#your juicy armpit

[broccoli-bitching]

No. Don't look away from me. Don't shy away from what I am. Read my name, and then read it again, and then again, take within its full disgusting breadth until it's a part of you

[mr2swap]

Swap syndrome 2: armpit addiction.

-damn heat… -

The time on my cell phone showed 2:05, the idiot Travis had made me wait but in a way that made me happy I would have to charge him $50 more for being late.

Today was a very fucking day at the gym, it was so hot that I had to change my shirt, but still the rancid aroma of sweat coming from my hairy armpits filled the interior with my car, I was in the same parking lot of the gym where it is only A couple of minutes had left a huge sweat stain on the floor.

But despite everything I loved my new life, after the great shift and finding myself in this boy's hot and muscular body, from the beginning I knew this was a good thing, when I woke up in Travis's bedroom and looked down to see two juicy pecs, a sculpted six-pack and long, hairy legs, the first thing I did was take out my huge cock that was hidden among a leafy bush of hair and give myself the best handjob of my entire life.

It had been a little over a year since that moment, I quickly got used to Travis' life, kept his muscles big and strong and all thanks to his tiny YouTube channel where he showed all his exercise routines, but that was all wasted talent for Travis' glorious, beautiful body.

I no longer had my college degree or anyone to turn to, yet I was able to easily make money from all these fags, who wanted to sleep with me and this body.

Still not in the same city where I used to live, I watched the news and learned everything that had been happening in the world and that the real Travis was out there in my tired, flabby 40-year-old office worker body.

A tapping on my car window brought me out of my thoughts, it was the real Travis I grimaced in disgust as I looked at my old face once more in front of me, I looked at the time on my phone once more, and now it was 2:07 that now meant $70.

The door of my car and Travis jumped inside it, his first action was to completely inhale the disgusting smell inside the car, after that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, After that he lunged at me trying to reach my armpits, but in one movement I moved his old, ugly face away from me.

-You know the rules Travis, first I want the bills-

He extended one of my hands while he took out his wallet and extended a small wad of cash. In one quick movement, I snatched the bills from him and began to count them one by one while a nervous expression formed on the real Travis's face.

-Are you fucking with me? Only $500? -

There was nothing left of the old confident Travis, the confident, outgoing boy had disappeared, in his place there was only a perverted faggot who paid me for a few minutes of my attention due to swap syndrome. When we swapped our bodies, I thought I would get rid of him to always, but this pathetic middle-aged man was clinging to me like a leech trying to get close to me with his twisted homosexual intentions. I didn't really care what he did with my old body, but I thought I could make some money a month by squeezing every penny of this situation.

-Please! Just, just 5 minutes! I had to pay this month's rent and my landlord told me that if I was late another month he would throw me out on the street.-

I rolled my eyes as Travis the bitch kept giving me stupid excuses about how hard it was to find a good job now that he was a middle-aged man and he was tired all the time from working so much.

-Okay, just shut your fucking mouth.-

I put my hand on his head and pushed him into one of my hairy pits and choked his nose with the sour sweat that was collecting in my armpits. The initial struggle quickly turned into pleasure, I could feel Tyler's breathing slow. He shook until he filled his lungs, his mouth savored the curly hairs of my armpit and sucked up the small drops of sweat with his dirty tongue as if he had crossed a desert.

Tyler's small hands slid to his crotch and he began to frantically massage his cock over his pants, occasionally Tyler would move away from my armpit to get some air and lick my muscular arms with his disgusting sticky tongue, I watched as they passed minutes on my cell phone and before 5 minutes had passed, Tyler's small wrinkled cock soiled his pants with semen.

I pushed Tyler away and a satisfied smile formed on Tyler's face, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover from the addictive experience he had just experienced, a few hairs from my armpit had stuck to his face and a stain of sweat had formed on the collar of his shirt.

I didn't have time for this, this experience had made me horny, I wanted to unload the enormous amount of cum that wanted to escape from my huge hairy balls, but the disgusting man next to me was not worthy of this...nor did I have another $500

I extended one of my long, muscular arms and opened the door of my luxurious sports car.

-Now get out bitch, see you next week-

As soon as I clean every trace of Tyler from my car, I'll call some of my girls, so I can fill their pussies with my beautiful, hot seed.

This is a second installment of the swap syndrome story, but the only thing they share in common is the same syndrome that is spreading among those affected by the great shift, you can see more by visiting my Ko-fi page:

Hello, if you liked this story, and you want more, you can take a look at my new Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

[kissitbttr]

“toji, baby? can you do alena’s hair please?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing simple breakfast for your little family,

he nods at you, giving a short kiss on your cheek as a confirmation before heading towards his little girl’s play pen. his eyes brighten when alena is busying herself with her my little pony plushies, adorable messy hair comes into view making him chuckle,

“hey ya sweetheart, having fun?” toji walks around to face his pretty baby, the sound of her dad’s voice causing her to look up. he swears the moment her big round eyes stare at him, he’s ready to kill anyone who dares to try take his daughter away,

with a toothy smile, she babbles away while clapping her chubby hands. feeling excited to see her dad there, seemingly cannot wait to be picked up by him,

“aren’t you the prettiest girl i have ever seen, hm? aside from mama of course. dunno what she sees in me. she’s a ten and i’m not. i’m happy she chose me, though. such a lucky bastard” toji makes sure to whisper the last word to himself because he doesn’t want his daughter to hear him cuss.

his hands go under her armpits before lifting her up, little legs kicking away in excitement making toji chuckles. “time to do my little alena’s hair!”

he brings her to the baby chair near the dining room, where you can see it too. your eyes look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of him setting your baby down,

“got anything to work on today?”

toji shakes his head, rolling the sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows. “nah. took a day off. i’m letting shiu handling it today”

one of your eyebrows quirks up, turning out to plate the cut up fruits and eggs on the table. “oh yeah? what if there’s something really important come up that you need to—“

“i need my girls more” he cuts you off with a soft voice and a grin, his eyes look up to you and see you mirroring his smile but it’s much more prettier to him. “plus, i’m sure they can handle not having their ceo for today. and tomorrow. maybe”

his fingers move to thread lightly under the strands of alena’s hair as she toys with a little action figure toji had gifted her few days prior. it keeps herself busied while he’s doing her hair,

“how about you, baby? got any meetings or anything?”

you shrug, grabbing a few utensils. “just one with the team to discuss the launch of our newest design. should be quick, though. hopefully. i need to speed up the process and everything because it seems that everyone is fuc—freaking slow.”

he chuckles, tying a band around alena’s mini bun. “i’m sure you can handle it, darling. you’re ruthless like that. one of the reasons why i fell on love with you, is it?”

“would you still, if i had to kill them?”

“absolutely” he answers without hesitation making you laugh,

“god, we are bad parents”

“don’t know what you’re talking about. we’re pretty good at what we’re doing” toji smiles at his baby, who suddenly chucks the toy towards the table. “damn, our baby got strength”

“got that from you, i think” you lean towards the table and snatch a cut up strawberry before plucking it into your mouth,

“nope. that’s from you” he corrects, softly patting alena’s hair that are sticking out. “remember when we had an argument and you almost hit me with—“

“we do not talk about that” you shake your head, not wanting to remember,

“was pretty sexy to me” he replies casually. “i was so turned on by that”

both of you share a laugh, causing alena to look up at both of you at the sound of it.

“so—do i get to see my pretty wife’s latest design or—“ toji trails off, planting a kiss on alena’s chubby cheek before grabbing a handful of berries for himself,

you tilt your head to the side, a small smirk tugs upon your lips and toji immediately catches what that look meant for,

“i see trouble” he eyes you for a second, chewing on the juicy fruit. “is it sexy? god, if it was you can’t keep teasing me, baby. i’d die”

“so dramatic, you won’t die”

“i will for you though” and he means it. “is it dresses? leather involved perhaps?”

shaking your head, you reply “lingeries, babe. night gowns, garters, panties. all that”

and toji suddenly stops moving. breathing even. his eyes widening at the mention of lingeries,

“oh fuck. you are killing me.”

“toji! language!”

but alena just laughs at her silly banter between her parents

[himbofan4444]

Greg had been dying to become popular, but his slender frame and lack of friends heavily detracted from that. He joined the wrestling team as a last ditch effort to gain attention, but he was exceedingly poor at it. One day he went to the coach to ask for help.

“Coach, I think I’m going to quit the team.”

“Why? You have so much potential.”

“To be honest, I don’t care if I have potential. I just want to be popular.”

“Oh you do? Well wrestling should help with that.”

“Not if I never win.”

“What if I made it so you did win?”

“How would you do that?”

“Listen Greg. Nobody knows about this but I have a steroid to help you grow overnight. Would you be interested?”

“What? Overnight? Can I have it now?”

“Hold on tiger. I wanted to give it to you at the lock-in next weekend just to make sure you don’t die. You interested?”

“Of course, sir!”

“Great I’ll see you next weekend then.”

After a week of anticipation, Greg went to the school for the lock-in. He was quickly pulled aside by the coach.

“Here kid. You have to inject it in one of your buttcheeks. Now go.”

Greg shakily pushed the needle into his buttcheek and injected the mysterious liquid. There was no instant effect. He walked to sit in the coach’s office as instructed. The coach sat seated in front of Greg to observe the changes.

“When is it supposed to start working?”

“It takes about twenty minutes I believe.”

They sat in silence until Greg felt a pulsing throughout his body.

“Oh I think I can feel it working.”

He felt his legs and back stretch quickly, his previous 4’11” self left as a 6’4” giant.

“Woah. I’m huge!”

“Oh kid this is just the beginning.”

His face changed rapidly. His once youthful face was replaced with a much more masculine one. His jaw and chin grew massive, his chin gaining a noticeable dimple. His lips grew plump and juicy. His nose grew wider and more prominent. His eyes got smaller and changed to a crystal blue. His eyebrows got thicker and shifted to rest lower on his face. His hair became blonde and grew into a curly mullet. He grew a dense pornstache as well.

His body was the next target. His neck widened significantly and his adam’s apple grew much larger. His shoulders widened and grew more muscular. His traps swelled and started to swallow his neck. His biceps swelled along with his triceps and forearms. His hands grew to double the size and his fingers grew thick and meaty. His once nonexistent pecs changed into huge muscle tits. His nipples got thicker. His lats and back swelled, his whole silhouette gaining significant size. His stomach formed a six-pack. His thighs grew huge, perfect for wrapping around his opponents. They were so large he could not comfortably walk. His calves swelled. His feet changed into an absurd size 20. They were so big he would constantly trip over them. His butt grew fat and fuckable, so that they would jiggle when he walked. His penis grew massive. It expanded to a monstrous uncut 12 inches with huge balls.

“Oh fuck that feels good…”

Greg flinched at hearing his voice. It was comically deep as he was comically large.

“How am I supposed to pass as a middle schooler? I’m huge!”

“You are a middle schooler, but you’re not 12 anymore.”

