#possibly a new blog series?

[kyouka-supremacy]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[dark-night-star-light]

I finally got the spirit animals books!! Idg the hype about Shane so far he just seems like a regular asshole but I'm assuming there's a reason for it

Dearest anon, I cannot explain how overjoyed I am that you’re reading my childhood favorite series!!! And decided to tell me about it!!! If you do happen to need a guide or are lost, here’s a post about how I recommend reading the books.

Please, please, please come talk to me about it after you’re done. Or, if you have any thoughts about it while reading, you’re welcome to liveblog in my ask box. We’re a very sparse fandom and we need sustenance.

As for Shane, I’m going to be so honest, I can’t tell what book you’re on from this ask. In the first book, he’s actually relatively sweet, and that’s all I’m going to say in case you haven’t read any farther. But part of the reason I like him so much as a character is because he’s such an asshole. Characters are far more interesting when they have flaws that affect how they interact with the world. I wouldn’t consider Shane just a regular asshole, though. I’m not going to say anything else, and I don’t recommend scrolling through my blog because I can’t shut up about the guy and you will be spoiled. But I assure you there’s a good reason for the hype!

If you end up not liking Shane, that’s okay, he’s definitely not everyone’s cup of tea. My favorite literary devices are parallels and cycles, because they are so delicious, and Shane’s character is chock-full of them, aside from all the other things that make him so fascinating to me. So there’s a definite amount of subjectivity present in why I, personally, enjoy his character so much.

I have no idea how you found my blog if not through this fandom, because I literally don’t post about anything else, but welcome aboard! Hope you like the series! Come to me with thoughts . . .

[c0rpsedemon]

it's 2023 and i'm still bitter about how kuroshitsuji, a complex slow burn mystery manga, got absolutely massacred by its shitty semi-episodic shota/fujobait anime adaptation

[sunflowerius]

i really do constantly stay losing (consistently getting obsessed with things that have little to no fandom)

[claudia-kishi]

Guess who comes up to the plate? Albert Pujols. Wait, did you strike out Albert Pujols? No, I did not. He hit it. Far. Very, very far... Sorry, Coach. Are you kidding? It was beautiful.

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

Am I Ready For Love? Or Maybe Just A Best Friend (HERO-Centric OMORI fanfiction)

Description: While playing "Mom Friend" to his college buddies' shenanigans, Hero is shocked to learn that he is widely considered the "Prince" of their campus. Though flattered, he doesn't feel he deserves the praise, especially seeing as his heart still missed the best friend and childhood love he had lost far too soon. He would always miss her and simply couldn't imagine being with anyone else...but that didn't mean he wasn't lonely. Even self-imposed loneliness wasn't free from sadness.

When an unexpected conversation drudges up bittersweet memories for him, however, Hero begins to wonder if he doesn't have to be nearly as lonely anymore. He might not be ready for love, but a best friend didn't sound too bad...

Relationships: Hero & Brandi [Intimidating Girl] Friendship, Hero & Original Characters Friendship, Past Romantic Hero/Mari, Romantic Brandi/OC, Could be Hero/OC if you really wanted to see it/imagine it happening after the slowest of slow burns, but this is more about their platonic friendship and is very heavy on the past Hero/Mari angst. Mentioned Hero & Kel and Brandi & Bebe's sibling relationships and Bebe/Mikhael.

Characters: Hero (POV Character), Brandi [Intimidating Girl], Original Characters, Mari's Memory, Mentioned Kel, Bebe (Short Haired Girl/Fountain Girl) & Mikhael (The Maverick).

Genre: Hero-Centric Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slice of Life, College Life, Lost Love, Developing Friendship, Developing Relationship, Greiving, Catharsis, Heart-To-Heart Chats, Hopeful Ending, Post-Good Ending, Hero Needs A Hug, Hero Deserves To Be Happy

Word Count: 7,779

Rating: T for some heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma. Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death & Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues including depression & suicide. Mentions of Underage Drinking & Partying) Some language.

Warnings: Major Spoilers for OMORI! Heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma. Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death & Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues including depression & suicide. Mentions of Underage Drinking & Partying). Some Language.

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another website. All other interaction (likes, reblogs ect.) appreciated!

A/N: This story (including it's title) was heavily inspired by the song "Turning Out" by AJR (which is just a shot to the heart when thinking of poor Hero 🥺❤️ Highly recommend).

PART 1 of the "When Sun Shines Again [Hero's Life After Mari] Series

Full story text below the cut. Thank you so much for reading and cheers to good & happy things for Hero in the future! 💕

“You know, sometimes I think Kel is fine, but then yesterday he called to tell me he ate a whole can of spray cheese”—Hero sighed and shook his head—“nothing with it just the spray cheese…” He shrugged his shoulders, and Brandi laughed. Swapping stories about their siblings was one of their favorite activities—especially at these wilder college parties where they tended to gravitate towards each other in want of a familiar face and company that wasn’t completely wasted. Even though Faraway Town was small, and he had known Brandi nearly his entire life, they hadn’t really become friends until college and the hours they spent together reminiscing about home or making each other laugh with stories about Bebe’s hopeless lovesickness or Kel’s well-meaning but often silly antics. It was a relief to have a friend and a familiar face around, and Hero could never quite tell her how much that meant to him.

“Well, that’s nothing. Bebe is still lovesick over that moron who wears that ridiculous wig and calls himself ‘The Maverick,’” huffed Brandi. “How many times do you think he’s seen Top Gun? I’m guessing at least fifty, possibly a hundred.” As Hero stifled a chuckle, Brandi rolled her eyes as she leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter and poured herself another glass of something, Hero wasn’t entirely sure what and he didn’t ask. He had learned it was better not to.

“Well…his family does run the best bakery in Faraway Town, and—” Hero stopped. He was going to mention how Aubrey had been good friends with Mikhael for quite a while, but then he realized she probably had even less positive things to say about him than Brandi did. 

“I guess, but that’s just his family, and even if they’re great, he’s just…”—she paused as if searching for the right word—“a bozo. I just can’t believe she’d throw away her future for some guy like that. She says she wants to go to pastry school now so she can work in the bakery. She doesn’t even bake! You just wait until Kel starts dating,” she warned with a heavy sigh. “He’ll be driving you up the wall.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Hero chuckled. Truthfully, he was a little surprised that hadn’t happened yet, but Kel didn’t seem particularly interested in a romantic relationship right now, which Hero could respect. He certainly felt the same way himself, though for different reasons, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away and buried them, changing the subject. “Speaking of dating, how are things going with you and C.J.?”

Brandi’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. “Checking up on your handiwork, matchmaker?” she teased dryly.

Hero’s face felt a bit flushed. That hadn’t been his intention, but he fidgeted.  “Are you upset that I set you up?”

“You didn’t set us up. You just…talked him up to me until I finally agreed to go out with him, there’s a difference,” Brandi insisted, and Hero chuckled. He supposed that was true. C.J. was one of Hero’s friends from his fraternity, and he had had the most obvious yet sincere interest in Brandi ever since they were paired up for a legal research course project. Hero had thought they had a lot in common—spirited personalities, strong sense of justice, same Pre-Law major and aspirations to become attorneys someday, and, though he usually tried to stay out of his friends’ business especially their love lives, C.J. had begged him to put in a good word for him so she wouldn’t see him as just another dumb, partying frat boy.

Hero couldn’t blame Brandi for her trepidation around fraternity guys. They didn’t have the best reputation, and if Hero was being honest, he likely would have tried to avoid them himself if he hadn’t been forcibly dragged…er…recruited into a fraternity last pledge term. He would say it was a long story, but it really wasn’t. They needed someone to cook and to clean around their garbage heap of a frat house—a “Mama,” as they quickly deemed him—and Hero was too polite and conflict-avoidant to refuse when Kyle, a sports medicine major in his organic chemistry class, practically begged him to pledge for his frat. His harrowing tale of how they had eaten practically nothing but instant ramen every day for the past year was really the final straw. Now he cooked not only for the fraternity but also for all their guests when they had parties since keeping everyone fed and hydrated with water when they were binge drinking resulted in less vomiting on the carpet and less passing out on the living room rug or in the yard.

That was what he was doing now, after all, making sandwiches on the stove, handing out glasses of water, and keeping an eye on the dwindling bottles of booze. He handed Brandi the grilled cheese he had been making for her with a smile, and Brandi hummed. “Thank you. And thank you for setting me up too, I guess. It’s nice not to be hit on all the time anymore. It was getting pretty annoying.” She laughed, playing with the red glow stick bracelet on her wrist, and Hero chuckled in spite of himself before she quickly added, “I’m really just teasing. C.J.’s a great guy, and we are very happy, so I really do owe you one.”

Hero smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He was glad to help, and it was honestly really nice having Brandi around more often. She cleaned up after herself at least.

“If you ever want me to return the favor, just let me know. I know a ton of girls who would kill to go out with you.”—she laughed as Hero blushed—“I’m pretty sure you’re like the prince of our campus.”

Hero’s face burned. He was sure it must be bright red by now. It wasn’t the first time he had heard that, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but he never could take a good compliment, even a joking one. “I’m sure that’s not…” he mumbled, but his voice trailed off as he grew suddenly interested in the spatula in his hands. He shook his head and ignored the heat in his cheeks as he changed directions. “Thank you…that’s very flattering, but um…I’m just…I’m not…It’s…” He began to trip over his words, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say, but Brandi thankfully cut him off with a tilt of her head and a knowing, sympathetic smile.

“It’s complicated?” She finished for him, pointing at the yellow glow stick on his wrist. He always picked ‘It’s Complicated’ yellow for these kinds of traffic light parties. It was just the easiest—saved him from the awkwardness of being flirted with and having to turn people down while also not lying that he was in a relationship already.

Hero nodded, and Brandi patted his hand with a soft, bittersweet expression and a knowing smile. She leaned closer to him so no one would hear her whisper, “Your heart’s still with her, isn’t it?”

Something panged in that all too familiar ache in Hero’s chest. He supposed that was one way of putting it. It wasn’t something he ever really talked about, but he supposed it was no secret that he had not had a relationship with anyone since Mari. The truth was, even if he had wanted one—even if he could move on from her, he didn’t think it would be fair—not to Mari’s memory or to whoever he could be with. He had already had a beautiful love story and, even though it was cut short, he felt that to even wish for anything more would be greedy and ungrateful for the time that he and Mari did have together. That said, doubt occasionally set in that that was a bit of an unreasonable notion all things considered—he had been only fifteen when she had passed and had his whole life ahead of him. In the deepest corners of his mind, he knew she would probably want him to move on and be happy again, but at the same time even if he could someday be ready to open up his heart again, he worried that he would never be able to give that other person the love she deserved. He would never be able to say that she was the one and only love of his life and would never be able to tell her that he had never felt this way about anyone. He would always miss Mari, and, now, the only heart he had to give had already been broken and painfully pieced back together. It was so busted and bruised that, if he was being perfectly honest, he had trouble believing that anyone would even want it.

“Hero…”

“It’s okay,” he cut her off with a slight, reassuring smile, and Brandi smiled back. “I’m okay.”

Brandi nodded. “I understand,” she said with a sigh before taking a sip of her drink. “But if you ever change your mind…if you’re ever ready…you know where to find me, and I know where to find a ton of girls who would definitely be interested.” She winked at him, and he playfully rolled his eyes though he scratched the back of his neck when he felt an arm drape around his shoulders.

“What’s going on?” exclaimed Kyle, his voice already starting to slur from too much liquor.

“Brandi’s trying to set me up,” sighed Hero in a dry, somewhat joking way.

Kyle burst into raucous laughter. “Good luck with that. We’ve been trying too—since I’m pretty sure there’s not a girl on this campus who wouldn’t date our very own ‘Prince Charming,’ here, but he’s practicing to be a monk or something.”

“Well, you know, Kyle, it is possible not to have a relationship—it won’t kill you,” bantered Brandi with a frown.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Kyle stuck his tongue out at her. “I know you think I’m a serial optometrist.”

“Monogamist,” corrected Brandi, as Hero covered his mouth with his hand and tried not to laugh. “How drunk are you?”

Kyle hummed, kind of teetering in place. “I dunno.” He turned to Hero. “Mama, how drunk am I?”

Hero sighed, reaching to pour Kyle what was clearly a much needed glass of water. “Here,” he said, avoiding the question. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Kyle nodded and gulped down the water. Hero must have refilled his glass at least twice more, before Kyle leaned his elbows on the counter and asked for a BLT which Hero promptly went to work making. “Thanks. Look, I love my relationships. I just don’t want my friends missing out, you know? And hell, if I was that popular, I’d probably be taking full advantage of it—most guys would. Mama here is an actual saint.”

Hero’s face flushed red, but before he could begin to protest, Brandi interjected with a huffy, “I’m sure you would Kyle” conveniently ignoring his comments about Hero’s supposed sainthood. Her brow furrowed—her eyes narrowing at the green glow stick bracelet on Kyle’s wrist. “I see you’re on the market again. What happened to Tiffany?”

“Eh, didn’t work out,” shrugged Kyle. “We were too different.”

“Realized you didn’t have anything in common besides your love of sucking face?” quipped Brandi sarcastically. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“No,” he insisted, but then sighed. “Alright…sort of…but there were more problems than that.” He sighed. “You know…never mind. I didn’t come over here to talk about Tiffany.” He waved his hand dismissively before his face lit up like a little kid on Christmas. “I wanted to tell you guys, there’s this whole group of girls hanging out in the living room, and they think I look like Nick Carter.”

“How drunk are they?” scoffed Brandi.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, I’ve always thought I looked like him. You think so, don’t you, Hero?”

Hero tilted his head. He supposed he could kind of see it. They had similarly shaped noses, heart-shaped faces, pale skin, light eyes, and blonde hair; however, the trait they had most in common was that curtain bangs haircut, and Hero was fairly certain Kyle had purposely styled his hair that way just to look like he could be in a boy band. Even so, he shrugged and said, “Yeah. You’re practically the sixth Backstreet Boy.”

“See,” he turned to Brandi with a triumphant huff, almost like the satisfied taunt a young boy might give his little sister. Hero chuckled lightly to himself. It reminded him a bit of Kel.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Brandi insisted. “Hero would say anything just to be nice.”

Hero’s face flushed. He hoped he wouldn’t get pulled back into this argument, but luckily Kyle didn’t seem to hear her, instead insisting, “And here I was going to say I think you look like Celine Dion, but now that you’ve been so rude to me, I don’t think I’ll say anything.”

“I don’t look like Celine Dion, Kyle.” Brandi shook her head before taking a sip of her drink.

“Aw, I think you kinda look like Celine Dion, babe,” C.J. interjected draping an arm around his girlfriend.

“Thanks, but I really don’t…” Brandi sighed, but C.J. cut her off.

“And I always thought I kinda look like Usher but with glasses.”

“Not you too…” she teased though there was a certain affection in her eyes and a twitch in the corners of her mouth. “What is it with guys comparing themselves to celebrities? I honestly thought that was just a girl thing.”

C.J. pouted playfully. “What? You don’t think I look like Usher?”

Once again, Hero could kind of see the similarities—oval shaped faces, wide cheekbones, warm eyes, dark skin, and bright, beaming smiles. They looked about as much alike as Kyle and Nick Carter though he wasn’t sure that was saying much, especially coming from him. Brandi, it seemed, was unconvinced.

“I think you look like C.J.” she said quirking an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not sure I know that celebrity,” he teased wrapping his arms around her neck. “Is he handsome?”

Brandi stifled a chuckle but playfully, pretended to ponder the question before finally meeting his gaze. “Yes.”

C.J.’s face lit up into that beaming, 100-watt smile as he looked into her eyes. Hero recognized that look, like Brandi was the only one in the room and they were lost in their own little corner of the world. She ruffled her hand through his tight curls, and he leaned in and kissed her.

“Get a room you two,” teased Kyle sticking his tongue out at them. With a flick of his finger, C.J. promptly told Kyle exactly what he thought of his comments before he cupped Brandi’s face in his hands.

With a bantering shake of his head, Kyle stared down at his green glow stick bracelet like it was watch. Hero turned away abruptly, his face feeling warm as if he had intruded on what should be a very private moment.

Truthfully, despite the awkwardness he currently felt at their extremely public display of affection, he really was happy for them—for all of his friends who wanted relationships and had found them. If he was being honest with himself, however, it did bring up some complicated feelings for him sometimes—made him feel lonely. It was a self-imposed loneliness, but that didn’t mean it was always free from sadness. He glanced down at the yellow glow stick on his wrist. The truth was it wasn’t all that complicated. Even after all these years, he still missed Mari, and he knew he would always miss her. It wouldn’t be fair to pursue anyone else while he felt this way—to put his new love in a situation where she’d feel like a second choice or a last resort, so he contented himself with being alone, probably forever. A bittersweet smile tugged at his mouth. Maybe he’d get a cat… he thought before turning his focus to making Kyle’s sandwich.  

As he added the finishing touches to Kyle’s BLT, Brandi finally disentangled herself from her boyfriend. “We’re making Kyle and Hero uncomfortable,” she said, but C.J. shrugged, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Eh, they’re just jealous.” He stuck out his tongue at Kyle, who stuck his tongue out back. Hero sighed. It was very juvenile, but he still chuckled in spite of himself.

“Hey! I’m glad I’m not tied down,” Kyle insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand as he took a bite out of the sandwich Hero gave him.

Brandi frowned. “Tell me, Kyle. Have you ever had a relationship with a woman that lasted more than two weeks?”

“Yes!” He nodded emphatically. “With Zuzu.” He paused then called as loudly as he could out onto the patio. “Hey, Zuzu! Come tell these morons how long we’ve been friends.”

A redheaded girl in an oversized sweater whipped around with a somewhat affectionate if bantering roll of her green eyes. “Too long,” she quipped, wrinkling her lightly freckled nose at them, as she walked through the sliding door back into the kitchen.

“You wound me, Zuzu,” Kyle gasped in teasing melodrama, clutching his chest. “What were you doing outside anyway? Aren’t you usually glued to Mama at these things?”

