#I struggle to write fucking fics but something where I have to be clear to argue a subject??? Guess I’ll die

[no1ryomafan]

The struggle of talking about your favorite fictional characters depth because no one in the tiny ass fandom that exists gives him the proper analysis he deserves and you rotated him enough in your head that you have detailed opinions about his character arc but making essays are REALLY fucking hard so the only thing you can shove to peoples faces is random incoherent rambles about one very specific scene or just pointing to your ao3 where you’ve written in depth character fics about him but aren’t canon complaint whatsoever since it’s “what if he actually addressed his trauma, got help and it lead to a happier ending for him than canon?” which feels like it contradicts aspect of why him getting doomed by the narrative is so appealing to begin with but you cry like a bitch remembering what happens to him that you need to cope like every other fandom.

…My conclusion is I fucking hate Ryoma Nagare for ruining my life. /s

[benedictscanvas]

Your Remus x reader fics have melted my cold, cold heart and now I’m a mess. They’re so soft! And I’m so soft for gentleness! Please write more if you feel like it. Maybe something where reader is exhausted mentally and a wee bit teary, and Remus is his lovely, comforting self. Regardless, all the air kisses for you!!

thank you so so much lovely!! this is one of the most beautiful asks i’ve had in a while. i hope this is what you were looking for, so many air kisses back at you!! this is a continuation of this and this but doesn’t have to be! || remus lupin x fem!reader, 1.4k words, cw pet names and a teary, tired reader

- - -

Remus is not having a good day because it’s abundantly clear to him that you’re not having a good day.

He’s spending the day working at yours, because his wifi is fucked and for once it isn’t just an excuse to spend time with you. Although he supposes he could have turned to Sirius who lives far closer to him than you do, so it’s a bit of an excuse to see you after all.

His wifi is fucked though.

So he sits at your tiny dining room table that can only fit two chairs and spends the day trying not to look at you too much opposite him. He fails miserably, and it’s not usually miserable to look at you but each time he does, you look thoroughly despondent.

“Another cuppa, lovely?”

You startle as you look at him over your laptop like you’d forgotten he was there. You have to blink from your screen and back to him a couple of times before you can finally process what he’d said to you.

“Thank you.”

He slips away to the kitchen, socked feet quiet on wooden floors because now he’s terrified of startling you. It’s 3pm in the afternoon and the third cuppa he’s made you today, but he wonders if he should have made you more. He begged you to stop for lunch multiple times but you very gently argued that you’d just got too much to do today, that he could take whatever he wanted from the fridge.

He should have just made you a sandwich without asking. Now he’ll interfere with your dinner if he does. He’s really struggling to know what to do here. As he carries two fresh cups of tea back to the dining room table, he feels a little bit breathless.

”Tea for the pretty lady,” he flirts, because it usually makes you smile this bashful smile that he really likes. But as he places the cup next to you, he notices your watery eyes just as you turn away to hide them.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, all scratchy. Remus feels like he’s about to cry just looking at you, so he makes an effort to pull himself together as he crouches next to your chair.

”Dove?”

You’re still staring at the wall rather than him. He isn’t going to rush you, though, or force you to look at him if you don’t want to. He’ll stay hovering by your side for as long as you’ll let him, but he places a tentative hand on your shin after a few seconds so you know he’s with you.

When you turn to face him, sniffling, the first tear has fallen. You were clearly holding them in, and it feels like a physical ache in his chest.

”Sorry,” you say through an empty laugh as more tears fall and you hurry to wipe them away. He squeezes your shin for lack of what to do. He is totally helpless, but there’s also this instinct deep within him that kicks in and tells him to do whatever it takes to fix this.

”It’s okay,” he assures gently, “You want to talk about it?”

”I hate crying,” you say instead, looking upwards to try to stop the tears falling again. He takes a second to kneel down rather than crouch, however much his knees hate it, so that he can reach up and wipe your tears himself. The pads of his thumbs swipe across your cheeks and he hopes you feel at least a little loved.

”I know, lovely.”

He doesn’t say much else, because he’s invited you to speak and you will, when you’re ready. He really really doesn’t want to rush you. Another swipe of his thumb removes another traitorous tear. He keeps his other hand as a steady pressure on your shin even though he doesn’t know if that’s even helpful.

”I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you say, another halfhearted laugh accompanied by more tears, “Nothing’s happened. I’ve just got so much on, and so many emails and texts I haven’t replied to and I saw another one pop up on my phone and I just…”

He nods sympathetically as you trail off and immediately bury your face in your hands as the real sobs start. It’s instinct once again that takes over as he strains upwards to put his arms around you as best he can, one over your shoulders and the other bringing your head to his chest. You go willingly.

He presses his forehead to the top of your head and murmurs into your ear.

”Oh, my girl. You’re alright. I’ve got you, you can cry.”

His words seem to make you cry harder and it only makes him pull you in closer, as close as he can.

You apologise yet again after a few minutes and he just strokes your hair and says nothing. He thinks it helps. You begin to calm down after a little while longer, he can feel you try to pull away and he lets you go easily, shifting until he’s kneeling beside you again.

”God, what a mess I’ve made,” you laugh again, a defence mechanism if he’s ever seen one. You wipe the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt in vain and he catches your hand in his. Brave, he thinks.

”None of that,” he insists softly, “This shirt’s all special now. The day you finally let me see you cry, immortalised in the fabric.”

Your laugh is far more genuine this time and he’s very proud of himself.

“Been wanting to see me cry for a while, have you?”

”All my life, dove. I was beginning to think I’d just have to mean to you and get it over with.”

You gasp dramatically, but it’s all for show.

”I don’t think you have it in you, Remus.”

”Maybe not,” he hums wistfully, “Seeing you cry has just now made the top five of things that make me cry. But I’m glad you trusted me with it.

You soften, visibly, he can see it in your eyes as you tilt your head at him. You press your lips together and wipe your eyes again, but there’s no more tears to be found.

”I suppose if I had to cry, I’m glad you were here for it too,” you say with a small grin and it isn’t like your usual one, but it’s a start. Your face grows a lot more serious as you say, “You make pretty much everything a bit better.”

And he doesn’t know what to do with that at all. If you’d said that to him back when the two of you were sixteen, he might have told you he was in love with you then and there. But he’s not sixteen anymore, and he has enough sense to know this is far from the time for that. So he hopes he isn’t blushing too much and goes back to what he knows.

”Only a bit better?”

You shove him, and he’s on his knees, so he’s quick to lose his balance and go toppling to the floor. It finally brings out your real laugh, loud and giggly, as you wriggle about in your chair.

His knees hurt but all he can feel is delighted.

Soon enough, he heaves himself to standing, pretending to glare at you as he returns to his chair and you’re still giggling.

”Your tea will go cold. I made that for you ages ago, you know.”

”I was crying!”

”I know. It was very annoying,” he says, grinning at you so you know he doesn’t mean a word. You laugh yet again, which is exactly what he was going for, “Seriously, lovely. Please say something when you’re feeling overwhelmed, I can’t bear for all that to be happening in your pretty little head without me knowing.”

He sees you react to the word pretty this time; you preen.

”I don’t want you feeling left out,” you agree teasingly, with a little sigh, “Alright, I’ll tell you. Only if you reply to all my texts for me.

”If you order Chinese for dinner, we can sit on the sofa and reply to them together?”

You look like you could run round the table and hug him again, and he considers his job complete. That little instinct that urged him to fix it calms down and the big instinct he usually has to kiss you senseless returns full force. He sips his tea instead of listening to it, for now.

- - -

if you have a request of your own (esp for more of this universe or more soft!marauders, i would love to hear from you sunflower <3

[bandgie]

I need a part two to that choking channie fic pleasseeee I begggggg

a/n: it's been a week and I cannot come up with the plot for the life of me. but imma write and see where it takes me :p (part 1)

warnings: MDNI 18+, confessions and sex ya know

3.2k words

You have to bite on your lips to keep yourself from smiling. The green-haired man looks like he's seen a ghost as he spots Chris's neck covered in bruises. They're not pretty ones either, mixes of purple and black wrapped like a necklace around his throat.

"A fight with who?" Felix leans forward in his seat as he hears Chris's explanation. 

"Some dude just jumped me I dunno," Chris looks down and awkwardly rubs his neck. "Tried taking my wallet."

You take a sip of your drink, trying to do anything as a distraction to keep from laughing. The tip of Chris's ears are red, his lips are shiny from how many times he's licked them, and he can't stop fiddling with his hands. All clear signs that he's lying, or that something's up at the very least. However, it was just Felix who joined you two at the cafe, and he was none the wiser. 

Chris and you were supposed to talk about the other night. If it was a drunken mistake or a heat-in-the-moment decision. Felix, god bless his soul, invited himself. Even if his presence wasn't needed, or even wanted, it felt good to have someone familiar with you two. It made the atmosphere lighter rather than discussing sex like a business meeting.

Felix sips on his sugary drink and places the cup down. "Did you call the police?"

"I uhh," Chris's eyes briefly meet yours then back to Felix. "I didn't. I was trying to get out of there."

"Do you remember what he looks like?" His friend can't help but try and pry for more information. "Maybe they could make a sketch or something." You can't help but smile at Felix's persistence. Chris keeps sneaking you looks as a way to ask for help, but you like watching him struggle. 

"It was dark." Now that's a good excuse. "Couldn't see a whole lot. And honestly, I don't wanna remember it, freaks me out ya know?"

Felix nods rapidly, understanding. "No, I get it. I don't think I would ever be able to leave my house again. I'm sorry that happened to you, man. If you ever need anything, just let me know."

Chris nods and thanks his friend, a pink shade over his cheeks. 

It's not until an hour later that Felix takes his leave. He thanks you both for the company and heads out the door, leaving you two. You erupt into giggles the moment Felix is out of view. "What kind of thief chokes someone like that?"

Chris smiles bashfully, eyes twinkling in a mixture of delight and embarrassment. "I panicked! What else was I supposed to say?" This makes you laugh more, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "I dunno! Maybe the truth?"

Your suggestion makes Chris choke on his coffee. He coughs and reaches for a napkin, dabbing his face. "Fuck no. I'd rather die." He clears his throat and sets the used tissue aside. "I don't think you'd be cool with me telling everyone what we did."

What we did. He makes his sound so scandalous, so wrong. A secret meant for the two of you. And he's right, that's something you wouldn't want to share. Memories flood in from that night, how his skin felt underneath your fingertips and how soft his lips were. You have to force yourself to reach for your drink and take a gulp. The ice numbs your hands for a moment, a stark contrast to how hot Chris felt that night. 

"That's fair. Plus I don't think they'd wanna know how you creamed your pants." You say, putting the drink down. Chris's eyes nearly pop from their socket. He covers his face with his hands and groans, "Don't remind me."

His reactions amuse you, and you smile mischievously. "Nah, I think I will. Weren't you begging to cum inside me? Something like 'I don't wanna cum in my pants! You. I wanna cum in you.' No?" 

Chris makes a strangled noise, half-shamed and half a warning. "There are people here." You sigh, finally deciding to grant Chris a break. There's a tense silence that hangs over you two. Reciting Chris's desperate moments reminds you of why you've come to the cafe. 

His confession.

Fuck, it would be so much easier if Felix just stayed. Neither of you would have to talk about it today, or if at all. Maybe you could just go back to your normal lives where everyone's friends, and nothing more. It's better to live in blissful ignorance than face reality, but it would only be a matter of time before that facade would break. 

You clear your throat, "Did you mean it?"

Chris keeps his eyes on his drink playing with the lid, "Mean what?"

"That you love me."

He pops the lid off from the pressure. His hands shakily grab it and place it on the cup, snapping it back into place. "Of course I do. I always tell you that."

Now he's just playing dumb. Rather than seeming shy only minutes ago, there's a nervous air around him. He's unsure of himself and of what you might think. Chris regrets ever opening his mouth, he regrets playing that stupid game. 

At the same time, he's glad he did. All those sleepless nights thinking of you changed from physical to something more. Something intimate in ways he didn't dare think about. He doesn't dream of your violent hold, he dreams of your soft one. Not the way your hands wrap around his neck, but how they could intertwine with his hands. 

You sigh again, shaking your head. "Chan, that's not the type of love I'm talking about. Can you be honest with me? Please?"

How can he say no to that? Chris finally looks up at you. He wiggles in his seat as if his uncomfortable state comes from his seating position. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He sighs and attempts again, but all that comes out are small squeaks and groans. 

Lie. He can hear his insecurity talking. Both of you were drinking, it was just a mistake.

"I..."

Even if it wasn't, would she really be okay being with a friend? What if she grows bored of me? What if I have nothing to give other than my body?

That can't be true. Why else would you be here? Sitting patiently, watching Chris struggle internally with himself. There's no judgment on your face, no anger or disgust as you wait. If you didn't want to know Chris's true feelings, you wouldn't have asked in the first place. 

"Honestly, I've loved you for a long time now." He said it. There, he did it. His heart beats quickly in his chest, it feels like it might explode. Chris needs to spit it out before his adrenaline runs out. "I don't know when I don't think there was like...a specific moment when I knew. But I know now, and I just...really really love you. Like a lot. I'm sorry that…" he takes a breath. "I'm sorry that you found out so...weirdly. But yeah... So yeah. Sorry"

You blink a few times, trying to remember how to speak. "Don't," you shake your head. "Don't be sorry. It was a little weird finding out that way, but it's nothing to apologize for. I never thought you'd think of me that way."

Chris cocks his head to the side, "Why not?"

Being put on the spot makes your stomach churn, but it's only fair you experience the same feeling Chris did moments ago. "Oh, you know. I'm just me." You play with the near-empty cup in your hands. "I don't think there's much to me. I just don't get why someone like you would be interested."

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah," you sit up straighter in your seat. "You're so...beautiful. Inside and out." Chris squirms from the compliment, but it makes you smile. "You are! Chan, you really are. I don't think you get how good of a person you are. Knowing that a soul like yours likes mine is unbelievable."

Chris can't take the consistent praise. He turns red, "What kind of a good person likes being choked?"

You throw your head back and laugh, thankful for the comedic break in tension. "Hey, I never said you weren't a freak." Chris returns the laugh, his eyes mirroring moon crescents as he smiles at you. It feels good, even if you wanted to run and hide in the beginning, to be open with him. Someone you've befriended for years, someone you trust.

Someone who could quite possibly be your lover. 

"But seriously," you go back to your serious tone. "You are...amazing."

You can tell Chris wants to deflect, to tell you that you're wrong. But he silences his nagging voice and nods, "Thank you. You're not too bad yourself."

"Ah, I'd hope not," you beam at him. "So when are you gonna ask me out?"

The sudden boldness makes Chris jump, a nervous laugh escaping him. "I...You want me to?" He's surprised to see you look excited as you nod, biting your lower lip, "Yup." You add on after a few beats. "To turn you down of course."

He laughs again, though it's more relaxed. "Guess I have no choice then." Chris chews on his lower lip, debating on how to begin. 

He decides to start with your name. "...Will you be my girlfriend now until the unseeable future?"

You giggle at his dramatization, "Absolutely. You still want to cum inside me?"

"Oh absolutely."