Greg tried to understand what he was just told but then the mental changes hit him all at once. His once high intellect shrunk to almost nothing. He couldn’t focus on anything except for his dick. He is now coach’s son and star player. He couldn’t pass 7th grade even at 19 years old. He has an IQ of 60 now, too stupid to do anything except wrestle, jerk off, and get fucked by his dad. He grew thick body hair all over, mostly around his armpits, balls, and chest. He gained a strong musk so strong his dad started to gag. Greg, or Gavin now, is the most popular guy at school, even if everyone has to plug their noses when talking to him. Coach hands him his a large hoodie, sweatpants, and huge shoes.

“Go put this on.”

“K Dad.”

Gavin pulls the clothes over his thick muscles, his huge dick and ass accentuated due to the tight fabric. He stomps his foot, causing his thick ass to jiggle hypnotically.

“Dad… I’m hornyyyyyy… Please fuck meee…”

“Gavin you know I can’t right now. I’m on duty. Maybe you should go play with the other kids.”

Gavin smiles and waddles away back to the gym, stumbling over his giant feet. He paws at his monster cock and pulls at his ass. He lifts his buff arm and sticks his face into the dense forest of hair in his armpit. He collapses on the floor and starts to masturbate to his obscene odor. He quickly realizes it’s impossible to smell his pits and wrap both of his hands around his huge cock, making him frustrated. He awkwardly stands up and forces his dick into the wall. He aggressively thrusts into the wall while lapping up the sweat accumulating in his hairy pits. He loudly pants and moans as he approaches climax. He releases copious amounts of cum, not even emptying his huge balls. He howls in pleasure as he falls back onto his fat jiggly ass. He passes out, his cock still sticking straight up.

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Mikey

Hi, I'm Mikey. I'd like to transformed into a more masculine guy, not an object. I'm a 20 year old bi guy from England, 177cm tall with fairly pale white skin, average build (not muscular but not exactly twinkish), short brown hair and not much facial hair to speak of.

A new transformation letter! There's no harm in wishing to be a bit manlier, right?

You have heard the rumors about these special transformation letters and decided to give it a try. Sure, there were reports of twisting wishes and not getting *exactly* what you asked for, but those were probably just exaggerations. It's the internet, after all.

So, you quickly summarized who you were and what you wanted to become - "more masculine" should suffice - and sent the letter.

You were just on your way home a good one and a half week later when you suddenly felt strange. The first thing that was almost immediately noticeable was your height, which increased quite a few centimeters, to a good 1,85 meters. That wasn't too bad for your trousers, they were only noticeably too short now, but your shirt and jacket were almost uncomfortable now. You looked around, and, after making sure nobody was there to see you, slipped out of both.

You can hardly believe what you are seeing! It worked! Where before you were a normal guy, you now looked down at a somewhat defined body! A visible six-pack and the subtle bulges of muscle on your arms and chest gave you a lean build. As you touch your face, you notice a difference there, too. Some stubble has formed on your chin, and your jaw has rearranged somewhat, becoming a bit more masculine. Looking further down, you see another new bulge that you didn't have before - at least not this big. Apparently, your privates have grown as well, making you well-endowed down there. When you took a careful sniff, you noticed a faint but manly musky smell emanating from you, especially your exposed armpits. Not really intense but enough to add to your newfound masculine charisma.

Giving your cock a squeeze, you began to hurry home. You could hardly wait to see the full story!

You made your way home quickly. However, as you are just entering the apartment, the feeling from before returned, stronger now. You watched your torso stack on more muscle, now growing into a clearly muscular and fit form. Your biceps strained the skin on your arms, and you can even see some veins popping up on it. As soon as you let out a "Woah", you recognized that your voice, too, has changed. It was a much lower tone than before, enough to send shivers down the spines of other men. On your even more defined abs and your juicy pecs, you could see a light coating of hair. Not enough to be clearly visible on a picture, but definitely there - everywhere actually. The little hairs looked shaved, and you briefly wondered how they would have looked if you let them grow out. The thought was thrilling, and you felt your cock chub up. When you looked down, however, the bulge it formed in your pants is almost obscene. You were a long way from being fully hard and yet, it looked like a pair of socks stuffed into your underwear. Apparently, you also had grown another few centimeters, since your pants were riding even higher now.

Finally finding a mirror, you were almost shocked to see your face. Your eyebrows have grown bushier, and your eyes had gained a new, almost predatory quality. The musk you now exude made you irresistible, filled with raw sexual energy.

You like this, you concluded. Perhaps it was even a bit much, but it's still manageable. You were definitely manly now.

Just as you were thinking that thought, another rush of transformation set it. Your arms ballooned out with more and more muscle, making you look like a bodybuilder - or a steroid junkie. The veins on your arms were clearly visible now. At the same time, your body hair growth accelerated again. The new coating of hair was now clearly visible, even though you somehow knew that you had just shaved a few hours ago. You had to shave twice a day now, body and face, to keep it at decent level and not look like a cave man in the matter of hours. Your stomach turned into a cobblestone washboard, displaying at least an eight-pack. You were beginning to have trouble judging that however, since it was getting more and more difficult to see past your shelf of pectoral muscles that sat on your chest like a piece of plate armor.

Your shoulders had broadened incredibly wide and the combination of that and your heavily muscled arms disallowed for any reaching around your back now. At the same time, your pants started to feel really constricting. Not just the front, but the whole length was stuffed to the brim with muscled legs that yearned to be free.

With some difficulties, you peeled out of the tight fabric, standing only in your underwear in front of the mirror now. Your once wide and comfortable briefs were little more than a poser now - stretched by your wider muscled hips and filled with your manly bulge so much that it didn't even touch your hairy legs anymore. Your voice has turned into a very low growl now, almost more animalistic than manly. Your musk has grown so strong, it fills any room you walk into, a raw, primal scent that has men weak in the knees.

This is entirely too much. You needed to call someone to reverse this madness! How are you supposed to continue living your live like that? Before you could react properly however, you felt the next wave of change approaching, sending you deeper into manliness still, never stopping...

Oh dear, seems like Mikey got more than he asked for. Will he ever stop growing?

[kylecorbeau]

I've been asked for the link to my post of the fan sequel I wrote to Jack's Filthy Ass. I couldn't find my original post of this story, so I'm reuploading it.

Liam's Filthy Mouth

By Kyle Corbeau on Tumblr

A fan-sequel to Jack's Filthy Ass by writinggross.

[Contains: M/M, Face-farting, hypnosis, Dom/sub, rimming, scat, scat consumption, Non-con.]

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I have a hard time not thinking about what happened with Jack. It's only been four days and I still panic whenever I hear someone moving in the hall.

But tonight, I know I have reason to panic. My mom and her boyfriend have gone out of town for TEN DAYS over spring break, leaving me here alone with Jack's filthy ass. Just as I anticipate, the doorknob to my bedroom jiggles. I take a shaky, deep breath as I remind myself that I obsessive-compulsively locked the door when I got home to an empty house.

Then I hear a sound that makes my blood turn ice cold.

The jingling of keys.

I whine in my throat as I shake my head in denial, but of course it's just an involuntary reaction, not preventative one. The door lock clicks and the handle turns. I'm suddenly wishing I'd worn more to bed than a skin-tight white tank. Jack's already in the doorway, smirking mischievously at me where I'm hiding under the covers.

The only thing he's wearing is a pair of horribly stained once-white briefs and pair of sweat socks than sound a bit like sponges when he takes a step. I can smell how foul he is from here, but unfortunately, i know from experience that the closer he gets, the more heinous the stench will become.

Then i realize what he has in his hand. It's an overnight bag.

"'Sup, Liam. I figure we can skip all the bullshit if I make this simple. You know what I need. You know I'm going to get it. I can wrestle you with the chains and shackles I have in the bag and do this the hard way, or you can remember that I can still tell everyone at school that you're my little ass-bitch."

I just nod at first, conceding that I can't stop him. He saunters over victoriously, sets the bag down next to my bed and sits down next to me on the mattress as I scoot over to give him as much room as possible. He chuckles, evilly, in my ears, though I'm sure it's probably his normal gentle laugh and I'm just biased.

Justifiably biased.

He sprawls out on the bed, leaving me barely any room on the mattress, but I'm backed against the wall now and he scoots himself ever closer, his rank stink making me shudder in disgust and fear. Soon, he's laying right up against me, pulling the blankets out of the way, shedding the last of my shield as he pushes his big gut and massive thighs against me, wrapping his sausage-like arms around my shoulders and head as I whimper. His juicy, ripe pits are right by my face and his ass stink of rotten shit is permeating my entire bed.  He lifts an arm and pushes my face into his armpit as I start to shed tears. One huge meaty leg is wrapped over mine and he kisses my hair softly as he rubs my face hard back and forth in his armpit. No locker room has ever smelled this bad. The smell is unfathomable and it's absolutely nothing compared to where my face and mouth will be... Fuck... My poor tongue is going to be eaten alive by his rotten, gungey hole.

I realize my body is shaking as I sob and he's laughing as he smears my face in his armpit. "Just get used to it, ya wuss. I have a week and a half to desensitize you. Once you realize your place in life is beneath a filthy fat slob, you're going to be begging me to do anything and everything I want to you. And we start like this."

Jack reaches into his briefs and pulls out a wadded up cloth item. It's one of his ratty white wifebeaters, but it's covered in greenish brown smears and completely drenched in buttcrack sweat and the familiar odor of his ass-juice. He lifts it to my face and I turn away in panic, but he smashes the putrid shirt against my face and I inhale from surprise. He holds it there like a toxic gas mask over my face and says, "Don't worry, Liam. You'll love that smell soon enough. Hell, if you want to let everyone at school know you fell in love with my filthy ass over vacation, I guess I can put up with people knowing about us. I can't imagine you just passing me in the hall like you usually do once I'm done with you."

"Jack," I say through the ass-juice-drenched shirt as I gag, "Isn't this just about you rubbing one out?"

"Remember my science project a couple of weeks ago?"

"You want to plant trees! You and every hippie in history!"

"No, Baby Boy. My project was on replenishable resources. This isn't about rubbing one out. This is about rubbing one out as many times as I want for as long as I want to. ...You like that nickname, Liam? Baby Boy?"

I sob harder when I realize he's planning to condition me to be his ass-bitch potentially for the rest of our lives and as I begin again to soak the shit-stained shirt with my tears, I figure out the nickname.

He's calling me 'Baby Boy' because his vile odor makes my eyes water.

Finally, he moves to put down the shitty wifebeater and starts peeling my own tank top off of my chest. As he pulls it up over my face, I'm suddenly met with a passionate kiss, his unwashed mouth and tongue that's probably got food from last week stuck to it, pushed flush against my own as he slobbers into my mouth and licks the back of my throat. I struggle for the first few seconds but realize there's no point. He rolls over on top on me, surrounding and crushing me with his massive form and ripe and rancid stench. He sloppily slobbers on my face in what I could only call an act of claiming.

Then, he takes his nasty wifebeater, puts in it his underwear, and at first I think hes wiping, but instead, he's cramming it into...

Shit!

He's stuffing that shirt inside his nasty asshole!

It isn't long before he's unwadding the fetid garment and forcefully putting it on me.