“Because he’s the only sober person here,” she teased, but she smiled at him.  Hero’s face flushed. It was true that Zuzu, or Zoey as she was called by everyone who wasn’t Kyle, was generally his ‘partner in crime’ at all parties hosted by his fraternity or her sorority—spending the night helping him in the kitchen or passing out cups of water to the groups of plastered college students mingling around the house, and often helping with cleanup and dishes afterwards. Truthfully, he enjoyed her company and the conversations they had—talking and laughing for hours while making food, cleaning up or doing dishes together. Though he always felt guilty about putting a guest to work at his party, she always insisted she had a much better time spending the evening with a friend than she would have getting drunk and partying. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He felt the same way. 

“Like you haven’t had a thing to drink,” retorted Kyle, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and staring down into her cup. Zoey merely blinked at him.

“I haven’t. I have a thermodynamics exam on Monday and need to study tomorrow.” She always blamed her aversion to drinking on her difficult civil engineering major, but Hero knew she just didn’t care for drunk partying. Now that Hero was thinking about it, Zoey blamed a lot of things on her difficult civil engineering major—not least of all the red glow stick on her wrist despite being contentedly single. “Married to school,” she always joked, and Hero often joked the same thing.

“But that’s tomorrow,” Kyle whined. “You and Mama are both such old people.” He stuck his tongue out at them, but Zoey just shrugged with a lopsided smile.

“Old people have more fun. You’ll understand someday, Kyle.”

Hero stifled a chuckle behind his hand, before turning his attention back to the stove.

“Brandi and C.J., back me up here,” Kyle sighed, but when he turned around he realized they had gone, probably to continue their PDA somewhere a little more private, if Hero had to guess, but he didn’t really want to think about it. Kyle huffed. “Whatever. Be boring old grandparents together, I don’t care. You’re the ones missing out.” He grabbed his cup, a beer, and the rest of his sandwich, leaving them in the kitchen alone.

“Don’t mind Kyle,” said Zoey with a shake of her head. “He can be such a moron sometimes, but he’s a nice guy, even if he acts like a kid especially when he’s drunk…But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that.”

A slight smile tugged at Hero’s mouth. He had been roommates with Kyle for over a year now, and he could definitely attest to that.

“We’ve already hit ‘Touchy-Feely Drunk Kyle’”—Zoey tilted her head at him—“How hungover do you think he’ll be tomorrow?”

Hero quickly stifled a breathy chuckle, but he sighed. “I don’t know. He always thinks he can drink a lot more than he can handle.”

Zoey’s mouth twitched into a dry smile. “I bet you’re an expert on nursing hangovers now. It’s a shame that can’t go on your med school application.”

Hero laughed but immediately felt guilty for it.

“Give him one of those sports drinks with breakfast tomorrow—it’ll help. I keep a ton of them in our fridge back at the sorority house for when the girls go out partying or bar hopping.”

“You really are the mom, huh?” Hero replied dryly, and though Zoey smiled, she raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re one to talk.”  

Hero shrugged. He supposed she had a point and not just because she was currently holding his “World’s Best Mama” mug with a dry yet triumphant smile.

“Well,” sighed Zoey gathering up some more of the dirty dishes scattered around the kitchen. “Since you’ll probably be pretty busy playing nurse tomorrow, we should probably get started on the clean-up tonight.” She looked around the room with narrowed green eyes. “It looks like a tornado stormed through here.”

With a weary sigh, Hero rubbed his forehead. Unfortunately, she was right. Given the sorry state of the kitchen alone, to say that the party had trashed their place would be a bit of an understatement. It would probably take hours to clean everything up—to say nothing of the several hours of cleaning Hero had already done to prepare for the party in the first place. Hero supposed he could do most of the deep cleaning in the morning when some of his fraternity brothers might be awake to help out, if they weren’t too hungover that is, but, truthfully, he wouldn’t mind cleaning up on his own—after all, he did most of the cleaning around here anyway.

With a sigh, Hero conceded that Zoey was probably right and he might as well start cleaning now. He reached out to take the mug and the rest of the dishes from Zoey and turned on the sink to begin to rinse them out. Hero shook his head. If he had a nickel for every minute he spent doing dishes in this house…

He felt a nudge on his elbow as Zoey joined him, rinsing off some of the plates she had gathered from the table.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he insisted.

“And leave you to clean everything up by yourself?” She paused but not long enough for him to even begin to protest. “I’ve been there—it’s no fun at all.”

“We got our dishwasher fixed,” Hero sighed with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Then this won’t take that long,” she continued. “All we’ll have to do is rinse them off.” She pointed a sponge at him with a certain determination in her green eyes that said this sorry excuse for an argument was over, and Hero knew she was right. 

No matter how guilty he may have felt about putting a guest and a friend to work cleaning up his house, he was compliant and conflict avoidant by nature and had no stamina for arguing. She had insisted she wanted to help, and goodness knows he could use an extra set of hands. He would ultimately concede and even though she would insist it was unnecessary, later this week, he’d send her a thank you card with a plate of her favorite cookies or some flowers—or a more thoughtful gift if he could think of one. The last time she had helped him clean up after a party, he had bought her a set of Papa Chip coasters since, while they were doing dishes for hours by hand on account of the then broken dishwasher, they had somehow started talking about how they had both loved Papa Chip back when they were kids.

“And you don’t have to send me any coasters this time,” she teased, and Hero’s cheeks felt suddenly warm, wondering if she could somehow read his mind. “Not that they’re not great,” she added hurriedly. “You’re very thoughtful, but you really don’t have to do that.”

Hero’s face flushed red—he never could take a compliment—but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know, but I felt bad and…”

“Well don’t,” she interrupted. “We’re friends, and I don’t mind helping you out. Besides, a bunch of my sorority sisters were giving me dirty looks for about a week until I lied and told everyone they were from Jared. I don’t know if they really bought it or just got over it.”  

Hero’s brow furrowed. He supposed those coaters could be a gift someone’s younger brother would get for them—after all, Kel had gotten him a Papa Chip cookbook “just because,” once—but he wasn’t sure why Zoey had felt the need to lie to the other girls in the sorority house. “I’m sorry if I upset the other girls or made them angry with you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoey shrugged it off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’re just jealous that we’re actually friends.” She sighed. “I’ve tried to tell them that you’re actually pretty friendly and nice, so they could be friends with you too if they started treating you like an actual person instead of some kind of ‘Campus Prince.’”—she shook her head—“But I don’t think it’s been working.”

Hero blushed. Though he found it very flattering, he still couldn’t wrap his head around how he could have possibly become some sort of ‘Prince’ of their campus in the minds of so many girls.

“You should tell them I’m kind of a dork…” Hero sighed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“I tried that too,” she bantered. “But they didn’t believe me.”

Hero laughed, but his smile quickly faded. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop sending you things.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she repeated, a little more forcefully. “They need to get over themselves. I’m honestly kind of sick of the Hero fan club that goes on in our house.”

Hero’s face felt suddenly warm, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Fan club?” he choked.

“Yes. You, Mr. Prince, are always the hot topic of conversation,” she teased with a lopsided smile. “If you asked practically anyone, they’d say you are probably the perfect man—even my sister who has this awful obsession with bad boys thinks so, which is really saying a lot.” She paused, and Hero stifled a chuckle. Zoey’s twin sister, Lorraine, was a sweet and bubbly girl despite her terrible taste in boyfriends, a topic often bemoaned by both Zoey and Kyle. A slight tint of pink flushed in his cheeks, he supposed it really was quite the compliment coming from her. “And it doesn’t help that you’re so mysterious.”

“I don’t think I’m mysterious,” Hero chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

“I know, you’re not,” Zoey cut him off with a reassuring smile. “And I’ve tried to explain that to them multiple times, but they don’t really listen to me since they’re convinced I’m trying to steal you away.”

A blush filled his cheeks, and he turned away from her abruptly. “What?”

“You know, the idea of men and women just being friends, is a little beyond them, I think,” she quipped. “It’s ridiculous, but can you blame them? I mean in their minds you’re a real life ‘Prince Charming,’ and even though you’re interested in women and could have pretty much any girl in the universe you wanted, you’re really, really single.” She chuckled, as Hero buried his face in his hands. He could almost picture that bright, cheeky grin on her face, though he wouldn’t—no, couldn’t turn to look at her again. “You’ve got to be hung up on somebody, otherwise why haven’t you chosen from the hoards of adoring women who would kill to be with you?”

Hero’s face grew hot. He was sure it must be bright red by now. “Zoey…”

“It’s a big topic of conversation is all I’m saying.”

Finally, Hero managed to pull his hands away from his face, if only because his eyes were beginning to burn from the soapy dishwater. “Can you please tell them that I’m very flattered,” he stumbled, still blushing furiously. “But I’m just so busy with school that I’m just not…really looking for a relationship right now?”

Zoey shrugged. “Tried and failed, but I’d be happy to tell them again. Don’t expect them to believe me though. At this point, everybody’s making up their own theories.”

“Theories?” Hero choked.

“You know you have your normal ones like you’re too busy for a relationship or you had a bad relationship in the past and just aren’t ready to put yourself back out there again. Then there are the ones that you actually already have a relationship, but you’re very private about it so no one has ever seen or heard of her. There are a couple of wild ones in this category like she’s a celebrity so you have to keep it a secret so the press doesn’t find out and you end up in a tabloid.” She winked at him. “Just like in a movie.”  

“You are making this up.”

Zoey shook her head. “No, I swear I’ve heard that one, and that’s not even the craziest one. I’ve also heard a rumor that you’ve been promised in an arranged marriage since birth so that you can take over as the CEO of a toaster strudel empire. And, of course, my personal favorite: that you have an eccentric billionaire uncle who wants you to inherit his vast fortune but only on the condition that you remain a reclusive bachelor just like him.”  

Hero laughed in spite of himself. “That’s—none of those are true…” He cleared his throat. “Except the first one about me being too busy.”

“I know, and that’s what I always say. Everybody keeps coming to me and asking about it like I have some secret, inside knowledge or something, but I have a theory just like everybody else,” she joked waving her hand dismissively.

“You have a theory?”

Zoey stopped but shrugged. “I mean…not one that I just sit around and think about, but you can only be asked the same question so many times before you start thinking…” Her voice trailed. “It’s not one I ever tell anyone,” she insisted. “If anyone asks me, I always tell them exactly what you just said, which is that you’re flattered but too focused on school and your future to worry about a relationship right now.”

“Then what’s your theory?” he asked half-jokingly, half-actually-interested.

“You really want to know?”

Hero put down the plate he was scrubbing and shrugged. “Kind of.”

Zoey paused, and when she sighed, Hero fidgeted. “But you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” he hurriedly added.

“No, I…” She stopped though there was the slightest tint of rose in her pale cheeks. “But it’s just a theory. I don’t want to offend you or…”

Hero’s brow furrowed. Offend him? What in the world could she possibly be thinking? His breath caught in his throat. She couldn’t…know…could she?

“I won’t be offended,” he reassured her quietly, but his heart was beginning to pound. “Do you…not believe me? Because it really is true. I’m very busy with school and—”

“No. It’s…it’s not like that,” she cut him off with a sigh as she placed her sponge on the counter. “I really do think that you are very busy with school—studying for your classes and the MCAT and all of that. You just don’t have the time or energy for a relationship right now, but…I don’t think that means you don’t want one.” Zoey paused, her voice growing quiet, and she met his eyes. “I think you do want a relationship—otherwise you wouldn’t be so lonely.”

Hero inhaled sharply—his breath getting caught in his chest. Biting his lip, he looked away from her, staring down at his trembling hands. He wanted to hide—curl in on himself—maybe figure out a way to laugh it off like Kel or Kyle might be able to do, but he was frozen, shocked. Of all the things she could have possibly…? No, that wasn’t the question. The real question gnawing at him was had it really been so obvious?

“Hero?” He could hear the concern in her voice, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t look at her. “Listen, I can just…stop there…”  

“Is there more?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Zoey sighed. “Yes, but I feel bad. I can…”

“Go on,” Hero squeaked, barely managing a nod.

Zoey sighed again, and Hero wasn’t sure if she was even going to continue until she finally said, “But…the thing is…you don’t just want a relationship with just anyone. You—you want a relationship with someone you can never be with. And even though you know your love is doomed…”—she paused—“you gave your heart to her a long time ago and you can’t even imagine being with anyone else.”

Something ached in Hero’s chest. Somehow he knew that was what she was going to say, but he had to hear it for himself. He wished he could sink into the floor, could hide from her, from his memories, from himself again. And yet…there was a part of him that didn’t want to.

“Wow…” he barely managed, after a long, heavy silence.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he quietly interjected, his voice hitching. “That was…pretty spot on actually…”

“Oh Hero…” Zoey sighed. “I’m sorry…I…”  

“Don’t be.” He fiddled with the sponge in his hands, and after a few intense scrubs at a particularly stubborn stain, he finally added as nonchalantly as he could manage. “I asked, and you were right…”

“I didn’t want to be right about this.”

Hero bit down hard on his lip as something burned behind his eyes. Scratching the nape of his neck, he let out a breathy, self-deprecating chuckle. “I guess I had just hoped that it wasn’t so obvious that I was so sad and pathetic...”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t realized that he had even said those words aloud until she had spoken them back to him.

“And I don’t think it’s obvious—except to your close friends maybe?” She paused, sighing and placing a gentle hand on his arm. “She must have been special and very important to you. I think it’s sweet that you’re still devoted to her and there isn’t anything wrong with that, unless, you know, she’s married or something, in which case…”—she began to quip breathily, probably in an attempt to make him smile again—“but I don’t think you’re the type…”

Hero’s mouth twitched in the corners, but the ghost of his smile faded as he shook his head. “No, she…uh…” The words caught in the back of his throat. “She passed away.”

“Oh Hero, I’m so sorry.” Zoey wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. He took a deep shaky breath, staring up at the ceiling ignoring that prickling feeling in his eyes. When she pulled away from him, he somehow managed the slightest twitch in the corners of his mouth.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago…” He wasn’t sure if his weak reassurances were for her or for himself. “I should probably be over it by now.”

As he couldn’t bear to look at her, he could only imagine what her face looked like right now. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he spluttered. “I’m sorry for making you sad. I—”

“No,” Zoey cut him off. “You didn’t make me sad. Hero…if you want to talk about it, you can tell me. I’m your friend—I care about you.” She paused, and Hero bit his lip. He could feel her gentle hand running comfortingly across his shoulders. “You’re not going to hurt me. I can take it.”

Hero finally breathed—a long deep exhale of the breath he had been holding for far too long. She had no idea how reassuring those words were. Still…try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. He opened his mouth, but the words got garbled in the back of his throat.

“Take your time,” she whispered.

After several deep breaths he finally choked out, “Her name was Mari.” His voice hitched, then the words began to tumble out of his mouth. “She lived next door for as long as I can remember, and I…I always thought she was just the most amazing person. She was smart and funny and very talented—she was wonderful at arts and crafts and gardening and a really gifted pianist. We even used to play together sometimes, and she was so kind and very generous—she was always going out of her way to help someone and make them happy. And when she smiled”—his voice cracked—“You would have thought the sun shined brighter.”

He paused, sniffled. “I think I loved her before I even knew what that was…And I couldn’t believe it when she felt the same way about me.” As a bittersweet smile tugged at his lips, his eyes grew misty. “We were high school sweethearts, until she died.” He swallowed hard—that familiar, hollow pang in his chest ached.

“We were 15. It’s kind of a long story but…at the time, we didn’t know how she died. We thought—I thought—she had ended her own life”—he inhaled sharply, shakily, unable to stop the words even if he wanted to—“It was probably the darkest time of my life. I was a wreck, and I blamed myself. I…I didn’t even know she was depressed. I thought if I had just talked to her—had just held her tighter, just loved her more—better then maybe she…” He stopped. Blinking back the tears in his eyes, he sniffled and cleared his throat. “But it was an accident. There were…witnesses…we found out later. She—she had a bad knee, you see, and…and she fell down the stairs…landed wrong and…” He stopped abruptly. “You—You’d think learning that would make the guilt go away but it…”

Hero swallowed hard, but he managed a shaky sigh. “But…But with time…eventually I just…threw myself into school and work and extra-curriculars. My parents had always wanted me to be a doctor, and all I could see was years of school, years of residency, long hours of studying and clinicals and work and I thought I could just bury myself in it—stay so busy that I wouldn’t feel it anymore, but it doesn’t ever really go away.”

He sniffled and wiped his eyes again with a shaky chuckle. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but I…I’m usually pretty okay. It’s been so many years now, and it doesn’t hurt like it used to. But…but sometimes I’ll see a wave of dark hair or hear a name that sounds like hers or someone playing a waltz on a piano or our song on the radio and”—his voice hitched—“I just don’t know if I’m ever really going to be over it.”  

He swallowed hard. “And you’re right. I can’t even imagine being with anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair—to her, to that person, I mean. What if—I couldn’t love her as much? And you know, I think maybe we all get that ‘once in a lifetime’ love in our lives and I’ve already had mine. It would be greedy to even want anything else. But…but mostly I think it’s just that I wanted to be with her forever, and”—there was a hitch in his voice as tears began to pool in his eyes again—“even now, all these years later, I guess I…I just still don’t know what forever looks like without her.”

A tear finally struggled free from his eye and splashed down his cheek, followed by another, then another. Hero frantically swiped at them, but they wouldn’t stop. Zoey’s arms wrapped around his shoulders again, and she pulled him close.

He wasn’t sure how long she held him. How long he listened to the sound of her steady breathing, felt her hand gently tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. How long it was until she whispered, “I wish you had gotten your forever…”

It wasn’t until he felt the tremble of her shoulders, heard the way her voice had hitched over her words that he realized she was also crying.

He pulled away from her and finally looked in her green eyes—warm and teary. Hero swallowed hard. He had never learned what to say to someone who was crying for him. “Please don’t cry.”  

“Sorry,” she said with the twitch of a bittersweet smile. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he began to ramble. “I just—I…I really should be over it and I just completely dumped all of that on you and I was so…”—he struggled to find the words—“weepy and melodramatic and needy and…”

“No,” she gently cut him off. “You were real. Don’t apologize for that.” She wiped her eyes, and her expression softened. “Hero, what happened was so awful, and the idea of you having to go through something like that, it just—” She stopped. “That’s why I cried. You didn’t hurt me. I told you I can take it, and I’m okay.” She sighed. “And you know for what it’s worth, I think the whole idea of ‘getting over it’ is bullshit. There are some things in our lives that we’ll just never get over. We can get past them, but they’re still going to be there—we just have to learn to build a new life around them, so don’t beat yourself up. You’re still entitled to feel sad. Heck, you’d be entitled to never leave your room again after something like that, but here you are, out living your life, so give yourself a break, okay?” She nodded at him with a slight, reassuring smile before she patted his hand. “And for goodness sakes, stop worrying about me of all people. You don’t have to be the hero all the time. I know it’s your name, but…you don’t have to take it too literally.”  

