?” Billy asks, raising his brows. He licks his lips and grins a little as he steps closer. 

Steve nudges his chin up. 

“I took her home and I fucked her so hard that she forgot that you ever existed. In fact, I think a good fuck was all it needed,” Billy chuckles darkly as he looks him up and down, “‘cause you clearly never fucked her good enough.” 

Steve is seething, burning and trembling with anger. The smirk on the blond’s face is only fueling his anger. 

“Now I’m not the only one,” Billy smirks at the angry look on Steve’s face. His cheeks are red, the brown in his eyes vanished completely, all there is now is blackness. He is not just angry, he is in rage and Billy is loving it. “A little birdie told me that she’s been sneaking around with one of the stoners, so..” Billy laughs, turning around with satisfaction in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t know whether to throw a punch, to scream at him or at himself for feeling this way. He wants to throw up at the thought of you fucking Billy, of you sneaking around with some loser. 

Billy grabs his stuff, he puts on his brown leather jacket. He can sense Steve’s anger and it makes him feel more satisfied than ever. 

“Let me tell you a little secret, Steve. Girls like her, the ones who get left behind by their daddies, they’re a little damaged but they keep going. They still got a little hope left, but the moment they get their heart broken by some asshole they fall in love with, they’re damaged beyond repair. Even if you come crawling back to her and she ends up being stupid enough to take your sorry ass back, she will never be the same again. You crushed her poor little heart.”

Steve is breathing heavily, his knuckles are white from how hard he is clenching his fist. He would love nothing more than to finally throw that punch but he holds himself back, knowing that it will only make things even worse. 

Billy slaps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes, he chuckles, “loosen up, King Steve, go and get your little geek. I’ll take care of y/n, I think she’s better off with me anyways. At least she feels something when I fuck her.” 

And with that, Billy leaves him standing, knowing the damage he caused, it leaves him more satisfied than ever, to know that he messed with him— to know what it takes to mess with him.

next part

-

only tagging friends!

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Summary: Melissa helps you out. It's not helping the feelings that you have for her.

WC: ~2.15k

You’ve been teaching for a few weeks at Abbott a this point now, and you are eternally grateful for this job. You get to take Ellie with you to school, you don’t have to race around to pick her up after. The staff is nice enough, and your kids are wonderful. They absolutely adore you more than anything. Receiving drawings and cards is an almost daily occurrence, and it melts your heart- your students out in Utah never did things like this. 

You work closely with Melissa during your preps to make sure that your room is going well, and any questions that you have you’re able to ask her. She’s so willing to help you with both big problems (realizing that you have no teacher’s manual for the science unit that you’re set to start the next week) and the small (standing in between your classrooms when you have to use the bathroom so desperately you’re afraid you’re going to get a UTI).

( “Fuck,” you curse softly during your prep while you’re ripping every drawer and cabinet open in your room.

“What’s going on, hun?” She magically appears in your doorway. “You look frazzled, and I can hear the cabinets opening and closing over in my room.”

“Shoot, sorry,” you turn and sigh softly. “I can’t find the science manual that I’m supposed to be basing these science lessons off of.”

“That may be my fault,” the redhead admits with a smirk. “I hated it, so I burnt it and made up my own lessons. You have all the materials for what you have to get done, and I can help you out at home tonight if you bring your planner home.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

—

You’re squirming in your chair, desperate for the bathroom. But your kids are taking a test, and every time you pop your head out the door, there is no one there for you to pull into your room for a quick three minutes while you rush down the hall to relieve yourself.

Melissa appears in your door though to ask you a quick question, and she can immediately see the discomfort written into your face.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly as she makes her way over to your desk.

You shake your head. “I really have to-”

“Go,” is all she has to say for you to take off in the direction of the bathroom.

You come back a few minutes later, much more relaxed now. “Thank you. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you needed any copies made- I’m sending Ashley to do some… woman’s driving me nuts lately.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “There’s a stack of papers there to be copied and filed if you want to send her in… and I can always come up with other ways to keep her occupied and out of your hair.”

“That would be great,” the redhead smiles at you softly. “Thanks.” )

All of these situations at school, combined with the ones at home are not helping the feelings that you have developed for the fiery redheaded second grade teacher.

At school, she’s sweet enough, but outside of school hours… it’s even worse.

You have your car now, but she still insists on carpooling with you.

( “It’s more cost efficient, and Jacob isn’t on my ass about burning too many fossil fuels now that we come in together,” she rolls her eyes.

“At least let me drive,” you sigh.

“Her booster is already in my car,” Melissa retaliates. “Just get in.” )

Ellie insists on spending time with her whenever she can, and when you think that it’s getting to be too much for Melissa, she’s waving you off and telling you that having the two of you around is the best thing that’s happened to her. She helps Ellie with homework while you’re lesson planning, she insists on making dinner at least twice a week, your little girl is on her hip at dismissal everyday and falls asleep- only for the redhead to shush everyone around her before she carries her out to the car, the two watch cartoons together and snuggle… she’s really stepped up and stepped in for your daughter when she needed some extra love and care.

And with doting on Ellie the way that she does, she’s also doting on you.

( “You eating enough?” she asks you one day when she sees that you’ve hardly touched your meal. You’re instead pouring over your kids’ essays and grading them frantically.

“I’ll eat after I finish grading these and putting them in,” you wave her off. “You and Ellie eat.”