The next thing I know, he's getting me positioned on the bed. I can't fight anymore. Not even a little. Something in me broke when he put that tainted tank on me.

So as he mounts my head and says, "Open up, Baby Boy... my pretty little ass-bitch... Lick inside me. You know you love it!", all i can do is physically obey, opening my jaw, sucking and tonguing his rotten insides. They taste like rotting meat that's been out in the sun for a week, and his hole clamps tight around my tongue, making me whine. I can hear him talking, but I can't consciously understand everything. Something about counting and relaxing and feeling his stink saturating my body with pleasure.

The last words I hear before I fade into unconsciousness are about needing his ass stink to get hard.

When I wake up, I'm still wearing the shit-tank and Jack's shit-smeared briefs are strapped to my face like a dust mask. I look at my clock. It's been ten hours. There's a recording of Jack's voice soothingly encouraging peaceful thoughts when I smell him and telling me how it feels so good to crave his filthy ass.

I roll my eyes at the stupidity. Hypnosis? Really? Jack's so desperate to make me his ass-worshiping bitch that he's turning to phoney pseudoscience?

I chew on the browned briefs for a moment, feeling better when I suck on the flavor.

Fuck. I'm keeping these. He's got plenty of filthy briefs and he can always make more.

I get out of bed, stuffing the shit-stained briefs all the way into my mouth and moaning as my morning wood throbs. I walk into the hallway, looking for Jack to tell him what a fucking idiot he is for thinking he could hypnotize me into wanting his foul fat ass, but when I don't see him in his room, I call out to him.

"Yo, Jack? Where you at?"

I hear his voice from his en suite bathroom shout, "I'm taking a dump!"

I perk up at the prospect, briskly heading for his bathroom door. "Mind if I join?"

He laughs his ass off before telling me threateningly that I'll regret if I don't. I quickly open the door, rush to him and kneel. He smirks down at me as I jerk away from the fetid odor and frown with visceral nausea until he takes my head in his hand and pulls me forward. "Sniff my shit, bitch. I'm making your breakfast."

I'm utterly revolted, on the verge of vomiting, but as I autonomically obey him and sniff the toilet from between his legs, my forehead pressed against his junk, euphoria and serenity wash over me and I hum in pleasure as I go boneless against his lap.

I've completely forgotten what I was going to say to him and somewhere in my mind, I realize what he meant about breakfast and my stomach growls.

He finishes shitting in the toilet, then he gets up and turns his unwiped ass towards me. The smell is worse than a port-a-potty and the stink is like rotten eggs saturating decomposing meat infused with sewage fumes.

I sniff deeply, my nose touching his crack as I fight my flight instinct. I want to run to somewhere safe and never witness this again.

But this is my safe place. I should be running to the very thing that engenders my panic.

"My ass isn't going to lick itself clean!" Jack growls at me.

My tongue dives in before I can stop it and I slurp and swallow the smears of fetid refuse until his ass is depressingly clean.

Then, I come out of myself and realize what just happened.

"YOU FUCKING NASTY BASTARD!" I scream, licking the revolting shit from my lips as he looks back at me in shock.

Then, he's laughing.

He's laughing hard.

Then he says two words that freeze my entire body.

"Ass Master."

I cant move. I can't move at all!

He backs up a few inches, reaches back to roughly grip my hair in his fat fist and shoves my face between his cheeks.

"Suck my pucker!" Jack commands, and without my consent, my body obeys.

As my mouth wraps around his hole, sealing my face to his obscenely disgusting insides a long greasy fart hot as the sun is pumped into my lungs.

Then I feel it on my tongue.

It's hot, it's wet and it's worse than I ever imagined.

The clumps of shit pop out one at a time, filling my mouth, and Jack says, "Keep sucking my hole, mash my shit around in your mouth, swallow it and hate it even though you need it.

I feel like I'm going to vomit, to pass out or even maybe die, but as I use my tongue to press Jack's shit against every surface in my mouth, my morning wood rages and leaks.

I smell the shit from inside my mouth, the putrid fumes traveling up from the back of my throat, and even though I can't move my body away, I cry, tears streaming against the inside of Jack's asscrack as I sob, making him moan loudly.

When I swallow it, gulping the lumps down my throat, I cum hard and shoot my copious load all over the tile, but the sounds I make are anything but euphoric. With my mouth still sealed to his hole, I scream in visceral horror.

Jack sighs in pleasure and says, "Relax, Baby Boy. Just be yourself." I can suddenly move of my own accord and I stumble backwards on the bathroom floor. He turns around with hunger in his eyes. "Thank me for making you breakfast, bitch."

I can choose what to say now. I feel it. "Is this really happening?" I ask as I shake in terror.

His eyes darken and I realize that wasn't the right thing to say.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Th– thank you... I hate you...."

Jack pats me on the head affectionately with an evil smirk. "You're getting a full load for lunch. I'll let you know when I need to piss. Go cry on my bed until I'm ready to collar and fuck you."

I can't help it.

By my own choosing, I lean forward and reverently kiss his filthy, musky balls.

And he lets me.

————————————————————————

After Jack enjoyed my first display of genuine admiration and affection, he shaved my shoulder-length hair down to a near-bald buzzcut, shaved my entire body completely smooth, had me rinse all the haircut debris away in the shower pissed all over me and down my throat, occasionally smearing his foul, acrid piss over my lips with his fat dick like he was putting my chapstick on for me.

Then, he declared that this is the first day of my new life.

Given our situation and encounters thus far, I expected words like that to be sadistic, threatening, mocking or some combination.

They weren't. He seemed genuinely happy, not just for himself but for me.

I'm just now realizing just how much this really is a new phase of life.

I'm walking out of my possible-stepbrother's/hopefully-boyfriend's bathroom naked after participating in things I never imagined while he walks with me wearing only the track pants he had on when he started this insanity.

This is the first time I've actually looked around Jack's room. Until today, I've been avoiding him as much as possible, and when I passed through through it from the hall to his ensuite bathroom less than two hours ago, I had single-minded focus and only observed enough of my surroundings to see which way his bathroom is.

Now, I look around in stunned silence as I realize how long he's been planning all of this: attacking me and riding my unwilling face, threatening me into submission then cuddling and kissing me as if he loves me – all before using some kind of aggressive brainwashing on me to make me his unwilling but devoted autonomically obedient, fart-addicted, shit-noshing slave.

We've known each other for less than two weeks and about ten days ago, my mom and I moved in to live with her boyfriend and her boyfriend's son, Jack.

As far as I knew, Jack had barely tolerated me.

Which is why it strikes me as odd that my favorite possessions (which were mysteriously lost in the move) are arranged throughout Jack's room as if they're his.

...Wait...

...NO!

It's obvious the totality of this room's books, trinkets and miscellaneous items are from two very different people!

Jack's room looks as if we both live in it!

He planned this whole disgusting coercive seduction thing at least ten days ago, only a few days after we first met.

Possibly, the day we met.

I'm suddenly enraged! I feel like I'm going to belt out a primal, wordless scream at the top of my lungs, but Jack's thick arm curls around my waist and my anger drains away in a heartbeat as he kisses the top of my head.

"Cheer up, Baby Boy," Jack says with encouraging mirth. "You'll love living in here! It's over three times bigger than your old room, which means we have room for the fridges, sofa, spare bed, my reading chair and your new desk. Most importantly, we have a <i>private</i> bathroom, there's fantastic soundproofing and, after fourteen years with me in it, my personal musk is soaked into every inch of this very lucky room."

I laugh softly and playfully elbow Jack in his huge, studly gut before dropping to my knees in front of him and leaning forward. For a few moments, I let him think I'm leaning towards his exposed cock, then I abruptly bend down and take a big whiff of the carpet.

"Yep! This inch passes inspection!" I say as I try to lighten my own mood

He snorts loudly before falling down in a fit of (feigned?) hysterical laughter and with suspicious accuracy, he lands on top of me, his knees straddling mine, his fat belly weighing down on my back and his hands gripping my hips. He roughly pulls my hips backwards to grind his hard-on against my ass.

I shiver in revulsion, and for once, it has nothing to do with his heinous hygiene, his disgusting habits, his dominating-my-face-with-his-ass-and-anything-that-comes-out-of-it-fetish , or even the fact that almost all of our interactions have been when he forcibly dominated me, my will be damned.

I'm actually starting to like him, despite all of that.

After the ten hours of hypnotic bullshit, I'm starting to like him because of it.

I even like him enough to eagerly let him fuck me.

My instinctive revulsion is entirely because I am (was?) straight and having anyone's dick touch me at all viscerally grosses me out.

He groans happily above me and says, "Don't worry, Baby Boy. You're gonna get lucky too. Maybe right now..."

I start to lose control of my body as my own thoughts are disregarded and unheard. That's happened a lot this morning and at this point, I know it's more fun to enjoy hating it than to hate hating it.

"Fuuuuck!" I groan in a mix of anguish and euphoria. "Go fuck yourself, you fat, filthy, vile asshole! Your personality is even more shitty than your actual shit!"

Jack keeps a steel-strong grip on my hip as I hear the slide of his track pants against his skin.

"You get away with talking like that to me once," he growls through gritted teeth. "Would you care to rephrase?"

I keen in my throat as I feel his bare dick thumping against my asscheek.

"Yeah, Jack, I would. What I meant to say is I'm jealous of your bedroom. I wish you were inside me every night and I can't wait for you to soak your personal musk into every inch of me, because you're hot as fuck and I want everyone I meet to know I belong to you."

Jack slaps my ass so hard it feels like a punch and his dick begins sliding back and forth between my asscheeks, grazing across my pucker on every thrust. I can't tell if he's erotically teasing me or silently threatening me.

"Anything else, Baby Boy?"

My hips start grinding backwards against him, and to my shame, it's not because of the hypnosis.

"Y-yeah, Jack...  Look I...  I love you. I love you and I want you to own me use me and be my boyfriend. Please, Jack. I need you."

I'm about to start crying again until I feel him lean over me and sensually press his lips against my jaw from behind.

"Yeah, bitch," he whispers in sadistic apathy. "You do need me. You need me to own you, control you and use you. I'll always give you what you need, Baby Boy. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?"

The words sting at first (more from Jack's tone than their significance), but then Jack hugs me from behind and rubs the head of his thick, filthy cock against my hole, nearly breaching it. I relax happily, knowing this is my place and suddenly realizing he implied we're dating.

"Thanks, Jack..." I mumble with genuine gratitude. "I'll give you everything you need and anything I have to give."

He breathes hard against my neck as half an inch of his cock pushes past the ring of muscle. "Yeah. I know you will, Liam," says in a soft, loving tone. Then he kisses my neck, lifts away from me and helps me off the floor. I'm startled when I find myself launched through the air, but giddy when I land on Jack's bed.

The steel chain he locks in place with a matching padlock has a rusty iron finish, and just after the lock audibly clicks, we both heave joyful sighs of relief.

[obesogen]

The Back Room

contains: voyeurism in a public setting, degradation/humiliation (of the FA, not the fattie) fluids, Feeder/feedee, gender unspecified, 2nd person/reader insert if ya want

You are just an innocent bystander. This is not your fault.