A light chuckle reverberated in his chest, and a smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. Before he could say anything, however, Kyle burst through the patio door.

“Woah…what’s goin’ on?” He stopped abruptly, and his expression softened. “Are you okay?”

Flushing, Hero swallowed hard nodding and sniffling as he frantically wiped at his eyes. He had completely forgotten himself and couldn’t believe he had just shared what was arguably his biggest, deepest secret in the middle of a house party.

Zoey thankfully jumped to his rescue with a remarkably believable, “We were doing dishes, and poor Hero got some dish soap in his eyes. We’ve been trying to rinse them out, but they got all watery.”

Though it took a few moments, Kyle eventually nodded in understanding. “Oh. That sucks, man,” he said patting him on the back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Hero managed a slight smile but shook his head. “No, Kyle. Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m fine.”

Kyle nodded again, but Hero saw him glance over at Zoey as if waiting for additional reassurance or instructions. When she nodded at him, Kyle sighed. “Alright, well if you need anything let me know, okay?”

Hero nodded at him then handed him a glass of water. Kyle took it with a smile then walked off towards the living room. When he was gone, Hero sniffled again and turned back to Zoey, sheepish and embarrassed.

“Zoey, I’m sor—” he began to apologize again, but she cut him off.

“No. None of that, Henry,” she insisted with a pointed emphasis on his real name. He could tell she was trying her best not to smile as she said it, probably strange and unnatural for her, if Hero had to guess. It was strange and unnatural for him too. No one ever called him that, ever. He had, of course, told her that she could if she wanted, but she never had—not until now that is. Hero’s eyes widened. Strangely enough, he felt a smile tugging at his mouth and the light flutter of a chuckle reverberating in his chest listening to her say it.

“I’m serious. I’m going to keep calling you that until you stop that,” she insisted. “Stop being a ‘Hero’—stop worrying about everybody else for just a second. It won’t kill you to be a little selfish for once…and it’ll honestly make the rest of us look better,” she quipped with a slight smile, clearly trying to brighten his mood.

It worked. His mouth twitched into a small smile as he replied dryly, “I’m sorry. I’ll try…”

“Good,” she said, but her expression softened as she reached out her hand to him. “But really…how are you? What do you need? What makes you happy when you feel like this?”

Hero shrugged his shoulders. If he was being honest, he didn’t know—even after all these years, he didn’t know, but… just having someone there, having someone listen to him…he already felt better. His face softened, and he felt something warm spreading through his chest as he met her kind eyes.

“Maybe a hero sandwich?” he shrugged his shoulders with a gentle smile, and her face brightened.

She gently nudged him in the arm before playfully taking his spatula. “Great,” she said. “I’ll make you one.”

[counselorssoapbox]

Polishing the manuscript.

Polishing the manuscript,Photo courtesy of Pixabay.com Polishing the manuscript. By David Joel Miller, writer, blogger, and mental health professional. My journey from writing something to making it readable. It’s a long process with many steps to transform that finished manuscript into a book that’s published and available for purchase. Each one of these steps has a learning curve. I’m learning…

[flufftober]

🍂 🍃 Hello and welcome to our fourth annual Flufftober 🍂 🍃

We’re so excited to be back and have you here once again!

As always, let’s fill the month of October with as much fluff as possible 🥰 for that to happen, you can either use our 31 regular prompts or enjoy a little challenge 😏

Below the cut, you'll find all our rules, posting info, and all the prompts in writing. If you have any more questions, please feel free to send us an ask.

And now, for the challenge...

Prompt Extras

We love to see how many of you get inspired by our prompts every year - be it by the original list or the Prompt Extras. Once again we're offering you that option and you're more than welcome to replace prompts from the original list if they don't work for you for whatever reason - no explanation needed.

As has become tradition, we offer you last year's top five fan favorites (as voted in the end survey). In addition to that, we also offer a little challenge: five angsty prompts for you to turn fluffy!

If you don't want to replace any prompt from the original list but still love the additional ones - or you simply want to challenge yourself even further - you can also mix them all together!

So in whichever way you use these Prompt Extras, have fun with them and go wild 💚

We hope you like these prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

Standard Blog Rules & FAQ

(Due to previous asks, we made sure to add more points to this section - while they're not new rules, they're newer to this list, so you'll find them colored green)

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged. No inc*st: This rule does not apply to distant cousins and such, as you might find in the LotR fandom (or basically in all of European Monarchy). The line we draw is at direct blood relations (siblings, parents, kids) and/or legal guardianship. No p*dophilia: This rule does not rule out fandoms that feature teenagers such as Harry Potter, Heartstoppers, Hunger Games, etc. It also doesn't mean you can't write about their time together as teenagers! It's aimed at ships in which one is a minor and the other is not - but since even that has grey areas, the rule is this: if you keep it SFW, all is good and allowed, we don't care; if it turns NSFW, be mindful of the legalities of the world/society/times your characters live in.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gif sets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…). If you would like to create a podfic, the fic you're using does not have to be new - your creation will be new!

You can mix and mash different mediums however you like, be it within one prompt or on different days.

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉 that, of course, doesn't mean you can't combine it with angsty/whumpy prompts - hurt/comfort is absolutely welcome!

You can start creating as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

If you post early, we will schedule your post for the correct day; if you use multiple prompts in one creation, we will post on the earliest day you used.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

You can replace as many original prompts as you like with our prompt extras; you can also combine them with the original prompts or create for them in addition, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts.

You do not have to stick to one character, ship, or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

Original works as well as OCs in fandoms are welcome! But please make sure to mark these clearly, either in the tags or the post itself. We're not familiar with all fandoms (though we're definitely learning a lot!), so we're not always sure what might be an OC and what might be such an unknown side character not even Google can find them...

Reader insert fics (for example "character x reader") as well as RPFs are absolutely allowed.

Other languages are also welcome - just make sure to clearly mark the day and fandom so that we can still easily reblog.

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months or years later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2024 Please make sure there is NO SPACE between flufftober and 2024! We will NOT be checking the other tag this year!

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also mention us with @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2024 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt extra tag it as #alt [number]

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection Flufftober 2024 (either as flufftober2024 or as flufftober_2024)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like always, reblogs will become less regular the more months have passed...

Prompts

1. Lost Pet Meet Cute

2. “Left. Other left!”

3. Favorite Scent

4. Market Day

5. Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone

6. Mistaken Identity

7. Hoodie Weather

8. Chopping & Piling Wood

9. “Don’t do that!” - “But…”

10. Bet, Game, Contest

11. Ingredients & Spells

12. “This is spooky.” - “Really?”

13. Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

14. Fantasy AU/Mundane AU

15. “What are you wearing?” - “It’s laundry day!”

16. Yes, No, Maybe

17. Only One Bed

18. Bewitched

19. Yarn

20. Paw

21. Bonfire

22. Heirloom

23. Stormy Night

24. Comfort Food

25. Haunted House

26. “I can’t find it.”

27. Afternoon Stroll

28. Lucky Charm

29. Time Capsule

30. “Forever?”

31. Make a Wish

Prompt Extras

Last Year's Favorites

Alt 1: “I’ve got you”

Alt 2: Rainy Day

Alt 3: “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

Alt 4: “I hate it” - “No, you don’t”

Alt 5: Porch Swing

Challenge "Make it Fluffy!"

Alt 6: Gravestone

Alt 7: Getting Revenge

Alt 8: Written but never sent

Alt 9: Suddenly Severed Communication

Alt 10: Rejected, Betrayed, Exiled, Left Behind

[moonchild1]

 kim taehyung fic rec list (Ⅴ)

hello everyone i know it's been a while since i posted, work has been hectic, but i got some time and managed to finish a list so please enjoy i have a few lists ready to post so i'll que them up... here's my all time favourite taehyung fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs, leave a heart, reblog or even leave a message or feedback under their posts i know they would appreciate hearing from you, some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed you will be blocked ♡ feel free to recommend me some fics or just share what your reading right now i'd love hearing from you 🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

only here to sin by @gimmethatagustd s a ft. namjoon

When your genius of a boyfriend returns to Harvard for his sophomore year of college, you never would have expected to have his worst enemy keeping you entertained in his absence.

our gray winter by @vyduan s a ft. jjk

“Were you looking for this?” Taehyung asked as he handed you the box of tampons you always bought. He remembered. You wanted to sink into the floor and die. Instead, you recalled your manners and said, “Thanks.” You put the box in your basket. “I can’t believe you remembered.” He beamed at you. It was patently unfair how he could look all glowy and soft while you looked… not like that. “Of course, Y/N.” If possible, Taehyung’s voice dropped even lower. “I remember everything about you.”

schemes and tricks to win her heart by @crystaljins ft. ksj

Rich company heir Kim Seokjin has a plan to win the heart of the girl of his dreams, and you, his little brother’s best friend, are dragged along for the ride. His younger brother objects, of course.

camboy!tae by @hisunshiine f s a

Give me all of your love, gimme something to dream about. KTH is your favorite camboy, and as a loyal subscriber, you are chosen to test out some new features on the platform he uses to go live. He’s really good at selling his viewers a dream, and as a thanks to a new milemark he’s hit on the platform, he’s choosing one winner to get their fantasy scene. 

tolerate it by @archivedkookie s a

Taehyung is your husband, and you love him. If only he loved you back; if only he cherished your love and not tolerated it.

what was hidden by @daechwitatamic s a ft. myg

This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You're assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg's The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there's a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one's "true self" versus one's "shown self", darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

complete faith by @daechwitatamic

It’s Taehyung himself who admits that it’s usually around the one-month mark that he starts to lose interest in his relationships. So even though you’re so drawn to him you can barely stand it, even though he’s attentive and funny, even though you’re helplessly crazy about him… when you start dating, you feel like you’ve got an expiration date from day one. But will it be Taehyung’s issues that get in the way, or your own?

and they were roommates by @hoseok666 f s a ft. jjk

it all started with a rejection from your longtime crush, jeon jungkook. you decided to confess to him on your last day of high school. after a harsh rejection and a rough summer dealing with the heartbreak, you were starting anew once your freshman year of college came. you were going to be sharing an apartment with two other roommates that you don’t even know. what a surprise you’re going to be in for once you find out it’s the one and only: jeon jungkook and kim taehyung. 

with a brush of fate by @yoongiofmine f s a

Your roommate was sure she found you the perfect man. Her boyfriend believed he found Taehyung’s soulmate. The only problem was that you never wanted to date an idol and he never wanted to drag you into this life. Taehyung didn’t even know what he wanted anymore and was tired of being criticized for simply growing up. You just wanted to finish university and do something for yourself. What started out with the meddling of your friends became something neither of you expected. Could the two of you be what the other is missing? Or would things just fall apart?

groovy by @kinktae f s a

Even in the 70s, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t have feelings for your best friend’s little sister. 

tempting by @/kinktae s a

Y/N is an angel. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She runs into a demon but, luckily for her, that demon doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, he just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

talk by @gukslut f s a

Finals week is kicking your ass, thank goodness you have a friend to help you relieve some stress. It’s a great arrangement, as long as no one finds out... as long as you don’t catch feelings. What could go wrong?

somebody to love by @cutechim

kim taehyung wins the heart of everyone he meets, and you—his self-proclaimed work “nemesis”—are not an exception.

tear you apart by @bratkook s

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear, ‘I wanna fucking tear you apart.’ demon au

clairevont by @/bratkook f s a ft. jjk

The second year of college starts off with a bang until you find yourself tangled in between your fuck buddy Kim Taehyung and his innocent room mate Jeon Jungkook.

free use by @littlemisskookie f s a

You tell your crush you want him to have full control of you in every way always. He obliges.

lost myth of truelove by @sugalaritae f s a

for six months you wait for him, a weekend spent together, finally able to reach the man your soul is tethered to.

because of you, blue by @ugh-yoongi f s a

nearly a year out from your breakup with taehyung, jin begs you for help saving his failing restaurant. the two of you aren’t exactly friends, but you feel some stupid sense of obligation and, really, what’s the worst that could happen?

true love by @jjkeverlast f s a

in which you're face to face with your ex again after 5 years, because both of your friends start dating each other.

obsidian by @kpopfanfictrash s a

The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath.  All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.

baby, baby by @hobiwonder ft. pjm f s a

When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

entangled by @caelesjjk ft. jjk s a

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well. Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

buzzed by @junqkook f s a

maybe ordering a vibrator and letting your best friend open your mail wasn’t such a great idea.

queen cobra by @fantasybangtan f s a

when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

pulse by @rohobi f s a

You fell in love with Kim Taehyung during Medical School. Now living totally different lives in completely different hospitals, you're pulled together again as if by fate during a code black when someone plants a bomb in your hospital. 

things we don't say by @wintaerbaer f s a

Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

mars by @to-star-lake s a

ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung

satisy by @suga-kookiemonster f s a

 “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do?

no kisses by @icedmatchatae f s a

It's championship week! The most anticipated week of the school year; however, leading up to the events, you and your council must collaborate with the football team to promote school spirit and pride. Unfortunately, you're forced to work with your number one enemy, Football team captain and fuck boy, Kim Taehyung, known for having a mysterious "no kisses" rule.

beyond desire by @strwberrytae s a

it’s never easy falling for your best friend when you have so much history. it’s especially difficult when you both share the same sexual desires and lifestyle. taehyung is a dominant CEO of a well known company in Seoul and you are an up and coming editor. while both of you come from a troubled and dark past, you lean on each other for support and comfort. what happens as your feelings blossom and grow over the years? what happens when you fear taehyung may be falling in love with someone else? will you confess your feelings or remain in the shadows?

one-shot

crazy for you by @oddinary4bts f s a

 you’ve known Kim Taehyung your whole life. When you meet again at a party hosted by your best friend, alcohol looses your lips and you spill your secrets to your childhood crush. Will Taehyung give in to your desire, or will you be struck by remorse?

seventeen times 17 by @cutaepatootie f s a

You loved him Seventeen Times 17.

ten out of ten by @shadowkoo f s a

For the past three years, Kim Taehyung has made it his mission to annoy you relentlessly on campus, finding every possible way to drive you up the wall during your shared classes. However, as you both enter your senior year, something strange happens. Taehyung begins to sense a shift in his energy, realizing he might just have some secret feelings for you. What unfolds when you make this earth-shattering discovery too?

under wraps by @jungkxook f s

there’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.

always the bridesmaid by @kookingtae f s a

When you first meet Kim Taehyung, you’re determined to find every reason you can to hate him—or maybe he’s just looking for ways to get on your last nerve. But when a turn of events has the two of you working the wedding of the man you’re hopelessly in love with, you’re too late to realize the real reason to hate Kim Taehyung is because of the latest column he’s secretly writing: “Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride”, and it’s all about you.

any way you want it by @noteguk s

in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself. 

sharing is caring by @jjkpls f s ft. pjm

Taehyung is taken aback when his soulmate, Jimin, introduces his new girlfriend to him. Jimin tries to help them break the ice.

the end of all things (and the beginning of us) by @/kidguk f s a

the end of the world has come and passed, but there is still much to live for. there’s hope, there’s tomorrow, and there’s that guy you met while scavenging for supplies in an abandoned cinema. turns out he hates being alone, and the feeling is mutual.

aberrant by @kth1 f s

Meeting a handsome and rare fox hybrid was the last thing you had expected in a world of coexisting hybrids. What you also hadn’t expected was how this fox found a liking to you, showed up randomly at places where you were and next thing you knew - you were falling, hard, for the man.

lost in you by @/jjkeverlast f s a

the infamous kim taehyung, campus fuckboy and heartthrob is much more than you thought after an unexpected night.

the dinner date by @diortae f (ao3)

pretending to be on a date with your best friend to get a free meal at the fancy restaurant jeongguk works weekends at doesn’t sound so terrible, all things considered. there’s just one small problem: you’re pretty sure you’re in love with the aforementioned best friend.

until yesterday by @jimlingss f s a

You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

the forsaken by @yoonia s a ft. knj

In order to save your people from the danger of drought and hunger, your father had sent you out on a mission across the ocean to find the heart of nature that could bring back the prosperity which your land had long lost. As the Chief’s daughter, you took the mission as your responsibility, even if you had to let the man that vexes you the most join you in your journey, even if you had to ignore the Elders’ warnings about the dangers and all the vicious monsters lying in wait.

blacklist by @httpjeon f s a ft. jjk

after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

1-800-music-street by @/httpjeon f s

↬you’re enchanted by a street performer and then he saves you, resulting in multiple meetings one can only describe as fate.

farner boy i love you by @strawberrynamjoon f s a

↬Needing change in your life you decided it would be a brilliant idea to move to your uncle’s small farm, helping him and your cousin Jimin with the daily work. What you didn’t plan was to fall in love with your beautiful yet very annoying neighbour Taehyung, who seemed to make it his personal mission to tease you every chance he got. And what you expected even less was that he seemed to like you too.

waterloo by @/kinktae f s a

↬Taehyung is a famous but pessimistic art prodigy who doesn't believe in love. You are an art student studying in Paris, who sees the world through rose-colored lens and is a certified cheesy romance film enthusiast. And this is your love story. Or, “Well, it is the city of love. Maybe you just need to fall in love."

get you the moon by @bymoonchild f s a

↬Life has its ways of fucking with you, but you know you’ve hit 50 feet below rock bottom after being tasked to do a profile feature on Kim Taehyung, the varsity football captain, for your school newspaper. Pure torment awaits you, but this is alongside glassy eyes, pink cheeks and conflicted feelings that you’ve never dared to imagine with the likes of the devil incarnate.

fate of the fast & furious by @prolixitae f s

↬you’re a first-generation college student and taehyung is the hot guy with a love for motorbikes who lands the job babysitting for your family while you’re away.

fast & fearless: what comes first by @/prolixitae

↬taehyung is used to earning his keep through illegal street races, and he’s got every reason to win that upcoming promise of prize money for an old friend. but when the odds don’t fall in his favor, he turns to babysitting. enter, you: a first-generation college student with too much to lose to be spending all your time with a troublemaking biker. who also happens to babysit for your kid brother.

cobalt blue by @hobivore s ft. jjk

↬you ask Jungkook to draw you like one of his French girls. 

let it snow by @/suga-kookiemonster f s

↬it all started by accident, but it continues by choice—even before you began sleeping together, things with your friend taehyung have always been comfortable and easy. simple, and this new arrangement between you is certainly no exception to that rule. well...that's definitely what you thought before a major snowstorm traps the two of you in his apartment over the holidays. now? now, it is quickly becoming apparent that things are a bit more complicated than you realized.

muse by @/suga-kookiemonster f s

↬this could finally be tae’s big break, but he’s nervous and struggling to find inspiration. luckily, you’re willing to support him in all ways necessary.

falling, falling gone by @johobi f

↬Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection. So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

new tricks by @geniuslab f s

↬When your newly adopted puppy turns out to be a lot more work than you expected, a cute dog trainer comes to the rescue. You soon become friends, but you begin to realize friendship might not be all you want.

guns & roses by @chateautae f s

↬he was cold-blooded, stone-faced and ruthless; a formidable force anyone in the criminal underworld sought to destroy. and he didn’t care, so long as it was never you.. anything but you.

saudade by @chateautae f s a

↬a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it's time to find out why.

strands by @xjoonchildx s a

↬taehyung can't figure out how he got separated from his men, or how he ended up stranded in these woods -- hurt. the only thing he knows is that he has no choice but to rely on the beautiful, secretive stranger who's found him.

cheap skate by @/gukslut f s

↬Who doesn’t know Taehyung and his lady? Cutest couple in town, I’d say, and have been since they started dating in their college days. Oh, that was a while ago, though. And still, they’re happy as can be in that place they have together. Almost hate seeing one without the other, y’know, it’s like seeing just one testi- oh, right, I’m not supposed to talk like that. Anyhoo, I only say that because I saw Taehyung at a jewelry store the other day while I was buying my sweet Jiminie his presents. Maybe that boy’s finally gonna pop the question, but I do hope he’s got a good plan for it. Something sweet and romantic. Maybe I’ll find out after Jiminie gets back from that cabin he’s visiting. 

definition of love by @taegularities f s a

↬When the gorgeous student from your literature class starts showing interest in you, you discover that there's much more to him than his know-it-all facade. But is this realization enough to get through your insecurities and secrets?