ꨄꨄꨄ

Neither of you make it back to his place. All it took was Chris to place his hand on your thigh and it was over. He had pulled over somewhere on the side with no lights before turning the car off. The sound of the engine dying was replaced by the wet sound of your lips meeting.

You don't think there's any way you could get over how nice Chris feels against you. Even if the backseat is crowded, it only creates the golden opportunity to be flush against his broad chest. the position is familiar with you on top, but everything feels entirely different.

Chris isn't scared to touch you this time, he doesn't hold back moaning into your mouth when you grind on his cock, and he absolutely cannot shut up about how much he's wanted this.

"If you make me cum my pants again, I think imma lose it." His hips buck into yours to chase the pressure. You decide that you don't want that either and lift your hips just enough for Chris to shimmy his pants down and pull his cock from his boxers.

It's already dripping, red at the tip, and twitching uncontrollably. He gives himself a few pumps, but you quickly smack his hand away almost offendedly. 

"That's my job," you huff. Chris only smiles when you look down to dribble spit on his cock, grabbing the base before stroking it upwards. His smile falters into a look of pleasure, eyebrows knitting together. He groans when you slide your thumb over his slit, collecting his early release. 

Your hips mimic your hand movements as if you're riding him. The desire pooling in your stomach stains your underwear and leaks down your thighs. You can't help yourself as you bring the head of his cock to your clothed core, tapping it against your cunt.

Chris's arousal leaves wet strings where his cock and your cunt meet. He gives your lips a final kiss before looking down at your soiled underwear and his flushed dick. "Fuck," he moans. "That's so hot. How wet are you?"

Rather than telling him, you pull your underwear to the side to show. The interior lights of the car show your glistening cunt, how your pussy's swollen and dripping. Chris groans at the sight, moving a hand from your waist to touch you. He rubs his fingers in circles and dips them down, collecting your arousal and smearing it on your engorged clit. 

"I'm so wet," you finally answer in a breathy voice. "I need it in me bad." Chris lifts his head to meet your eyes darkened in arousal. His lips quirked upwards in a smirk, "Yeah? How bad?" You place his tip onto your bare cunt, sliding his fat head up and down yourself. "Don't make me beg," you tut. "That's your job."

Chris laughs and nods, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. "You're right. Let me feel that pretty pussy baby."

You kiss him back in response, keeping your lips lazily on his as your guide his cock low enough to catch your entrance. You angle your hips higher and slowly sink down. Chris rubs soothing circles on your clit to help with the stretch. He knows his cock can be rather unbearable in the beginning.

But it feels so good to have him open you up. Even if it leaves a slight burning sensation in your pussy, you like fucking yourself with just his tip. If you're not careful, you could cum just like this. It would be easier, just clenching around his head and letting his hand play with your folds. But the thought of creaming around his entire length encourages you to sink further down.

Chris's hand falters at your cunt. He closes his eyes and sighs as you take more inches of him. He moans and tilts his head back, shivering when you've fully seated on him.

His exposed bruised neck sends shivers down your spine. It's like he's begging for you to mark him more, to put his entire self in your hands. Your hands trail up to his torso, his chest, before reaching his throat. You can not only see but feel how his breath catches in his throat. He peeks an eye open to see what you'll do.

Against your better judgment, you tighten your grip around his neck as you pick your hips up. His girth slides out of you a few inches more sliding back down. Chris's throat acts as leverage as you fuck yourself on him. 

He hums under you, making your fingers vibrate. His hands grip the fat of your ass, squeezing and trying to get you to ride faster. "Fuck me baby," he grunts out. "Use my cock." Chris's raspy voice sends shivers down your spine. 

Without thinking, you pick up your pace. Hips slamming on his in wet consecutive slaps as you fuck yourself on him. A particular thrust of Chris makes you whine. He hit the deepest parts of you roughly, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your lower half. 

"Fuck," you gasp out. One of your hands moves down to his shoulder for better grip. You lean back slightly to force Chris's length to hit that gummy spot you swear has your pussy seeing stars. 

The material of your shirt does little to conceal your breasts that bounce beneath. Chris's eyes lock onto the sight, and he moves his hands from your waist to underneath your bra. His fingers find your pebbled nipple easily and he tugs at it. 

Your hips still for a moment as he gives attention to your chest and he takes this opportunity to fuck up into you harder.

Chris quickly grabs the bottom of your shirt and lifts it to your mouth. 

"Bite."

You obey immediately, and Chris goes to work spilling your tits from your bra. He watches as your mounds move with the motion of your hips. You can see his tongue poke out hungrily, but he makes no move to bury his face in your chest. It doesn't take a genius to find out why though, and you finally release his neck from your grip to reach for the headrest from the front. 

Chris's lips instantly find your tits, tongue licking and swirling around your bud. His hands return to your hips and he leans forward to get better access to where you both connect. You can hear him panting just below your chin, the grunts and groans as he holds your nipple between his teeth. 

Your legs wrap around his lower back now that they have room to move, and you bring him closer. 

"Imma cum," it's a muffled, weak voice you announce in, but Chris only finds it endearing. He pops off your breasts with a wet smack! and looks up at you, sweat dripping down his forehead. "Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fat cock?" You nod mindlessly, the hand on his shoulder reaching up to pull on his hair. "You promith to cum in me Chan? Pleath I need you to cum inthide me."

Chris laughs at your slurred, muffled speech, "Of course, I promise baby." To make a point, he starts lifting your weight off his cock before slamming you back down. You cunt quivers and drools over him and the car, but you only spread your legs more to give him a better entrance.

Now that Chris can use you like a fleshlight properly, you trail your hand from the back of his head to your dipping folds to rub and flick. He feels your walls squeeze from your ministrations, and he moans in your neck. You have to keep your back arched so it doesn't hit the middle console, but Chris does most of the work by keeping you somewhat upright. 

"Gonna cum in your tight pussy. Mmm, gonna give it to you all."

His announcement makes you tighten around him, your pussy locking him in so nothing drips out. "Fuck yesh," you bite into your shirt harder in anticipation. The increasing tingling sensation builds into warmth pooling your belly. All you can feel is constant pressure and how your shirt has started collecting your drool.

Your legs snap against Chris's waist and your hips try to escape his relentless thrusts when you cum. It's overwhelming and blinding, but Chris keeps a harsh grip on your hips when you try to twist away. You can't even play with your clit from how sensitive you got, and you use that wet hand to push against his chest. 

The material between your teeth falls, and you hear Chris tsk in feigning disappointment. It takes too much energy to even speak, let alone hold something between your teeth. All you can manage are breathless moans and pathetic mewls.

Chris's own high isn't too far behind you. He groans at the hotness in your cunt, the way he can feel your orgasm leaking onto his cock. Your walls are unbelievably soft and slick. Relaxed enough to let Chris fuck you as he pleases while maintaining a tight embrace that he pumps his cum in.

His arousal floods your pussy along with consecutive moans. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he stills his hips. Chris's deep grunts combined with his high-pitched squeaks make you whine in return.

Then he pumps slowly but with harsh thrusts. It makes your body jolt and tighten, shivering from his warm cum and how he fucks it deeper inside of you. Chris lifts his head to look at your drooly lips, then your hazy eyes. 

He hums with satisfaction at your fucked out expression and kisses you passionately. It's a stark contrast to his cock that's pouring his seed into you relentlessly. Your lips cave and your head falls slightly back from the weight of the kiss. 

Chris licks alongside your bottom lip, mixing your salvias'. He wants to ensure he shares every part of himself with you. Down to the spit he mingles in your mouth to the sticky slick between your thighs. A reminder that he's yours, and you're his.

Now, until the unseeable future. 

a/n: if you read this then I love you and I really wanna give you head jkjkfj but here's the 2nd part hope ya liked iittttt

[futureman]

You take my self control

summary: your first act of brutality leaves you reeling, but you’d do it all over again if it meant saving joel’s life. in the aftermath, you realize you’ve started to crave that violence and it terrifies you. joel steps in to satisfy your craving.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, extremely graphic depictions of violence, dark themes, blood and injuries, dead clicker, angst, comfort, ptsd, reader struggles, undefined age gap, established relationship, language, smut, piv, rough sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, minor dom!joel, guided handjob, pet names

word count: 3.4k

a/n: whew, this one is a doozy. the original plan was to write something fluffy, but then i wrote this instead 🥲 based on moments from kill bill vol. 1 and sin city, and the title is from the song self control by laura branigan! please lmk if i missed anything in the warnings and i’ll add it asap. it’s a lot darker than my last fic, but i’ve always wanted to write this story, so i hope you enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

You can’t see. You can’t hear anything at all. Numbness permeates your limbs, and your thoughts are a mishmash of gnashing teeth and nails, sharp and jagged like claws, and so, so much red.

There’s something warm and sticky on your face and hands. It’s up your nose, trickling into your open mouth, and it tastes like salt and iron. Blood…it must be blood. You hope it’s your own but, in the dark recesses of your mind, you know it’s someone else’s. It tastes all wrong, like the fact that you’re tasting it all means you’re alive and you really shouldn’t be.

He’s yelling, or at least you think it’s him. Sound returns to your ears all at once and it’s fucking loud.

Joel, stop, it hurts. 

Everything hurts so much now, and you feel it everywhere—scratches down your arms and legs, your heart slamming an angry beat against your temples.

Fuck, you’re probably bit. Joel sounds frantic and terrified, but you don’t know why. There are massive gaps in your memory and you can’t remember how you got here, knees heavy on the ground, your thighs bracketing the sides of a dead clicker. 

A woman—you think it used to be a woman. It’s hard to tell after the carnage. The fragments of bone and wet chunks of flesh and fungus where her head should be tell a different story now. You desperately wish your sight hadn’t returned at all, but it’s too late and you can’t unsee it. You can’t unsee her.

The muscles in your arms and hands burn something vicious, and when they give out, something hard clangs to the ground. A metal pipe. 

Joel calls out to you again, and he sounds closer this time.

“...go…have to go now…can’t…here…” 

Strong hands tug on your arm and pull you to your feet, and suddenly you’re running. Joel is all but dragging you out of what looks like the living room of a modern, suburban home, and you do your best not to trip on tipped-over furniture. 

You look back over your shoulder and the body is still lying there, lifeless. You’re not sure why you thought it would be chasing you, hungry mouth snapping at your throat; it’s dead. Because you killed it.

You’re exhausted and your legs are sore, but when you start to slow down, Joel’s hand tightens around yours and tugs harder.

“We have to go, baby, we can’t stay here.” Ah, that’s what he was saying before. “I know it hurts, but you gotta keep goin’. Just a little longer, you gotta keep it up for a little bit longer.” He should be out of breath by now, but he’s running on fear and adrenaline, and you let it fuel you, too.

When you make it outside, the sky is a clear, cloudless blue above you and the sun is brighter than you’ve ever seen it. It makes your skin itch, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the dirt and dried blood matting your hair and caked under your fingernails.

Instinctively, your hand rises to shield your eyes. It’s effective enough that you’re able to take in your surroundings as they fly by and, while they’re familiar, you still can’t remember what you were doing here in the first place.

“Joel, I’m…I-I’m—I can’t. I can’t run anymore, p-please—,” you whimper, chest heaving with exertion. House, driveway, lawn—they repeat over and over and over again. They’re starting to blur together, and your tunneling vision worsens until darkness consumes you. “...Joel…”

And then everything goes black.

You’re…surrounded. By something that feels soft and warm and solid against your aching skin, and it moves steadily against you, rising and falling. Your head tilts to the side and it’s Joel breathing into you, his head at home in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped loosely around you. 

You nuzzle your nose into his graying hair, pressing a kiss there, and a sharp intake of breath follows as he blinks awake blearily.

“Hey, baby,” you murmur. He hums something deep and unintelligible in response, tilting his head back to mouth wetly at the base of your throat. 

You let out a sigh of relief. If Joel’s in bed with you like this, it means you’re not infected. Hurt and in pain, yes, but you’re both alive and that’s all that matters. You saved his life out there and you’d do it all over again, even at the cost of your own.

Your memories are returning quickly now, like waves violently crashing to shore after a storm, and the images are gruesome. What you did to protect Joel was barbaric, but you acted on impulse, out of rage and desperation.

The clicker came out of nowhere. You were searching an abandoned house for supplies when it lunged out of a closet, tackling Joel to the ground. The metal pipe in his hand clattered to the ground at your feet and you picked it up as quickly as it fell.

Then, something inside you snapped and you reacted. It was dead after the second or third blow to the head, but you kept going anyway, angry at it for almost stealing Joel away and destabilized by the fear of losing him. 

Blood sprayed from every artery you severed and after each new crack in its skull, and it showered down like rain, thick and warm against your skin. It made you feel powerful, like you were in control for the first time in your life. You enjoyed it.

Only when you realized the pipe was connecting with wet, dented pieces of floorboard instead of flesh did you finally stop.

You remember everything now.

“I’m not sorry,” you tell him, staring vacantly at the popcorn ceiling of your bedroom. He sighs, and you think he’s about to start lecturing you. You don’t want to hear it. You barely want to talk about it at all. “You could’ve died, Joel. If you think for one second I’d ever let that happen, you’re out of your mind.”

He squeezes you a little tighter, mindful of your injuries, but doesn’t respond. Silence blankets you for a moment, and then it breaks once he realizes you’re trembling and your eyes and cheeks are wet with tears.

You’re not sure when you started crying, but you can’t seem to stop, and the frustration in his eyes lessens with each soft hiccup that escapes your lips.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, thumbing away the tears as they fall. He leaves his hand there, gently cupping your cheek, and you lean into his touch. You can feel the fight leaving his body; it’s just not worth it anymore, not after everything you’ve been through. Sighing, he drops his head to rest on your collarbone. “There’s nothin’ to be sorry for. I shoulda been payin’ more attention, been more cautious. Then, you wouldn’t have had to…you wouldn’t be—” He’s fumbling his words. Joel’s never been good at conversations like these, but he’s trying. “...I’m tryna say it’s not your fault. You did what you had to.”

It’s not his fault, either. In the aftermath of everything, no one’s to blame, but it doesn’t help how much it still hurts. How broken you feel.

“Joel, I—,” the tears flow freely and you struggle to suppress a sob. “I’m a monster. You saw what I did…I just—I couldn’t stop. I know she wasn’t a person anymore, I know that, but…b-but I think I liked it. What does that say about me; what does that make me?” You’re spiraling now. He shifts up the bed to hold you properly and rocks you against his chest for a while, like he’s soothing a child. 

“It makes you human,” he murmurs into your hair, running his hands up and down your sides. Your eyes flutter closed as you focus on the feeling of his warm, calloused fingers on your skin.

“I’m scared, Joel,” you whisper. “Whatever that was, it feels like it’s a part of me now—like…I’ll be fighting it forever.” His eyes darken, even as he kisses the side of your head gently once, then twice. “I close my eyes and she’s there. I can hear her, feel her. I…I feel like I’m losing my mind.” 

That fucking neighborhood. Why the fuck were you even in that neighborhood? There wasn’t even anything useful in any of those houses. You try to tell yourself that all of it could’ve been avoided, if you had just decided to head straight back to Jackson, but it’s a fantasy. In this world, it was inevitable. 

Joel still hasn’t answered you. Instead, he presses his lips to your throat again, this time with teeth, and sucks hard where your neck meets your shoulder. You should be wondering why he’s not responding when you’re so clearly distraught, but the only thing you can think about is the delicious pain blooming under your skin. When he finally speaks, it’s a low hum against the fresh bruise.