It's Friday. You're out to dinner with a good friend at the fancy all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in town.

Your buddy just put in their two weeks notice and you two you are celebrating in indulgent fashion. The plan is well underway when you can't help but notice a couple walk into the restaurant.

Well, one of them walks in. The other waddles.

The skinnier of them is about 5’8” or so. They appear somewhat haggard but strong, a works-with-their-hands type. Their companion is easily twice their weight and significantly shorter, a fluffy, soft marshmallow. They are wearing bike shorts that are catastrophically too tight, causing a hill of insistent chub to crest the waistband. The fabric of their shorts has been stretched so far as to become translucent. Silky arm fat bursts out of the strained crease of their crop top's armpit and side boob is dripping out of the bottom of it. Chunky calves threaten to envelop their proportionately delicate ankles and feet.

These two have to be a Feeder and feedee, they just have to be. You silently pray that they are because you're not at all sure you can stop trying to get a look, even if they're not.

The Feeder greets the beaming Host warmly and it is immediately clear that all three know each other well. The two of them must be regulars. You watch with mounting arousal as the Host and Feeder carefully lead the slow-moving feedee along the path of least resistance through the dining room. It takes a quick eternity for them to cross it gracelessly, through the tittering and disdain of fellow diners, unconcerned.

All the while, you're trying hard not to obviously, hungrily devour the stolen glimpses of swaying soft you catch out of the side of your eye while badly pretending to be listening to your friend. You're appalled by how sweaty and riled you are, how fast you were gripped with monstrous lust, all hunched and tense over half finished crab legs (or whatever you would eat. I would be eating crab legs). They disappear into the back room, usually reserved for parties.

You are by now having serious trouble hiding your predicament. You haven't even been pretending to pay attention for the last minute.

"Hello?! Anyone home?" your friend snaps their fingers in your face.

You laugh a little too quickly and make appropriate eye contact with them, flushed. You apologize sheepishly. You just got caught… off guard, you say. Momentarily. Sorry. "I bet, you fucking perv" they laugh at you pityingly, but not entirely unkindly. They know you have a type and that type is legendary. They know it's just so difficult for you to be painfully hard under the table pretending not to watch an enormous person struggle to walk 150 feet across an all-you-can-eat buffet. A horny mess like you can’t really be expected to listen to them talk about whatever shit Danielle in Accounting did last week. You couldn’t possibly stop imagining that stranger’s upper arm in your teeth for 20 seconds and let them finish a thought. You have never been able to be an appropriate amount of horny, how could they expect anything else from you. You eat your food in shameful, steaming silence.

Though the feedee remains behind closed doors out of your sight, you see their Feeder get up to start fixing plate (s) for them. By the time they return to the back room they're carrying 4 plates, balancing them expertly in fine dining style. The plates are laden with various treats which you definitely were not watching them lovingly select.

One plate is all fried: crispy egg rolls, spring rolls, crab rangoon, chicken wings, juicy fried pork and chive dumplings, scallion pancakes, the works. Various sauces.

The second plate is heaped with sticky sweet bbq ribs, sweet and sour chicken, a mountain of white rice, and a landslide of mixed veggies with a ton of extra baby corn and snow peas. Their feedee clearly has good taste.

Still another plate is all seafood: the aforementioned buttery snow crab legs, shrimp, steaming mussels, spiny little rock lobsters, clams… more shrimp, but tempura this time.

The last one isn't really a plate, its a bowl. The bowl is filled with vanilla soft serve (of course) and fresh fruit. Just for good measure, there's also two shiny, glazed roast pork buns balanced precariously on top. You bet a little bit of vanilla ice cream getting on a sweet, doughy pork bun is good as hell. No, you can’t be horny and hungry. You are already full and still have food. You are considering trying it though. Not to try to get a look, of course not, but just to get some dessert.

While you are deliberating and “talking” to your friend, you spy a busboy running towards the back room holding an extra-wide, high weight capacity folding chair. It's clear that this hefty cutie isn't their most comfortable on even the armless chairs that are as used to accommodating heavy people as any chair at a buffet should be. They still need something wider.

You’re dying in here. You need to wash your face and think of the least sexy things you can imagine: hairless plastic abs, taxes, etc. You excuse yourself to use the restroom and ask your friend if they want anything from the buffet on your way back.

“I want you to make sure you wash your filthy hands when you’re done, you useless degenerate” they snap. “C’mon, man, Jesus Christ—” you look around as you get up to see if anyone heard your friend, who has since lost all patience and good humor towards you and your inability to get it together.

You get up from the table and it’s as bad as you feared. You’re so aroused, not to mention full of crab legs, and just need to cool down long enough to make it home. Or at least to the car after you drop your friend off.

Your underwear is tight and rubbing your poor swollen dick. You’re so overstimulated that each step towards the bathroom is somewhat labored. Thankfully, labored movements toward the bathroom are not uncommon here so you fly under the radar for the most part.

You almost reach the bathroom door when out of the corner of your eye you realize that you suddenly can see them through the glass doors of the back room as you pass.

The Feeder is indeed lovingly in the midst of hand-feeding the feedee an egg roll dripping with sweet duck sauce. They have one hand under their feedee’s belly, which is pulled out of their shorts, nude and sumptuous under the long banquet table. It hangs heavy between their knees when fully unfurled with two massive lobes comprising the bottom of the apron and a pronounced dip in the center; 3 shaped.

You accidentally make eye contact with the feedee briefly, as you turn to enter the bathroom, sweaty and collapsing from fevered arousal. They just slowly lick their lips, staring into your very being, hungrily, menacing, devouring you with their eyes, daring you to keep looking.

You almost make it to the stall, but unfortunately for you,

You bust in your underwear, untouched, and now facing the long walk back to the table, wetly covered in yourself.

Worth it.

[strangelittlestories]

“Where are we going?” asked Khalida, attempting to adjust her denim jacket to hide the worst of the scorch marks.

Cassandra took a moment to answer. She tucked her domino mask into the pocket of her combats, then cast her eyes around and upwards. Satisfied they were not being observed, the ducked out of the alley and merged with the flow of pedestrians.

“To see someone I used to know.” the hero replied, quietly. “An old friend?” Khalida’s voice rang out with enthusiasm. She lowered her voice in response to Cassandra’s pointed look. “Dang, I love the whole ‘visiting an old friend for help’ thing. Always a juicy dynamic.”

“Not exactly a friend.” she looked up and down the street, eyes flicking up and down. “Not anymore.”

“An old enemy? That’s even juicier? Are they, y’know, your very *best* enemy?”

Cassandra sighed.

“They’re an old … something.”

“Ah, a classic ‘it’s complicated’ type situation. Very nice. Love a tangled backstory.”

“It’s not a backstory, kid. It’s my life.”

“I mean, yeah. Sure. But also: you’re a hero! So, to *you* it’s your life. But to us fans, it’s kinda also backstory.”

Cassandra could practically hear the girl adding tags to her mental blog post. There were exclamation points.

“You realise you have powers now, right? You gonna start thinking of your own life as backstory?”

“Are you kidding me, I’ve already started my entry on HeroWiki!” she produced her burner phone and triumphantly showed a draft on the screen. “Wait, is the person we’re seeing on Hiki?”

“I hate that portmanteau. Sounds too much like ‘hickey’” Cassandra finally spotted what she was looking for and started steering the two of them towards a particular sewer grate.  “But … yes. She’ll be on there. Search for Troubleshooter.”

“Oh dip.” Khalida looked up with open mouth. “She’s on the anti-hero section.”

“She wasn’t always.” Cassandra reached into her seemingly endless pockets and handed Khalida a high vis vest. “Now put this on, so no-one will ask questions about us dropping into the sewers…”

---

Troubleshooter’s sewer lair was surprisingly dry and homey. It smelled of lemon and baking soda, making Khalida think someone had been making cakes (though there was no sign of sweet treats among the utilitarian fittings).

“You bringing trouble to my door again, Cass?” Troubleshooter was squaring up to Cassandra; both were bristling with tension.

“Well, trouble is your business, Shoots.”

“It used to be.” Troubleshooter’s hand was on the sidearm holstered beneath her armpit. “But folks got … snippy about the solutions I offered.”

“Thought you’d be thrilled for me to admit I couldn’t handle this on my own.” Careless of the implied threat, Cassandra leaned in to speak softly in Troubleshooter’s ear. “I need you.”

Troubleshooter looked up at Cassandra and bit her lip. Slowly, fingers unwrapped themselves from the weapon.

“Why didn’t they like your solutions?” Two sets of eyes snapped over to look at Khalida; they’d nearly forgotten she was there. “You’re a prognosticator, right? Like Cassandra. You should be, like, the *most* helpful kinda hero.”

“I’m not a prophet. Not like this one.” Troubleshooter tutted. “It’s more … extremely limited universal knowledge osmosis.”

“Huh?”

“I see a problem. I know the most efficient way to solve it. Step-by-step. Like God’s instruction manual.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Not when the problem people bring you is a *person*. They get pretty antsy when you tell them the best solution is a bullet.”

“Oh.” Khalida gulped and looked nervously between the two of them. “Um, Cassandra, did you bring me here to…”

“No, kid.” Cassandra ran a hand through her hair. Suddenly she looked tired. “Here’s the situation, Shoots: I had a prophecy. End of days type stuff. Told me to be in a place to find a person. The place was full of bad-tempered hired muscle. The person was Khalida here. The visions since then are confused, but they all call her the same thing: ‘Reality Ender’. So here’s the problem I put before you: how do we help her *not* destroy reality?”

“You know you might not like the answer.”

“But we’ve still gotta ask.”

“Fine.”

Troubleshooter’s eyes went blurry. It was as if they were vibrating, flickering suddenly through a thousand upon a thousand realities, like searching for a station on an old radio. Just as suddenly as it started, her gaze blinked back into the present.

“Huh.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good result.”

“No. But it’s not a bad one, either.”

“Explain.”

“Let me put it this way: you hear ‘Reality Ender’ and your mind goes to ‘end of *existence*’. Makes sense - matches your prophecy. But that’s not her *power*.”

“So what is it?”

“Oh, it’s still ‘Reality Ender’. But … not ‘reality’ as in ‘existence’. It’s ‘reality’ as in ‘real versus fiction’. As in, ‘possible versus impossible’.”

“...I don’t get it?” Khalida’s voice was small and lost.

“I think the best way to put your deal would be … you’re a Potential Manipulator.”

“Um…that sounds a little problematic. Like, very cancel-able. Could we go with, I dunno, Possibility Manipulator?”

“Honey, trust me, being cancelled is the least of your worries…”

---

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[fyodior]

TOJI THO YOU'RE SO RIGHT..... He's so horrible but so huge and juicy. Best, filthiest sex of your entire life and he knows it. His cock is big and thick and he teases you with it, rubbing it through your folds and tapping the tip against your clit, popping the head in and out to see your thighs twitch. I'm fully convinced he doesn't shave too, he's got hairy pits and legs, fuzzy hair on his chest and back, and a beautiful, black bush that starts at Guys bellybutton and goes between his legs. Toji likes you unshaved too, I mean he doesn't care if you do shave but he doesn't like the prickly baby hairs that pop up after only a day or two. He'd much rather bury his nose in a patch of thick, coarse hair while he eats you out to his heart's content.