“We already did, Momma,” your daughter says from the couch, reaching for the television remote. How’d she get there?

Before you can respond, there’s a forkful of gnocchi being held up to your mouth, and Melissa is sitting there giving you a look that says not to argue.

“Thank you,” you sigh softly as you open your mouth. She feeds you the rest of your dinner, despite your daughter begging for attention from the redhead.

Only when you’re finished eating does the woman go and pull the little girl on the couch into her lap.

You continue to grade until you have both of them standing at your side. Or, Melissa is standing at your side while Ellie is clinging to her, settled on her hip.

“Momma, you have to come tuck me,” your little girl yawns out. “Miss Mel said it’s bedtime.”

You glance up at the clock to see that it is indeed Ellie’s bedtime. Your heart melts at the thought that the redhead has so seamlessly integrated herself into your life that she not only knows your daughter’s bedtime, but is able to implement it without your daughter making a fuss over it.

The two of you get the little girl into bed and read with her before flicking off the light. You make your way back to the kitchen table to continue grading, and when you expect her to leave, she instead sits down and takes a hefty portion of the grading that you still have to do. Her glasses are on her face, and her eyes are trained on the work in front of her. She grabs one of the pens that you have sitting on the table and opens it to mark a few things.

You’re so busy watching her that you forget to continue grading yourself. She nudges you gently.

“I’m tryin’ to help you, hun,” she chuckles. ��You gotta do some work though too.”

You take the graded papers are start entering them into grade book with a sigh. With the two of you working together, grades get put in rather quickly. You can’t help but grin at her sleepily as she grades the last one for you, and you enter the number. 

“I think you just saved my life,” you sigh softly. You lay a gentle hand over hers and squeeze it gently.

“I think you need some sleep, hun,” she tells you gently. “Get to bed, and I’ll see myself out.”

“Or we could just hang out on the couch?” you suggest. “I like when you’re here with me… and I love when it’s me, you, and El, but having some adult time is nice.”

She chuckles but nods and leads you to the couch. She settles into the corner of it, and you slide in next to her, grabbing a blanket.

It’s warm, it’s domestic, it’s cozy. Her arm is draped around you lazily, your head nuzzled into the crook of her neck as you curl up and find a program to watch.

You doze off, and you’re not quite sure for how long because the next thing you know Ellie is climbing on top of you with tears in her eyes. Melissa is still there with you, eyes opening blearily.

“Momma,” the little girl whines and settles herself, half in your lap and half in Melissa’s. “Miss Mel.”

“What’s wrong, sweetness?” you ask her gently, teasing the little wisps at the base of her neck. You press a delicate kiss to her temple, and you see Melissa also move the arm not wrapped around you to soothingly rub your daughter’s back.

“Bad dream,” she mumbles as she lays against the two of you.

You sigh softly. “Do you want to talk about it, or try to head back off to dreamland?”

“Dreamland,” she yawns as she rubs her eyes. “But I want you and Miss Mel with me.”

At the mention of her, the redhead’s eyes widen just slightly.

“Please,” Ellie mumbles as she curls into your neighbor’s side. “Please.”

“Momma will come lay with you,” you try to placate softly. You attempt to pull her into your arms, but she desperately reaches for the woman next to you. “We won’t all fit in your bed, sweet girl,” you tell her.

“Momma’s bed,” she mumbles as she wiggles out of your hold and into Melissa’s. The redhead glances at you, and you shrug.

Knowing that if you deny Ellie right now, she will have a meltdown, and you just don’t have it in you to deal with that. You nod, praying to God that your room is clean.

“Mel can stay for a little bit,” Melissa tells the little girl in her arms. “Until you fall asleep.”

The three of you make your way to your bedroom, Ellie sandwiched between the two of you in bed. Ellie clings to the redhead as she starts to fall back asleep. Melissa hums a sweet little tune before she quietly starts to sing a lullaby in a different language. You realize that it’s Italian quickly, and her voice is so gentle and smooth- even at the soft volume. While it lulls your daughter to sleep, it also lulls you to sleep. 

When you wake up again to your alarm, Ellie’s little head pops up from Melissa’s chest before flopping back down gently. If the redhead wasn’t already awake, she is now. “Oof.”

“You stayed,” Ellie whispers.

“I didn’t really have a choice when you decided to use me as your body pillow,” the woman chuckles softly.

You look over at your girl, who is in fact fully on top of Melissa the way that she usually lays on you after a nightmare.

“Oopsies,” Ellie grins. She doesn’t look sorry in the slightest. Then she jumps up. “Time to see Mrs. Howard?”

“Yeah, sweetness,” you chuckle. You love that she adores her kindergarten teacher. “After we get ready, and you have to let Miss Melissa up.”

She uses the two of you as launchpads to sprint into her bedroom, and the two of you fall back into the pillows gently. You turn your head to look at her.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a smile on your face.

“For?”

“Being here for El and me,” you sigh. “It’s made this adjustment to this new life a lot easier.”

Her eyes are so warm as they stare into your own, and she flits her gaze down to your lips.

As much as you want to kiss her right now, you know you shouldn’t. It would be unprofessional… and you have morning breath. Instead, you throw the blankets back on your side and roll out of bed.

She watches you. She’s thought you were gorgeous for quite some time now, but in the morning when you’re just you and not ‘Miss Y/N’ may be her favorite look of yours.