“I never wanted this for ya,” he nips at you sharply, his beard dragging roughly against your sensitive skin, and you gasp, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging. He groans, hips stuttering into your thigh, and the need to feel him bare and heavy on top of you is overwhelming. “I tried to protect ya—wanted to save you from this. All of it. But I failed ya.” There’s anger in his voice now, and it feels violent. He’s aggressive in the way he touches you, and though you know he’d never purposely hurt you, you think you want him to. “This world takes and takes and takes, and we’re forced to adapt,” he all but growls. “You’re no more a monster than anyone else.”

Rationally, you know it’s true. The bloodlust you feel—you’ve seen it before, in the eyes of raiders you’ve come across on the outside and in the hungry gaze of infected, all of them desperate to tear into you, to take what they want. Looking into Joel’s eyes now, you see it there, too.

The room feels hotter, somehow, like his body heat suddenly spiked, and it draws you in like a moth to a flame. You press your hand into the soft skin of his stomach and it burns like molten lava, begging you to play with fire. 

He snatches your hand from where it’s splayed beneath his shirt and drags it under the waistband of his sweatpants to cup his hardening cock, and you suck in a harsh breath through your teeth. Fuuuuuck. You’re not in charge here, you realize, not now.

“Tonight, I want you to give in to me, alright? You let me take control. ‘m gonna fix it,” he grits out. “Gonna fix everythin’, just need you to trust me,” and you do. You’ll let yourself go, because even though that dark, horrible part of you doesn’t want to submit to him, your body clearly does. It’s a power struggle you hope you lose.

His hand doesn’t leave yours once it’s wrapped around him and, instead, leads your fingers to grip him tightly as he sets a strong, steady pace. You give him a rough squeeze, and he throbs, leaking a bead of precum onto your fingers that you thumb over his head, digging your nail into the slit.

Joel chokes out a moan, hand releasing yours to bury itself in your hair, and begins to fuck your fist in earnest, each thrust punctuated with a sharp exhale. It’s like gripping steel, hard and smooth and searing.

Or a metal pipe. Fucking hell, he feels so much like that fucking metal pipe and you clench down around nothing, your cunt soaked and devastatingly empty. More precum leaks from the tip, and he’s so wet now, your palm sliding easily up his cock and back down to squeeze the base. 

It makes you see red—viscous, red blood coating your fingers, and you release him, pulling your hand away to suck it off each one. It’s not real. Of course, it’s not real. The creamy liquid on your fingers tastes like Joel, bitter and heady, but still, you can’t get the thought of his blood in your mouth out of your head now.

God, that’s so fucked up. You must look half crazed right now, pupils blown wide as you look up at him through your lashes,  each glistening finger pulling from your mouth with a pop.  But he looks angry at what he sees in your eyes, and suddenly both of his hands are on your hips and he’s slamming you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress with his entire weight. You’re not following his rules.

“Baby…baby,” he moans, finally brushing his lips against yours, soft and wet, and licking a line across the roof of your mouth as he grinds into your aching pussy. “Stop fightin’ me. Just…focus on me, right here. Lemme make you feel good.” You whine pathetically into his mouth as he runs his hands up your sides, fingers catching on your shirt and dragging up until his thumbs brush the underside of your tits. 

Lifting your shirt up just enough to expose your pebbling nipples, he leans back on his heels and looks down at you hungrily, like he wants to devour you whole. And fuck, you need him to. But you also want to take and take and take, itching for the fight. 

His head lolls to the side as he takes you in. “Fuck, baby…,” he mumbles, as he drops a hand to palm himself. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this. So good for me, my—” He pauses to squeeze his cock, and groans out, “...my brave, strong girl.” 

There’s a massive wet patch on the front of his sweatpants from where you soaked him through your underwear, and his eyes roll back when he feels it, warm and sticky against his fingertips. Your mouth waters and you’re starting to feel a little desperate now that he’s stopped touching you. You don’t even notice the whine that escapes your lips as he continues to jerk himself off through the fabric.

“What, brave girl?” he coos, biting back a growl at the warring emotions on your pretty features. He reaches forward to thumb a nipple, his touch rough and calloused. “I promised I’d make ya feel good, didn’t I?” He tweaks it and you keen, hips canting upward in search of friction. “Feels that good, huh?” he rasps, smug at how your body responds to him.

A strong hand forces your hips back onto the bed, trapping you against the mattress, and you feel a sudden, intense urge to slap him. Heat blooms in your lower belly and you feel yourself gush at the thought. “Joel…fuck, just fucking touch me. Please.” 

The sides of his mouth quirk down and he nods, like he’s thinking it over. Asshole. You know you’re still breaking his rules but, by now, you’re too horny to care. You don’t think sex with Joel has ever been like this, nor do you think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life. Christ, if he doesn’t fuck you soon—

You lurch forward to tug at his pants in a moment of weakness, but he’s quicker than you and snatches your wrists, pinning them above your head. The scratches on your arms are still raw and angry, and the skin pulls painfully as he tightens his hold. It’s another reminder of earlier today, and you muster up all of the strength in your body to rip your arms out of his grip, but he shoves you down by your shoulders. 

“If you keep that up, I’m not gonna give you this,” he warns you, flipping the waistband of his pants down just enough to free his cock, thick and leaking all over itself. Your thighs squeeze together at the sight of it, and you abruptly feel remorseful, ready to beg for it if you have to.

Fuck, he’s powerful. And fuck, his tactic is working. The power struggle you hoped you’d lose—you’re pretty sure you just lost. You can tell the moment Joel recognizes acceptance on your face and, immediately, you’re being yanked onto your hands and knees, ass in the air and face smushed on one side against the mattress. He’s rewarding you.

It’s like his hands are laser-focused and, yet, still everywhere all at once. 

“Brave girl,” he murmurs, mouthing a wet trail down your spine. “That’s my girl—g-good, good girl.” He’s already starting to stutter, his voice breathless and shaky. Joel gets mouthy when he’s pussy-drunk, like he just can’t help but verbalize every filthy, incoherent thought when he’s inside you.

You clench in anticipation as he grinds his painfully hard cock into your ass, precum soaking into your underwear and mixing with your own slick. He slides the offending fabric halfway down your thighs and then stops, and you can feel his breath, hot and humid, against your cunt as he spreads your legs for better access. 

He wastes no time licking a wide stripe up your sopping core before swirling his tongue against your clit and sucking hard. It punches a moan out of your chest and your mind goes blank as you grind back into his mouth. The sound of skin slapping roughly against skin reaches your ears and you realize he’s jerking himself off as he devours you, groaning raggedly as he fucks into you with his tongue. 

What the fuck, you’re so fucking close already. Frantic, you reach out to Joel behind you, managing to tug a fistful of his hair. “J-Joel…ngh, fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you whine pathetically, drooling onto the sheets. “I can’t…I— please, ‘m so empty. Don’t make me c-cum empty, Joel.” 

It happens so fast. Your entire body is thrown forward with the weight of him, as he sheathes himself in your heat to the hilt in one violently powerful thrust, and oh, oh fuck, you’ll never get used to how big Joel is. The stretch is almost painful and you bear down on him, not expecting the sudden intrusion.

“Baby…girl. Squeezin’ me so tight, so f-fucking tight,” he moans helplessly, already starting to babble as he fucks into you. “Fuck, your pussy gets s-so tight when you’re…,” he reaches around to rub circles into your clit and you start to pulse around him, “about—ngh, to cum.” 

With his other hand, he grips the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to remind you who’s in control; of your pleasure, of your safety. The new angle drives his cock directly into that soft, spongy spot inside you that has your jaw dropping, staccatoed moans punched out of your lungs with each thrust. 

“‘m gonna cum. Fuuck, fuck, ‘m cumming…Joel, ‘m—,” your pussy convulses hard, and you soak his cock as you cum with a hoarse shout. Joel growls over your shoulder, slamming into you over and over, your pussy squelching loud and wet.

Your arms and legs give out, and Joel grips your hips with both hands, hovering above your ass as he fucks into you, thrusts harder and more frantic. He’s so close, the telltale signs obvious to you, now. 

He barely has time to choke out a panicked, “where?” and hear you moan, “on my face,” before he’s thrusting once, twice, and pulling out, rolling you over and bracketing your head with his thighs. You rub your hands up and down them as he jerks himself off above you. For a moment, he gazes down at you in wonder, like maybe you’re a beautiful figment of his imagination, and then he’s cumming hard.

Joel sounds wrecked, his groan long and drawn out, as his cock spurts thick ropes across your lips and tongue, dribbling down your chin and onto your chest. Shifting down your body, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and tasting himself on your tongue. He pulls away, cradling your face in his hands.

“I told you I’d fix it.”

And he did. He put your broken pieces back together and overwrote your bad memories. 

Now, all you see, all you can hear is Joel. Your thoughts are a mishmash of searing hot skin, his lips, soft and wet against yours, and mind-numbing pleasure.

Your skin is still warm and sticky with his release, and it tastes so undeniably like him. Woody and salty, and right.

It’s quiet, now—peaceful—and everything doesn’t hurt so much anymore. 

Strong arms pull you close and you sigh, tired and relieved, into his embrace. Joel holds you tighter as you drift off to sleep, murmuring something you don’t quite catch against your cheek, and you feel safe. 

From the monsters beyond the walls and the one in the mirror.

thanks for reading! 💕

[kentosovertime]

(n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are

toji x afab!reader, fiance!megumi - 2.7k words

A/N: here's a comeback fic for my blog resurrection, had this idea before I stopped writing and FINALLY got to it, enjoy~

CW: explicit content, explicit language, age gap, revenge cheating, manipulation, humiliation, dubcon language, your dad will do, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding, non consensual videotaping at the end, anger issues (rip the reader)

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box | Open Request Event | AO3 | Ko-Fi✨

“For fucks sake!” You screech, the sound of your rage swallowed by a bus that screams by the side of the road as you slam the hood of your smoking car shut. 

“At least it’s not in flames-” Starts a random passerby walking their dog, but is sent running when you send them a withering glare. After the weekend you’ve had and it’s only Friday night?

You open your phone, your glare turning to the long list of outgoing calls to every hotel within an hour of your apartment, all booked to no vacancy for a local festival. Your landlord really picked the perfect weekend to kick all their tenants out for “emergency” maintenance for an issue that was reported months ago. 

Someone must have threatened to report the living conditions, as his attitude quickly changed when he offered to reimburse the hotel costs if his tenants were forced to stay at one. 

Your gaze softens as you scroll through those calls to where Megumi contacted you, letting you know he had made it to the martial arts competition he was coaching this weekend. His soft spot and skill for taking care of children was what initially drew you to him, but right now you wished more than anything you could press on his name and he could come to your rescue like always. 

Calling a tow truck to bring your car to the mechanics wasn’t necessarily the issue… but being on the streets for the next couple nights was. With your car in this condition, it wasn’t like you could sleep in it, given your inability to find even a shity motel room in the worst part of town. 

You take a moment to mourn the fact that you didn’t move closer to where your family lives before realizing you really only have one option in front of you; Toji. 

The contact information for your boyfriend's father mocks you on the screen, daring you to call him, a perfect stranger, to come and save your ass. The lack of familiarity wasn’t based on a lack of effort on your part, having tried repeatedly to get Megumi to open up about his family. The most that you were able to glean was that his mother had passed away and his father wasn’t often present. 

“Hello?” A gruff voice answers on the first ring. You didn’t even realize you had pressed his number before he was on the line. “Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro? This is Megumi’s fiance…” An awkward, lasting silence stretches out between the two of you before you clear your throat and try again. “I’m very sorry to bother you, but Megumi is out of town and m-my car is billowing smoke a-and all the hotels are booked-” 

Toji smirks as you ramble, rather cutely he may add, grabbing his wallet and keys before he’s even told you yes to both of your requests. He chuckles under his breath as you struggle to not fill the silence, letting your words hang in the air again. 

“I’m on my way,” He hums as he twists the keys in the ignition of his car. “Get your stuff out of the car in case it explodes.” 

He barks out a laugh as he hangs up and hears a distressed noise of dismay leave your throat. You’re so easily worked up, he wonders if this is why Megumi has done everything in his power to prevent the two of you from meeting… a valid concern. Considering how that ex of his used to try to hang off of Toji. He shudders in disgust at the memory of the girl, still in high school and thinking she was worth a second glance. 

Something tells him you’d be a prettier sight. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

This is why Megumi has been telling you no… It takes everything in you to keep your jaw snapped shut as you watch his father prowl up to where you're standing over your suitcase on the sidewalk, nervously glancing at the vehicle he made seem may blow up at any second. 

You approach the car hesitantly when he waves you over, shocked that your legs work from how tightly your wound. He opens up the hood to take a look at what’s causing the smoke while you wait for your tow. 

“Here, sweetheart.” It only takes him a second to point out what's wrong with your engine, gently redirecting your finger when you point to an area in question. “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope that this is worth fixing… you may be looking at a new set of wheels.” 

Anger and frustration well up in you again, even as a flush of heat cascades down your spine at the small touch of his skin on yours. You’re thankful for the distraction the anger provides, given the other option is avoiding looking at how his tight black t-shirt stretches across his torso or drooling like a pitiful little girl. Your fiance is attractive, but there’s still a softness to his face. He lacks the hard planes and sharp angles his father possesses. 

“One thing at a time.” Toji squeezes your shoulder with a smirk, leading closer than he should. How is he supposed to help himself when you seem ready to snap with how tightly you’ve wound yourself? The tension in your back only winds further with how he kneads your skin. “If you need it, I’ll pitch in to help Megumi get you around for a bit.” 

Your mouth opens to stutter out a reply… or maybe a denial for such an open ended offer, but the horn of the tow truck stops you. 

“Let me handle that.” He hums. “I wouldn’t want the tow truck driver to try to take advantage of you.” 

Watching him leave, you pull the phone from your pocket, sending Megumi a quick update about where you’re going before your phone dies. You shove it back into its spot after you’ve powered it off, saving what’s left of the battery for when you’re able to dig out your phone charger. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Toji holds the door to his house open for you, bracing his hand on the small of your back as you cross the threshold to a surprisingly tasteful living room. 

“What?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, the shock must be written all over your face. “Expect a futon couch and a mattress on the floor?” 

“M-Maybe..” You rub your neck with a sheepish look, managing a small chuckle as he leads you down the hall to what you assume is the room you’ll be using. “Something about unmarried men and the lack of dining room tables and living out of laundry baskets.” 

The drive over had taken longer than you expected, he lives on the edge of the city, the houses given more space than what you’re used to from your apartment in the city. But it had given you the opportunity to partially acclimate to his overwhelming presence. All you had to do was not look at his face… easy. 

“I did have a wife.” He hums in thought. “The art of furnishing a house isn’t lost on me… Anyway.. This one is you.” He flicks on the light as he enters the spacious room, moving until he gets to another door, turning that light on too, the cocky humor back on his face by the time he turns back to you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“You have your own bathroom… shower head’s detachable.”  He tacks on, watching you empty your overnight bag, setting your night clothes out before you turn your phone back on and get it attached to a charger.