Huge fan of breeding too. And probably piss, I know you're into that! The first time he makes you squirt you feel like you're going to pee and when you try to warn him he just tells you to piss all over him like a cute little puppy. And maybe makes you suck him off for hours at a time and pisses down your throat when he has to go and doesn't want to get up?

- Leo

YES YES YES OH MY GODDD

all of it under the cut bc i got rly carried away and also most of it is rly gross😭😭

ur right toji is the best fuck of your life but he’s so fucking cocky about it, and SUCH a tease. like he knows its good but he wants you to beg for it in order to get it. he wants you whimpering and whining and begging for him to just put it in already because you can’t fucking stand him just sliding the tip in your hole over and over. he loves a good pussy job but mostly for himself, he’ll keep your clit mostly neglected, poking at it with the head a few times but mostly just keeping his cock between your lips just to drive you crazy. once again he wants you begging for it, desperate for him and for his cock. and even once you get it he starts out slow as hell with his thrusts so you’re clinging to him and begging for him to move, to fuck you stupid, and he’ll just click his tongue and tell you he’s teaching you patience like the dickhead he is wifjsjfsjd

and yes hairy toji as a concept is my magnum opus…. it means the world to me and is truly canon in my world. he absolutely does not shave and his hair is so dark and thick he has the nastiest thickest armpit hair and happy trail and leg hair and balls hair and chest hair UGH but you’re right its fair because he doesn’t mind it either, he loves having his face buried in your bush, calls it his little jungle <3 it gets nasty and wet and matted when he eats you out like a fuckin animal, your pubes dripping as he goes to fucking town. i could talk abt hairy toji for hours and like a nasty disgusting whore i dream abt shoving my face in his armpits and pubes and breathing in his nastiness bc he def doesn’t shower enough ugh yum

and i can’t believe you’re indulging in my thing for piss but i just KNOW toji likes it too…… he’s just fucking gross like that!!! he keeps you from drinking and keeps you from peeing all day bc he knows you’re gonna have such a hard time holding it when he overstimulates you. you’ll try to pry him off you and beg him to let you go bc you can’t hold it anymore until you’re pissing all over his face hard and long, just the way he likes it. and he loves pissing down your throat and pissing on your face and pissing inside you and just pissing on you bc he’s fucking disgusting. he wants to not only fill you with his cum but fill you with his piss and watch it pour out of your hole as it twitches and pour out of your mouth bc he knows how much it turns you on too, and of course he’s gonna call you a dirty fucking whore. he sees all of it as marking his territory in the grossest and most humiliating way. he LOVES humiliating you.

he also loves breeding for sure….. he refuses to ever use a condom and only ever comes inside absolutely. he has a thing for pregnancy and so badly wants to see you pregnant (even tho he doesn’t want the kid at all; a bit antithetical but never said he was smart LMAO) wants to see you with a big belly all because of him and his cum

something else i think abt toji is that he’s rly into anal, especially when you aren’t quite prepped enough because your hole is so fucking tight and squeezes his cock so well and makes him cum fast. it hurts like hell at first but he does not rly care LMFAO he loves eating your ass too - spreading your cheeks and violating your asshole with his tongue and making you writhe underneath him

moral of the story he fucks so good and splits you apart with his massive cock and demands you call him daddy and honestly just sucks all around and is gross but holy shit the sex is so good??? i need him carnally and he’s one of my fav characters ever

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 26

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule. 

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid. 

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the masses of feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going to save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG. 

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out. 

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's truck and bike, and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no. 

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

[hamsterclaw]

Swing

You're navigating your way through the political ranks. Your boss, Assistant Secretary of State Kim Namjoon, is sexy and unpredictable, and your colleague Min Yoongi is cynical and hard-nosed. And then there's Taehyung, whom you know you can't trust. You've got no idea how you're going to survive any of this, but you've sure as hell got to try.

A prequel to Politico.

Pairing: Taehyung x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut, weak political satire

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, sneakiness

Min Yoongi swears like his life depends on it, emotion making each word vibrate in the air. 

‘Shitting fuck!’ 

In another life you think he’d be great spitting verses as a rapper. 

He’s got the persona for it, he’s got the steely determination, the don’t give a fuck swagger, the ability to give the impression he’s one screw away from going totally unhinged. 

Today, though, you’re struggling to follow. 

‘What? These optics are great!’ you say, gesturing to your boss, Assistant Secretary of State Kim Namjoon, dimpling prettily as he holds a chubby baby at the meet and greet he’s doing. 

Yoongi doesn’t answer, already lunging forward like he can see the future. 

‘Ah shit,’ you mutter, jumping forward to help. 

You’re too far away, but Yoongi isn’t, one hand already out pressing against the baby’s back as Namjoon stumbles and nearly drops him. 

Namjoon looks sheepish, Yoongi scowls, and the baby smiles like it’s having a great time sandwiched between the two men. 

Impatient, Yoongi hooks an hand under the baby’s armpit and hoists him fully into his arms, parking him on his hip like he’s a dad of four who mows the lawn on a Sunday and coaches junior baseball. 

You wait for the baby to have an adverse reaction to Yoongi’s stern expression and the caffeine emanating from his pores, but to your surprise, he just snuggles deeper into Yoongi’s side like he’s enjoying it there. 

Namjoon and Yoongi keep moving, walking up the line, greeting people, and you wonder how they’re going to return the baby to its rightful owner. 

By the time you catch up, Namjoon and Yoongi have reached the entrance of the community centre. 

‘You need to return this baby,’ you say, waving a hand. 

The baby waves back at you, and you realise he has dimples just like your boss. 

‘Ah shit, Namjoon, is this actually your child?’ 

‘The only paternity test I’ve had done came back negative,’ Namjoon informs you, holding out his arms for the baby. 

Yoongi takes a step back, avoiding Namjoon’s arms. ‘That’s not the way paternity results are reported,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘Besides, that woman was way out of your league.’ 

‘Shit, did you try to entrap someone?’ you ask. 

‘Stop swearing in front of the baby,’ Namjoon complains. 

You hold out your arms, and Yoongi passes you the baby. 

The baby looks at you expectantly. 

‘Oh, are you waiting for me to suck the happiness out of the room? Only your Uncle Yoongi does that,’ you coo. 

‘You look really sexy holding a baby,’ Namjoon says, nodding approvingly. 

Yoongi glances at you. ‘She kind of does,’ he agrees. 

‘Who does this baby belong to?’ you ask, ignoring them. 

‘I didn’t know I had a kink for that,’ Namjoon says thoughtfully. 

‘What? What about that girl you dated in college? The one you kept saying had ‘child bearing’ hips?’ Yoongi scoffs. 

‘Forget it,’ you mutter, hoisting the baby up. ‘Come on, kid, I’ll find your mom.’ 

***

You’re trying not to stare at your boss doing pull-ups, grunting on each upward pull, sweating into his fitted workout gear.

‘Write it down,’ says Yoongi, raising a knowing eyebrow at you.

‘Write what down?’ you inquire, reasonably. ‘He’s just grunting.’

‘Kisung’s angling for a spot on the Angleson inquiry panel,’ Namjoon pants, giving you a sideways look as he lowers himself back on the floor.

Your eyes follow a particularly juicy looking drop of sweat as it rolls down his forehead, slips past the dent of his dimple, trickles down his jaw and down his thick neck, disappearing in between his glorious pecs.

It’s blotted out by his fitted, white, sweat-wicking top, but you keep going down, past his flat stomach, the drawstring tie of his shorts, the bulge of his —-

‘Fucking cock,’ hisses Yoongi.

Your eyes snap up guiltily but neither of them are looking at you.

There’s a waft of clean scent, pleasing and somehow expensive, accompanied by two of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

‘Hoseok,’ says Namjoon, pleasantly.

Yoongi snorts with unconcealed contempt.

‘Namjoon. Yoongi,’ says Hoseok. He smiles charmingly at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

He holds out his hand. ‘Jung Hoseok,’ he says.

Yoongi steps in front of you. ‘Don’t touch my minion, Hoseok,’ he snarls.

‘I’m not a —-‘ you start to protest, when Namjoon steps in front of you too.

‘What would you like to tell us about, Hoseok?’ 

Hoseok’s smile never falters. ‘I wanted to give you a heads up,’ he says. ‘Han Kisung’s in a meeting with Lee Min Hyeok right now. Isn’t Min Hyeok leading on your police accountability campaign?’

‘Thank you for the information,’ Namjoon says, evenly. ‘Why would you tell us this?’

‘I’d like to make amends, of course,’ Hoseok says, smoothly. 

The second man, silent thus far, catches your eye when he shifts his weight.

You glance at him and he’s staring back at you, eyes hooded. 

When he sees you’re looking he smirks and slips the tip of his tongue over his lips so deliberately you’d be blushing if you weren’t already dead inside from this job.

He holds out his hand. ‘Kim Taehyung.’

‘Y/N L/N,’ you say.

Predictably, he runs the pad of his thumb over your knuckles as you shake.

Unexpectedly, you find yourself not disgusted.

‘Young love,’ muses Hoseok.

‘Get away from the snake’s minion, Y/N,’ Yoongi snaps.

Hoseok looks hurt, perfect lower lip pushed out in a pout.

Taehyung ignores them both. 

‘I’m going out with a bunch of other interns tonight,’ he says, voice so low it’s almost a purr. ‘We’ll be at that new place in town, near the river. You should come.’

You have no idea how he makes perfectly normal words sound so nasty, but you’re getting more interested in finding out with every passing minute.

He smiles at you, and you blink, blinded by how ethereally beautiful he is. 

You can only stare after him as he and Hoseok leave the gym.

‘Don’t fall for anything that snake or his minion says,’ Yoongi warns, snapping you out of your daze.

‘Of course not,’ you say, quickly. 

You weren’t born yesterday. You know you can’t trust anyone. 

Especially if they’re as beautiful as Kim Taehyung.

***

You’re by the bar, sipping your drink, when there’s a familiar waft of cologne.

You’re about to turn when Kim Taehyung slides in next to you smoothly.

He’s standing much too close, but you like it.

He leans down, his velvety voice as intimate as a caress. 

‘I was hoping you’d come,’ he says.

You smile at him coolly, trying to conceal the fact that you’re melting under his intense gaze, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. 

Fuck. Is it warm in here?

‘I heard the drinks were good here.’ 

‘The food’s good too. Come join us, my friend Arisu has a table.’ 

You wind up sitting next to Taehyung. There are a few faces you recognise, more you don’t. Taehyung doesn’t give you a chance to feel anything but welcome. 

He props an arm on the back of your chair, so close you get wafts of his cologne every time he moves. 

So close you can feel the heat radiating off his bare forearm. 

You remind yourself he’s not to be trusted. 