“Stop,” you laugh awkwardly as you feel her gaze while you try to pick out your outfit. “I look like a mess right now, and you should be getting ready for work too.”

“You’re stunning,” she tells you honestly. “But yes… I should probably head over to my apartment to get ready.” She rolls out of bed and starts to make her way out when you catch her arm gently.

“Thank you,” you say softly as you squeeze her arm.

“Of course.”

She heads for the front door, and you can hear Ellie yelling her goodbyes from her bedroom.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” the redhead promises. “And then we’ll go to school together. I think your momma’s driving too.” The door closes after that, and as you get ready, you let your mind wander about what would change if you decided to just say fuck it and kiss her again. The two of you would probably end up together… 

But really, with her across the hall and practically being a part of your family already, what more would change? Not much. But if you were to date and then split? That would be… hell.

Maybe she’s worth the risk though. You shrug in the mirror and shake your head as you try to focus on what has to be done today.

Maybe with time… only time will tell. 

[bangtaninborderland]

JIKOOK X READER - TAKE TWO

Summary: You disobey both of your doms, your boyfriends on their only day off, earning a difficult punishment only it goes wrong, leaving all three of you struggling.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, misheard safe word, oral, degrading names, mean doms jikook, spanking, hair pulling, choking, face slapping, humiliation, pet play, collars, d/s dynamic, threesome ish??

A/N: I’d had this in my drafts and decided to finish it, what do ya think? Also I’m sorry this was supposed to be all smut but I can’t help giving them angst, there is a happy ending.

BTS Masterlist

You knew when you got home you would be in trouble, both Jimin and Jungkook had firmly told you that you couldn’t go out tonight, that they both wanted you home so you could enjoy some free time together.

You didn’t listen.

In hindsight, the idea of disobeying both of your boyfriends, your doms, seemed great in the moment but as the taxi edged closer to home you felt both excitement and guilt pool in your stomach.

Realistically you knew that you’d wasted a day of their only free time, both of them having vastly different schedules now due to the solo work meant that it was a rarity for the three of you got to spend time together other than to sleep but you felt neglected, even if you wouldn’t voice it out loud you needed them to pay attention to you and if that meant a little disobedience to push them into punishing you then so be it.

You hadn’t gotten drunk, in fact, you’d chosen an empty corner of the club and sat there all night. Ignoring looks and offers alike.

The taxi pulled up outside the apartment complex and you were sure that the journey went a little faster today. You paid the fare, selfishly dragging out the time it took you to find the exact change.

You opted to take the stairs rather than the elevator, something you slightly regret as you climb to the tenth floor, forehead a little sweaty as you push open the front door.

You knew they were both home, the shoes stacked up at the door informed you of that. You slipped your own off, along with your coat and hung them on their designated hooks. Jimin had punished you more than once for throwing the items on the floor in your excitement to join them with whatever they were doing.

You lightly tread through the apartment, ready to exit up the stairs towards the bedroom when a hand grips your shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going.”

“Kook.” You breathed out, stomach in knots as you spun on your heel to look at him. “I-I was just going to freshen up.”

“Is that what you really want to call me right now?” Jungkook's voice was low. “In the playroom, you know how we expect you.”

“But-“ you started, cut off by a firm grip on your throat.

“I will bend you over right here and make your ass the darkest fucking shade of red.” Jungkook cursed. “Don’t push me right now.”

You nod in response, the second he releases his grip you make your way to the spare room jimin had converted into a playroom. You still felt a in awe every time your foot crossed the threshold, the carpeting that had once covered the floor had been ripped out and replaced with wooden flooring, and washable rugs placed around the room.

The queen-sized bed was against the wall directly in the middle of the room. Draws lined the right wall, they had been filled with a variety of things ranging from toys to collars, to condoms and lube, even a closet in the corner filled with the most delicate outfit, all of which were hand-picked by your dominants. The entire room was a display of just how much they cared for you and loved you.

You stripped down to your panties, folding your clothes and placing them atop the small bedside table. You shifted to your knees, your body faced away from the door, your head down.

The one thing the room lacked was a clock, you hated that more than anything. You had no way to tell just how long they kept you waiting, kept you on the edge, mind overcome by anticipation.

The door was pushed open and you could hear footsteps behind you unfortunately whatever one of your boyfriends it was didn’t speak. You couldn’t ask who it was, not if you didn’t want to face adding to your punishment so you sat there staring at your hands.

A light touch to your neck had you even more puzzled, Jungkook's nails were shorter than Jimin's, and Jimin's fingers were softer than Jungkook's but you couldn’t figure it out. Not until your hair was being tugged pulling your head back giving you a clear view of the perpetrator.

Jimin.

He grinned. “What is my name.”

“Sir,” you answered.

“See.” Jimin clicked his tongue. “Jungkookie thinks you have forgotten how to address us. Is that true?”

“She has Hyung.” You strain against Jimin's grip to search for Jungkook but it’s to no avail. Wherever he is, you can’t see him. “Called me Kook earlier even though the little slut knew she was in trouble.”

“Now Jungkook, let’s not be hasty hm? Let’s give baby a chance to explain herself.” Jimin looked back at you, his eyes holding a familiar darkness.

Regardless of what you say you know he’s going to make your punishment hurt. You opt for silence, eyes focused on his lips.