“That’s not- I wouldn’t-” A shocked squeak flies from your throat as your eyes widen in embarrassment. 

“Your face is…” He howls in laughter. “Absolutely priceless. My room is down the hallway, last door on the right. In case you need me.”

“I-” His tone drips with innuendo, making the blush on your face deepen to a shade of crimson. So much for not thinking about him inappropriately. 

“So innocent, sweetheart. You’d think you’re still a virgin.” You watch in mortification as your future father-in-law leans cockily against the door jam to your bathroom, your mouth opening and closing, urging something to come out, an explanation, a lie, anything. Just something to make him not make fun of you. “Oh my god… you are. Even when you’re engaged to my son?” 

“He…” You wring your hands together, your voice barely above a mumble, looking down at your engagement ring in confusion, as if it could tell you the Toji’s lying to you. “He said he wanted to wait until w-we were married. That he’d wait…” 

He never said that it would be his first time, you realize. As quickly as your embarrassment comes, it's replaced with a low, burning fit of rage that’s ready to lash out. 

“Wait! You thought Megumi was a virgin?” He snickers meanly. “That’s fucking rich, hun. That ship sailed in fucking high school.” 

You listen, shaking with the anger that’s boiling inside of you, as he describes Megumi’s relationship with a girl named Himari, how he walked in on them more than once. 

Your mind starts to spin in circles, fueled by this rage that has nowhere to go. As insufferable as Toji is about this, you find your anger can’t be directed at him. It's Megumi that lied to you for the entire duration of your relationship, not his father. 

As your mind circles, every insecurity that you’ve had about your relationship that you so easily dismissed before bubbles to the surface one by one. He’s always working or volunteering somewhere. The apartment has just become a place that he sometimes sleeps, if he ever makes it home because he travels around so often. He even said he didn’t like his father. Admittedly, you can see how they would clash, but was that it? Or did he just not want you to meet Toji so his cover wouldn’t be blown?

Toji approaches you, leaning into that delicious anger to purr in your ear. “I could show you what you’re missing, sweetheart…” 

Your body doesn’t flinch as your eyes slide to meet his gaze directly for the first time. You nod ever so slightly in consent, your breath uneven from the anticipation that’s built in your core from when you first saw him. 

“I’m going to need a little more than a nod, swe-” It’s the spite that pushes you to kiss him first. Spite that doing this will hurt Megumi has much as he hurt you, and spite that if you have to hear Toji call you sweetheart one more fucking time you’d explode. 

The groan you swallow from Toji as he presses against you wipes any doubt from your mind as you press against his broad chest to push him to the guest bed and crawl up his body to grind yourself into the bulge in his pants, hungrily seeking out his lips again. 

“Eager little virgin, aren’t we?” He growls as he yanks your head back by your hair, baring your neck to him so he can nip at it. The lack of marks there by his son is a further invitation to take you for himself. 

“Ah-! Mr. Fushi-” A whimper escapes your mouth as he carelessly shoves a hand beneath the band of your leggings and panties and you squirm to pull away as his fingers immediately shove past your entrance to scissor you open. 

“Uh uh. That’s enough of that shit.” He bites a harsh mark into the juncture of your neck, grinning when you cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure, fat tears welling in your eyes and spilling over, your core spasming around his digits he continues to bully into you. “I’m not fucking stopping until your dripping, sweetheart. I’m going to have you crying that its too much and I’m not going to fucking stop. Even if you beg.”

It stings, the foreign feeling inside of you, but that feeling is quickly replaced by a rapidly approaching orgasm. You can take him, you think as you reach down between you to palm him through his sweatpants. You’re ready for anything he could give you. 

Your efforts leave you breathless and end with you managing to work his pant’s down his legs as he rips your leggings from your body along with your panties. 

“Fuck-” He growl as you take ahold of his length and line him up with your entrance as you hover above him. “You better slow down or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re too cocky for your own- oh fuck-” You hiss as you allow the head of his cock to breach your entrance. The sting returns and flares into white hot heat at your core, making you double over into his chest as each inch rips its way into you. Your hips rock needily into him, trying with desperate circles to work yourself open. 

By the third circle of your hips, Toji loses his patience. His hands reach out to grapple your hips, using his momentum to flip the two of you before he thrusts violently into you, fully seating himself before pulling from your heat to slam home again. 

“Broken in now, aren’t you?” He growls, slamming into you a few more times before the sting completely abates, making sure you really feel what he’s taking from you. “Took what you wanted like a greedy fucking whore. Now shut the fuck up and be thankful I’m giving you my cock.” 

He pulls out of you to manhandle you until your chest is laying against the covers, wasting no time before he’s hauling your hips back into where he kneels behind you, entering you roughly again and setting a punishing pace. 

“You take me like a trained bitch.” He pants, grunting as his hips slap against yours, sending the vibrations straight to your clit as you sob into the duvet. “You lying about this being your first time?” 

You don’t answer, your face planted into the covers from the angle he has you bent into. Toji growls in annoyance, gathering your arms behind you to pull you up against his chest before his free hand snakes around your front to deliver a harsh slap to your center, ripping a scream from you.

“Go on slut. Answer, daddy.” He slaps your clit again and you feel yourself gush around his length, pushed to the edge. 

“M’not lying, Mr. Fushigur-” Another slap has you trembling, fresh tears pouring down your cheeks as you build impossibly higher. “D-Daddy- M’not you just f-feel s’good. I’ve b-been wet since you showed up.”

“Greedy little thing’s so ignored by Megumi you have to result to fucking his dad?” He coos down at you condescendingly, degrading you further. His voice takes on a cruel tone as he starts circling your clit. “How are you going to explain to your precious fiance that you’re carrying his brother?” 

“W-What- n-no T-Toji you c- shit!” You cum suddenly around him, the image of you leaking his cum banging around your head until you're clamping so hard around him you’re pulling his orgasm from him. Shivers wrack your body as you feel the ropes of his cum pump into you and leak from where you’re connected.  

The two of you breathe heavily, your panting filling the room as you come down from your highs. In your haze you don’t notice Toji video taping his cock pulling out of your cunt or the cum that gushed out in its wake before playfully slapping your ass and walking into the guest bathroom to get you a towel. 

You slump against the covers, wincing as you reach for your phone when you see the screen go off with worried messages from Megumi about being near his father. Followed by numerous missed calls with the same message, pleading with you not to stay with him. That he’d rush home tonight to help you so you didn’t have to stay there. 

You scowl at the message, sending off something that gets right to the point. 

<Who’s Himari?>

You decline the immediate litany of frantic calls, fully shutting off your phone and shuffling out of bed to join Toji in the bathroom. Maybe the shower could be round two… and if not, you’d happily sneak into the master bedroom to make that a reality.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210@rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems [[if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[the-boy-meets-evil]

some habits are hard to break | feat. jungkook

(where you know that jungkook is the last person you should keep running back to, but neither of you can seem to let the other go.)

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader genre: angst, smut, est. relationship rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~12.5k warnings: the relationship isn't healthy (but they're very human), miscommunications, misplaced hope, bad habits, unhealthy coping mechanisms, cheating (reader on unnamed boyfriend), mentions of past trauma (reader), mentions of therapy, mentions of mental health struggles (reader), explicit smut: unprotected sex (don't do this), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), handjob, semi public sex (behind a closed door at a club), teasing, hair pulling, light choking, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything

a/n: she is finally here! i did not expect this fic to take me this long, but here we are. thank you to one of my favorite humans @ugh-yoongi for reading this over and assuring me they weren't terrible, just human. this story feels personal to me so that was reassuring.

a/n 2: lauren has asked for a pt 2, so i’ll be writing that after i get through both my collabs due in august 💕 banner/divider credit: my bby @classicscreations who always comes through tagging: @pjmparadise @axialitae

Every single thought is the same. You know better than to send the text sitting on your phone. You know precisely why it’s wrong. You know that nothing is ever going to change.

Here’s the thing. You’re in a healthy, stable relationship with someone who’s good to you and for you. He’s honest and caring, funny and sweet. Despite all of your baggage, he never makes you feel less than, never makes you feel broken. This is the first time in your life that you’ve been able to lay all your shit on the table and have someone accept it unconditionally. And he always does what he says he’s going to. You’re never up waiting at 2 in the morning, wondering where he is because he hasn’t called or texted.

So, yeah, things with him are good, great even.

But…

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? As soon as there’s a but, it’s like you can’t see all of the good. It’s all just a placeholder before what may be the worst three-letter word in the English language. You wonder if it means there’s just something fundamentally wrong with you. Who looks for the “buts” of every situation? Why can’t you just appreciate all the truly wonderful things in your relationship?

Because you’ve had the one thing you’re missing. You know it exists and it’s hard to forget.

Your boyfriend is great, perfect, even, in almost every way that matters. It’s just, you’re not exactly…satisfied. And you know that you could guide him to be better for you in that way. He just seems a bit sensitive about it at times and you don’t want to make him feel less than since he never does that to you.

This is exactly why you’re staring at your phone. Paralyzed because you both want to send the text and know you really can’t. Your body remembers his, remembers the way the slightest touch sent your heart racing. You try to also remember every word he’s ever uttered to you, too, because he’s always been very clear about who he is.

It’s fucked up that you’re even considering it, beyond wrong that you typed those 5 words out in an empty conversation thread. (Even though you usually keep every conversation, you deleted this one after you got serious about your boyfriend. You say it’s to keep the temptation away, but really, how well is that working now?)

You: what are you up to?

Just like that, your need to fill your desires wins out against every other rational thought you have. Part of you hopes that he doesn’t respond. It’s been months since you last spoke and you know he’s got a short attention span. Maybe he’ll spare you having to make a final decision.

Jungkook: out getting some drinks with friends

He doesn’t. His answer comes in far quicker than you expect it to and you get that same feeling in your stomach. Like anticipation mixed with desire. You’re so fucked.

Jungkook: what are you up to?

Tomorrow you’ll look back and realize this is a chance to bow out, to realize that this is a mistake. That you hadn’t sealed your fate when you sent the first message. You could still just bow out and walk away, leave the message unanswered.

You don’t.

You: nothing, just at home alone Jungkook: what about the boyfriend? You: away for work

You know that you should feel bad now. A normal person might realize that this was destructive behavior, that you’re purposely sabotaging your own long-term happiness for instant gratification. At least, that’s what your therapist tells you.

Jungkook: I can be home in 15 minutes, I’m just around the corner

The message is really your last chance, whether you consciously think about it or not. There was no preamble with Jungkook. He assumes you’re texting him so you can come over. And he’s right, isn’t he? You weren’t exactly texting to catch up with someone you weren’t ever friends with anyway. No, you’re both adults and you know what this is. Just like you’ve always known.

You: give me 30 and I’ll be over

Was there really any other outcome? From the moment you opened Jungkook’s contact to start a text, this was the inevitable end. You can pretend that you have control and you were on the fence. But, you know the truth, and so does Jungkook. He knows it from the moment your name appears on his lock screen. This only ends one way, the same way it’s ended countless times before.

Thirty minutes later, after cleaning up and getting dressed, you stand on Jungkook’s doorstep. There’s a moment where you genuinely question if this is smart. Smart is the wrong word, you think. Of course, this is fucking stupid. You could ask 100 people and every single one of them would probably tell you to turn around. So no, this isn’t smart.  The real question is if you’re going to do it anyway.

Jungkook opens the door before you even knock and the question dies. There he is, in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt, like the true fuckboy you know he is, and your body remembers. It remembers every kiss, every touch, every tremble. It starts to react without your permission.  By the smirk he’s wearing, you can tell Jungkook remembers too.

“Right on time,” he says, leaning against the door frame like he needs the support.

“Are we gonna have a whole conversation out here?” It’s a challenge and a mistake all rolled into one.

He doesn’t answer, just moves aside so that you can step past him. There’s a moment, as you’re stepping past him and glancing around his apartment, of nerves. Of wondering what the fuck is going on. But his apartment hasn’t changed, not that you expected it to, and neither has he.

“Want anything to drink?” he asks, moving around you to the kitchen. He looks back over his shoulder at you, a confident smirk on his lips. “We could do a couple shots.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” you wonder. Still, you follow him into the kitchen.

“No, definitely not.” His answer is swift and his eyes roam over you, appraising. “You just seem a little on edge.”

“Wonder why that is,” you huff out.

Jungkook leans back against the counter, eyes still trained on you. “If you don’t want to be here…”

“I didn’t say that either,” you respond.

There’s this weird tension settling between the two of you and you’re not really sure what to do about it. Not really sure how to get out of your head for even a second. That’s when you feel Jungkook’s hands on your hips, pulling you back against his body where he still leans against the counter.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he says and dips his head to kiss along your jawline.

“I don’t,” you respond.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers against your skin as he continues to kiss down your neck.

The only thing that comes out for a second is a hum when Jungkook lightly sucks at the base of your neck where it meets your collarbone. “No.”

“Are you sure?” He’s pulled back now and looking you directly in the eye.

You take a breath and then another when your heart starts to speed up. The only thoughts are of his lips on yours, his fingers grazing along your body. Slowly your fingers trail up his arms and he doesn’t move at all. Just watches you and waits for you to make your decision. Leaves it all up to you.

So you do the only thing you can, the only thing you were going to do once you sent that text. You let your fingers find purchase in his hair and you press your lips hard against his. He’s turning the two of you around in an instant so it’s you pressed into the counter. The kiss is hard and desperate, like you’ve both been starved and this is the only way to solve that. His hands feel like they’re everywhere and it’s still not enough, not completely what you need. Nobody has ever set your body on fire just from kissing the way Jungkook does. It’s bliss the way your brain goes almost silent except for thoughts of him. And you know he’s just as turned on, can feel it in the way he’s pressing against you.

Jungkook kisses down your neck again and you don’t even bother to hold back the moan. When you feel him lightly sucking into your skin before pulling away, part of you wishes he’d do it harder. Wishes he’d leave a mark. Wishes for something to show what you’re doing here tonight without you having to say it. He doesn’t, though, and you know he wouldn’t even if you asked.

Instead he pulls away, smirks at your whimper from the lack of contact, and reaches for the hem of your shirt. He’s still asking permission, so you give it. Your shirt and bra disappear in record time and his mouth is back on. Softly kissing down the space between your breasts and across the underside of one. It’s too much, the way he knows exactly what you need, the way his lip ring teases you as he moves across your skin, the way he stops to just look at you when he knows he’s driving you crazy.

Well, you think, two can play at that game. Before he even realizes what you’re doing, you’re spitting into your hand and reaching inside his sweats and boxers (since he’s annoyingly still clothed). You’re slowly dragging your hand along his length, moving painfully slowly. He groans when you slide your thumb over his tip and pulls back.

“Fuck,” he says and slowly pulls your hand out.

“What?” you ask, actually confused.

“Come on, I can’t fuck you against this counter but if we don’t get out of here, I’m gonna try,” he says and pulls you along into the bedroom.

Jungkook kisses you hard and lightly pushes you back onto the bed. You prop yourself up to watch him quickly undress. You love watching the way his muscles contract with each movement, love the lean lines of his body, absolutely love everything about him. If he sees you watching him, which you’re sure he does, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he leans over you, kisses you hard again as he pulls your pants and underwear off nearly in one motion.

“Eager,” you taunt.