So then why are you here? Why are you leaning against his arm, finding excuses to turn his way, sipping your wine to fortify you?

The fact is, he’s the best looking man to show an interest in you in a while, and you need a man to lust after who’s not your sexy and intelligent boss Namjoon or your volatile and sharp colleague Yoongi. 

Your skin prickles as Taehyung leans even closer and you feel the warmth of his breath by your ear.

‘Want to get out of here?’ he asks.

‘My apartment’s round the corner,’ you reply. 

‘Perfect,’ Taehyung says, and the approval you hear in his voice makes pleasure pool low down in your belly.

The walk to your apartment is short, full of delicious anticipation.

You find you like the height difference between you, the way his broad shoulders nudge against yours as he places a hand on the small of your back.

You push your front door closed behind you and turn to see he’s shrugging off his coat.

He smiles, offers to help you with yours.

His thumb presses a scorching circle into the back of your neck as he takes your coat off.

When you turn to face him again he’s leaning over you.

You reach out, curl a hand around his neck and kiss him.

He’s soft, lips parting against yours in slow, drugging kisses that make you shiver. 

The warm heat of his mouth makes you press into him more, your hands sliding around his waist to his back. 

His belt buckle presses into the softness of your torso.

Taehyung nudges you flat against the door. One hand curls around the back of your head, the other splays low down on your back, making slow passes over your ass until you whine into his mouth and he cups your ass fully, pulling you into his frame.

He pulls back, eyes hooded, so dark they look almost black.

‘Upstairs?’ you ask. It’s half an invitation, half a plea.

When he speaks, his voice has dropped so low you can barely make out his words.

You grasp his hand and he follows you to your bedroom.

He undresses you like he dressed you himself, fingers nimble over the buttons of your blouse. 

He hums with pleasure as your blouse slides off you, followed by your skirt.

Your skin feels hot as his eyes roam, you’d be self-conscious if he wasn’t getting undressed himself, stepping out of his trousers, letting his belt fall to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud.

He unbuttons his shirt, and then he’s standing before you in just his boxer briefs, all golden skin and a smirk on his face that only turns you on more.

He reaches out, cupping the weight of your breast, tongue flicking out from between his lips as your nipple presses against the thin lacy material of your bra.

Your hips move of their own volition, and he lets go of your breast to sit on your bed like he belongs there.

He spreads a little, pats his thigh. ‘Sit on me,’ he says, voice thick, buttery.

You settle into his lap, legs either side of his taut torso. The bulge of his cock nestles between your legs, hard and hot against your centre.

He cups your breast again, reaches behind your back. ‘Can I take this off?’

You unhook your bra and he presses a kiss over the upper curve of your breasts. He nudges your flesh with his nose and licks a firm stripe over your taut nipple.

You whimper as he lavishes attention on your breasts, lapping at your nipples, sucking a hickey into your left breast.

Your panties are ruined, bunched between your legs, and you’re rolling your slit over his bare cock. Taehyung lifts his lips from your breasts just long enough to groan and grip your hip.

‘You’re so wet, baby, look at you making a mess on my dick,’ he says, grunting as you roll your hips again. 

‘Want you,’ you plead.

He grins at you as you pass him a condom, and he’s so pretty he takes your breath away.

‘Put it on me,’ he says. 

He groans as you pinch the tip and roll the condom down over his shaft.

Then you’re lowering yourself down on top of him, whining at the slide. His cock is thick, girthy and curved so that it hits you just right when he’s fully inside you.

Taehyung looks up at you, somehow still in control even though you’re on top of him.

He bucks his hips up into you, gripping your hips so he can fuck you in hard, deep strokes. 

You lean over his chest, and he opens his mouth eagerly, capturing your lips, one hand leaving your hips to cup your head.

‘Easy, baby, easy,’ he murmurs against your skin, voice slurred, a deep baritone that makes you clench around him helplessly. 

He splays a big warm hand over your ass, helping you ride him.

‘Tae,’ you gasp, ‘I’m —-‘

You cry out as you come, waves of pleasure making your breath quicken and your teeth clamp down on his lower lip.

He hisses but he doesn’t stop, grinding up into you until he comes with a deep groan. His fingers are so tight on your ass cheek you’re sure he’ll leave marks. 

You collapse down next to him, panting.

Taehyung ties off the condom, tosses it on the floor and you’re so fucked out you can’t find it in yourself to care.

He pulls you into his arms with a confidence that takes your breath away.

‘Can I stay for a bit?’

‘You can stay over if you want,’ you offer.

‘Good,’ he says, half-asleep already. ‘Let’s do this again later.’

***

Yoongi’s sipping something from a hip flask as you both wait for Namjoon to finish reading a story to the second grade class he’s visiting.

You nudge Yoongi. ‘What is that? Let me have some.’

He glances at you and hands over the flask.

You take a big gulp and double over as the whiskey burns its way down your gullet.

Yoongi, amused, takes the flask back.

It’s a while before your eyes stop watering.

‘Yoongi,’ you rasp, accusingly, ‘what the —-‘

He shrugs. ‘Didn’t know what a lightweight you were.’

He claps politely as Namjoon finishes his story. 

The very pretty class teacher steps forward, and you can see how her knees buckle a little as Namjoon looks up from the tiny chair his big frame is sat on and stands to his full height.

He flashes her a smile and there’s a collective sigh from the crowd in the room.

Your boss, as always, is killing it.

He closes the book and hands it to her. ‘It’s one of my favourites,’ he says, giving her another charmingly dimpled smile.

‘You’re one of my favourites,’ the teacher blurts out.

She recovers valiantly. ‘I mean, your police accountability policy is truly meaningful.’

‘Thank you,’ says Namjoon. ‘Perhaps we can discuss it over a drink sometime.’

Yoongi, beside you, rolls his eyes. ‘You can take the fuckboi out of university but you can’t change his stripes.’

‘You’re mixing up metaphors,’ you say drowsily.

Yoongi glances at you. ‘Fuck! You really are a lightweight.’

He says, ‘go sober up. Namjoon and I will meet you back at the office.’

You’re waiting by the main road for the bus when a metallic grey sports car pulls up in front of you.

The window rolls down, and you’re greeted by a familiar very beautiful face.

‘Need a ride, pretty girl?’ Taehyung asks.

You’ve met up a couple times since that first time. The last time you met him was last weekend when he ordered you Chinese takeout and then ate you out until you cried. 

‘Where you headed?’ Taehyung asks, openly ogling your thigh where your coat’s fallen open and your skirt’s ridden up. 

‘Back to the office,’ you say, giving him your own admiring look back.

He’s dressed sharply, you can’t tell if his clothes are perfectly tailored or if his build is perfect for the clothes he chooses.

It’s probably both, you’ve seen him naked, you can verify how perfectly proportioned his body is. 

‘Want to get lunch?’ he asks, glancing in the rearview mirror. 

His hand crosses the console between you, his finger traces a line down your hand.

‘Do you mean lunch?’ you ask.

Taehyung laughs, warm and rich. ‘Yeah. I mean lunch. We’re still on for drinks later, aren’t we?’

This time, you know he doesn’t just mean drinks.

‘Yeah.’

Taehyung laughs again, faintly mocking, and hums to himself as he picks up speed, concentrating on the road now.

His hand curves over the gear stick, gripping it with a confidence that you really fucking like.

You wonder if you’re playing with fire.

***

Taehyung pulls up to the front of your building and tilts his chin.

‘Looks like your big brothers disapprove of me,’ he says, nodding towards Yoongi and Namjoon standing on the front steps, a spark in his eyes that makes you smile.

‘Please they’re not my brothers. They just don’t want to train another minion. I’m good at my job,’ you say, waving a hand. 

‘I don’t doubt that,’ Taehyung replies. ‘I’ll pick you up after work, ok?’

Yoongi crosses his arms as you approach, head tilted. 

It’s Namjoon who speaks. 

‘What are you doing with the snake’s minion, Y/N?’

‘We went for lunch,’ you reply truthfully. ‘And his name’s Taehyung.’

‘How can he afford a car like that at this stage in his career?’ Yoongi wonders. ‘It must pay well working for a backstabbing lying cutthroat slimefucker.’

‘Slimefucker,’ you muse, trailing behind Namjoon as you head into the building. 

Namjoon stops so suddenly you run straight into his back. 

Namjoon reaches behind him to steady you. 

‘Speaking of.’ 

You peek over Namjoon’s broad shoulder to see Jung Hoseok. 

He’s dressed in an exquisitely cut maroon suit, hair styled away from his face.

He smiles at you over Namjoon’s shoulder, and Namjoon straightens to his full height before you can smile back, obscuring your view. 

Yoongi closes the gap between him and Namjoon, blocking you off completely. 

‘Hoseok,’ Namjoon says, in greeting.

‘Spoken to Han Kisung lately?’ Hoseok asks, all light and innocence.

‘If you have something to say, spit it out,’ Yoongi says, bored.

For the hundredth time you wonder what the beef is between your bosses and Jung Hoseok.

He seems perfectly nice to you. 

‘Just asking,’ Hoseok says.

You can hear him walking, footsteps getting further away.

‘Say hi to Taehyung for me,’ he calls over his shoulder.

You freeze.

Yoongi snorts. 

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder if he’s really trying to help us.’

‘Hobi’s always got his own agenda,’ Yoongi says, scoffing.

‘Hobi?’ you wonder out loud.

Both men ignore you.

***

The Mendehlson-Shin fundraising gala you’re attending with Namjoon and Yoongi has better food than most other galas you’ve been to.

‘Fuck the mini-quiches,’ Yoongi says, voice a low, hard drawl by your ear. He takes your arm. 

‘Namjoon’s in a meeting with Min Hyeok,’ you say, eyes on the door of the meeting room they disappeared into. ‘Let me eat in peace.’

Yoongi lets go of your arm. ‘Damn how do you know that and I don’t?’

‘I’m good at my job,’ you reply. The rest of your sentence dies in your throat as you look at him properly.

‘What the fuck Yoongi?’

Yoongi pokes his tongue into his cheek, lip curling in a smirk so cocky you want to slap it off his face and ask him to slap your ass back.

He’s dressed in a black tux, silverware glinting in his ears, skin flawless, eyes dark with cynicism.

He’s stunning.

‘You don’t look bad yourself,’ he allows. His eyes scorch a path over the tops of your breasts, visible above the low neck of your black dress.

Yoongi leans over, closer to you, mouth close to your ear. 

Your eyes close involuntarily as his breath warms your cheek. 

‘We need to get a handle on Han Kisung’s motivations,’ he says, voice low. ‘If he’s whispering things in Min Hyeok’s ear, if Min Hyeok’s not going to push our police accountability campaign, hard, then we need to know before Namjoon meets the commissioner tomorrow.’

Your eyes open. ‘Sure,’ you say, a little shakily.

‘His team are by the Mendehlson table,’ Yoongi says. He holds out his arm for you to take. 

You accompany Yoongi to the throng of snarky looking politicos that make up Han Kisung’s team. He works in treasury, and honestly, anyone you’ve ever met from treasury bores you to tears.