↬looking for other kth fics or the other members check out my library for more

[omegathetaone]

Also, thinking abt. making some Meet & Greet type posts for headmates who want to introduce themselves to a slightly more in-depth degree. Thinking about also adding a rentry list for those who want to express themselves but on the more down-low side of things. Maybe adding those posts to the already created introduction post so that it's less in-your-face as the Meet & Greet posts. Dunno, we love organizing everything hundreds of times over with different platforms/utilities because it's fun and keeps us busy lol

[the-maddened-hatter]

Alright so I pretty much said all of this verbatim on a reblog of someone else's post, but I wanted to put it here on my blog too.

As I've mentioned before, I would *very* much like to see Peri canonically having a disability that causes him to use his wand/cane and not just have it be an accessory, and so I analyzed the episodes he's in that I've been able to see so far and came up with a few observations:

As much as I'd be unopposed to seeing it portrayed, leg issues don't really seem like a major deal to fairies in general given as Cosmo misplaced his for most of an episode and a pair of sticks were a good enough replacement for him to have fun at the arcade in human form (without even drawing human attention)

And Peri can apparently use his powers as listed above without his cane since he doesn't always immediately have it on his person (especially since Dev & Hazel took his cane in Lost in Fairy World and he didn't have any power or mobility problems)

But!

I *could* easily see him having some kind of magical fatigue issue or magical equivalent of hypotonia or balance disorder, since he's shown to be

very tired after a morning spent magically creating cupcakes (a probably small but very repetitive task that leaves him running low on energy)

When his stationary float is disrupted he remains seated instead of floating back up again

3. A minor contact/startle reflex is enough to disrupt his hover and cause him to immediately fall pretty hard if not very far

4. speaking of distance, he is shown to sometimes float a bit lower than his parents, which, while not consistent and likely just an animation choice, could tie in with the other points to support the diagnosis theory

However, pain may admittedly be more of a factor than the above images suggest,

he may not just be tired from shape shifting like I'd thought since right before that he was walking (albeit in horse form) and afterwards (low) cloud float is apparently easier and faster for him than just quickly trotting past his parents

He also didn't really seem to be having too much of a problem at all before he hit the ground

Where it goes to a definitely tired and possibly more pained look.

Maybe he didn't want to tell Dev that it was painful either out of pride or because he didn't want to potentially upset him and just went with "tired" because that was what he assumed. It'd be interesting to see if it happens again in a different form.

Personally I think it'd be cool to see both and have it be a chronic condition (directly magical or otherwise) that he already had before the series began (diagnosed or not).

If he's the first fairy kid born in a long time he probably would have been monitored very closely, but it may have taken a while for doctors to notice a problem since there was little reference for comparison and may have even caused some potentially serious problems that gave Comso & Wanda a bad scare, which could tie in pretty well with their developing a high amount of over protectiveness of him, and that in turn leading him to try and behave too far in the other direction (not seeking help when he really does need it, pushing himself way too hard and suffering the fallout which he then tries to hide, ect)

If he's undiagnosed but having the problems it could be interesting to see sort of an inversion of the "character must learn to accept their disability" storyline wherein he's more connecting certain events & symptoms and we get to see him adapting to accommodations and letting himself try different approaches moreso than to having new symptoms (though we as the audience may see these symptoms more or behaviors contextualized as symptoms where they weren't necessarily before).

Idk either way I just think it would be cool (and I've probably put away more analysis into this than will ever pay off lol)

also to everyone who draws him as a disabled mobility device user: ILY please draw more of it it feeds my soul

[highvern]

Espresso

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings:  dom/sub dynamics (switches back and forth), public fondling/exhibitionism, dry humping, fingering, breath play, oral sex (all the kinds), swallowing, spitting, degradation (reader calls herself a slut, hoshi has a moral dilemma about it), spanking, vaginal sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, double penetration, sex toys (butt plug, dildo)

Length: ~8.3k

Note: a new chapter for my horangdan queen @horanghater hope you enjoy pookie. and thank you to @c-oupsie for beta reading!! now i must go repent for forty years.

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Talk [a, f, s], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Sweat beads at the small of your back under the high sun, the churning waves of the sea echoing in the distance. Your boyfriend is somewhere down in the shallows. He could only sit still on his towel for so long before wandering off to find shells. Last time you looked up from your chair he was chasing minnows across the tide pools.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice breaks through the wind. 

Your eyes land on a man about your age. Maybe older. His gaze prickles down your body, leering at the stretches of exposed skin. In Soonyoung words, you can wear whatever you want, he knows how to fight. You wish he was here now, not down by the water. Not with how creepy this dude is. 

“Can I help you?” you ask, eyeing him over your sunglasses.

“I was wondering if you’re from around here?” 

“Nope,” you dismiss.

“So you don’t know any good places to grab a drink later?” 

“Not at all.” 

“Listen, I was just—“ 

“Can I help you?” Soonyoung interrupts. He’s less than intimidating with the lines of a cheap snorkel etched into his cheeks and a bucket full of shells. But his cheery demeanor is replaced by protectiveness you’ve only witnessed on rare occasions. 

“Hi, baby,” you coo. 

“Hi,” Soonyoung greets, dropping a kiss to your forehead and staking claim the end of your chair for himself. “And you are?” 

“Leaving,” you supply for the stranger before examining the contents of the bucket. “Ooo, this one’s pretty.”

Soonyoung watches the other man stalk away, refusing to look back at you until he’s long shrunk in the distance.

“No, I don’t know who he was.” You answer the question you know he’s dying to ask. 

“I don’t care about him,” he lies. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you assure. 

Soonyoung shows you all his goodies: plenty of shells, a sand dollar, some sea glass. The entire time his hand creeps up your thigh, the familiar feeling of skin on skin without the usual edge. He just likes touching you. Whenever you’re in arms reach he likes the comfort of making sure you’re real. An arm over your shoulder, his head in your lap, the one time you two argued and Soonyoung kept his foot touching yours because you insisted on sitting as far away from him as possible on the battered couch of your apartment.

“I think you’re getting a little crispy out there.” You trace the constellation of freckles dusting his shoulders from so much time in the sun, pink skin hot to the touch. “Hand me that sunscreen.”

You cover his upper body in a thick layer without much protest from Soonyoung. He happily continues presenting his haul, waiting for your oohs and ahhs before moving to the next piece as you tinkle your fingers across his collarbones.

“Can you help me too?”

He takes the tube without argument, covering his hands in white while you present your back. 

Soonyoung smooths the cream over your shoulders, down the length of your spine to the flair of your hips — methodically massaging into your skin and working any knots he encounters along the way. No one is around for a good fifty yards and the shade of the umbrella obscures how your ass arches into his palms. 

“Make sure you get it under my suit too, I heard you can burn through the fabric.” 

“Oh?” He chokes. His fingers dip under the hem of your bottoms. There isn’t much skin covered by the tiny red bikini. If you had it your way you’d be sunbathing naked with no one but your boyfriend to see. But public nudity isn’t welcomed on a beach no matter how deserted it appears. You’ll have to settle for doing so back at the house you two rented for the weekend.

Need screams through his touch, rough hands squeezing your ass, fingers spreading your cheeks apart not so subtly. He can’t see anything but his thumbs creep beneath the hem and that’s more than enough for a spiral. The inside of your thighs receive the same treatment, Soonyoung pushing and pulling suggestively while you hum content.

He straddles the back of your thighs. The thin strings of your top are no match for his dedication, pulling taunt as he reaches to work a fresh handful of sunscreen into your sides, fingertips ghosting the sides of your breasts. 

“Soonyoung,” you sigh. You arch your ass again, pleased to find the weight of his cock eagerly greeting you through his shorts.

“We can’t,” he gasps. 

You knew he’d say that. But no one is around. No one would see. If he pushed his shorts down and your bottoms to the side it wouldn’t look any different than what you’re doing now. You two could be quick and pretend it never happened except for the stickiness of his cum staining your bathing suit. 

But Soonyoung isn’t the exhibitionist. You are.

“Please,” you beg.

It won’t get you much but your boyfriend can’t resist the temptation when you’re pliant under his hands. Soonyoung pulls at your hips until your back meets the plastic of the chair. The pink of his chest has nothing to do with the sun over head and everything to do with the way your top has twisted around your breasts, barely covering what it’s meant to. Which isn’t much at all. Taut nipples peeking around the edge of the fabric teasing him to dip down and taste.

“Fuck.”

Under the guise of covering you in sunblock, he squirts some across your stomach. It resembles something far less appropriate for current circumstances, especially with how he kneels between your splayed legs, both of your chests heaving. The greasy glide of lotion carries his hands straight to your chest. Your top is pushed up and out of the way, fingertips cruelly teasing your breasts.

The umbrella is perfect cover, and even if it wasn’t the only other person you’d seen all afternoon deserved to see how shameless you are for Soonyoung. How eager he is for you. The way neither of you can think of anyone else outside this moment with the band of his swim trunks stretching under your wandering hands and his teeth bruised lips. 

Someone has to call chicken first. You won’t because you love the attention and your boyfriend won’t because he loves giving it to you. But you have to. Because Soonyoung would never live down the embarrassment of actually fucking you in the open if you were caught. You’d never stand a chance at talking him into doing it again, even if in a more secluded place where the chances of being seen really are zero. So you pull away first. Hands returning to your sides, propping yourself up to plant a kiss on his heart. 

“Go cool off,” you command. He pinches your nipples again for good measure; a rough tug you’d beg for in the privacy of his bed. But right now, you both need a breather. You swat his hands away, flopping back onto the chair and closing your eyes. “Go.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m pretty sure if I stand up I’ll pass out.” 

“Well if you stay here someone is gonna catch us with your dick in my mouth so pick.” You run a hand back down his front to punctuate the threat.

The heat of his body disappears, Soonyoung up and sprinting towards the water without a second glance.

You right your swimsuit, not that there’s much modesty to be protected, and doze into a fitful nap. The ache in your gut lingers, mind plagued by images of your boyfriend, some real and some pure fantasy, fucking you on the beach chair. Waking you up with rough thrusts of his cock, a hand over your mouth the only thing to keep everyone from turning to watch. And even that’s not enough. You dream of a crowd, faceless people circled around where you two go at it. Soonyoung fucking you face down like you’re nothing more than a hole for him to dump his load into. Or you riding his cock until he cries from coming so many times but refusing to begin for mercy.

As the heat of the day crescendos so does the raging boil of want in your veins. It’s well past noon and the few people that were at the beach have long left by the time you open your eyes. Soonyoung is still in the water, floating through the waves. Each step down towards the sea foam threatens your resolve. You won’t fuck him. Not in the nasty ocean. Not on the public beach. But there’s still fun to be had. 

Broad tanned shoulders and a mop of pale hair are the only things you can see above water. Hopefully something waits below to greet you. 

“You’re gonna turn into a prune if you stay out here any longer,” you call while wading closer. The gentle laps of water cool against your blushing skin.

“Okay mom,” he jests. Soonyoung pulls you the last ways into his chest, bringing your legs around his waist and locking his arms around your own. 

“I think we should head back soon. Maybe take a shower before dinner?” 

“Maybe we can order in and hang out at the house,” he suggests, nosing along your jaw. His motivation is obvious; prodding against your thigh despite his attempt to seem subtle. 

Your hand snakes beneath his shorts. This time you don’t care how conspicuous you are. There really is no one to see. Not this time. The water hides everything and Soonyoung’s back is to the beach. 

“Maybe…” 

“Babe,” he warns. 

“Are you not feeling well, baby? Is that why you wanna stay at the house?” 

“No.” He rasps. His hips curl into your loose grip, fucking your hand like he’d fuck your cunt given the chance. With limited room you'll make the most of it, nipping at his earlobe while your other hand tugs his hair.

“Then what is it? Too tired?” 

“No.” 

“Tell me what you want,” you demand with a squeeze. 

“You.” 

You gasp in mockery, “me?” 

“Wanna fuck you. Wanna—shit—make you ride my cock.” He heaves through the request, images of you, head thrown back on that damn sun chair plaguing his brain.

“‘Make me’? You think you can make me do anything?”

 “I—” he chokes.

You rub him with a firm hand. If the water wasn’t a factor, he’d have dropped you on your ass by now. Soonyoung can barely keep himself upright when you tease him like this, let alone balance for two. Fingers sinking lower, you don’t stop until his balls sit heavy in your palm.

“I ride your cock because I want to. Because it makes me feel good. You like making me feel good don’t you?”

Soonyoung squeezes your ass, dragging your cunt over his crotch with enough force to bruise. “Yeah.”

“So let’s go home and I’ll let you make me feel really good.”

“Okay,” he grunts, another tug of your palm shooting bolts up his spine.

You let him go without argument, a wicked smile plastered on your face. The swim to shore takes much longer than it should. All due to your boyfriend’s wandering hands beneath the waves, tugging your suit loose and grabbing whatever comes in reach: thighs, ass, your hands. Soonyoung can’t stop pulling you back for more kisses, teeth cutting into your jaw when you indulge him too much. His mouth tastes like the ocean but his hands slipping beneath your bottoms to massage your ass are too distracting to care.

Only when you get to the shallows, water barely skimming your knees and providing no more cover, does he relent. 

But you don’t.

You turn around, pretending to invite him in for a hug with deceptive softness in your gaze.

“Hi,” you smile as he meets you halfway.

“Hi,” Soonyoung smiles back.

Gentle kisses lure him in, PG pecks across sunburned cheeks that’d make you sick to your stomach if it weren’t the kind of contact you’ve grown to enjoy. He’s sweet on you. Easily distracted by gooey eyes and bubbling giggles.

Which is why it’s too easy to push him back into the next wave.

The mop of drenched blonde hair pops up after a moment, gasping for breath as he stares up from the surf with disbelief. There’s no reason for him to be surprised. You did the exact same thing yesterday.

Laughter chokes your gasping breaths; eyes watering at the incredulous expression twisting his features. You’re too distracted by your own glee that when Soonyoung jumps in pursuit, you barely manage two steps before ending up flung over his shoulder for revenge.

“Put me down!” you scream. Your fists beat against his backside to no avail.

“Awww baby,” he pouts. The surf sloshes around his legs as he carries you deeper.  “but I wanted to swim with you.”

You swat at his ass. “Soonyoung I swear to god!”

“Can’t hear you!”

“Please!”

“What was that?” he calls.

“Don’t do this,” you beg. He fakes like he’s tossing you into the next wave but you cling tighter. “Asshole!”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Soonyoung, will you please put me down.”

“Fine, but only because you’re pretty.”

You slide down the front of his body, chests pressed flat and trembling from laughter. The rest of the way to shore is on jelly legs. Soonyoung follows, unperturbed by the tent in his bottoms now that the beach is clear. 

Damn that bikini. He thinks. And damn the three others you’ve donned this week that show more skin than the last. It’s almost worse than if you decided to prance around naked the entire weekend. The tease of what little skin no one else is supposed to see. Not even the sun. But he gets to. He gets to peel off the itty bitty pieces of fabric and look as much as he wants – touch as much as he wants. 

You’re a tease through and through; bending over to riffle through your bag, bottoms riding up. It does nothing to help his straining cock. If anything it makes it worse. Spine arched, ass perfectly positioned for him to reach over and make free. He’s got all the permission in the world but he still hesitates even though you’re begging him to do it. You look back over your shoulder, bending deeper after catching his gaze, hips wiggling suggestively back and forth.

He wants to. God, does Soonyoung want to pull the shameful excuse for bikini bottoms aside and take up the offer. Sink as deep as he can and fuck you until you’re shaking. But you’re loud and he’s louder and once you two start it’ll take a miracle to stop.

So when he stands behind you, cock heavy between your cheeks, he responds to your grind backwards with a harsh grip around the back of your neck.