“You won’t be saying that when you can’t walk tomorrow,” he says.

Before you can answer, Jungkook is flipping you over so that you’re on your hands and knees, pressing down on your back so your ass is in the air. You’re a little surprised, because usually he takes his time with you. Not that you’re complaining. He moves on the bed and then you hear a bottle opening seconds before you feel the cold liquid at your entrance. He may be a lot of things, but he always makes sure you’re taken care of.

Despite his words, he still slides into you slowly and lets you adjust to him. His hands grip your hips tightly as he rolls his hips into you almost carefully, like he’s not sure if you’re adjusted. It’s bordering on painful that he’s so still.

“Fuck Jungkook, move,” you whine.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Just fuck me, please fuck me,” you beg and you hear the low chuckle.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he says and snaps into you hard.

“Fuckkkkkk,” you draw out.

Removing one hand from your hip, he presses you back down into the mattress. You arch your back further so he has a better angle and let the pillow muffle your moans. It mixes with his own groans and the slap of his skin against yours every time he buries himself fully inside you. There’s something frantic about it and you’re sure this is what you’ve been missing. Sure this is what you need. He removes his hand from your hip again and roughly slaps your ass.

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you yell.

He slaps your other ass cheek and it makes you scream out again. Yes, this is what you need. Someone to be a little rougher with you. Someone who doesn’t treat you like you’re going to break or worry if you can take it because he knows. He knows exactly what you can take and exactly what you like. Him pulling on your hair is only further proof of that.

And then he’s pulling you to him, so that your back is against his chest. The new angle has him hitting deeper inside you, reaching that spot that nearly has you seeing stars. Jungkook moves his hand out of your hair around your neck, gripping lightly.

“Do you like that, baby?” he whispers roughly in your ear.

“Yes,” you moan out.

“Because I fuck you the best,” he continues.

“Jungkook, fuck, just fucking choke me, please,” you beg, unbothered by how much you’re begging him.

That doesn’t need any answer from him beyond his fingers tightening around your throat. It’s the perfect pressure too, just like every other time he’s choked you while fucking. It makes you feel a little lightheaded but also like everything feels that much more amplified. Every hard thrust into your cunt pushes you closer to the edge. Every breath sounds louder. Everything is just more.

He also knows your body to know when you’re close. You almost whine when he removes his hand from your throat because you felt like you were about to come. And then he rubs a thumb over your clit, continues to make sure you come first, like always.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you shout.

“Come on baby, I wanna feel you come,” he says into your ear.

It’s the only permission you need as you let go. Somewhere, in the haze of your high, you can tell that he’s coming too, that his release comes just after yours. It’s all you can do not to slump against his body, though. His arms are strong around you as he pulls out so that both of you can lay down on the bed.

A few minutes later, after he’s cleaned you both off and you’re lying together in bed, you wonder how you’re going to extract yourself. You’ve never really felt awkward around him, so you’re not really sure why you do now.

“I should be going,” you say and start to sit up.

Jungkook is quick to pull you back down. He meets your look of confusion with nothing but desire. You think, not for the first time, it’s the kind of look that you drown in. The kind of look that ruins you.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” he asks.

“Home?” you offer.

“Why?” he fires back.

“I don’t know, Jungkook, we already fucked,” you say. Part of you is a little exasperated at having to spell it out.

“Do you really think I’m going to let you leave here when I haven’t even tasted you?” he asks.

Fuck.

(He follows through with exactly what he says. It’s slow and measured, like he wants to pull apart every thread you have one by one. Like he wants to ruin you for anyone that isn’t him. Like he doesn’t know he already has.

The lip ring is new since the last time you fucked him and you’re not sure if you’ll even be able to tell when he’s between your legs. Until you’re praising him so loudly you’re sure his neighbors must hear. Or maybe it’s just because he’s so good at getting you off. Even if tonight, he takes his time, brings you to the edge over and over before finally letting you slip over.

It’s the early hours of the morning by the time you’re both worn out. You offer to call a ride, only to have him insist you stay. It’s much too late to be going anywhere when he’d be worried if you were safe or not. So you stay and it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in awhile.)

The wait is excruciating. Your boyfriend comes home tonight and it’s terrible timing, you know, but you also know that you have to tell him what happened. It isn’t fair to him to just go on without knowing. He’s one of the kindest people in the world, doesn’t deserve this. He’s not broken like you, something you’ve pointed out since the beginning. Maybe those intrusive thoughts were right and you just aren’t built for healthy relationships.

Although you haven’t told many of your friends what happened, you had to confide in a few. Each of them tells you that you shouldn’t tell him what happened. They say that it’s just one of those things where confessing might make you feel better, but it’ll only make him feel shitty. It’s hard to know how he’ll feel. Shitty is probably fair. But, you think they’re wrong about how you’ll feel. Getting this off your chest will just replace one weight with another. Wanting to come clean isn’t about clearing your own conscience. It’s about honesty and him having the ability to make an informed decision.

It actually goes far better than you thought, somehow. He’s hurt, how could he not be? Despite that, he’s calm in the conversation. Instead of breaking it off there and then, which is what you expect, he suggests taking a step back. It’ll allow the relationship to be less defined and maybe less serious. You can’t really believe it when he says that he’s there to work things out with you and give you the space to figure out what you need. It breaks your heart a little bit more, somehow, to see him so patient with you. You don’t deserve it.

Instead of seeing this as a failure, he wants you to see it for what he sees it as. This is just a slip, a step back. There’s been so much trauma in your life that it’s natural for you to have moments where you slip. He’s hurt, yes, he’ll admit that, but he’s not angry with you. At the end of the day, he genuinely cares for you and he’s willing to do whatever it is the both of you need in order to move forward. You both agree that therapy as a couple might be important. However, he insists that it can wait while you sort through how you’re feeling.

Overall, you think you feel okay about it. Things will look different with him for the time being, but you can actually see past this moment in time. That’s new for you. You’re feeling hopeful for the future and you even let yourself imagine a future with him in it. Maybe this isn’t the end of the world after all. Maybe this is just something you actually needed to close a chapter.

Weeks go by. Therapy is back to being once a week, sometimes twice when the sessions fit into your work schedule, and you do trust this therapist. Really, you do. She listens to everything you say and interjects in meaningful ways. It’s clear that she’s actually listening to you and giving you genuine feedback, rather than some previous therapists that only asked how something made you feel. Sitting in that office has forced you to face a lot of deep-seated issues, everything from your childhood to past relationships to the deepest recesses of your mind. Sometimes you don’t really want to relive those moments, but she’s always done a good job of explaining why you need to do the work.

But…

And there it is, again, that stupid three-letter word that brings everything to a screeching halt.

Despite all your therapist’s work, there’s a part of you that doesn’t see the future anymore. Therapy is wonderful and you’re actually really thankful you found this therapist. You’re sleeping better, you feel lighter, and the world doesn’t feel like it’s going to crush you every day. Maybe she’s a little too good at her job, though, because you’re wondering how to move forward. Your boyfriend is perfect…for someone. And you’re not sure anymore if that someone is you.

It’s been weeks and he’s still just content to take the backseat while you do whatever work you need to do. It’s stupid, you know it’s stupid, but you want him to fight for you. You want to see that he is actually upset over what happened with Jungkook. It’s not healthy, you know that and your therapist reminds you it’s not healthy. You’re doing everything you can to make your brain catch up that it’s not healthy. You can’t shake it, though. All the doubts and insecurities creep back in when he still doesn’t seem bothered.

So you do the only thing you can think of, the thing your therapist disagrees with. Well, disagrees with the reasoning, not with the idea itself. You break off the relationship. He tries to approach it in such a way that leaves the door open for you both to come back to it down the road. You don’t want loose ends, so you lie. It hurts to see his face crumble when you say you just don’t love him and he should find someone that does. It’s cruel. You hate yourself for doing it. But you think it’s easier this way. This is too comfortable and you don’t want to string him along.

Then, you make the second decision your therapist disagrees with and text Jungkook. After seeing she can’t make you see her perspective on the break-up, she suggests spending some time alone to learn more about yourself. That’s terrifying. If she could hear your thoughts, surely she would not suggest leaving you alone with them. They’re intrusive and self-sabotaging and just loud, so loud.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook is happy to hear from you, happier still to know that you’re unattached again. Not that he minds being discreet, he’s happy to confine things to the four walls of his apartment. It’s just that he also likes to get you dressed up and go out. He’s always liked having someone pretty on his arm, even if he’s just at some local sports bar.

That’s not where you end up tonight, though. Your head is especially loud and you want some quiet. Need to get lost in something other than the potential mess you’re making of your life. When Jungkook suggests a club a friend of his owns, you say yes before he even finishes asking. The place is familiar to you and it’s perfect, in all its noise, low lighting, and crowded spaces. There’s no better way (at least as far as you know) of quieting your brain than going somewhere even louder.

It’s easy to get lost, several drinks in, as you press your back into Jungkook on the dance floor. The tight dress that seemed like such a good idea rides up your thighs now, with a little help from the light sheen of sweat covering your body and a little more help from Jungkook’s hands that grip you tightly.

Everything is familiar. You’ve been here before, to this exact club with Jungkook, more than once. And it’s the kind of easy you’re looking for now. As his hand inches further up your thigh, you press further back into him, looking to erase any space between the two of you. Tonight is just to forget and Jungkook is excellent at that.

Maybe if you were a little less drunk, you would stop his hand. You are in public, after all. As it is, you really don’t care. He likes to tease, gets off knowing someone may see, and you’re not in the mood to put a stop to it. Tonight, he seems even more daring than usual. He lets his thumb graze the thin layer of fabric at your core, likely feeling how much you want him. You shudder as his warm breath tickles your ear.

“There’s a storage closet in the back that might be unlocked,” he says, voice low with desire.

And that’s new because you’re certain that of all the times you’ve fucked Jungkook, none of them have been at the club. It’s been close, getting a little carried away under the table in one of the VIP booths, running his hand up your shirt on the dance floor, but you’ve never fucked him here. You’re also a little too tipsy to register that at the moment when all you want is him.

It’s too loud for you to answer him so you just squeeze his hand and nod. That’s all the permission he needs, anyway. Before you can give it a second thought, he’s pulling you off the dance floor and down a hallway. He looks around like he’s not completely sure where he’s going and then sees a door.

The door opens and you’re both in without another thought. Jungkook crowds your space, pressing you against the closed door and stealing your gasp with his lips on yours. Your hands find purchase in his slightly shaggy hair and one of his hands digs into your hip, holding you firmly in place. Like there’s anywhere else you would rather be in that moment.

From the moment his lips make contact with yours, you remember why you ignored your therapist and walked away from your relationship. It’s just a kiss, granted a pretty heated one, but still. It’s just a kiss and your whole body is alive in a way it hasn’t been since the last time you were with him. As he trails kisses across your jaw and down your neck, you can feel the heat he leaves behind with each touch.

Jungkook also never makes you feel self-conscious about the way your body responds to him. Not that your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend now, ever said anything about your moans, but he was also really quiet in bed. And you stopped reacting as much, because it wasn’t the best part of your relationship. Not that you want to be dwelling on that now. Not as Jungkook is working his way down your body, clearly just as turned on as you, eliciting soft moans as he goes.

When he drops to his knees in front of you, you think you may really be done for. He lifts one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder, your dress hiking up around your hips in the process. You lean back against the door for support as his tongue makes contact through the thin fabric. It’s another tease, a Jungkook specialty, and you find you don’t much care. Thankfully, he quickly moves the fabric to the side. The movements of his tongue, fast and slow and fast again, are perfect. Your brain goes blank, just the kind of blank you need. No thoughts except for his tongue on you and the bliss of it. Even the thud of the bass out in the club dulls to background noise. Every one of your senses is present in this moment in a way you haven’t been lately.

His movements quicken and you knot your hands in his hair both to find purchase and to let him know that you’re close. Not that it’s hard to tell by the increase in your moans. He knows what he’s doing and he knows that he’s got you on the edge. You want to tell him that you want to feel him inside you and can’t make yourself speak the words. A second later it doesn’t matter. He slides one finger in, then quickly adds another and your brain goes fuzzy.

He pushes you over the edge too fast, you want to savor more of this moment, more of him. You register that somewhere in your bliss coming down from the orgasm. You need more of him, more contact, more of whatever it is that makes your brain go quiet. You’re catching your breath and refocusing when you notice his pants down around his ankles. Did he get that hard just from getting you off? He’s already pulling a condom on and you’re almost relieved.

“You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” His confidence drips off of him when he’s like this and you wish you were the kind of girl who had something witty to say back. You wish, at least now, that he didn’t affect you like this.

Instead, all you do is shake your head at him. You don’t trust yourself to speak and he doesn’t seem to mind. In one movement, he puts his hands on the back of your thighs and picks you up, still keeping you pressed against the door. The next second, he’s slowly sliding into you, letting you adjust. It’s the only break he gives you before setting a fast pace. Your legs tighten around him and your nails dig into his back. You’re sure they would leave a mark if he didn’t have a shirt on. Part of you hopes maybe they still will.

One of the best parts about Jungkook is that he doesn’t ever need to ask what you want, he just seems to know. He knows what you like and when you want something faster like this or when to take his time. It’s like he’s mapped your body with the way he’s able to hit just the right spots in just the right way.

Your head rolls back against the door, eyes closed and brain numb. Even then, he manages to bring you back to him, kissing up your neck until you meet his lips. The kiss is messy, capturing each of your moans as they escape. Jungkook’s grip on your thighs is as strong as the pace he’s setting and it isn’t long before you’re falling over the edge again.

A pleasant daze settles over you as you do your best to look presentable so that you can leave the club. (You don’t succeed and you definitely look just fucked, but the club is in full swing and the only people who might be able to tell are the poor workers that have to stay sober).

“Do you want to come back to my apartment?” Jungkook asks the question, one hand gripping yours while the other pulls up Uber on his phone to order a ride home.

And it’s kind of funny, how he asks like he doesn’t know the answer. In the time you’ve known him, Jungkook has been a lot of things, but he’s always been confident above all else. So it catches you off guard that he asks.

“As long as it’s okay with you,” you say and he smiles that easy smile.

“Of course,” he says.

You can’t really place the feeling that settles over you at such a small exchange, everything is crowded with the lingering effects of alcohol and sex. But something feels different and you think you like it. Almost like a part of you is waking up.

The next few weeks pass in somewhat of a blur. You’re happier than you can remember feeling in a while, much more fulfilled in all aspects of your life. Despite some reservations that your therapist has, you agree to start seeing her every other week unless something changes. You’re hoping to drop it back down to once a month but understand her hesitance to make such a big change so quickly. It would be a shame to ruin all that forward progress, after all.

Most of your free time is spent with Jungkook, a fact that your best friends are quick to point out with some version of the same cautionary advice. They want you to be careful, want you to remember your history with him, don’t want you to get ahead of yourself. It seems like they just don’t understand. Yeah, you and Jungkook have been here before, multiple times, but this is different and they just haven’t seen that.

Every other time led up to this. It took a relationship falling apart for you to realize that none of the other times with Jungkook were failures, they were just your “right person, wrong time” moments. Now the timing is right for both of you.

You knock on the door to his apartment, surprise take out in one hand, realizing belatedly that maybe you should have given him a warning of some sort. What if he was busy or had already eaten?