You’re making small talk with a man who smells like the mini-quiches you never got to eat when Taehyung catches your eye from a corner of the room.

He’s making his way towards you, all besuited perfection and languid confidence, when the man besides you says, ‘hey isn’t that —-‘

You’re barely listening, curling into Taehyung’s side at the barest of pressure from his hand on your back.

‘Hey, you hungry? Let me get you something,’ Taehyung says. 

You glance at Yoongi, currently making everyone around him vie for his attention by simply withholding it and staring at his phone.

Your phone lights up. 

Yoongi: Don’t even think about leaving me here.

You sigh. ‘I gotta work, Tae.’

Taehyung says, ‘I’ve got intel on Min Hyeok and Kisung.’

You look at him uncertainly. 

You know you aren’t supposed to trust him.

Taehyung gives you one of his dazzling smiles, the warmth in his gaze stopping your internal debate.

Your phone lights up again. 

You shove it into your bag.

‘Let’s go, Tae.’

***

You can’t fit all of Kim Taehyung’s fully erect cock into your mouth, but you’ll sure as hell die trying.

Taehyung’s fingers are laced loosely in your hair, supporting your head rather than pushing you down on his dick.

He groans, voice thick and deep, head arching back against the headboard of his bed as you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock.

His breathing’s erratic, chest heaving as you move up and down on his cock. 

He looks stunning like this, legs splayed, hips bucking up into your face. His chest is flushed, lips swollen, cheeks and chin gleaming from having buried his face in your cunt moments before.

‘Gonna cum,’ he warns, hand on the nape of your neck.

You can’t answer with your mouth full of his cock so you cup his balls and tug.

Taehyung grunts, loud, and you feel him filling your mouth, cum slipping down your throat.

He whines at the sensitivity as you swallow and lick him clean.

You lift off his still impressively hard cock, and Taehyung catches your arm.

His voice is still so low it makes you shiver when he laughs softly and says, ‘wait, baby. We aren’t done.’

He pulls you under him, cock nudging between your legs. 

There’s a rip of foil, a snick of unfurling elasticity, and then he’s sheathed himself in a condom, and then you.

The stretch of him makes warmth spread out in your belly. 

He’s slow, driving himself into you with sure, hard strokes.

His chest gleams with sweat, his shoulders are so broad he blocks out the warm glow of the lamp behind him.

‘Don’t know if I can come again,’ you tell him, breathless, pinned under him.

‘I know you can,’ he tells you firmly. ‘I’ll get us there, baby.’

He buries himself all the way inside you, stays still, kissing your face, lips parting over yours.

You can feel him getting harder inside you as he cups your breasts. 

‘These tits,’ he says, admiring, squeezing.

You hook a leg around his hips, and his hand comes up to pin your thigh to his hip.

He’s so hard now he’s making you gasp with every lunge of his hips. 

‘You feel so good,’ he croons. ‘Taking me so well.’

Taehyung whispers praise to you, slow, unhurried, until you’re coming all over his cock, a burst of pleasure so intense you feel boneless.

You remember he promised you intel on Kisung and Min Hyeok, but you can’t make your lips form the words.

Taehyung kisses the side of your face as he lays down next to you, arm curled around your naked torso.

You’re out before you can finish your next thought.

***

You wake up to a fully dressed Taehyung and a sense of having missed something important.

The sun streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows of Taehyung’s gorgeous apartment makes you sit up hurriedly. 

‘What time is it?’ you croak.

You fumble for your phone, which doesn’t light up. 

Ah shit, the battery’s dead.

‘It’s nine,’ Taehyung tells you. 

You clap your hands over your face, panicked. 

‘Shit! Namjoon’s got a big meeting with the police commissioner in half an hour.’

You’re bolting out of bed, searching for your clothes, yanking them on.

‘Min Hyeok’s not going to support the police accountability campaign,’ Taehyung tells you. ‘Kisung has him over a barrel, some favour he owes him from last year’s bribery scandal.’

You stop dead and face Taehyung. 

‘What?’

‘I tried to tell you last night but you passed out,’ Taehyung says. 

You’re already holding out your hand, palm out. ‘I need your phone, Tae, I need to let Namjoon know before he goes into that meeting.’

Taehyung hands over his phone. 

‘Fuck! I don’t know their numbers!’

You toss your dead phone into your bag, frantic.

Taehyung grips your shoulders so you’ll look at him. 

‘I’ll drive you downtown to the meeting, we can probably get there and intercept Namjoon before he goes in.’

He’s firm, calm, and you feel the panic start to ease.

‘Ok,’ you breathe. ‘Ok.’

Taehyung pulls one of his shirts over your shoulders. It smells fresh, clean, calming.

‘Come on. Let’s go.’

You’re stuck in traffic with Taehyung, trying not to cry as the minutes tick by, taking any hope of getting to Namjoon and Yoongi before the meeting with them.

Your phone’s been charging in Tae’s car but neither Namjoon nor Yoongi are answering.

You glance at the clock on the dash. 

9.20.

Taehyung sees you looking. 

‘Put your belt on, babe.’

He pulls a highly illegal u-turn, going against traffic and slipping into an alleyway.

He pulls up a hundred yards from the building, and you’re already opening the door, mumbling your thanks, and stumbling out when he says something you don’t quite catch.

You signal to him to call you and then you’re running across the street, heading to the police headquarters.

***

You’re too late.

You’re waiting outside the building when Namjoon and Yoongi come out.

You step forward. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I’m so fucking sorry. I found out about Min Hyeok and I tried to call but I was so late and my phone died—-‘

You can feel both their eyes on you, and you’re so glad Taehyung put his shirt on you because it’s so big it hides how small you feel.

Shit, you’ve fucked up.

Yoongi sighs. 

He pulls you into his side, close like he held that baby he stole the other day, and like the baby, you can’t help but lean into his warmth. 

Namjoon says, very gently, ‘it was always going to be a long shot.’

‘Come on, let’s get breakfast.’

You’re in the car between Namjoon and Yoongi when Namjoon’s phone rings.

He answers, brow furrowed. 

Then he says, ‘your full support, sir?’

You sit up and glance at Yoongi.

Namjoon’s thanking whoever’s called him profusely. 

He hangs up, and turns to you both.

He smiles, and he looks so pretty butterflies start to flutter in your chest.

‘That was Senator Kim Seo Jun,’ he tells you. ‘He’s pledged full support to our police accountability campaign.’

Hope blooms in your chest.

‘And,’ Namjoon says, ‘he’s already spoken to the police commissioner about it. We’re good to go.’

Yoongi’s already on his phone, frowning as he brings up a profile of Senator Kim.

‘I wasn’t aware Senator Kim had an interest in this,’ he says. 

You glance at the photo he’s just pulled up, and you do a double take.

He’s older, but you recognise the family resemblance immediately.

‘Shitting cuntbucket,’ breathes Yoongi. ‘He has one son, Kim Taehyung.’

***

You’re told that there’s a Christmas party every year in the department of state affairs, but this is your first one.

You check your reflection in the rearview mirror only to find Taehyung looking back at you, dark eyes affectionate.

‘You look beautiful,’ he tells you. 

You’re still smiling at his compliment when he parks up the car and turns to you.

‘I have to tell you something,’ he says, seriously.

There’s the tiniest tug of foreboding in your heart at his expression.

He comes right out with it. 

‘I’m moving to Paris.’

You stare at him for a beat, two.

‘Wow,’ you say, finally. ‘When?’

‘Next week,’ he says. ‘For a year, maybe two.’

You take a moment. Then you say, sincerely, ‘sounds amazing, Tae, I’m excited for you.’

He takes your hand. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he says, rather sweetly. 

‘I’ll miss you too,’ you reply.

You cup his cheek, and he turns his face into your hand.

His kiss is sweet and heart melting as always.

‘I’ll write you,’ he says. ‘When I’m travelling. Send you postcards.’

You laugh. ‘I’ll send you nudes.’

‘Please,’ Taehyung says instantly, so heartfelt you both laugh.

He presses a kiss to your hand. ‘Still want me as your date?’

You pretend to think about it.

‘Are you any good at dancing?’ 

‘I’ll do my best,’ he promises.

Taehyung offers you his arm. ‘Shall we?’

***

Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok watch you and Taehyung dancing together from where they’re propping up the bar.

It’s a disco beat but neither of you seem to realise it, holding each other like you’re the only two people in the world.

‘Young love,’ muses Hoseok.

He turns to Yoongi and Namjoon. 

‘Now do you believe I want to make amends?’

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. ‘You planned this?’

Hoseok looks bored. ‘Min Hyeok was always going to let you down.’

‘Takes one snake to recognise another one,’ Yoongi retorts.

Hoseok ignores him.

‘I knew who Kim Taehyung was the moment he walked into my office and asked for a job,’ he says, studying his nails.

He shrugs. ‘I also knew he wasn’t the cutthroat type.’

He glances at Yoongi and Namjoon. ‘I’m hoping you at least picked up that your minion had him wrapped around her finger?’

Namjoon frowns. 

‘She’s very wholesome,’ Hoseok remarks. ‘Interesting how working for you two hasn’t corrupted her yet.’

Yoongi scowls. ‘We’re not that bad,’ he says.

‘Exactly. You need someone like me to get down and dirty. Get the job done.’

Namjoon raises his glass. ‘Here’s to knowing your enemies,’ he says.

Hoseok smirks and clinks his glass with his.

After a moment, Yoongi clinks too.

Hoseok tosses back his drink and puts his glass down on the bar. 

‘Going to dance?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Of course. These hips don’t lie.’ Hoseok sneers, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes as he walks away.

***

You’re sitting by the window in the conference room, looking out at the city, when Yoongi finds you.

He nods to your half empty glass. 

‘Where’s Taehyung?’ 

‘Moving to Paris,’ you tell him. 

You try to muster a smile but you can’t quite manage it.

‘You weren’t wrong to trust him,’ Yoongi tells you.

‘Ah, but I was,’ you reply. You look up at him sadly. ‘I’m going to miss him, here.’

It takes Yoongi a moment to realise you’re trying to point to your heart.

He hides his smile because you seem completely serious.

‘Come on,’ he invites. ‘Namjoon and I are drinking in the situation room.’

***

You wake in a bed you don’t remember getting into.

The room spins as you open your eyes, and it takes you a moment to get your bearings. 

Nope.

You still have no idea where you are.

You hear noises outside the door and go outside to investigate.

Min fucking Yoongi’s brewing coffee. 

You nearly pass out.

‘Did we,’ you croak.

Yoongi just looks at you a moment. 

‘Trust me, if we had you’d sure as hell remember it,’ he drawls.

Belatedly you notice you’re still fully dressed.

‘I took you home because you and Namjoon were all over each other.’

You let out a squeak.

‘Did me and Namjoon?’

‘Nope,’ replies Yoongi, popping the ‘p’. ‘Judging by all the women who came through our apartment at uni, you’d probably also remember if you had.’

You sag against his kitchen counter, relieved.