In his dominance Jimin was powerful. His height, his build, and his physical strength had absolutely nothing to do with it. No, see, Jimin didn’t need to be muscly to be powerful. One look from him had you ready to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness for whatever transgression you’ve committed. He was harsher than Jungkook, he was a sadist of sorts. He would never hurt you enough to make permanent marks but he revelled in the way he could turn your skin shades of red and purple.

Jungkook was entirely the opposite, he knew the strength he possessed because of his muscles. His form loomed over yours like a predator ready to attack its prey but still, he didn’t need to use his strength, he knew how to punish and play in other ways. He would ask you a question only to slap you whenever you opened your mouth, he would whisper sweet nothings all whilst choking the oxygen out of your lungs.

And you fucking loved it. You loved the way they both knew how to mould your body to their will, how to play off one another to keep you excited, and on the edge.

The only downfall was that they had picked up traits from one another, so much so that at certain times jimin would act more like Jungkook than Jungkook himself did, still, it only fuelled your fun.

“Sir asked you a question.” Jungkook reminded as he came out from behind Jimin.

“I-“ you began to answer before stopping yourself instead of opting to shake your head.

“That’s not much of an answer is it?” Jimin feigned a pout. “Is that a “no I don’t remember.” Or is it more of a “no I haven’t forgotten?”

You looked between Jimin and Jungkook before Jimin released his painful grip on your head, taking a step back as jungkook half crouched to meet your ear. “Did either of us permit you to look at us? You act disobedient and think you have the right to look at us whenever you want. Look at the floor, I don’t want to see you so much as move your head”

You bit back a whine as you focused your eyes on a spot on the floor between your legs.

“Now back to my question.” Jimin was further away now, you couldn’t see where though. “Have you forgotten how to address us?”

You shook your head again, not wanting to risk extending your punishment any further by speaking without permission.

“Speak puppy.” You could hear the smile in Jungkook's voice as he spoke the pet name. “You can talk.”

“I haven’t forgotten Sir.” You respond, still looking at the floor.

“Who am I, baby?” Jungkook asked, his voice low. “What do you call me hm?”

“Master.” You can’t stop the flush of red that graces your face as you mumble the title.

Jimin laughs, his stare is cold. “You say that but your actions prove otherwise, I can’t help but think you’re lying. Kookie, baby, what do I always say about liars?”

“They should be reminded of their place.”

“That’s right, I think we should show her exactly where she belongs and who she belongs to so for the next 24 hours you aren’t going to do anything without either of us permitting you to do so. If you need a break to use the restroom then tap one of us twice, if you’re restrained or we are out of reach then you have permission to tell us verbally but other than that I don’t want to hear you unless you’re told to speak, I want to see you on your knees unless we say otherwise.” Jimin takes a few steps closer, voice softening as he caresses your hair. “If you want to safe word out you can at any moment you can, if you don’t want to go ahead with this tell me now and we can choose alternative punishment.”

“I’m good Sir.” You whisper, leaning into his touch. “Thank you.”

“Have you eaten?” Jimin asks, crouching down so his face is in view.

You had, but not since lunchtime. “I had lunch, nothing else, Sir.”

He hums, thumb brushing over your lips. “Have you drank?”

You shook your head, you really hadn’t. Getting drunk hadn’t been the aim of your disobedience.

“Words darling.” Jungkook reminds.

You so badly want to look at them. “No Sir.”

“Okay, I’ll heat up some food, your master will keep you company.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before standing up. “Be good.”

And with that he is gone, leaving you alone with the younger of the pair. “Why did you disobey us?” Jungkook wonders, you hear his footsteps as he walks closer to the bed.

You debate ignoring the question but your doms hated that just as much as they hated lying. “I wanted attention, Master.”

“Little embarrassing, don’t you think? We were so excited to spend the day with you, even had it all planned out, only for you to choose some sleazy club over us.” One thing you learned about Jungkook as a dominant was that his words hurt just as much as his spankings, he never let you shy away from the reality of your words and actions. “You’re lucky we have another free day tomorrow.”

You perk up at that, unable to stop yourself jerking your head up to look at him. “Really?”

He stares at you, as though anticipating your every move. His mouth went from a forced smile to a blank canvas. “No, but now you know how hopeful we felt at the idea of coming home to you only to find the apartment empty. Head down, if I have to tell you again I’ll tie you up here and leave you all alone.”

You looked down immediately, heart heavy and stomach-churning despite the empty threat. You knew neither of them would breach one of your limits and being restrained and alone was one of them.

You hear the sheets shifting as he sits on the bed. “Crawl to Me.”

You don’t hesitate to move, the floor rough against your bare knees.

“You’re going to keep my cock warm until your food is ready.” He explains, unzipping his hands and laying back.

You spring into action, giving his cock tiny kitten licks eventually lifting his shaft to wrap your lips around his balls.

When you’d first become their submissive they had both given you a month of ‘training’, each of them showing you just how to please them. At the end of the month, they decided they would do the same, the four weeks had been spent in a state of overstimulation as they tried out every little thing they could, eventually focusing on what made you most desperate.

Jungkook groans, his hands falling onto the bed. “Fuck puppy.”

The sound only encourages you more, you take the head of his cock into your mouth before letting its length fill your throat. Within a few seconds your nose was brushing against his skin, he gave you a few seconds to adjust before bringing his hand to the back of your head and guiding your movements. You wince a little as his grip tightens when you moan around his cock.