“Oh hey, what a nice surprise,” Jungkook answers with a smile as he steps aside to let you in.

Suddenly, you feel kind of silly for the momentary worry that showing up like this would be too much. Jungkook seems like he meets you at each point, so this shouldn’t be any different. It also helps that you’ve known each other for years and you know the way to his heart (through his stomach with only his favorite foods).

The whole thing feels surprisingly normal in a way you weren’t expecting. Jungkook makes small talk as he gets plates from the kitchen and sets them down for you to eat. He offers you a drink from the fridge, gets one for himself, and it’s just…easy. The whole thing with him is easy and you’re so thankful that you took this chance. As it turns out, he’s exactly what you need. Maybe he’s even the reason your last relationship ended the way it did. Not that you would ever say that. For all his outward strength and his image, Jungkook can be surprisingly sensitive. The last thing you’d want would be him feeling responsible for causing other people pain.

You’re not really sure why you do it, but you mention that your friends have a lot of warnings about the relationship. In what should be typical Jungkook fashion, he brushes it, reassures you that you know what’s happening and that’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter what your friends think because you’re both happy and living in the moment. You smile at that. This is definitely the best kind of happy.

Once you’ve gotten plates of food, you settle down together and Jungkook pulls up Netflix. He’s got a whole list of movies and shows that you can pick from, all things he wants to see or thinks you’d like, he tells you. And that’s sweet, isn’t it? That he sees something on Netflix and saves it in case you want to watch it together. It makes your heart constrict a little bit. It doesn’t feel like something you do with someone who’s only casual. Surely his thinking about you, when you aren’t around, is a positive sign.

You sigh happily and let him decide what it is he wants to watch. Not that the two of you ever really finish anything. It’s the thought that counts though. And Jungkook seems to be thinking of you. For a second you wonder if this is just the list he’s created for anyone he has over, you haven’t talked about seeing other people. Until you realize that most of them are thrillers. It’s your favorite genre but probably not good for generally inviting girls over. You really need to stop second-guessing everything with him.

Another few weeks go by as easily as breathing and that small part of you that’s waiting for the other shoe to drop gets even quieter. You’re not even thinking that this feels different anymore because it is different. Instead of late-night (or really any odd hour of the day) texts, you’re making actual plans on when you’re going to see each other. It doesn’t feel like a fuck buddy, it feels like someone you’re moving along with in a different way. There’s a lightness to every space of your life now, a lightness that looks a lot like Jungkook.

Of all the things Jungkook is good at, and there’s a lot, because he’s hyper-competitive and doesn’t like losing, cooking is decidedly not one. That suits you just fine, though. Cooking is an absolute favorite of yours and cooking for someone you care about makes it all that much better. It had taken a little more convincing for Jungkook agree to you coming over and cook for him, he didn’t want to be a bother, but you were glad to be here now.

“I know this isn’t really what we do, but I have a family wedding to go to, for my cousin, and I was wondering if you’d come with me? It’s kind of last minute, I know. I just wasn’t expecting to have to go alone,” you say and Jungkook puts down his fork. You’re nervous again and you’re not quite sure why.

“Sure, why not?” Jungkook says easily.

“Really?” The question is out before you can stop it.

“I like spending time with you,” Jungkook says, “we have fun.”

“We do, yeah,” you agree. “It’s just…it’s like 2 hours away, so I got a room. And you’d obviously need a suit.”

“This may come as a surprise, but I have been to a wedding or two before, so I have plenty of suits. And what kind of idiot would I be to turn down an overnight date with you?” Jungkook is smiling as he says this and it puts you at ease.

“It’s in 2 weeks, which is really soon,” you say. Jungkook pulls out his phone.

“Friday or Saturday wedding?” He’s looking through his calendar to see what he’s got going on.

“Saturday,” you say and he puts his phone down.

“That’s fine, I’ve got something going on Friday, but Saturday and Sunday are all yours,” Jungkook says.

Easy. Everything is just easy. You weren’t even really thinking of asking him to come to the wedding when you decided to cook for him. It just seemed like the right timing to ask and your cousin had just texted you that afternoon asking if she should change the seating chart. Although she said it wasn’t a big deal, you know she’s secretly going to be relieved to not change anything.

Not planning things also really is your motto these days. You weren’t planning to stay over at Jungkook’s when you offered to cook. Yet you wake up in his bed the next morning all the same, like it was a foregone conclusion the second you stepped over the threshold.

You figure now that Jungkook is coming with you to a family wedding as your date, that your friends will get off of your back about him. And most of them do. It’s been over two months of seeing him, which makes it feel more stable. Mostly, they’re happy if you’re happy and know you’re enough of an adult to handle your own life. Most days, at least. It’s just one of your closest friends that’s holding out. Not that he doesn’t like Jungkook, because he does, he’s just also been friends with you since you were kids and he’s seen how this has gone.

“It’s different, Jimin,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Have you had The Talk?” He doesn’t put quotes around it, but you can hear them in his tone anyway.

“No, we haven’t had The Talk,” you say, matching his tone. “We’re both adults, like actual adults, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“This time around with him started with you cheating on your ex,” Jimin says in a not-so-subtle reminder. If it were anyone else, you would leave.

“Thanks, I remember,” you bite back.

“I love you, you know that. I just want to make absolutely sure you’re not going to get hurt with this. I need to know he’s in this as much as you are,” Jimin says.

“Can you ever really know that?” The question seems valid enough.

“No, everything in relationships is a calculated risk. But it’s on you to make sure you have all the numbers before doing the calculations,” Jimin says.

“Meaning?” You think you know what he means, but it’s best to be sure.

“Meaning,” Jimin says with faux exasperation, “that the talk will let you know where he stands and allow you to be on the same page. He could lie, but then that’s on him if you get hurt. If you get hurt now, when you haven’t had the talk, that’s on you.”

“Little harsh, Jiminie,” you say, using the nickname to try and soften him.

It doesn’t work and he just shrugs. “We’ve done this song and dance a few times, maybe too many times. I just don’t want to see this end badly.”

“Then have a little faith, he is coming to a family wedding,” you say.

“And some of the way the conversation went makes me a little uneasy,” Jimin admits.

“Just have some faith. This time is different, I can feel it,” you say.

There’s a lot more than Jimin wants to say, a lot more he wants you to hear. But he’s also known you for years and seen you through every one of the Jungkook phases. People change all the time, he knows that. As people grow, the things they want or need evolve. Until you have an actual chat with him, though, Jimin is not ready to say this time will be different. It’s silly because he also knows that you’re going to do what you want, you always have. Not in a bad way, you’re just very stubborn when it comes to listening to advice. All he can do is hope for the best and be there if you need a shoulder. He tries not to think when you need a shoulder. As much as he likes being right, he likes you a whole lot more and he wants this to work.

The wedding goes well, great even. Jungkook is a hot topic of conversation, with a number of your family members gushing over how attractive he is and how good you look together. It gives you a small amount of pride to hear it too, even if it shouldn’t. It’s also good to have someone to retreat to when your family gets overwhelming. The added benefit of them not knowing him is that you both can slip out of conversations much easier. He’s never met anyone in your family and they don’t have as many questions for him. You also did an excellent job of establishing that you and him are very early on in the relationship, so questions about getting more serious are off the table.

Staying in a hotel with Jungkook is also a much better experience than you thought. You’ve stayed at each other’s places countless times over the years, but you’ve never gone away somewhere together. Even though it’s only a few hours from home, everything feels different. Everything feels more intimate.  And there’s something to be said for hotel sex too. Everything is new and more exciting.

You reach out to Jimin the day after you get back to let him know how things went. And you’re a little surprised by his response. Instead of being excited for you that it’s going so well, he asks again if you’ve talked to Jungkook about where you are and where you’re going. It’s kind of a buzzkill and you’re quick to tell him so. But Jimin is stubborn too.

Jimin: I love you, you’re my best friend in the entire world, but I’m scared you’re going to end up hurt Jimin: I’ll be here to celebrate once you talk to him and I’ll say sorry when it’s all cleared up, but until then, I can’t fully support it

That hurts. It’s like he doesn’t realize that in not wanting Jungkook to hurt you, he’s hurting you instead. You shake that thought off as quickly as it comes, though. It’s not his intention to hurt you and somewhere deep down, you know he’s making sense. Jimin has been your go-to person for everything in your life since a matter of months into the friendship. The two of you were able to click in a way you haven’t really experienced with anyone else. So yeah, maybe, on some level, you get where he’s coming from and maybe you’ll understand later. Not right now, though. Right now you’re just hurt and a little angry at your best friend for not supporting you the way you want him to.

(Jimin, to his credit, does think he’s supporting you. It may not be in the way you want him to and you may not see it, but it’s the way he needs to support you. There’s a moment where he thinks that he’s the friend you deserve, just not the one you need right now. So he’ll let you be mad at him as long as you need to. Or maybe he’s been watching Dark Knight too much lately.)

This is where you know you’re not always the best at being an adult. Whether Jimin is right or not becomes irrelevant because you’re more concerned with not letting him win. It’s like he tells you something and you have to do the opposite, just because. Which, really, that’s probably something you need to address in therapy. It’s probably not a healthy approach, but it’s where you’re at for now.

Things feel…a little different. Not good different, either. At first, you were positive that it was just the lingering effects of Jimin being Jimin. Even when he’s not speaking to you, since this is not the first time he’s done this, he’s very loud. But days go by and the pit in your stomach only gets deeper. You can’t separate your own thoughts and anxieties to see if anything with Jungkook is actually different.

When you stop to think about it, though, everything with Jungkook should be different. It’s been around three months now. Three months of you spending a truly absurd amount of time together. Three months of movie nights in, dinners out, random trips to the park. Three months of ending up in each other’s bed every time you went over. Three months of you not seeing anyone else. Was he seeing other people, though? Surely not. Would there really even be time?

But…

That nasty word coming up to haunt you again. But, could you really make any assumptions where another person was involved? After all, your ex had no reason to think anything was wrong with you, no reason to think the relationship was coming to a screeching halt. Yet, it did. It did because you stopped talking to him. Well, you didn’t stop talking to him, you said a lot of words. You just didn’t say any of the ones that actually mattered.

It’s impossible to keep the last conversation with Jimin off your mind. You will never tell him he was right, but you’re also constantly wondering if it’s time for that talk. Lately it’s been taking Jungkook longer to do everything. Longer to text you back, longer in between seeing each other, longer to come out of his phone if he checks it while you’re hanging out (something he never used to do).

And, okay, from the outside, you know how any of those things look. It’s just, you’re still really happy and you’re not really looking to give that up. You think that maybe what’s best, for now, is just to take a slight step back, not be the one to reach out to him and make plans. Either he’ll make plans with you or you will have the final push to have a conversation you should have had weeks ago. (Really, you should’ve had this conversation before you blew up your life, but who’s counting?)

Jungkook: hey, things have been kinda crazy with work, but can i see you tonight?

Which answers that, doesn’t it? You ignore your smarter thoughts, most of which are driven by Jimin’s words playing on repeat, and answer quicker than you should. Even though you offer to stop on your way to pick food up, Jungkook says he’s already picking something up and to just meet him at the apartment.

It’s all different now. Before, when things were only happy, you’d be excited that he knew you well enough to pick up takeaway for the both of you. Now, you wonder if he really has been busy with work. There’s something about the text that implies something’s shifted. You hate it and you want to just go back to before. Maybe tonight will be the perfect chance for that.

It’s not.

The silences are awkward and what’s worse is that you can’t tell if Jungkook feels awkward about it as well, or if it’s just you. Actually, what’s worse is you don’t know which you’d prefer. Then there’s this weird space between you while you’re watching a movie. It’s like you’re not really close enough to cuddle and you’re not really far enough away for it to be a normal, friend-sized space between you. It’s just this awkward limbo and you’re trying really hard not to overthink the space being a metaphor for where the two of you are in this weird relationship.

Jungkook is on his phone a lot throughout the movie too, which only worsens the way you feel. He says he’s still got a lot going on at work, that they’re in very real danger of missing deadlines and he’s so sorry. The rational part of you really wants to let it be that. The louder part of you, the one you know is irrational, can’t leave it alone. At least internally. You know you can’t say anything out loud and have it come across right. Your internal monologue is another story, though.

But, that’s the thing, isn’t it? You made a lot of assumptions about where you were with Jungkook, about what the two of you were doing, about it being a relationship. The reality is you’ve been fucking regularly for months now and haven’t bothered to define things. It was perfect at the beginning, when Jungkook insisted that the two of you knew what was happening and what other people thought didn’t matter. It made you feel like it was you against everyone else. Which should’ve been a clue. A relationship should never put you against the people outside of it. A healthy relationship should be able to integrate into your regular life.

You don’t stay over at his place that night. Jungkook offers and even makes it seem like he wants you to. You might even believe him if he didn’t mention getting up early for work and checking his phone. That annoying voice in the back of your head is shouting danger, danger, danger. The ugly thoughts wonder if he actually wants you to stay at all or if he just doesn’t want to be the bad guy for sending you home.

He gives you a kiss in the doorway and you’re on your way out. The last little bit of positivity in the back of your mind is hoping he’ll change his mind, that he’ll come rushing out and say he’s been stupid. Of course he wants you to stay and of course it’s worth it being tired at work tomorrow because he’s missed you, things have been off, and he wants to make sure he fixes them.

But, he doesn’t do any of those things. The doubts firmly take hold of your brain.

The next day, you’re still thinking over what you want to do when you get an unexpected text from him. He’s got a function after work, the kind of thing where you have to go to a bar and pretend you want to be socializing with coworkers off the clock, but it’s okay because the boss usually buys a few rounds. It’s the kind of thing someone might ask their partner to come to, so they’re not so bored.

Jungkook’s message is clear. He wants to see you. After he’s done with the work function, which he warns might not be until later. So he understands if it’s too late for you to come over since it is still during the week and you have to work tomorrow. He seems genuinely excited when you say you’ll definitely still come over and your heart constricts for a second.

You need to set your phone aside, just for a second, just long enough to let your heart settle back down, because you’ve made up your mind. It’s time (past time, honestly) that you have a real conversation with Jungkook. This last exchange proves it. You’re back to being the girl he calls up after a night out at the bar, the booty call for sex. Admittedly, it is the best sex you’ve ever had, but that’s not the point. For a bit, you were the girl that he made plans with. And, yeah, he’s asking you before he goes to the bar if you’ll be there after. But, the fact is, it’s still same day and it’s not really anything more than a hook-up text.

The text from Jungkook letting you know he’s heading home comes and you take a couple shots to give yourself the confidence to go through with The Talk. You weren’t planning on driving anyway. No matter how this goes, you’re not planning to head home afterwards so having your car seems more inconvenient than anything.

Apparently, Jungkook only beats you there by a few minutes, which might’ve bothered you in any other situation. The way he says it sounds accusatory in your mind. All you can see now is talking before you lose the little bit of liquid courage you have.

“Do you want to watch a movie or do you just want to…” Jungkook asks, trailing off suggestively.

That pit in the bottom of your stomach worsens. The unfinished question hangs between you like a glaring sign saying he just wants to fuck you. It all just feels really cheap and like another waste of your time. Just another in a long line of mistakes. Only one way to find out, though, and so you take a deep breath and dive in.