You inhale sharply, surprised by the sudden show of force. “Soonyoung?” 

He steps closer, free hand pulling at the fabric covering your ass until his cock slips beneath. His own bottoms cover him but one less layer is better. “Behave.” 

Breath hitching, your eyes slip shut. “If I don’t?” 

He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. You can’t keep your hands to yourself any better than he can. Two pathetic needy messes perfectly matched. His hand slips around the front of your throat. There’s no heavy grip, just the weight, the promise of something. The potential resting in his fingertips. 

“You don’t wanna find out.” He’s bluffing. He must be. But if he’s not, if the threat is real, you’re in no position to argue. You packed lube and nothing else in terms of sexcapades. Nothing here to get off with besides your own hands if Soonyoung taps out. And he’s strong enough to pin you to the bed until you forfeit.

His chest scorches against your back, hand still cupping your throat. His other presses against your stomach, holding you in place for the thick grind of his cock.

“Oh,” you pant. The movement pulls your bottoms tighter, just enough friction against your core to make you crave more. You moan with forbidden pleasure of a public rendezvous out in the open.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung grunts.

Rather than give you more, he lets you go. Leaving gravity to do its damage as your knees buckle. You catch on the beach chair, narrowly avoiding a face full of sand. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry.” He joins you on the chair, rushing for a towel to cover his lap. 

That’s when you spot what freaked him out: a pair of old timers up by the dunes. No shot they saw anything given their animated arguing, the crashing waves barely managing to muffle their shouts.

“Seriously?” you scoff. 

“I’m not trying to get arrested!” he argues. 

Sometimes you wonder if he knows how lucky he is that he’s cute.

“Whatever, c’mon.”

The beach has private showers. Little huts to rinse off sand and salt in privacy. You drag Soonyoung into one. He’s still paranoid someone might see but willing to ignore the consequences in favor of whatever inevitable torture awaits. Besides, couples shower together all the time; in the name of saving space and water. But when the door locks and no one is left but you and him, the outside world fades into nothing.

Your suit comes off first. Wet thuds against the floor leaving you naked for his gawking until his trunks join. Cock standing proud, Soonyoung joins you under the spray.

You tease him the same way he teased you on the sand. Lingering touches, obvious gropes; slithering your palm across his crotch and spitting on the leaking head staring up at you. The shower rinses away the evidence of the day as you work up a new mess. 

“Oh god, yeah.” He’s limp under your ministrations.

“Feels good?” you goad. “All of this for me?”

“Uh huh.” His voice cracks. 

You mouth at his neck, cocky from the way his hips cant into your fist. Crowding him into the wall is too easy when using his satisfaction as a distraction. A nipple comes in view and your latch on. Teeth and tongue and spit get him to the edge and you’re on your knees to catch it just in time.

More blushing that has nothing to do with the sun blooms on his front as he hisses, “Shit.”

His cock pulses between your lips and you take it all like a pro; nose to crotch with a wet choke Soonyoung will certainly think about later. 

When he stops twitching long enough to drag you off, you surprise him with a mouthful of cum trickling back down his cock and a tight fist at the base.

“Ha—oh fuck, you can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” you ask before swallowing his dick again.

He grips the back of your head desperately, unsure if he wants to drag you off or force you down to take another load. It’s not fair. He’s only a man and the fact you’re pliant and eager from sucking his cock like you get off on it all the same might just kill him.

“Please,” Soonyoung begs. For what, who knows, but you drop to mouth at his balls, using his own perversion against him,  and he’s coming in weak trickles down your knuckles.

“Good?” you smile, licking between your fingers.

He’s an absolute dream leant against the wall, cock soiled and chest heaving. “One day my dick is gonna fall off.”

“Drama queen,” you snort. “C’mon, let's go home.”

Drying off in comfortable silence, Soonyoung refuses to let you go long enough for a thorough job. He’s always cuddly after sex. Or before sex. And just in general. A long day in the hot sun and two orgasms make him cling like a second skin in the steamy bathroom.

He only lets you go to shimmy on your clothes for the drive home. But his usual gawking lingers with an edge as you adjust the straps on your shoulders.

“What?” 

“Why are you wearing that?”

“Wearing what?” you ask, tone full of faux innocence. The white sundress had kept you from leaving the house this morning, Soonyoung planting you on the counter and ducking beneath the skirt just to press his face into the crotch of your bottoms like some pervert. Now, you wear nothing underneath, nipples showing through the sheer linen fabric.

“Babe…”

“Babe,” you mock.

“Let’s go home, you freak.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

The drive back is quiet. The roar of waves from the coast and a dull hum from the radio accompanying the comfortable silence. Soonyoung keeps his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt high enough to tickle the skin of your knee beneath his fingers.

“Did you have fun today?”

“I always have fun with you,” you smile, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Wait, pull over.”

“What? Why?”

“Because. Take this exit.”

He takes the next turn, following your vague directions with ease. There’s nothing more than a decrepit gas station as far as you can see but the billboard advertising the shop implied it’d be a little further down the road.

“Where am I going?” Soonyoung asks.

“Over there!”

You point at a lone store in a strip mall full of empty storefronts. Only one seems to bear any sign of life, a neon ‘OPEN’ that flickers rhythmically. Bad Kittyz.

Soonyoung pulls into an empty spot, mouth open in a mix of horror and shock “What the fuck?”

“You’ve never been to a sex store,” you say. You pull out all the stops, puppy dogs eyes and pouted lips. He won’t say no. But just in case.

“And now is the time you want to pop my cherry?”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.” You hop out of his Jeep, beelining for the door with Soonyoung close behind. “Besides, maybe we’ll find something to play with later.”

The chime over the door announces your entrance. An older woman, verging on grandmother territory, leans against the counter. She nods a greeting and goes back to reading her book leaving you two to browse in silence. 

“Holy fuck,” Soonyoung chokes. A massive four foot tall dildo is displayed at the end of the table, thick as one of his thighs. “Do people use that?”

Face twisting in horror, you move towards more manageable displays. “Maybe as a discussion piece.”

“Discussing what? Being ripped in half?”

“Stop staring at it.”

“I can’t,” he whispers.

The longer Soonyoung stands there looking at it the more you’re tempted to stare with him. This isn’t an art museum for you two to gawk at. God forbid the employee sees and asks if you have any questions about it. 

Snagging his wrist, you pull Soonyoung away. “Let's look over here.”

A wall of toys, feathery wands, handcuffs, nipple clamps and more greet you in the backroom; a colorful array of options with a few catching your eye.

You snag a fluffy tiger patterned pair. “These look familiar.”

“Haha,” he says flatly but the burn tips of his ears give him away.

You take turns pointing out toys, some much too adventurous but others that pique your curiosity. An electric shock wand more than your monthly salary, a penis pump Soonyoung can’t seem to make direct eye contact with, cock rings made of glittery silicone, a butt plug that supposedly glows in the dark.

“‘2-In-1 Stroker Realistic Vagina & Ass’,” you read off the package of a fleshlight.

Soonyoung eyes it over your shoulder. “How do they make plastic feel like a vagina?”

“I don’t know. Wanna test and see if it’s like the real thing?” you jest.

“It seems like a waste of money since I can only vouch for one.”

“Well, what about this then?”

Snagging one of the less garish packages, you present the plain silicon plug. It’s not deathly intimidating, none of the fancy bells and whistles promising vibrating or a light show. Just an old fashioned, run of the mill, classic plug.

Soonyoung whips his head around like someone might hear you. As if it’s the most insane item in the store and the monstrous penis from before no longer exists. “Are you serious?”

You examine the package in your hands. Not too big, girthy enough your spark to take a challenge is fed but not so afraid it might rip you in half. You’ve always been curious about it. Played with yourself a few times but never with the same promise of satisfaction the idea of someone else doing it brings.

“Might be fun. I’ve thought about it,” you shrug.

“Really?”

Soonyoung’s gut tightens at the idea; flashes of you with your ass stuffed full, begging for more. Never in his life (except for a brief time in college when porn piqued his curiosity) did Soonyoung think he’d be into anal. It wasn’t his thing; for him or his partner. 

But you challenged everything he thought before. Submitting to whatever your latest fantasy was, allowing the needy side of his psyche to flourish under your gentle command. He loved it. Loved everything you wrangled him into. Fucking you in someone else bed? Incredible. Taking your fingers in his ass while you gag in his cock? Nothing short of mind shattering. The time you made him cum so much he started shooting blanks? It’s enough to keep him up all night with nothing but your pictures and an aching wrist. 

So fucking you on the beach chair had been an all too tempting edition to that list. But as much as he enjoys groping his girlfriend as the next guy, public indecency isn’t his kink. However, dumping his load in your ass is. Or it is now that you’ve brought it up. Just the suggestion of it is enough for his cock to twitch in interest.

In the car ride home, you both pretend to ignore the bag full of goodies at your feet; favoring watching the sun setting along the horizon, humming to the radio while Soonyoung tangles your fingers together over the center console. 

You barely get the front door of the beach house open before Soonyoung is on you, crowding you against the wall with his mouth at your throat. The hem of your skirt edges up your legs until his hand strokes between your thighs.

It's a tiny place; barely ten steps to the bedroom from the entryway. But neither of you can manage that when the promise of something so filthy lingers in the air.

He kisses you with promise before falling to his knees. You wish he’d stayed, let you grind across his thigh while you suck the air from between his lips but this is better. A familiar chill slips down your spine as he eases the white fabric up and disappears beneath to search for the taste of your cunt. 

There’s no sound beyond your quiet pants and your boyfriend’s moans. Devilish licks to your clit paired with nimble fingers make you twitch. Soonyoung likes it sloppy; adores pulling back just to admire the soaking mess coating your thighs before diving in. But all he has on his brain right now is returning the favor from before even if that means he’ll have to pin you to the wall so you don’t melt to the floor.

“Oh god, Soonyoung,” you sing, raising your hips and riding his fingers. “There.”

You want to pull his hair, to suck on his fingers like they’re his cock, to touch him; anywhere. Use anything you can to shatter the monopoly his mouth has on your senses. But he’s lost under your dress and you lack concentration to pull him out.

It doesn’t matter how much praise you lavish him with, Soonyoung is lost in his own spiral. The grip of your walls on his fingers, three now and soon to be a fourth because he’s predictable. Or maybe you are.

Your knees begin to buckle under the next harsh suck of his lips and without missing a beat your leg goes over his shoulder and you’re pinned to the wall.

“Soonyoung—fuck—please.” Your hands cup your breasts, pushing the smocked neckline down until the AC greets your burning skin. Insides clenching at the thrill, you sink lower until he catches the hint and fucks his fingers hard enough you hiccup with each thrust.

It feels like you're underwater. That spot that makes you glow becomes his plaything until the ceiling comes crashing down and you with it. You grit through the first shake before your vision blinks into darkness.  “Baby, I’m—”

Soonyoung fucks you through it, unaffected by how tight you squeeze around the digits battering your insides. He pushes you back into the wall when you wobble on shaky legs and keeps going; suffocating himself with no concern.

You ride his face for a moment. The prolonged burn of a good orgasm hurting in the right ways as your clit goes raw and your walls swell. But if this continues you’ll be too tired for the main event.

Even with that knowledge you don’t protest as he rises to his feet, turns you around, and flips your dress back up to fuck you against the wall.

With eyes closed you feel, rather than see, Soonyoung peak over your shoulder; breath hot against your ear. He flattens his chest to your back, cock nudging at your entrance until the first inch sinks home without resistance.

“God,” you sigh. “More.” 

He gives you just that. Careful to keep from crushing you under his weight, Soonyoung bends you at the waist, cock buried as deep as possible. “Like that?”

 “Love it,” you warble.

His thumb is warm against your rim, a tease of what's to come. It’s nothing challenging but Soonyoung pinning your arms at the dip of your spine with his free hand makes it dirtier. 

“Want me to fuck you here?”

“Please,” you beg. 

“Please?” 

“Give me your cock.” 

“You have it.” His voice roughens, betrayed by his own need to please you. “Still need more? That desperate?” 

“I swear to fucking god if you don’t—“ 

THWACK!  

Your skin scorches in the shape of his hand. All you can do is choke on more noises of pleasure as he does it again.

“You’ll what?” Soonyoung bites. “Gonna fuck yourself?”

You can’t argue back, mouth stuff with his fingers as he starts fucking you deeply. It’s good. The embarrassed heat tinting your cheeks from his reprimands. Soonyoung likes to be rough but never like this. The shift in demeanor prickles along your spine.

“Gonna take my cum in your perfect little pussy.” He groans. “Gonna look so fucking hot dripping out of you. Fuck it into your ass.” 

You whimper around his digits, sucking them deeper into your mouth until the weight disappears to give another wet prod against your asshole. “You’re so tight baby I don’t know if you’ll be able to take it.” 

Head bobbing, you sigh at the stretch. “I can take it.” 

A finger slips into your ass, spit and arousal easing the intrusion. You arch your back for more. Everything feels full. His cock deep battering your insides, his fingers wedge in your hole, the blanket of his body crushing you into the wall so much you can barely breathe. 

He might be right. You might not be able to take anything remotely resembling the girth of his length. Not if you’re this strung out from some fingering and dirty words. “Wait.”

Soonyoung is off you like he’s burnt. “What's wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, baby,” you murmur, finding his face and kissing away the terrified frown. “I just thought it’d be more comfortable if we were in the bed.”

He slouches with relief. “Oh, okay. Yeah. Good idea.”  

Soonyoung doesn’t let you walk. You’re over his shoulder fireman style, one of his hands tickling the back of your knee until he almost drops you as you squirm. “Soonyoung I swear to god!”

“Wait, are you ticklish here?” he asks coyly. He knows you’re ticklish there, ended up kicked in the head the first time he decided to take advantage of the information. 

Squeals and laughter bounces off the walls as he races the short distance to the bedroom before tossing you on the mattress with a bounce. He drapes over you, sweet kisses on your cheeks and chins as he crowds you into the mattress.

“Go get a towel, I don’t think they’ll appreciate lube stains on the sheets.”

He disappears again – leaving a terrible coldness along your skin in the absence of his warmth. But his trip to the en suite gives you plenty of time to toss away your dress and to crawl to the head of the bed. Face down in the pillows, you arch your back for a view that might very well kill your boyfriend. Pussy soaked, entrance stretched and ready for use.

“Well, shit,” Soonyoung breathes. There's a thud and a few things skittering across the floor; not loud enough to be his head bouncing off the hardwood but whatever he was holding is forgotten in favor of ogling.

You sink deep enough it hurts. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do.”

“Then do something about it.”

He crawls up the bed, kneeling behind you and massaging your ass in his hands. The tickle in your gut flourishes as he spreads your ass apart. Two fingers curl into your cunt with ease while his mouth finds other use – sucking a bruise along the back of your thigh he’ll obsessively trace later. 

Muscles pliant, you liquify into the mattress under the gentle stretch of your core. His fingers return to their previous task; a feather weight you quickly become accustomed to before they slide in and you rut back into the motion. “That’s—that's good.”

You force a hand between your legs, mindlessly rubbing slow circles around your clit. Soonyoung bats it away and takes command; a little firmer, enough it makes things fade into haze.

“Wow, multitasking,” you praise, fisting the sheets.

“Trying to give my queen the full experience.” 

Even with both holes full of his fingers, you can’t help but snort. “You’re lame.” 

“You’re about to let me put my dick in your ass.” He presses deeper to emphasize the point. 

Familiar motions, a curl here, spreading the two apart enough you moan. “So?

“Can’t be that lame.” 

“It’s—ah—cute lameness. My little loser.”

“What did we say about being mean to me in bed?” he tuts.

“That I should only do it if I want you to come fast.”

“That’s right, so save it for later.”

His tongue joins his fingers, a firm heat spreading between your cheeks. Soonyoung is good at making it messy. You jump with stiff legs as his tongue breaches your hole; there and gone before he’s laving long strokes; a drooly mess left in wake of exploration. “What's it feel like?”

“You’d know.”

“Humor me a little.” Soonyoung leans back enough to spit where his fingers disappear – the smack of his lips leaving you flustered. He eats ass just as well as he eats pussy: devoted and eager.

You curl into the stimulation. “L-like I’ve got fingers in my ass.”

“Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

“I don’t think I’ll come from it, but it's not bad.” Lies. If he keeps going you’ll definitely come. If Soonyoung hands you the vibrator sitting just out of reach it’ll happen faster than your ego would allow.

“Relax,” he commands. Soonyoung pushes until you’re flat to the mattress with nowhere to move besides back into filthy satisfaction.

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re not. I’m not doing this if it’s gonna hurt you.” He moves away, an uncharacteristic show of restraint triggering a tantrum of your own.

“Wait, don’t stop!”

The heady pressure multiples ten fold as he drags everything out; his mouth, his fingers, the tight grip on your cheeks to keep the spread for convenience. You crave the sting of his hand again but are left with the grit of his teeth against the shape of your thigh as a generous amount of lube joins the mix; cold and slippery. 

“Still good?”

“Great,” you breathe. A third finger joins and it might just be your demise. You might give Soonyoung a run for his money for the most needy; you, begging him to fuck your ass harder. Or him, rock solid and humping the bed for a drop of relief. “Where’s the plug?”

“Are you ready for it?” He strokes the dimple at the base of your spine in slow circles. Honestly, this could be enough. At least for Soonyoung. Since you started this entire endeavor he’s been a quick gust of wind away from blowing his load.

“Go slow.”

A new pressure, not as warm as before but equally intoxicating, rests against your hole. More lube, enough the towel between your legs gets soaked in its own right. You take it though. An easy stretch until the silicon disappears and a foreign fullness makes your tongue feel thick.

You squeeze around it instinctually. Soonyoung keeps your ass spread like a voyeur, both holes teasing him. Your fingers don’t stop on your clit. He could watch you get off with a full ass and an empty pussy and die happy.

“Fuck,” he chokes, pulling the plug out just a fraction before you suck it back in greedily. “What now?”

“Now you fuck me.” 

You flop onto your back without much grace, too focused on the intoxicating promise of having your boyfriend’s cock to care about looking sexy. Soonyoung kneels between your thighs – swollen length sitting heavy in his lap, tempting you to lap away the mess if there weren’t better things to do.