Somehow you get carried away with time, jungkook alternating between having you cock warm him and slowly sliding his length in and out of your mouth. Your lack of a gag reflex came in handy for whenever he wanted to use you like this.

You don’t hear the door open so the sound of Jimin’s voice has you jumping in surprise, reflexes making you pull away from his dick. Jungkook is quick to stop you, hand gripping your neck before you can move away completely. “Relax.”

You go limp on his touch, letting him guide you back down. “It’s a shame you can’t be this good all the time.” He brushes a few strands of hair out of your face, thrusting a few more times before cumming down your throat.

You swallow it as it comes, choking only once as it hits the back of your throat. He pulls you off as soon as he is finished, Jimin already beside you with wipes. “Here.”

You turn your face to him, gaze still on the floor where he has set your dinner tray. It was rare food was ever brought into the playroom, both Jimin and Jungkook being meticulous about the mess it could cause. You let Jimin wipe you clean, you yearned for both praise and reassurance but considering this was a punishment you were sure you’d get none.

When he was done with your face he began putting your hair up, his hands gentle as he brushed out the knots, you let your eyes close for a few seconds before opening them again to watch as the steam flew away from your food. “You can eat now.”

You can’t deny the food looks good, they were both amazing cooks but the lack of utensils has you frowning. You want to ask but the earlier warning speaks to you in your mind, you take another breath before reaching a hand out to pick up a piece of meat only to have your hand smacked down.

“Did I tell you to use your hands?” Jiminn asks, Jungkook still in his previous spot on the bed. “You’re so silly, you can’t even figure this out without help. You’re going to eat like a good puppy, okay?”

You put your hands back on your thighs before bending to lap at the food, you can’t help but want to die from the sheer humiliation of it. You had expected a punishment, you’d expected to be spanked and probably denied a few orgasms but you hadn’t meant to get a punishment this serious, you only wanted their attention.

You lost your appetite fairly quickly but you knew how much pride Jimin took in taking care of those around him so you continued to force bites down, the bitterness of your actions weighing on you heavily, if you had just listened and stayed home this wouldn’t have been happening.

Jungkook's voice pulls you from your thoughts as you force down another mouthful. “You can finish that and then I will shower you, you’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. You didn’t want to be around us all day so I figured one extra night wouldn’t hurt.”

You wanted to argue back, to tell them that wasn’t why but instead you stayed quiet, it hadn’t been a question and you hadn’t been asked to speak. The next 24, now 23 hours were looking very long.

You ate as much as you could before pushing the plate away, being practically naked was never an issue but eating your food practically naked was a humiliating feat and you were sure your doms knew of that, they knew what they were doing.

“We will be back soon, don’t move.” Jungkook picks up your plate, Jimin trailing behind him.

The door closes with a soft click, the silence is deafening. You couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about, you always wondered what kinds of discussions they had in moments like these, you were sure they had them ‘dom discussions’ you had begun calling them but you’d never been privy to one and probably never would be.

Once again the lack of a clock in the room becomes apparent, not even the simple ticking of a clock to keep you company.

You missed them, you missed them so much that all you could feel was anger towards yourself for your actions, your stupid actions.

You were left alone with your thoughts for a little too long and by the time the duo returned, washed and dressed, you were on the brink of tears.

“Shower time.” Jimin declared, he helped you stand before detracting himself completely, they walked in front of you as always. “Be good.” He warns before walking off to the main bedroom, the one you all shared.

Jungkook had already had the water running, the temperate a little colder than usual but still relaxing. The dominant washed your hair, the whole shower passing rather fast as he wasted no time getting you clean.

“How do you feel?” He asks, tone still firm.

“Okay Master.” You mumble back, enjoying the few light touches you got as he washed the soap out of your locks. It wasn’t a complete truth but punishments weren’t supposed to feel good, you weren’t going to complain any more when you had brought this on yourself.

He grunted in response. The water turned off when he deemed you finished. “Out.”

He wraps you in a towel before walking you to the guest bedroom. “You won’t need clothes tonight. Don’t come out of the room until one of us gets you.”

You nod, it was simple instructions really. He caresses your cheek for a second before turning around and walking away, you want to call out for a hug or a kiss but you can’t. “Goodnight.” He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You stare at the door for a second before looking around the room, it is empty, no one other than Hoseok stayed here one night the previous year, you could hear Jimin and Jungkook laughing with each other and it created a ball of bitterness in your chest.

You turned the light off and climbed into the bed, the sheets cold and scentless. The annoyance you felt at yourself had multiplied, tripled and then tripled again, you know realistically you could safe word but that wouldn’t be right, you deserved whatever punishment they see fit.

It was safe to say you had never slept as badly as you did last night, you spent the majority of the night tossing and turning in between crying fits. Despite the fact that the loves of your life were just a few feet away you’d never felt more alone.

Jimin and Jungkook had to have been awake for at least two hours by the time they remembered you, the door opening slowly enough for you to drop into a suitable position on your knees.

“Good morning,” Jimin mumbled, pulling back the curtains. The lack of pet names hurt but you ignored it.

You tried to sound happier. “Good morning Sir.”

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, rummaging and dropping a nightgown into your lap. “Put that on.”