“Actually, I kind of wanted to talk to you,” you say and that brings him up short.

“About what?” Jungkook asks.

He seems defensive. It’s all wrong. Something in you had been holding out hope that this would go exactly the way you wanted it to. That hope gets harder to hold onto.

“Just…this, us,” you say, hating how you sound so unsure.

“Us?” Jungkook asks and somehow that makes you angrier. Is he being fucking stupid on purpose?

“Yeah, Jungkook, us,” you say with more bite than you intended. “We’ve been doing this dance for, what, like 3 or 4 months? What are we doing, exactly?”

Jungkook’s confused. He gets this look on his face sometimes, like he’s trying to work out a really complex calculus problem and just can’t make things make sense. It makes him look younger, more innocent. It makes you want to protect him. But you can’t afford to think that way, and he doesn’t need to be protected.

“We’re just, I don’t know, we’re hanging out. We’ve been having fun, you know, everything is just easy, which is nice,” Jungkook says.

“Just hanging out and having fun? What, are we back in college?” Your voice raises an octave because, despite all your planning, you really aren’t ready for this.

“I’m not really sure what’s happening here,” Jungkook admits.

“I’m just confused,” you admit in return. “Like we’re always together, we go out on dates. You came with me to a family wedding for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, because I like hanging out with you and the wedding seemed important to you,” Jungkook says.

“It was important but still, what is this?”

Jungkook really still looks helpless and you’re constantly reminding yourself not to take care of him. It’s not what either of you needs. “Why does it have to be something defined? Why does there have to be this big deal?”

“Because we’re grown now, because I can’t keep blowing up my life for…” you start, but cut yourself off, quickly closing your mouth again.

“No, blowing your life up for what? For me?” Jungkook asks and you look away, unable to see him looking at you like that. “I never asked you to blow up your life for me.”

“You didn’t exactly turn me away that night either. You knew I was in a relationship,” you say and he scoffs.

“Yeah, I did know. But last time I checked, it’s not my responsibility to make sure you don’t cheat on your partner. I wasn’t the one in a relationship,” Jungkook says.

“No, because you’re never in a relationship, you’re always just having fun,” you say, voice dripping with disdain.

“And what’s so wrong with that? I’ve never been anything but honest about exactly who I am and what I want,” Jungkook says.

“People change all the time! Excuse me for thinking you’d grow the fuck up and realize actually being with someone isn’t that bad,” you say and Jungkook rolls his eyes again.

“What do you think I’ve been doing? I know being with someone isn’t bad. We’ve been having a great time for months until whatever the fuck this is,” Jungkook says.

“And how many other girls have you been having a good time with at the same time?” The question is out before you can even figure out if you want to ask it.

Opposite you, Jungkook rolls his lips together, like he’s trying to give himself a minute before answering. He can have a short temper at times.

“I’m not really sure why the answer to that question matters,” Jungkook says and you shake your head.

“I should’ve known,” you say.

“None though, for the record. Like I told you, I’ve been busy at work. So, I’m either there, working out, playing video games, or with you,” he says and you come up short.

“What?”

“Don’t take that the wrong way,” Jungkook says quickly. “I haven’t fucked anyone else in months, and I haven’t wanted to either. I’ve been having a great time with you. But, that also doesn’t mean this is something more than it is.”

“Meaning?” The balloon of hope pops just as quickly as it formed and you’re feeling even worse than before.

“Meaning,” Jungkook starts. “I don’t want…this. I don’t want to be fighting with you about some bullshit definition of what we are or where we’re headed. I like you, I do. But my answers to those still haven’t changed from the first time we hooked up 7 years ago. I don’t want that super committed relationship with expectations and check-ins and eventually marriage. I don’t want a house and kids and a white picket fence so the dog doesn’t get out.”

“You make it sound like a death sentence,” you say, completely deflated.

“I don’t mean to, it’s just not for me. It’s not what I’ve ever wanted and I’ve never kept that a secret,” Jungkook says. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe it is like a death sentence for me.”

“It feels like a slap in the face,” you admit and Jungkook bristles at that.

“Why? Because I don’t want the same things as you?”

You struggle to find the right words because that’s not what you meant. “Because you must have known it’s what I wanted and yet we still kept going.”

“I guess I figured you heard me when I said, over and over again, that it wasn’t what I wanted,” Jungkook says. “I figured you heard me and you could make your decisions on what you wanted.”

“It just seemed like…” you start and frown. “We’re always together, it felt like more.”

“So you just assumed that it was something more without even asking me about it?” Jungkook asks and gets a glare in response.

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” you say.

“Is it? I can see it. You’re mad at me, which I get, kind of,” Jungkook admits. “But also, I don’t get it? Because none of this had to happen. If you’d talked to me instead of building it all up in your head…”

“Wow, that was kind of a dick move,” you retort and he shakes his head.

“Or is it a dick move to create a whole relationship in your head and then make me the bad guy for not being on the same page?”

That brings you up short again. Does he have a point? Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?

“I do actually care about you,” Jungkook says. “I know that may be hard to believe, but I do. It’s also really fucked up to create a whole world in your head and then turn me into the bad guy for not being on the same page. I always said we were having fun, that it didn’t matter what friends thought, that we’re just going a day at a time.”

“Because you knew, Jungkook, you had to,” you say. He furrows his eyebrows at you. “You’ve always said things like that and for what? What reason do you have to constantly remind me what this is if you don’t think there’s confusion?”

“Once again, it is not my job to force a conversation you may want to have. Weren’t you just saying we’re not still in college? That goes both ways,” Jungkook says.

Round and round and round in circles you and Jungkook go. You’re mad at him for something that he may not even be able to control, something that you’ve always known about him. And you’re mad that he’s known you probably weren’t on the same page for a while. He’s mad that you’ve had so many of these conversations in your head or with friends without cluing him in. He’s mad that he feels like the bad guy.

The whole fight feels pointless, honestly. You both are mad at the other and maybe you both have a reason to be annoyed. Maybe he has a point and maybe you need to take a step back to examine some of the decisions that you’ve made too. Maybe he’s not the only one bringing this house of cards crashing to the floor.

And maybe that’s not something you want to deal with tonight.

The rational part of your brain knows you should leave and call an Uber straight to Jimin’s apartment. That same part knows that even if he has someone over, he’ll drop everything to make sure you’re okay. He won’t even start the I told you so until tomorrow. Because Jimin can be a giant pain in the ass when he wants to, but he’s got the biggest heart in the world. Going to Jimin’s is absolutely the right decision.

That’s why you call an Uber and head to the bar.

After a few drinks, the empty seat next to you is taken by a stranger with fluffy hair and an easy smile. Despite your protests, he takes over your tab so that you can keep drinking. It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, and you don’t really care. You don’t really have any room for good ideas right now.

For his part, he actually seems like a decent guy, if you were sober and present enough to notice. He tells you his name, his job, about his friends. You think he even mentions movies he likes. Nothing about it feels like the normal situation at a bar. Then again, it’s a Wednesday night, not exactly prime time to be out picking someone up.

The next morning, you wake up in a too bright room in an unfamiliar bed and immediately start piecing things together. The conversation with Jungkook and your subsequent decision to get completely shit-faced come rushing back. A sense of shame washes over you. This is the part where some attractive guy, usually one you somehow know, walks into the bedroom, maybe wearing just a towel, and you realize what you did.

Except this isn’t a movie, thankfully, and somehow you’re actually clothed in the bed. You’re in an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts, but you also still have your bra and underwear on. Likely a sign that nothing happened beyond you getting embarrassingly drunk last night. Actually, looking around the room, it looks more like a guest bedroom than the master. Did you actually manage to find a decent guy when you were hellbent on making bad decisions?

You aren’t really in the mood to figure any of it out. Your clothes are folded up beside the bed and, when you get up, you hear the shower running. It’s the perfect time to leave without having to have an awkward conversation. And since you were at your quota for those, you grab your phone from beside the table and slip out, thankfully unseen.

First up, your text thread with Jimin. Which is a mistake, of course you had texted him and of course it was barely coherent. But bless Jimin, honestly, because you see he had taken care of calling you out of work. Actually, bless him for having all your passwords and being able to sign into your email to send the message. You know part of him calling you out is also so that he can carry out his Jimin-approved therapy, but you’ll take it. You’ll even take him telling you he was right.

In a slightly uncharacteristic move, Jimin is waiting outside your door when the Uber drops you off. He’s already been shopping for the essentials and he’s got his arms open for you to collapse into him before even crossing the threshold into the apartment. There’s nothing on his face except for care and concern, which really isn’t surprising. His beating you to your own apartment may be surprising, but him being the best friend you’ve ever had isn’t.

Everything kind of pours out of you at once when you and Jimin sit down on your couch, the tears, the self-loathing, the anger, the confusion, the pain. So much pain. Pain over your ex, pain over Jungkook, pain over past shit that you really thought you were over. It’s like the past months with Jungkook were just a bandaid, putting off the day you would eventually feel everything. There’s no putting it off anymore though. Now you’re in it and you’re so thankful for a friend like Jimin to hold your hand.

He’s surprisingly quiet throughout the whole thing. He listens to your thoughts, comforts you during the gaps in speaking, makes sure you have snacks and something to drink, keeps music playing quietly in the background because he knows you hate the silence. He asks questions that are gentle, nothing too heavy or accusatory. The only time he gets firm is when you cry about not deserving a friend like him.

“Yeah, you can be an asshole sometimes, but don’t ever let me catch you talking that way about yourself,” Jimin says, unmoving. “You’re human and we all make mistakes. We learn and we move forward. I won’t let you be mean to yourself, though. That’s what you don’t deserve.”

Once you feel like you’ve said everything that you could possibly say, Jimin informs you that you’re taking tomorrow off as well and that he’ll be staying over. Just like when you were in college. The order for the night was trashy TV and junk food and no wine for you because you’re still hungover and no talking about feelings at all. You can pick all that up again tomorrow, but tonight is about giving your brain a break.

It takes much longer than you expect to really come to terms with what happened between you and Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since you walked out the door. In fact, you hadn’t even texted him until reaching out yesterday to see if he was willing to meet up. It wasn’t to work through things, though, as much as it was for you to heal. And hopefully for him to heal as well.

The past few months have been some of the scariest and most rewarding of your life. You’ve never really been alone, separate from a partner. You’ve gone from one relationship to the next for as long as you could remember and ignored anyone suggesting to take time nearly as long. The fight with Jungkook had been a wake-up call, an unwelcome one at the time, but one that you can now see the value in. It forced you to really look at yourself, at your choices, at everything that led you to that moment, to learn what you actually wanted.

And you don’t really know what you want, but you think it’s somewhere between your ex and Jungkook. Yes, you want something stable and comfortable, someone that you know and that you can rely on. At the same time, you want someone that will challenge you, excite you, keep you on your toes. It was unfair of you to put all that onto Jungkook. Whatever mistakes he may have also made, you want to own yours. Part of you knew that he was never going to be what you needed him to be and rushed forward head first anyway.

Everything led you to this point now, where you wait for Jungkook to show up. He had replied quicker than you expected and seemed happy to meet, despite you being clear on needing to talk to him. Maybe there were things he needed to say too.

The tinkling of the bell over the door catches your attention and you watch Jungkook walk through the doors, somehow exactly the same. It’s only been a few months, you remind yourself, not like he could change entirely.

The next part feels awkward, how do you greet him? You stand, considering what to do, when he saves you the trouble and goes in to give you a quick hug. Nothing too serious and also nothing too formal.

“Thanks for meeting me,” you say and he smiles.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about everything that happened too, honestly, so it felt like a good time.”

And just like that, it’s easy to talk. Really talk. Jungkook lets you go first and you lay out everything you’ve learned over the past couple months. He lets you make your apologies and makes his own. You’re able to take ownership of the mistakes you make, because you really understand them after months working through your shit, and feel like he’s forgiven you for how you handled things. You know that you can never fully expect to get closure in life, but this feels close. It feels like you can actually close the door on a chapter to move forward.

Apparently he’s been doing a lot of work on himself too. He admits to knowing that you were in deeper than he was and letting it go on anyway, something he’s not proud of and something he hopes you’ll forgive. He’s not there yet but he’s working on better communication, letting partners know what he can give and what he can’t. He’s trying to figure out what it is he actually wants and what he doesn’t. Even though you don’t need him to say it, he also wants you to know that, as cliche as it sounds, it wasn’t you. Not entirely at least. He got so caught up in how good the physical side of things was that he didn’t consider how you were both hurting each other.

Neither one of you is really sure how to leave things. Part of you, and you can see part of him too, wants to ask if there’s a way to move forward as friends. He’s been part of your life on and off for the past 7 years, since meeting when you were only 18 years old. You take the plunge, though, and say that he’s always going to have a place in your heart. You’re just not sure he can have a place in your life, at least not now. There’s a moment of relief on his face. Like he’s happy you were the one to make the call because he isn’t sure he could. He really does have a lot of work to do, he says.

“Do you know him?” Jungkook asks as the conversation is naturally winding down.

You turn your head to follow his eyes on a man wearing dress pants and a nice shirt. He seems caught up in whatever he’s reading on his laptop, slightly shaggy hair slipping into his eyes. You’re about to say no when he looks up and meets your eyes. There’s something…familiar about him. Like you know him from somewhere that you’ve forgotten. Almost like the memory is hazy and you can’t fully grasp it. He smiles, a really nice smile, and then looks back down at his laptop.

“I don’t think so,” you finally answer.

“He keeps looking over here,” Jungkook comments. You look for any sign of anything negative on his face, but it isn’t there.

“Yeah, I don’t know, if I do know him, I can’t figure out from where,” you admit.

“Maybe you should say hi,” he says and you just smile.

“With you here?” you ask.

Jungkook smiles with a shake of his head. He’s standing up the next second. “I actually have to go to an appointment with my therapist.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say and stand as well to give him another hug. Slightly less awkward this time.

“I’m proud of you too, proud of us, really,” he says.

“Take care, Jungkook,” you say.

“You too,” he answers with a smile.

Just like that, he’s heading out the door. He looks back once to smile at you and you wave. You’re wondering if that’s the last time you’ll see him. Maybe it is and maybe that’s exactly how it should be. Things feel better now, easier. There’s no lingering doubts and even though you know you still have a ways to go, you think that you can really do it this time.

But before you can retreat further into your own head, a voice breaks through your thoughts.

“This seat still taken?”

You look up to find the man that Jungkook asked about moments earlier and that’s when it clicks. Yes, you do know him and you finally remember from where. The world certainly works in mysterious ways.

i hope you liked it, it was definitely a ride writing it <3

[tangerinesgf]

Loved your first Tom Ryder fic!!!

For a request I was thinking maybe something where he's supposed shooting a movie and everybody's looking for him trying to find him and he's off somewhere on set having sex with his girlfriend. They get caught and you can decide how it goes from there :) (if you're interested in writing it of course 🥰)

Tom Ryder x FEM!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, P in V sex, slight dirty talk, fluff, getting caught

A/N: Thank you so much for your request I absolutely loved it!! I hope you love it too! In my mind Tom Ryder is a total sub, so I tried to play with that a little bit, but I have more idea in that regard.