Your stomach growls, loudly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. ‘There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, and you can borrow some clothes if you want to take a shower. I’ll fix breakfast.’

You take a quick shower and brush your teeth, and step out into Yoongi’s kitchen. You notice he’s laid out three plates just as a shirtless Namjoon emerges from another room. 

Your gaze flicks from Namjoon’s bare chest to the knowing smirk on Yoongi’s face.

You can feel the heat of their eyes on you.

‘So,’ you say, brightly. ‘What should we do next?’

©hamsterclaw 2023

[tricitymonsters]

DAY 14 - Sweat

DAY 14 - Sweat

Akello x Reader

Content warnings: Scent kink, being horny from a distance

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You’ve TRIED not to be a creep about it.  You HOPE you’re not being a creep about it.  But god damn it’s close to impossible to control yourself.  Akello’s greenhouse is small but crammed full of his plants and experiments, meaning that it’s incredibly easy for him to get wrapped up working on a project and lose track of time.  The sun beats down on those plastic corrugated sheets all day and you know he’s baking alive in there a little bit.

You remind him to drink water and take some out to him in several trips but christ alive it just leaves you more dehydrated than you think possible.

He works shirtless in the heat, sometimes tying a shirt around his head in a way that you find maybe slightly unfashionable but its definitely endearing.  And practical, you agree, when he points out how uncomfortable sweaty hair is.  But it’s impossible not to stare at the rivulets of sweat trailing over his thick torso, the plump, juicy curves of his chest and sides, the thickly padded muscles on his back that shift with every movement of his strong arms.

The glistening effect, the shimmer in the thick, coarse hair decorating his chest and lower belly makes your mouth fucking water.

But that’s nothing on what happens when you get close to him.

He smells delicious.  You’ve never pegged yourself for an armpit weirdo.  You’ve smelled the unfortunate odor of others in unfortunate situations before- too many people in a cramped train, repair guy coming to help out towards the end of his shift.  You would never judge someone for that of course, bodies have a smell, it’s simply how things are.

But… 

Akello doesn’t smell like that, however, not even when drenched in sweat.  He’s musky and warm and the smell reminds you of damp soil and sun beams.  You simultaneously want to roll in sunny grass like a cat but also stick your face under his arm or between his thighs and get a hit of that as deep into your olfactory memory as humanly possible.  And maybe roll around a little too.

It’s potent and incredibly sexy.  It makes your skin prickle, it makes you hot.  So hot that while he’s out there in that greenhouse baking like something you want to eat immediately, you decide to make a break for his dirty laundry to give yourself a hit to tide yourself over until Akello’s finished with whatever he’s working on.

[lovetabootoo]

‘Oh sweetie, you know how turned on mummy gets when I see you taste your armpit. Can I smell and taste your armpit please? Mummy needs your fingers inside her wet and juicy pussy.’

[unashamedly-enthusiastic]

How have you not seen the vistorrrrrrr meme it's literally been endless on my dash 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 P.S. I love your blog

I have seen hide nor hair of this beast but will treat this ask like the tide receding before a tsunami and brace for impact

Thanks tony-the-tigers-juicy-armpit, please know that your url lives in my brain and had fundamentally changed my breakfast buying experience

[scarystoriesfromthegayside]

I’m your Daddy now

Spring break was going to be lit as I made my way down to Florida where I called home. I would spend the week with my mom and her new boyfriend. I liked her new boyfriend, very sweet to her and me. He was also very handsome. I couldn’t believe I was jealous of my mom. Travis was his name. Once I was at the house my mom came out to greet me. After our hug I saw Travis come out with shorts and a tank top on. I noticed a bulge there within his shorts. From the looks of the top of the tank top he was hairy as well,

“I’m Travis,” he said.

He opened his arms for a hug and smiled and reached for it. The embrace was nice as I could smell his musky armpits and I’m sure my dick made quite a jump. That night I decided to take myself outside and sit and look out at the sky. I heard my mom on the inside saying she will be back in a few hours that she had a date with the girls tonight. I waved and told her to have a good time. I closed my eyes for a minute until the back door creeped open and I turned to see Travis walk out. The moon light reflected the salt and pepper look he gave out. He smiled and I smiled.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

“It is very beautiful,” I said back. Travis placed himself into the chair next to me. I turned to see that he was staring at me.

“How long have you known you were gay,” Travis asked now looking at me with hungry eyes.

“Since I was nine. I watched some men at a pool locker room get dressed and I saw their penis.”

Travis smirked. “Cool,” he said. “Have you ever been with some much older than you?” My heart dropped. His smirk was still there.

“Not recently,” I said nervously.

“But you have?” He asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Cool,” Travis said. I noticed that my dick was just jumping a bit by Travis and his handsome smirk. Where were these questions coming from.

“You look so handsome,” Travis said.

“Thanks man,” I said back.

Travis then stood up, walked towards my chair and said, “Do you think I’m handsome?”

I gulped. “Yeah, I think you are very handsome.” Travis then laughed. He then leaned down, making me notice that he the musk is still there.

“You know I don’t think your mom would appreciate you complimenting her boyfriend like that,” Travis said. I gulped again.

“I’m just honest,” I said. I then noticed that he was leaning more to me. Then his plump fingers grabbed my chin and raised to see his face.

“I also believe your mom wouldn’t appreciate if we did this.” Just then his juicy manly lips touched mine. Then I couldn’t control myself. I forced more of his lips on mine, parting them to bring our tongues in. I was making out with my mom’s boyfriend. Yikes! Then he pulled away and I was deeply disappointed.

“That was nice,” Travis said. Then he left and went into the house. I smoothed the boner I had that was trapped in my shorts. Then my phone dinged at the sound of a text. It was a number I didn’t know but I figured it was Travis. ‘Cum to the bedroom,’ is what it said. I went up quickly to see Travis in my moms bedroom in just his underwear. All of him was hairy, his chest, body, legs. I stepped forward to see more. Then he came to me and planted his lips on mine again. I couldn’t help to put my arms around him. He pulled my shirt over my head. I placed my hands on his bulge which was very big. I planted my face in his musky armpits, sniffing and licking them.

“Fuck yeah,” Travis growled. I peeled his underwear down revealing his thick uncut cock. My tongue went to the skin and started circling around the head of the meat. It was a second later that my whole mouth went down the meat. I sucked, I spit, I juggled his balls into my mouth, which he moaned loud when I did. Travis lifted me back to my feet and started kissing me again and making our way to the bed. Then he turned me around and bent me over the bed. He forcefully pulled my shorts and briefs down my legs. He kissed one cheek. I shivered at the feeling of that salt and pepper face prickling my ass. Then he spread me apart and placed his face right inside of me. I moaned loud as his tongue traced my entrance. He forced it inside opening it up.

“Fuck that is amazing,” I moaned out.

Travis then lifted from where he was and started to kiss my ear. I kissed his mouth, tasting myself. I was quite delicious.

“From now on,” he growled into my mouth. “I’m your daddy now.”

Then I felt his head pounce on my entrance and I opened up for him. He slid in and I collapsed on the bed. He was so big inside of me. I whimpered as he made another thrust.

“Who am I?” Travis asked.

“Daddy,” I whimpered.

He thrusted in me again.

“I can’t hear you,” Travis growled.

“Daddy, you’re my daddy,” I whined.

“And what do you want daddy to do?”

“Fuck me daddy,” I whined again.

He made another thrust and I collapsed again, grabbing a handful of blankets and screaming.

“Say it again,” Travis said.

I whined and panted. “Fuck me daddy,” I said.

And just then Travis thrusted harder, faster. He growled and I whined into the blanket. I grabbed my hard as rock dick and stroked to the movements given to me.

“Fuck yeah,” Travis growled. “Daddy loves his boy.”

Just then I screamed out my orgasm and came all over the blankets.

“Oh shit son, you want daddy to come,” Travis whined. But before I could answer he thrusted hard into and growled so loud it made me smile. I felt the ooze in my ass from his come. He collapsed next to me.

“Thank you daddy,” I said. Travis looked at me and then leaned in for another kiss.

Mom came home that night and found us watching tv on the couch.

“And what have you 2 been doing tonight?” She asked

[tthatsonme]

G-l-a-m 👛🛍️

— Your body looks like it was MADE for Juicy Couture tracksuits, every time you put on one of your many Juicy Couture tracksuits it somehow makes your body ten times more attractive than it was before. It’s literally impossible for you to look bad, even if you’re bloated or eat like ten pounds of food and your stomach is poking out HOT, even though you have the most perfect body you can’t walk past a mirror without looking at your huge 🍑, regardless of how big or small you want your butt to be yours is still the most attractive one anyone has ever seen, even if you butt is more on the smaller side it’s literally living proof that you don’t need to have a shelf for a behind for it to be attractive, whenever wear a juicy tracksuit the material accentuates your curves and makes your bod looks even more attractive and better than usual, you genetically have a good lower body, your hips, thighs, and butt look the best on your body. Your waist is as toned and small as Paris Hiltons in the 2000s, your waist would go viral on Pinterest because of how ideal and aesthetically pleasing it is, all of the undesired fat around your armpits, shoulders, waist, neck, face, and arms are forced to melt away and grow back into your breasts, thighs, and butt. You literally just woke up and all of the undesired fat on your body was GONE, all of the undesired fat just melted away.

— Your social life is so much better now that you’ve manifested, of course you’re immune to peaking socially but you’re easily more popular now, you speak confidently and it’s easy for you to maintain eye contact. You have a naturally funny personality that everyone loves, you’re always making people happy and your own laughter is contagious, you’re always putting a smile on everyone’s faces, even the most stone cold people can’t help but feel exhilarated and comforted by your presence. You’re naturally loveable and whenever there’s a group project or teams everyone wants you on theirs or in theirs, it’s never been hard for you to meet new people or make new friends because of how naturally likeable you are, everyone loves you in either a familial, platonic, or romantic way. People can’t help but feel overjoyed when they hear that you’re going to be near them again, all of your friends love and cherish you, they loved you and you love them too. Any falling outs with past friends they you’ve had are now mended and solved, you and your friend groups are genuinely close knitted and always will be even if you decide to go down different paths, you’ll always keep in touch and stay best friends. You’re always being asked to hang out and you’re never excluded from you friend groups, you parents/guardians don’t really care that you’re always going out with your friends because they see that you’re happy so they allow it.

— You attract romantic or sexual partners and lovers that genuinely value and care about you, your relationship with these people are as serious or casual as you want them to be, you’re immune to self sabotaging your relationships and your partners and lovers care about you unconditionally and you always reciprocate the love that you get. You’re not a selfish or needy person, you don’t rely on your partners for your happiness, you attract partners with money who don’t mind parting with it everyone once it a while for you; but this doesn’t mean that you rely on them for money either (even though they give your gifts and money sometimes 🤷‍♀️), every single romantic or sexual partners and lovers you have are immune to having overly possessive or toxic undertones, you’re immune for longing for toxic relationships and only want healthy relationship dynamics and equal love, you’re completely immune to manifesting emotionally unavailable people, any and all relationships you manifest whether it be friends or lovers are always healthy, loving, and genuine.