“Yes Sir.” You answered to both questions, you could suck it up for another day.

He waits until you have the fabric over your head before giving you your next instruction. “Go downstairs, your food is ready in the kitchen. You can walk down the stairs but I don’t want to see you standing the rest of the way.” He gives you a little nudge when you hesitate.

You get to the kitchen as fast as your body will allow, still lacking an appetite but eager to please you delve into the pancakes on the dinner tray. Jungkook isn’t in the room but you’re sure he’s in the apartment and you haven’t heard the front door open or close.

“Good morning pet,” Jungkook spoke loudly, making you jump a little before you compose yourself mid-bite.

You swallow your food before responding. “Good morning Master.”

“Sleep well?” He asks, you hear the tap running. “I know I did, Hyung was very warm all night.”

You don’t take another bite after that, you settle for staring at the plate. “Yes, Master.”

“Hm, I think I’ll take your Sir for a morning bath, you can clean up from breakfast.” And with that, he leaves the room and you are alone with it.

You fall back on your ass, the coldness of the floor not bothering you. You wait until you hear the water running to cry, you tried to hold back, it was a punishment, one you earned, but it hurt.

All you wanted was time with them.

You gave yourself another minute of crying before brushing the tears away, splashing some cold water on your face and beginning the dishes. There weren’t many but you took your time, this was something you could do perfectly.

You finished within 20 minutes, not sure what to do you chose the safest option and sat back on the floor, head hanging low as you mapped out the design on the tiles. You’re thankful for the little clock that tells you that you have been waiting for an hour and 25 minutes when the two return hand in hand. The smell of their body wash is strong, and comforting.

“Oh look, you can do something right.” Jimin praised backhandedly but still, you took it. “Come, I want you to ride my cock, put a show on for your Master.”

You were led to the living room, a rare occurrence in scenes although not so much punishments. Jimin was already half hard and you were sure it was because they had probably been fooling around in the shower, without you.

Jungkook sat opposite you, Jimin bunching up your nightgown as he pulled you into his lap, rubbing his clothed member against your ass. “Doesn’t she look pretty like this?”

“Useful more like.” Jungkook scoffs, arms resting atop the back of the couch. “She looks best when she’s sitting on one of our ducks, where she is made to be.”

You groan a little at that, the words both sting and turn you on.

“No one wants to hear you, shut up.” Jimin complains, shoving you to stand up as he pushes his shorts down. “I want you to sit here and be quiet, you’re nothing more than a pretty little flashlight for me to enjoy. Toys don’t make noise.”

You bite your cheek, and the feeling of his hardening member inside of you makes you want to rock back but you know better, you take what’s given to you as the pair continue their conversation as though you’re invisible.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Jungkook asks, toying with the control.

“Yeah, not an action though, maybe a romance?” Jimin adds, slapping your thigh as you gasp when he moves his hips. “Actually an action is probably better, to drown out the unwanted noise.”

Jungkook smirks and you bite down the sadness that swims in your chest.

The movie starts and Jimin stays still other than shifting every few minutes, you can’t help the way you get wet.

You drown out their conversation, counting the amount of black spots you can see on the rug only to be pulled back by a slap to your cheek. “You’re sitting here doing nothing yet you still can’t fucking listen?”

“S-sorry.” You stutter out.

“Fucking pathetic,” Jungkook mumbles as he takes his seat again.

The words run heavy in your mind, pathetic, stupid, useless and suddenly you’re silently crying with Jimin still inside you. You’re thankful the movie really does block out unwanted noise.

Maybe you were unwanted in general.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, make as much noise as you want.” Jimin growls in your ear, hands groping your tits as he fucks into you. His movements are fast, a sign he has been holding back for a while. You let out soft gasps and moans, his cock filling you up with more than you can handle but despite that you know, you just know you aren’t enjoying it.

“Yellow.” You whisper, you expect everything to stop but it doesn’t, nothing stops, in fact, jimin speeds up hips stuttering as he chases his release. “N-no” you speak a little louder.

You look at Jungkook, his head snapping to yours and Jimin thrusts inside you one last time and cums, as though just processing everything jungkooks eyes widen. “Hyung pull out now.”

“What?” Jimin asks, confused. “Wh-

You can no longer hold back your sobs, the second they tear free jimin is carefully pushing you off him and cradling you in his arms. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Baby, are you hurt?”

You can't muster a response, you just let yourself cry spewing endless apologies. “Sorry I’m-I’m sorry.”

“I think she safeworded.” Jungkook explains, running in with the box of things you’d compiled together for incidents just like this. “Here, water.”

You feel a bottle being pressed to your lips. “Baby, can you drink for me?”

“No S-sir.” You shake your head.

“Not sir baby, just min okay?” Jimin rubs a hand through your hair, Jungkook holding your hand and drawing circles to help you calm down.

“Such a good girl, you did so well, I’m so so proud of you.” The younger of the pair spoke, still holding the open bottle of water. “Please try and drink some for me sweetheart.”

You move your head out of Jimin’s chest with great reluctance, taking a few sips of water before denying it anymore.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers in your ear. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

“Can we- bedroom?” You ask, too drained to explain it all.

“Of course,” Jungkook answers, taking you out of Jimin’s arms and carrying you up the stairs to the main bedroom.

Only when all three of you were settled into the bed, you in the middle with one of them on either side, did they prompt you to start talking.” Take your time darling.”