He doesn’t waste time. Your clit takes the head of his cock full on, muscles twitching. You go limp and cross eyed – you could lay here all night letting him play with your body as he pleased. But you want him inside you. Need the overwhelming rush you know Soonyoung can give you.

But he tries to kiss you with a mouth covered in lube and you stop him short. “Ew, I’m not kissing you.” 

“Why?” he whines. His cock teases your entrance with a slow grind; just the tip.

“I don’t know, maybe the fact your tongue was in my ass less than five seconds ago? Go brush your teeth.” 

“Really?” 

“Hop to it butt boy.” 

“You eat your girlfriend’s ass one time.” Soonyoung shakes his head but peels off you and jumps from the bed.

“I’ll return the favor, don’t worry!” you call.

The cover of running water from the sink disguises the sounds you digging through a suitcase. Tucked away is a tried and true favorite – a vibrating dildo from back home snuck along for the trip when the weather report forecasted rain the entire weekend and you were sure you’d need something to keep you both occupied while kept indoors. Nothing but clear skies for miles made it slip from your mind but now you say a quick ‘thank you’ to yourself for having the forethought even if it’s not exactly what you intended.

“Getting started without me?” Soonyoung calls from the foot of the bed. He doesn’t do a thing to stop the show – entranced by your clit swelling beneath the vibrating head.

You spread your legs wider, knees to your chest. He can see everything: the plug splitting your ass, arousal dripping from your entrance. “Come over here and make me stop.”

“I remember – a few hours ago actually – you saying I ‘don’t make’ you do anything.”

He climbs over you, arms caging you in but just out of reach. You meet his gaze – surprised by the fire burning there. You want to see what will happen if it’s fed.

“Maybe I want you to.”

“Oh? And what do you want me to make you do?” 

“Hmmmm, when we were on the couch I wanted you to call me a slut.” 

“Really?” 

“Makes me feel dirty.” You spread across the bed, ass curving into the mattress and shifting the plug deeper in your ass.

He sucks at your jaw as he sinks inside. “You like being dirty?” 

“For you,” you gasp. “What about you? What do you want me to do to you?”

 “Dreamed of you choking me,” Soonyoung admits with a fresh rush of his hips.

“That’s so hot,” you whine.

“Calling me a good boy.” He goes for your nipple, a tender suck you keen into.

The tidal wave of pleasure floods your brain. All you can do is lay there and take it while murmuring praises. “You are a good boy.” 

“Yeah?” 

“The best,” you tease.

Soonyoung rolls onto his back, you planted firmly in his lap as he goes for the plug. It’s difficult enough to sit still when you’re full of his cock, let alone the new addition. You sink deeper into it – knees bent and legs spread to take as much as possible. A stinging stretch in your insides that threatens to tear you in two. He twists the silicon and you collapse into his chest.

“Fuck, just like—nhhh.” 

He plants his feet and keeps fucking you from below. The vibrator is stuck between your stomachs but you pull back enough and it’s there, almost painfully forced against your clit. You curl into the painful throb. “I’m—”

His hand is at your cheek, forcing you to look at him with lidded eyes. Soonyoung is beautiful but when he’s like this – skin flushed and eyes wild, the complete picture of debauchery – it’s devastating. 

You kiss him. Tongue along his teeth and panting breath, a hand at his collar for balance as you focus on rutting back into the motion of his cock with a tight squeeze. Your throat raws with his name. “Soonyoung.”

Your chin is wet with drool, vision blurry as you collapse into his chest. Soonyoung slows but doesn’t stop, maintaining gentle strokes as condense back into reality; fingers tracing the notches of your spine.

“Holy shit.”

“You squirted,” he whispers awestruck.

You certainly did. Even through the slick of lube the mess is evident, soaking his own crotch and no doubt ruining the sheets.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” you gasp.

Grabbing for his face, you kiss Soonyoung again with slow and lazy indulgence. The room warms or maybe it's just Soonyoung’s chest against yours but you crave more.

“You done?” Soonyoung grunts as you thumb one of his nipples.

You sit up, ass flat to his thighs and breasts pressed together between your arms. “Nope, still gotta take care of my man.”

“You don’t have to.” Soonyoung perks up with another lazy thrust. “I can do it like this.”

“You ate my ass. I’d feel like a hypocrite if I didn’t let you fuck it. Besides, I think I can come again.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

You roll off. There’s a pang in your gut at the sudden emptiness but it’s bearable with what will happen next.

Back on your knees, Soonyoung settles in tight behind you. He adds more lube while working out the plug. Gritting against the drag, you nearly rip the sheets under your nails. “Huh.”

Soonyoung fishes the vibrator from somewhere. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Your walls split around it while he plays with the plug, gently rocking back into the motions. You’ll definitely come again. 

Batting his hand away, you fuck yourself with the dildo with command. “Spank me.”

Heat blooms in the same place he branded you before; right at the seat of your ass. “Like that?”

Soonyoung isn’t goading. He’s unsure. Rarely is he composed enough to call the shots, so you sink deeper and preen for him. “Harder.”

Another slap, sharp enough you lurch into the sheets. You nod because there are no words capable of slipping past your teeth other than a weak mewl of his name. 

“Fuck, babe.” 

You reach back, spreading your ass so he can focus on the task at hand. The plug disappears. In its place is the potent weight of his cock.

Soonyoung sinks deep, weight focused behind his hips. It feels…different. Not bad, not necessarily good either. It feels dirty. Like you shouldn’t be doing it but you are anyway. Good girls don’t do this. But you are. You’re letting your boyfriend use your ass as his personal cum dump. And because that's not enough, you squeeze around the dildo still sheathed inside you.

“Good?”

“Big,” you pant.

“Want me to stop?”

“No!” you argue.

Soonyoung maintains a tight grip on your hips to prevent you from overwhelming him. “Oh—okay, fuck, okay.” 

“Does it feel good for you?”

“Yeah, tight.” He palms your ass, spreading you further to watch your walls open around him.

You focus on fucking yourself with the fake cock. Matching everyone of his timid thrusts with one of your own. “Tighter than my pussy?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” Soonyoung prattles without thought. He’s unraveling in the dangerous heat of your body. 

“Which would you rather fuck?”

“I don’t know, they’re both—god—they’re both good.”

“Wish you could fuck both of them at the same time. Do you think that makes me a whore?”

“No,” he sobs. But a twinge in his core betrays his thoughts.

You’re being downright cruel with the imaginary. “No? You don’t think your girlfriend wanting you to fill her ass and pussy at the same time makes her a slut?”

“I don’t think you’re a slut!” Soonyoung argues. But that edge is still there, he’s taking the bait.

“But I wanna be your slut, baby.”

“Fuck.” Another barely restrained thrust you take with sick glee.

“Say it,” you bark. “Call me your greedy little cum slut.”

“I—”

“C’mon, baby. Watch your girlfriend take your cock like a whore.”

He shoves your face into the pillows – a tight fist in your hair that adds to the fog. A raspy ‘my slut’ slips down your spine as he drives into you with enough force you choke. 

His cock swells, the beginning of his end as he wrecks your insides with bruising force. You push forward for your own; abandoning the vibrator and swiping frantic circles around your clit. Soonyoung doesn’t say it again but its more than enough to fuel you and retaliate with more muffled groans to match his.

Soonyoung moves in deep waves; losing pace and rolling into the heat of your ass with choppy thrusts. You wish he was choking you. Maybe it’d be too much but next time you’ll ask him to do it. Or you’ll ride him with his cock seated deep and your hand serving as his new necklace.

“Gonna come. Gonna come for you—oh my god.” 

You nod eagerly with an eye roll as if he can see the wreckage of your face. A familiar warmth you’ve experienced countless times in your pussy floods your ass, thick and sticky.

“Oh my god.” Soonyoung drops his weight, a perfect blanket against the AC of the bedroom now that the heat of having your guts battered has faded. “Jesus.”

“I was close,” you pout. 

Squirming back in his grip, he’s still hard with a heavy throb. Soonyoung doesn’t disappoint. Weak thrusts maintain the fire stoked in your gut and a reach around to pinch at your clit keeps you right at the edge.

“Soonyoung, please.”

“Beg for it,” he pants.

“Please make me come,” 

“My pretty little slut wants to come?”

Fuck.

“Ah-h. Yes! Fuck, yes.”

His other hand circles your neck, enough force you press into your hands and break your back in half just for a peak of him. The second you're done he’ll pass out – his eyes are wet, chin covered in drool. Soonyoung will go all night for you, for this.

A thumb splits your lips open, you think it’s a ploy for power. Something the grip at your throat gives him plenty of but he leans over and he spits in your mouth. “Then come.”

“Ugh, fuck Soonyoung—fuck me harder.”

Your body jumps over the cliff with permission; seizing, claws of endorphins shredding through your veins as your boyfriend rises to the challenge. Every drop turns into a flood with hard pulses, Soonyoung choking behind you from sensitivity.

Twitching in his hold, he pulls out, careful with the vibrator as well. The second he’s done he flops face first next to you like a rag doll.

“I think I died.”

You respond with a kiss to his temple. “I guess we’re both ghosts.”

“Being a ghost wouldn’t be so bad with you. My ghost would have a crush on you.”

“I would hope so considering I’d still be your ghost girlfriend.”

“You’d date me as a ghost? Simp,” he snorts but curls you beneath his arm. A play straight from your own book.

How romantic.

After an hour of naked dozing across the bed, you two manage to shuffle to the bathroom and slip into the tub. Sitting between Soonyoung’s leg, you drift off as the water soothes the muscles already beginning to ache. Soonyoung doesn’t speak; preferring to drag his lips up and down the slope of your neck for comfort. Every time he stops you squeeze at his arm draped over your stomach until he smiles against your ear and starts again.

“So where are we sleeping tonight? Because I’ll be honest, the lube covered bed is not my top choice.”

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series: @pinklemonadeflav @gyuwoosbabie @dinossaurz @vixensss

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[jjunieworld]

#WIP ⟢ THE SALT UNDER THE SEA ˒˒ 심재윤 ⨾ 박종성 ▸  part two of the player’s game series⌇playlist & series tag

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ if you didn’t like reader in the first part then you won’t like her in this one, reader’s grandma passing and mentions of reader’s dad passing, multiple unprotected sex scenes, soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, toxicity, jayke constantly one-uping each other, arguing, semi-public sex, size training, corruption kink full smut tags in actual post . . . !

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this was a long time coming lmao i’m so so sorry to everyone who has been waiting (◞‸◟；) with my month long break and adjusting to writing again i’m finally ready to start working on this series again! this is my main priority so i will try to get it out as soon as i possibly can!! this post will be updated as i work on it! ^^ all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

release date ⸝⸝⸝ sept 20th, 2024 ⋆ progress updates here!

∿ [ teaser wc: 0.7k ] ∿ [ current wc: 26.1k ] ⋆ [ continue to . . . wips , masterlist ]

send an ask or reply to this post if you want to be tagged when finished! minors and ageless/blank blogs will not be tagged. please have a visible age. my permanent taglist will already be tagged!

⟢ READ HERE!

your heart beat fast as you looked out the plane window to your mother’s seaside hometown—your new home. there was no need for your mom to nudge you awake since you weren’t able to sleep for the entirety you were on the plane, the nerves were eating at you.

you never thought you’d be back here, never thought that you’d ever say goodbye to your own hometown—which was also your late father’s—but here you were.

when your mom told you that you’d be moving here permanently you didn’t know how to feel. one one hand, you understood your mom’s decision. it was just you and her out there miles away from your family and everything must’ve reminded her of your father. it reminded you of him too. on the other hand, you desperately wished she would change her mind.

it was enough seeing that one glimpse of jake nine months ago, but to see him over and over and over again? you didn’t think you could take it. he still texted you, even more now since, and you still haven’t answered. things between the two of you still remain unsaid.

but you also couldn’t help but count down the seconds until you laid your eyes on him again. it set your skin alight and you couldn’t help the small smile on your face and the giddiness you felt. was it selfish, yes, but after everything you think you’re finally ready to face him again.

to give your relationship another chance. to give him your heart again and not be fearful that he would break it, that he’d keep it guarded and safe. after all, he said he would wait for you.

and if he didn’t protect your heart, you’d pull back and it would be as if you never had anything to do with him again.

“y/n? are you listening?” you heard your mother’s voice call out. you snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times to get your wits.

you were no longer on the plane. now you were lugging suitcases into your aunt’s house. your aunt was delighted to hear that you and your mom would be moving here. there was plenty of room in the house until the two of you got your own place.

“mhm,” you mumbled, though you definitely weren’t listening.

your mom sat the suitcase she was carrying in front of you and grabbed your shoulders. “is it that boy from last summer?” what was his name? jacob?”

“jake,” jungwon answered for you as he walked out the front door to grab more boxes.

your mom snapped her fingers. “jake! that’s it. listen, i know you had some problems moving here because of him, but use this as a way to put yourself out there more than last summer! there’s more wonderful people here than just jake.” she gave you a sympathetic smile and continued carrying stuff inside while you remained planted to the same spot in the driveway.

it wasn’t “just jake” that worried you. it was all of his friends and hana. you didn’t want another summer full of drama, especially if you and jake did start dating again.

getting all your boxes and suitcases into the house went quick and relatively easy. you decided on unpacking all of your things later, right now your mind was too clouded.

jake’s letter sat carefully in your anxious hands. you must’ve read it a million times over now and still you could barely wrap your head around it.

“two people who are meant to be will always find a way back to each other. and we are meant to be. no matter how long it takes, i’ll wait for you.”

it was now or never. you grabbed your phone and opened your messages up to your conversation with jake. his last message was from this morning, hoping that you had a good day today. he must not know that you’re back and for good. with a shaky sigh, you let your fingers move across the keyboard.

you: meet me at our spot.

⟢ READ HERE!

taglist 1﹙ OPEN! ﹚⸝⸝⸝ click here for series taglist! 🏷️ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @un06 @nenesz @branchrkive @dreamiestay @lilyuwon @ghstzzn @kaykay11sworld @kirinaa08 @cherlv @zl-world @cloud-lyy @sunpov @samouryed @immelissaaa @y4wnjunz @who-tf-soddhi @minaateez @jajenoric @lilactangerine @chaconadine @americanojake @in-somnias-world @bobaikeu @cupidscourt @inkigayocamman @nctsshoes2 @helenngxz @jakeswifez @usnve @tasnim10 @deobitifull @won4me @zeeloveshee

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∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , wips , taglist ] all feedback and asks on suggestions are welcome! ♡

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[toadtoru]

𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇 | series masterlist

pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Suguru Geto

After your city falls, you become a war price to the swift-footed Satoru Gojo, the strongest of the Greeks. You now have to adjust to your new position in a foreign camp, no longer as a princess of Lyrnessus, but as a symbol of Satoru Gojo's honour.

warnings: +18, heavy on the angst, mentions of blood, fighting and sickness, character death, smut tags: Satoru as Achilles, Suguru as Patroclus, reader as Briseis, greek gods and myths, f!reader, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, smut, threesome wc: 7.3k | approx 30 min reading time

MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

Your least favourite part of the day is dinner. It is expected that you wear extravagant dresses, usually brought back by Gojo from whatever city he’s ransacked, do your hair nicely, and walk around amongst the tables, serving wine to whoever asks. 

Gojo always sits at the end of the table, with Suguru on one side and Nanami on the other. While the two men prefer to stay silent and observe, Gojo entertains. If one had only seen Gojo at his dinners, one would not believe that he was a deadly warrior on the battlefield. He drinks wine, laughs loudly at whatever jokes his men make, and entertains whichever king decides to come by for dinner. 

You walk around the tables, trying to bring as little attention to yourself as possible. There’s usually one other woman with you, serving wine as well. Your favourite nights are the times when it’s Nobara. You share looks whenever someone says something outrageous, and when you’re dismissed, you can debrief about whatever conversations you were able to listen in on. 

Tonight, you’re alone. You’re not entirely sure why, but it forces you to hurry around, barely having enough time before the next person asks for more wine. You're scurrying around the table, trying to ignore the way the men's eyes linger on you. No one ever touches you; they wouldn’t dare. Though you doubt Gojo would care, it’s nice to know you have some sort of protection. 

You sigh when you run out of wine and go to the table at the back end of the tent to refill it. 

“Hey, woman. Can I get some more wine?” a man asks, and you send him a tight-lipped smile. “Just a second,” you reply, and the man frowns. He holds his cup up in front of you. 

“My cup is empty,” he states. His cheeks are flushed, and you can tell he’s drunk. You nod. “So is mine,” you reply, shoving him your empty pitcher as you walk towards the wine table. A couple of men around him snicker, but the man in question’s frown only deepens, turning into a scowl. You ignore him as you walk past him. Slowly, you begin mixing the wine, humming to yourself. 

A hand touches your waist, and you gasp as you look back at the drunk man. His eyes are glossed, and his entire face is red at this point. “How dare you talk to me like that?” he slurs, and you scrunch your nose as his breath hits your face. It reeks of wine and rot. 

“Go away, please,” you say. You glance towards the end of the table, but Suguru is in a deep conversation with Gojo. No one’s attention is on you. The man shakes his head and sniffs your hair. “You smell nice,” he says. You grimace. He’s far too close for your liking at this point. His hand is still on your waist. You feel suffocated. 

“I saw you, you know. In the temple. Wanted to take you for myself, but then you ran away.” 

You take a deep breath. Suguru still isn’t looking your way. Blood roars in your ears. You want to leave. 

“Maybe I’ll pay you a visit one night,” he says. You turn back to look at him, and he grins at you, his rotten teeth peeking out. In a swift motion, you throw your elbow back, hitting him straight in the neck. He stumbles back, gripping his throat, as he gasps for breath, gurgling noises leaving him. Suddenly, people are all around you. Men appear at the man’s side, helping him. Gojo is in front of you, with furrowed brows. 

He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the exit of the tent, not saying a word. You stumble behind him. 

"Now, why would you do that, little bird?” Gojo asks as soon as you are inside the confines of his own tent. 

“He was being rude,” you answer, staring towards the chair behind him. You don’t dare to look at his face, not knowing what will happen if you do. It feels like months of buildup, stress, sorrow, and confusion catch up on you at this exact moment, all triggered by some creepy guy with bad breath. Your chest feels tight, and your head spins. 