You don’t exactly know how to explain it to them. “I guess.. it didn’t feel good? I know punishments aren’t supposed to, but this hurt emotionally.”

“Okay.” Jungkook squeezes your hand, his fingers interlaced with Jimin’s behind you. “Thank you for sharing that baby, can you explain when it started to feel like that?”

“Yesterday when I…” you trailed off.

“Sucked me off?” Jungkook supplied and you nodded.

“I just thought I was being too emotional but you didn’t comfort me at all and I had no reassurance. Neither of you touched me more than you physically had to and then being secluded in the second bedroom just made me feel shut out and unwanted.” You feel embarrassed at how silly it sounds, you did wrong and were punished, of course, it would have been difficult for you.

They both take a moment to process it, Jungkook looking a little more sullen. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Anything else you want to add?” Jimin asks softly. “Take your time.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t act against you because I wanted attention in that sense, I miss you both. Lately, neither of you has been home and I just…I feel so lonely. You get to see each other most days at work but I don’t even have that luxury. It seemed like a good idea at the time but I feel awful, I wanted your only free day and you think I’m just ungrateful and pathetic.” You knew you’d broken one of your own rules, to never take something said in a scene as how they see you or view you outside of it but for some reason, today, it was harder. The mean words and cold shoulders were all you could think about.

“We don’t think you’re ungrateful or pathetic, we misjudged the situation and that is our fault. As your dominants, we have a responsibility to make sure you’re safe and happy and both today and yesterday we failed at it massively. Apologies will only do so much but I promise I will make it up to you every single day, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you.” You chance a glance at Jimin as he finishes talking, only to have your heart broken when you see him wipe a stray tear away. You don’t even chance to look at Jungkook, sure he is fairing the same way if not worse.

“It’s not your fault, work is important but I just- I don’t know.” You huff, words and emotions just too much. You let your head drop against Jungkook's chest, his heart beating faster than usual. “I’m sorry we failed you today as doms and boyfriends.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t fail me, I should have been an adult and talked to you about how I felt instead of ignoring what you both said.”

“No baby we did fail you, talking as just your dom, we failed you. We should have been more consistent with our check-ins and should have discussed your actions more before punishing you. I think between myself and Kook we both thought the other was being affectionate so we held back a little so as to not overly indulge you but that was a stupid assumption that will never be made again.” Jimin argues, his hand tracing circles on your stomach.

“I’ve never had a problem with the way you chose to punish me. I like it but this time it just hurt more emotionally.” You explained, not wanting them to change because regardless of how you felt about the punishment you loved them as doms and people.

“And that is our fault,” Jungkook says, not as a question. “And I will never let something like this happen again.”

“I think from now on we will be more comforting even through punishments, even if that particular day you don’t feel it’s necessary I think we.” He gestures to himself and Jungkook. “Would feel better knowing you are okay. I also want you to be honest next time, the second it doesn’t feel right, even if you’re unsure of why, you call yellow okay?”

“But I did…” you mumble, although you hadn’t done it straight away you’d done it when you desperately needed it and for a second it had been ignored. “On the couch I did.”

“I know.” Jimin mumbles. “I didn’t hear you, that’s no excuse but I truly didn’t and the second we realised it all stopped. I won’t say “I’m sorry” for that because no apology would be good enough. Doll if you want to leave the arrangement, you have every single right to. If you feel as though you can trust us then do not force yourself to be our submissive because that’s something based on trust and a mutual agreement. Nothing will change within our relationship if you choose to let go of that aspect.”

“Really?” You eye them both. “You’d stay even if I didn’t want to be your submissive?”

“Baby we aren’t with you because you’re an amazing submissive, we are with you because you’re an amazing human being. You take care of us, you remember the smallest details like when we mention something we want on our diet you turn up with it the second we can eat freely, you brighten up the room just by being there, you’re so hard working and always do your best. You have the most beautiful thoughts in life, you’re strong and honest. You have so many amazing qualities that I couldn’t list them all even if I tried but I am in love with you.” Jungkook stared at you, his eyes conveying everything his words couldn’t. “So am I” Jimin adds.

“I don’t want that, I don’t want to change anything. I love you both and this was an accident, we both did things wrong and next time it will go better. Things won’t be perfect and when they don’t go well we will discuss it and come out of the other end better and stronger. I trust you with my life.” You look at both of them, all three of you smiling stupidly through tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” They spoke in unison, both placing kisses on your head. “How about we order food and spend a day taking care of the baby?”

You know the question isn’t directed to you, it always makes you feel small whenever they talk about you as though you aren’t there, small and cared for.

“Yeah I think that sounds good, I’ll go make us some tea. Maybe sit on the couch? I’ll grab some blankets.”

“Couch sounds good. Baby?” Jimin nudges you, drawing your attention back. “Couch?”

You nod. “I thought you had work?”

“Oh no baby, I know I told you that we had only been given one day off but we have the whole week.” Jungkook looks horrified as he explains. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been spiteful in that way it was wrong.”

“What did you do?” Jimin frowns.

“I told her that we had another day off and when she got excited and asked if I was being serious I told her no. I didn't realise she was truly upset by it.” He explains hurriedly.

“You dumbass.” Jimin scolds, reaching out to slap the back of his head. “Why would you do that.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” He explained honestly. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

“It sucked but I wasn’t that sad.” You explain, both of them clearly over analysing every little thing, yes you were sad but not sad enough to warrant them being this cautious. “I don’t want you to be worried about everything you say and do, I’m normally great at understanding the difference between what you do and say in a scene and how you feel outside of them.”

“It doesn’t mean we should say things that could disappoint you on purpose.” Jungkook retorts, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the end of the bed.

“You were being sarcastic Kook, I can tell the difference. I don’t want you to beat yourself up because a scene went wrong, it happens, this won’t be the last time but I’m okay, I’ll be okay after a week of pampering.” You tease them both.

“You’re far too good to us.” Jimin sighs, burying his head in your neck.

The day played out slowly, all three of you migrating to the couch with a heap of blankets. You’d gotten fried chicken whilst watching a movie, they had agreed to watch whatever movie you wanted, and you’d settled on a comedy that had all three of you crying with laughter.

They had been checking in with you constantly, tending to your every need, whispering reassurance and comforting words to you whenever they could. By the end of their break, the incident had been forgotten and you were already excited about whatever happened during the scene you’d all planned for their last free day.

You’d been sitting in the playroom for a while, both of them coming in and out of the room frequently, more than they usually would have.

“How are you feeling puppy?” Jimin asked, hand running through your hair. “Good?”

“Perfect Sir.” You respond with a smile.

“Let me see your pretty face.” You lifted your head as Jungkook had told you to. “Beautiful.”

Jimin took a step back, not before kissing you softly. “Is there anything you want to try in particular today puppy?”

You bit your lip, gathering the confidence to ask for what you’d wanted for the past two days. “I want.. a punishment Sir.”

They both give you a confused look. “Why?”

“Because I don’t feel good about my actions, I feel unsettled knowing I broke a rule and then safeworded out of my punishment.” You explain.

Jungkook shook his head, moving to undo the collar he had put on you, only stopping when you moved your hands up to cover the buckle. “No, I don’t- I don’t need to stop.”

“We aren’t going to do a scene if you aren’t in the right headspace darling, your safeword is there to protect you, you can use it whenever you want for whatever reason and you will never have to make up for it or feel bad for it.” Jungkook explains, caressing your hands as he pulls them away. “I need you to be absolutely sure you understand this before we play darling.”

“I do, I do Master I do I promise but I just don’t feel right, I want to be good and I don’t feel good and you telling me I’m good isn’t going to help I need to feel like I’ve done good, like I made up for disobeying.”

“Okay.” He gives in after considering for a few moments, and Jimin nods in agreement.

“I think 50 spanks will do?” Jimin asks Jungkook.

“20 with the paddle and 30 with my hand.” Jungkoom responds, a smile across his lips. “You do the paddle.”

“Oh, you really want her ass red huh?” Jimin laughs, grabbing the familiar black one from the rack.

Your heart warms seeing them play around with one another in this way. “Come over baby, lay cross my lap.” Jimin instructs, before you can move Jungkook is attaching a leash to the back of your collar, you begin crawling behind him as if programmed to do so.

Jimin watches your every move, your hips swaying as you crawl across to him and climb into his lap. “Doing so well for me.” You preen at the praise, heart thumping as you prepare yourself for the first blow.

Jimin has a way with the paddle, he wrists flexible enough to swing the paddle on every inch of flesh on your backside. You feel yourself both relaxing and tearing up as the worries in your mind quieten.

You feel yourself being moved from Jimin’s lap and you can’t help but whine, despite the light throbbing on your ass you feel comfortable, relaxed. You quieten when Jungkook taps your thigh. “Hush puppy, I’m going to do your last 30.”

“Sorry Master.” You put as he pulls you over his lap, the rough material of his jeans uncomfortably digging into your skin. “Hurts.”

“You can deal with it darling, take what I give you.” He lands a smack to your ass before you can complain further and as he does all thoughts are knocked out of you.

You’re thankful they don’t tell you to count because once again you get lost in your own thoughts, the repetition of the smacks soothing you. “Taking it so nicely.” You hear Jimin and can’t help but reach out a hand for him, relaxing again once he takes it.

“All done,” Jungkook speaks, you blink away the confusion in your head. “Baby’s out of it.”

“She needed this.” You hear jimin but don’t bother moving from the crook of Jungkook's neck, the smell of his cologne comforting. “Poor baby.”

You loved moments like this, where you were thoughtless, with no worries, no guilt, just the soft buzz of subspace and your doms, boyfriends taking care of you. “Love you. Thank you.” You mumble into his skin.

“Don’t thank me, baby, you took your punishment so well for Sirs. You can sleep okay? We will have a bubble bath when you wake up.” A bath sounded good but sleep sounded better so you let yourself be pulled into whatever dream was awaiting you.

When you woke up you felt warmth all around you. Their bodies pressed flush against yours in the large bed. “Awake sweetheart?” Jungkook whispers. “Hyungs sleeping.”

You look at the way jimin had a hand tangled in jungkoks, his other arm wrapped around your torso. The three of you entwined in one way or another. It was moments like these that made their hectic schedules worth it, you’d had countless arguments before, disagreements, struggles, and bad days but you had an abundance of amazing ones, ones that made every single hard day worth it. You loved them, you were in love with them, and you always would be. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimin mumbles in his sleep making you and Jungkook laugh.

“I love you two.”