“Rude? He was being rude.” Gojo laughs, and you snap your gaze at him, your brows furrowing. Gojo pinches the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shaking with laughter. You can’t figure out whether he’s amused or angry. Maybe it’s both.

“You elbowed a guy in the neck because he was being rude?” Gojo raises his voice. Ah, he’s angry. You frown. 

“So what? I was just supposed to let it slide? He was being disgusting, Gojo! It was merely the consequences of his own actions-”

“And what about the consequences of your actions?” Gojo interrupts, and you shut your mouth immediately. “How does it reflect on me? Now they think I can’t even control my own woman!”

“Oh, so I’m your woman now? Is that what this is? Because last time I checked, you won’t even look at me!” You point an accusing finger at Gojo, and something flashes in his eyes before he goes back to glaring at you. His brows are furrowed, and you can’t help but think that even now he looks beautiful. You hate yourself for it. 

“I saved you! Do you even know what happens to the women in the camps? In Yoshinobu’s camp?” Gojo yells, and you feel a lump in your throat. You don’t leave Gojo’s camp often; you don’t need to, but you’ve seen them around, in the shadows and behind tents, trying to make themselves appear small. In Gojo’s camp, women are treated differently. You all share the a tent, but at least you have one. Yet, you’re not quite ready to let Gojo win this one. He doesn't get to win just because he does the bare minimum.

“I didn’t need your help!” you yell back, and Gojo rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, you did!” He retorts back, and you let out an annoyed sound, hiding your face in your hands and taking deep breaths. When you’re ready, you meet Gojo’s eyes again. 

You stare at each other for a while. 

“Why am I here, Gojo? What do you need me for?” your tone is more desperate than you’d like. You need answers; you need to know. Gojo frowns. 

“That’s none of your business,” he replies, and a small laugh leaves you. None of your business? You feel like a fool. You are about to start yelling at him again, but you’re interrupted when Suguru comes into the tent. Both of your heads snap towards the entrance, where a flushed Suguru stands. Did he run here?

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Suguru’s eyes dart towards you, scanning your body. You cross your arms over your chest and avoid his burning gaze. 

“I’m fine,” 

“Oh, you’re fine? Now that Suguru’s here, you’re fine.” you look at Gojo, and he looks angry. His eyebrows are raised, and he’s pursing his lips, yet you don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. Now he’s deciding to be jealous? He has no right. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, wanting to force the answers out of him. 

Gojo glares at you. You glare back. Suguru stays quiet, seemingly not wanting to escalate the situation.

“I never asked to be here.” Your voice is smaller than you’d like. Gojo frowns. 

“Then leave. Go, if you’re so unhappy.” There’s no emotion in his voice. He’s like a wall. His face is expressionless. Suguru steps in between you, trying to make both of you see reason. 

“Okay, if we can just calm down–”

“No, Suguru! Let her leave if she so desperately wants to,” Gojo says, seemingly not interested in whatever Suguru has to say. You raise your brows. You’ve seen Gojo snap several times if there was a stain on his shirt or someone stepped out of line. You’ve never seen him snap at Suguru. Suguru notices the change as well and sighs. 

“Satoru,”

“Fine! I’ll leave then.” You’re not interested in whatever Suguru has to say, either. You haven’t talked since your kiss, as you’ve been dutifully avoiding him. You haven’t dared to face the consequences of that night. You let him under your skin, and you shouldn’t have. 

So, without looking back, you stumble out of the tent and into the darkness. Suguru calls for you, but you ignore him as you make your way towards the women's tents. You consider where you could go. There are still cities that haven’t been ransacked yet, cities whose walls stand high and proud. You could even go to Troy. 

You stop in your tracks. You could go to Troy. You could also go home. There would still be houses that hadn’t been burned and gardens that still had vegetables growing. You’re no stranger to hunting, having gone with your dad and brothers before you married. 

It would be a lonely life. 

Here, you have a purpose. You have friends and meaning, and whatever the hell is going on between you and the two infuriating men behind you. You look back. Suguru stands at the entrance of the tent, looking at you. You can’t decipher the look on his face. 

Air. You decide you need air, and so you walk towards the beach, ignoring the way his eyes burns into your back. The waves are calm, and you sit down on the sand, gazing out at the horizon. You’re not even sure why you’re hesitating.

“I thought I might find you here.” 

Suguru sits down beside you. His hair flies in the wind, making him look like something out of a painting.

“You’re angry,” he states. You scoff. 

“How observant of you,” you reply. That makes him laugh, his melodic voice cutting through the harsh wind against your faces.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says. This you don’t reply to. You both know it’s true, so there’s no need to try and deny it. The memory of his lips on yours still burns hot in your mind. 

“Did you not like it?” you look at Suguru with furrowed brows. He looks oddly vulnerable in front of you. 

“It was nice,” you say after a while, tasting the words on your tongue. You choose them carefully, letting them lull before you let them go. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“You were the one who kissed me.” 

He sounds amused, and you feel your face grow hot as you stare at the waves. You purse your lips, holding back a smile, before bashfully meeting Suguru’s eyes. 

“You practically initiated it. Don’t act all innocent.” you reply, and Suguru clutches his stomach as he laughs. 

“You’re a real minx, you know that?” He says and you gasp. 

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!”

Silence envelops you. You both watch the waves crash against the cliffs. 

“Does he mean it?” you ask. “Can I leave?” 

Suguru sighs. He nods. “Yes, he does.” For some reason, it’s not relief you feel washing over you. Instead, it’s a sense of disappointment. 

“You can leave, but,” a hand finds your thigh, travelling up. A shudder runs through you as Suguru moves closer, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. He looks up at you through his lashes. “I don’t want you to. Neither does Satoru.” 

Oh. Your whole body feels hot now. Suguru’s breath against your neck feels scorching, and your breath hitches. His thumb runs circles into your thigh, and you bite your lip, letting the words sink in. They don’t want you to leave. 

“But you would let me?” you say, and Suguru hums, trailing kisses up along your neck, reaching your jaw. “Yes, if you really wanted to.” 

You feel your resolve crumble. Suguru’s lips feel wet and hot against your skin. “How about this?” Suguru says words slightly muffled as he kisses your shoulder again. “Come back with me tonight.” This time he kisses the corner of your lips, and you move to look at him, your lips nearly touching. “Stay with us for now.” Purple eyes flicker between your own and your lips. “You can leave any time.” It’s merely a whisper, but you know it’s a promise as well. 

Your mind races with thoughts. Why even claim you in the first place if they’re just going to let you leave? There are so many things you want to ask, to say, but all of it comes to a short when Suguru finally presses his lips to yours, and any resistance you might have had disappears and is replaced with Suguru. Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

He pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. “Come back with me, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Gojo says, and you purse your lips. “I really am. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you punched that guy. He deserved it.” You nod and meet his eyes. He looks hesitant, almost pained. As if he’s begging you to say something. Anything. 

“Thank you, Gojo,”

“Satoru. Call me Satoru, please,” he says, and you close your mouth, blinking at him. You feel Suguru’s hand on your lower back, guiding you closer to the tent. 

“Satoru,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue. Satoru nods and grabs your hand once you’re close enough. Suguru’s inside the tent already, watching your interaction closely. You let yourself be pulled in by Satoru, who smiles down at you. 

“He came by earlier. Demanded that I punish you.” 

You feel your cheeks grow hot, but you don’t back down. 

“Yeah, and what did you tell him?”

“I told him he was a sorry excuse for a man and that if he ever as much as looked at you again, I’d have his head.” 

It all feels so rash. So quick. Satoru’s barely looked at you for months, and all it took to get his attention was punching some guy in the throat? He’s clearly enticed by you now, but you’re not sure if this sudden attention is a blessing or a curse. Satoru might seem calm, but you know as well as anyone that it barely takes anything to tick him off. 

You look at Suguru behind Satoru. Satoru follows your gaze, looking at Suguru as well.

“Are you going to join us, little dove?” Suguru asks, and you hesitantly step fully inside the tent, letting Satoru close the curtain behind you. You’ve been inside this tent more times than you can count, yet you can’t deny that it feels entirely different at this moment. It feels somehow hotter and smaller as you make your way towards Suguru. You know Satoru is right behind you, even though he’s so light on his feet that you can hardly hear him. 

Suguru encourages you to come closer, guiding your hands around his neck. His own hands settle on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin in comforting motions. Slowly, you lean up, your lips ghosting against his, yet it’s Suguru who closes the gap and kisses you. Suguru kisses you slowly like he’s got all the time in the world. You sigh into the kiss, letting yourself completely surrender. 

You almost forget Satoru is there until you feel his strong arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he presses you flush against Suguru’s body. You’re caged between the two giant men, moaning into Suguru’s mouth as Satoru deftly nibbles at your neck. 

“Let us make it up to you, little dove,” Satoru murmurs.

It’s not long before he gets impatient and lifts you. You gasp as your feet lift off the ground, and you’re moved to his bed, sinking into his blankets and pillows. For a man as rough as Satoru, you’re surprised by how soft his bed is. 

“Satoru,” you gasp as he gets on top of you, and he kisses you with fervour, sucking on your tongue and exploring your mouth. If Suguru kisses like he has all the time in the world, Satoru kisses you as though he’ll never have enough. He kisses like a starved man, like he’ll devour you if you let him. 

You might. 

Suguru joins you both on the bed. “Now, now, Satoru, you’ll scare her off,” he jokes, pulling the white-haired man off you. You gasp for breath, and your jaw goes slack as you watch Suguru bring Satoru in for a kiss. The two men kiss in front of you, and never in a million years did you imagine that you’d end up here. Yet here you are.

Satoru moans into Suguru’s mouth before Suguru pulls away and kisses you again. Satoru moves down your legs, kissing your thighs. Your dress is pulled up to bunch around your waist, Satoru being much too impatient to remove it, as his thumb finds you clit through your undergarments and begins rubbing circles into the small bundle of nerves. You moan into Suguru’s mouth, burying your hands in his hair, as Satoru watches your every reaction from between your legs. 

“Sensitive little one, are you?” Suguru chuckles as he pulls away and caresses your cheek. “Let’s help you get this off, shall we?” Satoru gives your thigh one last kiss before you stand on wobbly legs and let Suguru help you remove your dress. He does so with care, kissing your nape as he unties the back. He goes to pull it off, but you cross your arms over your chest, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. “You first,” you say, and Suguru doesn’t hesitate to pull off his tunic. You watch over your shoulder, taking in his impressive build. He’s covered with scars from jagged blades and swords, and you can’t help but want to kiss each one. Your eyes flicker towards Satoru, who’s staring at Suguru with equal hunger. You don’t doubt that he’s already kissed them all. 

Slowly, Suguru moves over to you and helps you shrug out of your dress until it’s in a puddle around your feet. You shrug your undergarments off as well, leaving you fully naked. The chill air in the tent caresses your body, leaving goosebumps all over. 

You turn around to find two pairs of eyes burning into you, running along every curve of your body. “You’re beautiful, little dove,” Suguru says, but it’s Satoru who makes the first move, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the bed, straight onto his lap. “C’mere,” he rasps, and immediately attaches his mouth to your nipple, sucking on it. You gasp and bury your hands in his hair, tugging on his white locks. He flicks his tongue, grinning up at you as you grind down on him, chasing friction. 

You feel overwhelmed and hot all over as Suguru comes up behind Satoru, leaning in to capture your lips in yet another kiss. His hands roam under Satoru’s tunic, making him moan into your chest before he tugs at the bottom of his shirt. Satoru departs from your nipple, now wet with saliva, to help Suguru remove his tunic. Your jaw drops at his toned chest and milky skin. 

Satoru seems to light up the tent as he glows with health and sends you a bright smile, encouraging you to touch him. You roam your hands over his abs, and his chest, landing on his biceps. “Like what you see?” he asks, and you smile teasingly. “Hmm, I’ve seen better,” you reply, and Satoru gasps, putting a hand to his chest in dismay. 

“Who could you possibly–” Your eyes flicker to Suguru behind him, and Satoru grumbles slightly. “Fair enough,” 

It’s teasing as you grab Satoru’s chin and press a chaste kiss to his lips. And another. Right when he licks your bottom lip, you pull away again, letting him chase you before you kiss him again. 

“Oh, seems we have a tease on our hands, Satoru,” Suguru says. “Let’s change that, shall we?” Satoru merely hums, flashing you a set of pearly whites, before you’re flipped onto the bed. The two men loom over you as you’re splayed against the sheets, completely bare. With their full attention now on you, you feel like you’ve walked straight into the wolf’s jaw, leaving you completely vulnerable. 

Satoru grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart, and a delighted gasp leaves him. “Is this all for us, princess?” he asks, running a finger along your sopping cunt and gathering your slick. He flicks your clit before bringing his hand to Suguru’s mouth, who wraps his lips around Satoru’s digit. The sight is utterly sinful, and you moan, lips parted and completely speechless. 

Suguru releases Satoru’s finger with a pop, and he grins at you. “Tastes so sweet.” He grabs your thighs and pulls you in until his face is hovering right above your cunt. He blows on it slightly, and you moan.

The pretty little sounds you make, make Suguru let out a scoff, and you realise that Suguru is not as nice as he has been letting on. No, Suguru Geto is a cruel, cruel man. He attaches his mouth to your clit, and sucks, making you arch your back and moan out loud. Satoru chuckles beside you as he kisses you, swallowing up your moans, before he moves down, pressing kisses to your collarbone until he reaches your breasts. He sucks on your nipples, his eyes keenly watching your every reaction, while Suguru continues sucking on your clit, two fingers entering you. You gasp and writhe as he fucks you open on his fingers, slowly curling them to hit your G-spot. 

He continues his torture on your poor cunt, scissoring you open till you can practically taste your release on your tongue. Then he pulls away with a final kiss to your clit. You whine as your orgasm ebbs away. “No, what–” you go to complain, pouting at Suguru, who simply shakes his head. 

“Not yet, little dove,” Suguru says before he removes his bottoms, leaving him entirely nude in front of you. You gape at him, his pretty cock slapping against his stomach, leaking precum already. Satoru kisses your cheek before removing his bottoms as well. You’re now left with two pretty leaking cocks in front of you, and you go entirely mute. 

“Me first,” Satoru says. Suguru teasingly rolls his eyes, but nevertheless, he lets Satoru do as he’d like. You’re placed in Suguru’s lap, his cock sitting against your back, as he holds your legs spread for Satoru. 

Satoru sits in front of you, slowly running his tip along your weeping folds. It’s a cacophony of limbs and hands, and you feel hot all over. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Suguru kisses your nape as Satoru’s cock finally catches your entrance. He groans slightly, pushing in. Three pairs of eyes are all locked on where the two of you connect. The stretch is borderline obscene. You struggle to stay sane as he pushes further in, swallow thrusts stretching you open. Satoru’s hand finds your clit, thumb rubbing firm circles to ease the pressure. “Relax for me, princess,” he says, and you whine, your head lolling over Suguru’s shoulder. “Gods, Toru, it’s so much,” you say, and Satoru whines, his cock twitching inside of you. 

“Doing so well, the both of you.” Suguru’s hands move from your legs to Satoru’s hips, pushing him all the way in. You stay like that for a while, bodies flush and hot against each other, before Satoru begins thrusting in and out, panting with each thrust. He kisses Suguru over your shoulder as you’re completely lost in the haze of pleasure, his tip repeatedly kissing your G-spot. 

Suguru soon grows impatient; the friction is not nearly enough. He kisses your neck and nibbles your earlobe, his breath hot against your ear. “Think you can take the both of us, princess?” You nod, letting Suguru press a kiss to your lips. At this moment, you think you’d do anything Suguru asked of you. You’re so completely under his spell as you let him lift you and slowly push into you, groaning at the feel of Satoru’s cock against his own. 

Satoru is a mess. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes lidded, and his hair more messy than ever. He watches where you’re all connected, a broken moan leaving him as he continues to fuck you. Suguru lifts your hips, moving you up and down on his length. It’s not long before you come apart on their cocks, having never felt so full before. Stretched to your limit, your walls pulse and clench around both of their cocks as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Suguru groans into your neck. “Yeah, let go for us, princess; there you go." With a voice soft as silk, he continues to bounce you up and down like a toy, chasing his own high. Satoru follows you promptly, having been on the edge for what felt like ages already. He spills into you, painting your walls white, instantly whining at the sensitivity as Suguru continues to use you. 

White globs of cum spill out of you as loud, squelching noises fill the room. You’d have half a mind to feel embarrassed if you weren’t so busy being split apart. Satoru pulls out and goes back to sucking on your breasts, flicking your nipples. It’s not long before Suguru comes as well, filling you up with his own cum. You’re utterly spent, slouching back against him. 

All three of your bodies are sweaty and sticky. Cum spills out of where you’re still sitting on Suguru’s cock. Your eyes are barely open. You feel utterly content as your body hums with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Princess? You still with us?” Suguru asks, and Satoru detaches himself from your nipple, giving your cheek a kiss. You nod lazily. “Yeah, just... let me catch my breath,” you mumble, feeling your eyelids grow droopy. A deep laughter vibrates behind you as you slip away. 

“Play for us, Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is calm and soft, like silk. You feel a weight lift from the bed as Satoru gets out of bed. Sleepily, you open your eyes, watching as Satoru brings out a lyre. He sits down and runs his fingers over the strings, a small melody leaving the instrument. 

He looks beautiful, you think, and more like a god than ever. The small lamp lighting up the tent makes his skin glow, and his eyes look like the ocean. He plays for the two of you, and you allow yourself to melt into Suguru’s embrace as he absentmindedly traces patterns into your skin. 

Satoru is beauty and grace. It amazes you how hands capable of such killing are now producing the most beautiful melodies you’ve ever heard. Suguru kisses the top of your head, and you look up, meeting purple eyes as he sends you a small smile. 

At this moment, you feel completely content. If this is your life from now on, then so be it. Which is why you let Suguru grab your chin and kiss you, your lips moving against one another as music fills the small tent. 

You sleep in Satoru and Suguru’s tent after that night, lodged in between the two men. Satoru will wrap his arms around you, burying his face in your chest as your back is pressed against Suguru’s chest, and he’ll wrap an arm around the both of you. You sleep better than you have in months. You think less and less of your old life, of your husband and brothers, yet guilt gnaws in your chest on other nights. 

It’s weird how one night can change everything. Something in the dynamic has shifted. You’re no longer a prisoner or slave; you can leave whenever you’d like, yet you choose not to. Satoru knows it too. He is gentler with you, often bringing you in for hugs or making you sit in his lap. He’ll play with your hair or your fingers, and run his hands over your body. 

You let him. 

Suguru is the same as ever. He’s always been kind, and he remains so, yet it doesn’t take long for your little bubble to break. 

The plague comes before you know it. It starts with the rats. There’s always been rats at the camp; it’s only natural. However, dead rats are a whole other thing. And they’re everywhere. It’s not long before the men begin to get sick as well. Horribly sick. 

You burn pyre after pyre, building new tents where the sick can lay, but it’s not nearly enough. Men are falling like rats, one after another. You go to help Shoko, a priestess of Artemis and expert at making remedies, but even she can’t do anything. 

“It’s not natural,” she says one night, as you tend to a young man. She looks up at you, and you meet her tired eyes as she gives you a blank look. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

“It’s because of him,” Satoru says one night. You’re lying with your head in Suguru’s lap, eyes closed, as his hand traces patterns into your back. You feel Suguru tense underneath you, his patterns momentarily stopping before he resumes. 

“I talked with the priest. It’s definitely a punishment,” Satoru continues. Suguru sighs. You do your best to lay still, pretending to be asleep. 

“We don’t know that for sure, Satoru,” Suguru replies, and you can hear the way Satoru begins pacing the room in annoyance. 

“Yes, we do! He refused to give the girl back. All of a sudden, there’s a plague? What else could it be?” Suguru shushes Satoru, and you can tell he’s motioning to you. 

“What are you going to do then? You can’t just kill Yoshinobu.” Suguru says in a hushed voice. There’s a long silence. 

“I could,” Satoru says, this time in a lower voice. “I could at least confront him,” he adds, and you feel him nearing closer. The two men kiss above you, and you snuggle closer to Suguru. 

“The old man is too prideful for his own good,” Satoru says eventually, and Suguru lets out a chuckle that makes vibrations run through you. 

“Yeah. Now come back to bed. You can confront him some other time.” 

“Hey, are you awake?”

“Nobara? What’s going on?”

Nobara peeks in at you from the door through the tent. You stretch your limbs and sit up in the bed where you've been napping.

“You need to get up,” she says as a matter of fact, and you oblige, getting out of bed. You slip on your dress and fix your hair as best you can before walking towards her. Nobara has a sort of unreadable expression, and you furrow your brows in worry. “What’s going on?” you repeat, and she gives you a solemn look. 

“Come with me.” 

You stumble out through the camp, closely behind Nobara as she grips your hand. She keeps her gaze forward, and there’s a sickening feeling settling in your stomach. 

“They’re fighting,” she says. You frown. 

“Who?” you ask, and Nobara shakes her head. 

“I was washing clothes when Maki came running.” She looks back at you now. “The green-haired girl from Itadori’s camp,” she explains, and you nod, having seen her around.

You walk for a while until you realise that you’re going to Yoshinobu’s camp. “What’s going on?” you ask again, and Nobara pales slightly. 

“Remember when they sacked Apollo’s temple a couple of days ago?” You nod. Satoru was proud when he came home. He’d kissed your cheek and given you a necklace with a small coin and a lyre engraved in it. You were still wearing it. 

“Well, they brought a girl as well. Miwa. She’s a priestess of Apollo,” Nobara further explains, and you feel your heart tighten. “Yoshinobu claimed her. A couple of days later, Miwa’s father, also a priest of Apollo, came and offered gold to get her back. Yoshinobu refused.” 

You feel yourself grow sick. Apollo isn’t only the god of the sun and poetry. He’s also the god of healing and diseases. You remember Shoko’s words. It’s not natural. No, it’s a punishment for Yoshinobu for not giving Miwa back to her father. 

“So what are we gonna do? Yoshinobu has to give her back, right? It’s only right.” You reply. Maybe if Yoshinobu relents, Apollo will draw back his punishment. 

“Yes, that’s why they’re fighting,” Nobara replies. Your brows furrow. 

“Who’s fighting, Nobara?” Nobara doesn’t answer. 

Ice fills your veins when you get there. Men are everywhere, whispering and gathering around the podium, usually used to make encouraging speeches before a battle. You both push your way through the crowd until you’re close enough to see and hear what’s happening. 

Satoru looks beautiful, as he always does. In comparison to Yoshinobu’s frail build, he looks like a god, standing tall and proud on the podium. 

Yuuta, a priest, stands between them, looking more pale than ever. “Tell me, Yuuta, what is the reason for this plague that’s been bestowed upon us?” Satoru’s voice cuts through the crowd. 

Yuuta’s eyes dart between Yoshinobu and Satoru, and sweat beads down his forehead. You’re glad to not be in his position as Yoshinobu glares daggers into the young man, and Satoru calmly smiles at him. 

Satoru puts a hand on Yuuta’s shoulder and sends him a reassuring smile that you know would’ve made your knees weak had it been directed towards you. It seemingly has the same effect on Yuuta because he visibly calms down, although he’s still tense. 

“I promise you that if you speak the truth now, I will protect you with my life. Do not be afraid,” Satoru says. Men around you murmur to each other, but no one dares intervene, all nervously watching the scene unfold before them. 

“The god of the sun, Apollo, is angry,” Yuuta says, his voice coming out frail. “The plague is a punishment,” he adds, and whispers spread through the crowd. 

“As if we didn’t already know that,” a man beside you says under his breath, and Nobara snickers. Her hand is clutched in yours, and you give her a small squeeze. 

“And why is the god angry?” Satoru asks, and Yuuta somehow grows paler. He glances at Yoshinobu before staring at his hands again. 

He says something under his breath that none of you can hear and Yoshinobu huffs. “Speak up, boy,” he complains, and Yuuta frowns. 

“The god is angry because you took the girl and ignored her father's wishes for her to return,” Yuuta says. Satoru smiles victoriously. “The priest came on behalf of the god, and you insulted him to his face. Return the girl to her father or continue to suffer the consequences.”

Your brows fly up, and the crowd goes silent. “Didn’t know he had guts like that,” Nobara whispers. Satoru forward and turns to the crowd. 

“Well, there you have it, my good men. Yoshinobu simply needs to return the girl, and the plague will cease,” Satoru says. You watch Yoshinobu’s face go red with anger as he clenches his fists. 

“I will not,” Yoshinobu says, and once again, men begin talking to each other. You look around. Many of them look angry, with clenched fists and furrowed brows. They have seen their brothers and friends die, and they are clearly not happy that Yoshinobu is refusing to give Miwa back to her father. 

Satoru looks equally angry as he turns to Yoshinobu. Yoshinobu merely smiles. It’s clear he’s about to go on a rampage, but Yoshinobu speaks again before Satoru can do anything.

“Alright. I’ll give up my girl.” pleased murmurs run through the crowd. Yoshinobu’s smile drops. 

“But it’s not fair that I have to go without a girl. Since you’re so insistent that I should give up mine, it only makes sense that you give up yours as well, doesn’t it, Gojo?”

A challenge. It’s as clear as day. You feel your heart sink into your stomach. Satoru’s eye twitches. You wait for him to take on the challenge. To say no. To do anything, really. Nobara squeezes your hand. 

Satoru doesn’t do anything. He simply nods. 

You wait in his tent until Satoru comes back. He barely looks at you as he makes a beeline for the wine standing on the table. You feel a lump in your throat as you watch him pour the wine, downing the cup's contents immediately afterwards. 

“You’re going to let them take me,” you say, as a matter of fact, and Satoru stills. He stares at his empty cup, and you nod slowly, a scoff escaping you. 

“I can’t believe you,” you say, and Satoru frowns, finally looking up to meet you. Ice blue pierces through you as he runs a hand through his messy hair. 

“It’s not that simple,” he replies, and you laugh. It’s a hollow sound, devoid of emotion. 

“You’re the strongest, aren’t you? If you wanted to stop them, you could.”

“It’s not just about who’s the strongest. Yoshinobu is the king; if I don’t follow his command, I’m directly challenging him. What I did earlier today was already out of line. 

Ah. Men and their honour. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Honour is what started this whole thing, is it not? Yet you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought something had shifted between you and Satoru. That you were somehow equal. He had let you leave, and you had chosen to stay. 

“What about me, Satoru?” you ask. One last attempt to save yourself. Satoru pours himself some more wine. His back is turned to you. 

“Yoshinobu won’t hurt you. Just go with his men.”

You were wrong. You were never Satoru’s equal. Satoru Gojo doesn’t have equals. He only has inferiors. 

Suguru finds you as you’re packing your belongings. At least you’re pretending to. Everything you own has been gifted to you by Satoru, which now leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “Princess,” he gasps, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind and his head settling on your shoulder. You stare ahead at the dresses in front of you. 

“I tried talking to him; I promise you we’ll find a way to get you back. Satoru just needs to swallow his honour–” You scoff and remove Suguru’s arms from you, sitting down on your bed. You haven’t slept in it for weeks.

Suguru looks pained as he kneels in front of you, gripping your hands in your lap. “I’ll help you. It’s not fair that this happened to you; if Gojo marries you, then they can’t–”

“Suguru,” you smile and squeeze his hands. “It’s alright. My life’s never been fair. There’s nothing you can do.” 

Nobara’s head slips into the tent, eyes darting between the two of you. “They’re here,” she says, and you nod, getting up. You glance at the countless dresses and decide to leave them behind. They were never yours to begin with anyway. 

Two men escort you to Yoshinobu’s camp. They look terrified, constantly glancing around, taking in their surroundings, but Satoru merely watches as you’re led away from his camp. 

The rest is a blur. You’re confined to your own tent, made to wear extravagant gowns and heavy jewellery, and paraded around like a batch of honour. You feel sick. Yoshinobu has little to no interest in you, barely glancing your way. You serve wine at his dinners now, and besides that, you sit in your tent and count the hours. It’s a boring existence compared to the one you got used to at the old camp. Yoshinobu already has concubines who've been with him since the war started. They don’t take much notice of you, mostly ignoring your presence as everyone else does. 

Nobara manages to visit you once, updating you on what’s going on outside of your tiny tent. Satoru is refusing to fight. He spends his days much like you, sulking in his tent and ignoring everyone. 

No one knows what’s happening, but the war has suddenly turned. The Greeks are losing repeatedly against the Trojans, who are pushing them back closer and closer to where you’re settled on the beach. 

It’s all a mess. 

Your anger towards Satoru only grows stronger the longer you’re left behind. A small slither of hope had remained in you—that he’d somehow come to his senses, suck up his pride, and come get you. Yet he’s stubbornly decided to be a child yet again. 

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling when you hear a sudden noise outside your tent. 

“Princess? You in here?” 

“Suguru,” you gasp as he walks into the tent. You immediately stand up and throw your arms around the man. He returns the hug, holding you close as you sink into his embrace. He runs his hands through your hair and cups your cheeks. Purple eyes examine you from head to toe, concern etched into them. 

“Are you alright? Has he touched you?” Suguru asks, and you shake your head, intertwining your fingers with his. “No, I’m alright. I don’t think the old man could even if he wanted to,” you jest, and Suguru frowns, shaking his head.

A silence dawns upon you, and you clear your throat, shame overtaking you as you remember how you left him. Suguru looks horrible. His long hair falls down over his shoulders, and bangs fall in front of his eyes. And his eyes, oh his eyes. Usually filled with nothing but kindness, they’re now circled by dark bags. It’s clear he hasn’t been sleeping. 

“Suguru, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you.” Despite it all, Suguru smiles. It’s a tired smile and a clear facade, but you let him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I tried to convince Satoru to not let them take you, but he’s so stubborn-”

“It’s fine, Sugu. It’s not your fault,” you interrupt as you grab his face and kiss his nose. “They treat me well. It’s clearly not about me and more a show of honour and power,” you say, and Suguru frowns deeply. He avoids your eyes, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“Satoru is still refusing to fight,” he says, and grief floods his face. “We’re losing the war.” 

His hands tremble in yours, and you stare in bewilderment, not knowing what to do with the broken man in front of you. 

“I just wish he would do something! All that power, and he refuses to use it.” He sounds angry now. “The strongest, and what does he do with it? Nothing!” His gaze softens as you flinch at his tone, having never seen this side of him before. 

“I’m going to fix things, okay? I have a plan. And then you can return home to us.” 

Suguru hugs you for the last time and sends you a smile. He kisses you before slipping out of the tent. You watch him from the door as he disappears into the camp. If you had known that this was the last time you’d see Suguru, you would have begged him to stay with you. Told him that Satoru’s honour wasn't something worth dying for. 

But you didn’t know. How could you? He was Suguru; he was Satoru’s rock; he was your rock. In your eyes, he seemed invincible. Nothing could ever truly harm Suguru Geto. 

You hear the yelling before you hear anything else. Loud, confused, screaming. People are running around the camp, and no one notices when you slip out of the tent to see what is happening. Your heart drops to your chest as you see Satoru’s lifeless body being carried by several men. Among them, you recognise Nanami. 

You go to help, but then Satoru’s helmet slips off, and you stop in your tracks. Long black hair spills down the man's shoulders. You look towards your old camp to see a white-haired man running out of his tent and towards the stumbling men. 

Slowly, you look back and forth between the two. Your heart jumps to your throat as you realise what has happened. 

Suguru Geto is dead. 

wow, things are getting heated, things are getting wild. how do we feel? :3

btw, the scene where satoru confronts yoshinobu is entirely from memory of when i read the iliad in school in january. (where achilles confronts agamemnon) i didn't feel like going back and rereading the scene, lol, it's a tough read, but i feel like i managed to capture it pretty well. also, this is fan fiction so i can do whatever i want. (insert maniacal laughter here.)

and yuuta is a priest of apollo, which i feel like goes well with his character! especially because in jjk 0 yuuta is caught between the higher ups and satoru, which he also is here!! hee hee, look at me go. (would that make rika apollo?? nooo, i'm gonna stop now, sorry.)

thank you for reading! <3

chapter three -> series masterlist | general masterlist

wave divider by cafekitsune | fish divider by me! :D

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places. 

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks. 

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again. 

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you. 

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up. 

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear. 

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms. 

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now. 

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump. 

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside. 

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive. 

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones. 

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been. 

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch. 

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen. 

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive. 

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female. 

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him. 

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs. 

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears. 

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.” 

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.  

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole. 

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them. 

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time. 

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so. 

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.” 

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway. 

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget. 

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you’d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another. 

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger @hjzghi-blog @natalieispunk (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[ladylannisterxo]

... the one where spence takes an interest

Pairings; Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Words; 0.6k

Warnings; one use of Y/N but this was written back before I stopped using it lol but other than that, none, just fluff!

Summary; {requested} "Not to pester you, I had this thought and wanted to share is all, but could you imagine talking to Spencer about something you're really excited about (like a movie/tv show/game or something) and the next day he starts talking to you in length about it, and it turns out he went home that night and read/watched everything he could on the subject."

A/N; goodness, I wrote this years ago on another blog and since I've been rewatching Criminal Minds, I figured I'd go ahead and post it again (cause why not?)... the one and only thing I ever wrote for Dr. Spencer Reid ajdhsakdshak

{ masterlist }

You didn't plan this. Really, you didn't. But you know how it goes when you start binging a new tv series: just one more episode... and then before you know it, it's 2:00am.

Now you're sitting in the bullpen. It's 8:00am and you're constantly rubbing at your tired eyes and chugging coffee like your life depends on it.

And Spencer is wearing a curious expression, already extrapolating possibilities as to what could have kept you awake last night.

But he doesn't mention it. Not when the team is discussing the new case, not even on the jet en route to your destination. He waits until it's just you and him, paired off to go talk to the medical examiner about the latest victim.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little tired."

He smiles warmly, offering you an amused glance before fixing his eyes back on the road. "I gathered. What kept you up?"

"You know, I just..."

But then you realize you don't want to tell him, not really. To you, staying up super late to watch a tv show seems embarrassing when compared to how he most likely spent his night.

You imagine that he read around six books, most of which were probably in a language you didn't understand. Or maybe he called his mom to check in with her. Or maybe he had nightmares himself and so he thinks that's exactly what happened with you...

Any scenario you think of infinitely sounds better than oh, you know, I just stayed up super late watching some trashy guilty pleasure tv show because I have no self control.

"Nothing really," you settle on, "it's dumb."

"Try me."

So you cave, mostly because you're too tired to fight. He listens intently as you tell him about the new show you found, how it's completely ridiculous but it allows you to step out of your life for a bit and relax.

He doesn't say much, just nods along as you talk and before you know it, you've arrived at your destination and it's back to work.

Spencer actually doesn't mention your conversation again for the remainder of the case and finally, the unsub is in custody and the team is back home to enjoy a nice, long weekend.

You don't see or hear from Spencer during this time but first thing Monday morning, he's greeting you as you step off the elevator with a cup of coffee and a bright smile.

... and then he tells you he spent the weekend watching the first season of the show you mentioned and to his surprise, he really enjoyed it.

To say you're confused is an understatement but you listen as he discusses every character and what he thinks of the current story arc.

"Spencer," you laugh, resting your hand on his arm and halting his speech. "Not that I'm not thrilled to talk about this but I really wasn't expecting you to go home and watch an entire season of a show just because I mentioned it."

He smiles sheepishly, eyes lingering on where your hand still rests on his arm.

"You were really excited about it though."

"And?"

"And it seemed important to you... so it's important to me."

A smile pulls itself across your face and you open your mouth to respond when you're both interrupted by Garcia letting you know there's another case.

"Hold that thought," you inquire.

"It's impossible for me to forget it."

And just like that, you're discussing trashy tv with Dr. Spencer Reid during any downtime that you're granted. You gush about your favorite character and he theorizes future story arcs while simultaneously pointing out behavioral inaccuracies.

"People do not speak like that in that kind of situation, Y/N."

"It's tv, Spence, it's supposed to be unrealistic. That's what makes it fun."

+ Bonus: if it's a series that is currently airing, you both come into the office the next morning and excitedly discuss every single thing that happened and then theorize on what could possibly happen next.