It was no unusual occurrence to find Tom Ryder missing from set. In fact it had become quite predictable and most of all frustrating for the people who were working with him. He is the movie star after all, the main character, without him there is no movie. 

Usually he would be found either daydrinking or in his trailer with the excuse of not being in the right mood to film the scenes that day. He had to be in the right headspace to portray his character. You see Tom Ryder was the world famous actor, in his eyes everyone had to accomodate to him and not the other way around.

Yet this time it was neither one of those things.

So while everyone was worrying about the disappearing daylight on set, that was the last thing on Tom’s mind while pushing you up against one of the huge fake rocks on set. It was one of the few days where you could actually be with him on set and he’d be damned if he was gonna let that go to waste. 

The moment he spotted you behind the camera, watching him do a scene he excused himself from set, earning him eye rolls from all the other cast and crew members. 

The two of you disappeard and haven't returned since.

“Fuck baby, it’s been so long..” He mutters in between kissing you from your lips to your neck, his hands roaming all over your body. He needs you badly. 

Tom hadn’t even bothered to put on something else, so here he was in his full on space cowboy attire including the hat, pressed against you. It almost felt like you were sneaking around like a bunch of horny teenagers in high school. 

“It’s only been a week, Tom.” You chuckle softly, your voice already a bit breathless from his touch. 

“Mhm.. too long.” He trails kissing down from your neck to your cleavage. His hand move down and start playing with your skirt, making his intentions quite clear to you. “I need you, baby.. please..”

How could you ever deny him when he looks up at you with those sad puppy eyes, begging you to let him fuck you into next week. You nod slowly and pull him in for a deep kiss. 

He kisses you like a starving man, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue. Meanwhile Tom’s hands hastily try to undo his belt, at this point he doesn’t care if he rips his entire costume. They probably have another 10 lined up for him anyway. All he can think about is being inside you right now, the sweet sounds you make when he fucks you, your hands in his hair, you lips on his.. 

Fuck, fuck. 

“Shit..” The actor mutters as he keeps struggling with his belt until he finally manages to unbuckle it. He quickly shoves his pants down his legs along with his underwear revealing his hard cock, the tip already red and leaking pre-cum. You practically groan at the sight of him, yes it had only been a week but you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again. 

He lifts your skirt up and pulls your panties down, a grin appears on his face as he notices you’re already dripping for him. He licks his finger and teasingly runs it along your wet and sensitive folds. “God baby.. you’re so wet.”

You whine softly, aching for any kind of friction between your legs. Your eyes are locked on his as he licks your juices off his finger, if you weren’t so good at composing yourself you’d be drooling over him right now. 

“Ready?” You nod in return. He smiles at your consent and slowly pushes his throbbing cock inside you, dragging a long moan from your throat. He lets out a string of curses as he pushes himself in all the way in, everytime with you felt just like the first and he never got tired of it. 

Once he’s all the way inside he let’s you adjust to his size for a moment, kissing you from your neck down to your collarbone. “Doing so well f’me, baby..” He mutters.

When you give him the sign he slowly pulls out before slamming his cock right back into you, hitting you in just the right spot. Your hands move up to his dirty blonde hair, fisting your hand in it. “Fuck- Tom just like that..”

You get completely lost in the pleasure between the two of you. His hips rutting into you while he sucks marks onto your neck, dragging moan after moan from you.

“Missed you.. and your pretty little cunt.” He groans loudly as you clench around him. You’re so caught up in each other that you don’t even notice Gail coming around the corner until it’s too late. 

“Tom! We’ve been looking everywhere for ya!” She doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest about the position she’s found you both in, because let’s be honest she’s caught him do worse things. 

“Jesus fuck-” Both of you startle and Tom curses as he quickly uses his long coat to cover you both up. He stares at her with a look of annoyance and disbelieve, although he should have known that his producer is not one for playing around. “What the fuck Gail?”

“We’re losing dayligt, Ryder. Chop chop.” Gail ushers and crosses her arms as she stares you both down. 

“Fine.. fucking hell.. could you just- just turn around.” Gail rolls her eyes, but eventually turns around to give you both whatever privacy you got left. 

“You gotta talk boundaries with her, Tom. I swear to god.” You tell him in an ushered voice, so Gail can’t hear anything. He sighs and reluctantly pulls out of you, making you let out a soft whine. “I know, baby.. I’m sorry. Shoulda taken proper care of you, hm? I’m gonna make it up to you I promise, love.” 

He neatly fixes your panties and skirt back in place before pulling his own pants back up. Both of you are left disappointed and wanting, but Tom had a job to do. Unfortunately. 

“Meet me at the loft tonight?” He’s giving you those puppy eyes again. God you love him. 

You nod and receive a very happy Tom Ryder in return. He kisses your forehead softly before walking towards Gail with that usual annoyed look on his face.

“I told you not to interrupt me when i’m ‘busy’.” You can hear Tom whisper to Gail. 

“And I told you I wouldn't, but you were still wearing your damn mircophone, you idiot.” She tells him return and Tom just shrugs, seemingly not bothered by the fact that the entire cast and crew just hear him fuck his girlfriend. But then again you’ve never seen him embarrassed or ashamed of anything and you’ve seen things. You don’t hear anything else before they disappear out of view.  

Guess you’d have to finish this later tonight. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any Tom Ryder requests pleasse don't hesitate to leave me a message, Reblogs and comments are so much appreciated you have no idea. Love you guys <3

Taglist: @earth-elemental18 (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed)

[doctorprofessorsong]

Destiel Fic Recs

Are You Writing From the Heart? By luckshiptoshore @luckshiptoshore (Explicit, 86k)

This fic is equal parts hilarious and touching. A ride of meta delight.

Cas Novak has been hired to ghost write the hit book series Supernatural after the original writer disappeared. He spends his days in a coffee shop trying to somehow write something compelling from Chuck's messy notes. 

But a chance meeting with a cute boy turns his life and the narrative upside down. As they grow closer, Cas finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about himself.

This fic ties in canon in such a fun way as Cas works through the plot. It also features a deeply repressed “straight” Cas who is struggling in a way that will make you want to shake and hug him at the same time. 

Theres a lot of humor, but underneath is a really beautiful story about the stories we tell. It's a gorgeous journey that will leave you emotional.

(S)ex Parte by corrupt_touch (AmberXBoone) @corrupt-touch (Explicit, 25k)

Listen. I'm a burnt out lawyer. So on the very rare occasion I will read a lawyer fic, it's about burnt out lawyers and this one certainly hits that part of my brain. 

Dean is miserable in his job as a corporate defense attorney, and his current case where he has to defend a soulless pharmaceutical company isn't helping. Desperate to get away for a few hours, he finds a cute guy in a bar for a mind-melting night of sex. It would be a total win, except the same guy walks into the courtroom the next day. He's the judge. Can Dean and Cas forget their wild night of passion, or will they risk everything to recapture the magic? 

The desperate, needy, immediately profound bond between Dean and Cas is what makes this fic. Truly, they are two magnets pulled together. Also, there are some beautiful themes about leaving the past - and parental expectations -behind. 

Phantasma by thisisapaige @thisisapaige (Explicit, 30k)

Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in awhile. Dean considers trying to get his brother Sammy to help, but he seems so happy. 

So he decides to buy a haunted house and settle down. He'll clear out this ghost (some lady named Naomi) and the place will be all his.

Except it turns out the ghost isn't a lady, but a hot dude named Cas. A lonely phantom and a lonely human finding comfort and companionship together. 

This fic does have a happy ending, so don't worry! The fic has a nice mystery as Dean and Cas work to try to understand what happened to him, but it's the softness of these two together that really stands out.

Theres something so beautiful about these two guys, both alone for so long, finding joy in each other.

Ghost Town by blue_morning, xfancyfranart (Teen, 25k) (art by @xfancyfranart )

Speaking of ghosts, this one features a soft tropey love story with a really fun setting and a meddling ghost (Jo) who ships it.

When Cas inherits a ghost town from his eccentric uncle, he isn't sure what to think, but he decides he wants to check it out. Unfortunately for Cas, what he doesn't check out is the weather.

Luckily, the grumpy town caretaker, Dean Winchester, is there to save him. Unluckily, they have to wait out the snow storm in the abandoned ghost town.

There's only one bed and they're snowed in. throw in a surprise mystery treasure hunt and a bored ghost and you have yourself a fun, soft story.

I'll Follow You Into the Dark by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta (Explicit, 15k)

This one hurts so good. A fix-it (but Dean lived because fuck that), this fic explores Dean’s grief and desperation to get Cas back. 

When he realizes the price of admission into the Empty is being an angel or a demon, Dean takes extreme steps to save his angel. But will Dean lose himself in the process?

It's a beautiful story of love and sacrifice with a soft landing. Even if it ruins a certain item from Ikea for you.

The Princess Bride by foxymoley @foxymoley (Teen, 20k) 

Like peanut butter and chocolate, the marriage of The Princess Bride and Supernatural is a combination that works.

Its a retelling of the movie featuring all your favorite lines. There's humor! There's true love! There are pirates! 

Some of the details are changed obviously (Dred Pirate Cas and Inigo Montoya Dean, for example, are the main love interests), but it works really well and I found myself grinning like a fool the entire time I read this.

See all my rec lists at @riversrecs

[ghastlyfilters]

BETRAYAL !

— “AND I HELD YOUR HAND THROUGH ALL OF THESE YEARS, BUT YOU STILL HAVE.. ALL OF ME.”

pairing; billy loomis x fem!reader

summary; what if your biggest betrayal was by someone you’d held the hand of for so many years? billy loomis was supposed to be a pleasant never ending dream, not a soon to be distant memory turned into your one, true nightmare. (reader is replacing the role of sidney)

author’s note: HI. (i was half asleep whilst writing this and found it in my drafts. fuck knows where i was going with it. after reading it, i’m gonna guess it’s something about the whole ‘betrayal’ thing and the reader not knowing the darker truth behind billy’s motive if he is actually the killer? little does she know lmao. but anyway, take this whilst i go finish some requests and write other content. more reqs are open as always. even when i’m busy, i like writing requests here and there. or i’ll leave them for a bit and come back to em! enjoy this fic that i honestly don’t know why my half asleep self wrote💀)

PLEASE DON’T READ IF MENTIONS OF BETRAYAL, DEATH, OR ANYTHING HORROR RELATED AFFECTS YOU!!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

A shiver ran down your spine as flashbacks of hearing about the deaths of Casey Becker and Steve Orth came creeping back into your head. Had the killer intended for you to be next? Or were you just another random teen fit into this psycho’s cruel joke.

Everything was happening all too fast. Yes, you were now sat in Woodsboro police station after being taken in for your own safety. But did you truly feel safe?

No.

“Y/n?” A voice called out.

“Y/n??”

You quickly snapped out of your unpleasant thoughts, looking up to see Deputy Riley standing over you, holding out a small cup of water.

“Thanks, Dewey.” You whispered with a weak smile, accepting the water and placing it down beside you.

Dewey let out a small sigh as he put a hand on your shoulder. “Try not to overthink things, hm? We’ll have this all sorted out soon enough.”

You ran a hand through your hair, wincing at the sickly feeling you had in the pit of your stomach. You’d been incredibly nauseous ever since you arrived at the station. No wonder. You were probably still in shock after the events of tonight.

“Y/n, please. If you stress you’ll just make yourself even more shaken up than you clearly already are. Do you want me to get the nurse to check you over again?” Dewey asked.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Dewey gave you a small pat on the back as he cleared his throat, slowly beginning to walk away.

“I’ll take you and Tatum home soon, kay?” He said, turning around one last time before heading back over to Sheriff Burk.

You resumed to wandering back into deep thought. Yeah, you were shaken up from the whole ‘killer’ part of tonight, but that wasn’t what hurt most.

Billy.

His name was beginning to feel like a distant memory, waiting for you to finally let go of.

‘Expect the unexpected,’ Most would say. But had you really imagined the one whom you thought you could trust the most would dare to hurt you?

Never.

After fighting for your life as the suspected killer tried to make it come to a brutal and bloody ending, Billy came out of nowhere, sneakily checking up on you every night as he had done for the past two years.

His timing was off. Way, WAY too off.

But the minute that damn phone fell out his pocket, you felt your heart stop immediately.

One hour ago, 34 Elm Street:

He was after you.

He was after YOU.

You yelped as Woodboro’s newly, anonymous killer made his move on you. He viciously kicked you to the floor with his large black boots, ready to gut you any second now.

Struggling, you desperately tried to pick yourself up, but it was no use. The killer grabbed a fistful of your hair, bashing your head against the laminate.

All you could think about was your upcoming cruel ending. How you were not going to see the ones you loved ever so dearly again. Tatum would never get to have late night movie sleepovers with you, Stu wouldn’t be able to make you giggle with his constant cheesiness, Randy and his little sister couldn’t ever see that bright smile of yours again whenever you’d go over to their house, and Billy, oh, Billy..

Your Billy.

You’d never get the chance to hear that soft voice of his ever again, almost as light as feathers themselves. The feeling of his undying love would soon be nothing. All the blissful memories you once shared were about to be over. Forever.

Finally, the monster behind the mask raised his sharp blade above you, ready to finish you off once and for all.

You quickly pushed him off you, sending the killer flying to the wall. Adrenaline had began to kick in. You couldn’t just be so defenceless and let him end you like that! You HAD to see your loved ones again. And you made sure this fucker wouldn’t prevent you from doing that anytime soon.

Quickly scrambling to the front door, you rattled the chain only to find it locked. Fuck. He could easily get back up in time whilst you tried to fix the lock. It wasn’t worth it.

Without hesitation, the killer got back up once again, launching himself at you. You ducked under him as he had clumsily managed to get his Buck 120 knife stuck in the door.

You headed for the stairs but knew he was hot on your heels. It didn’t take long for you to reach your bedroom, running over to the phone beside your bed desperately trying to dial 911.

“Shit!” You cursed. That bastard was still on the other end of the line.

Your only option was to contact them through the shitty computer you’d had for years now. The thing was slow, but you hoped it would be fast enough for you to alarm the police in time.

You whipped your head around only to see that the masked murderer was.. gone?

Before you could even stop and think for a moment, Billy rushed up to your window, climbing into the room. Oh dear god, it was like your prayers had finally been answered.

“Billy!” You breathed deeply, rushing towards him as if you were a small, frightened animal looking for your mother.

“I heard screaming,” Billy panicked. “The door’s locked. You all right?”

He watched you struggle to breathe properly out of pure fear. Fast, uneasy breaths. You clung to him, not letting go. Your sharp nails digging into his back. Not that he was bothered, that is.

“The killer’s here. He’s in the house! He’s in the house, he’s got a knife!” You cried, breathing in Billy’s cologne and masculine scent.

“He’s gone.” Billy said with a faint whisper, shushing you as you whimpered in his ear. “He’s gone, it’s alright.”

You were safe. You were in Billy’s arms for crying out loud! Everything was going to be fine.

A crash was heard as something had fallen out of your lover’s pocket, heading straight to the floor. You slowly turned your head around, staring directly at the item that had fell.

The phone.

You felt your throat close as it gave you that sickening, nauseating tingle you’d always hated. Your heartbeat became slower and slower. All you could do was stay in Billy’s arms, frozen out of fear before realisation truly hit.

Billy could feel the difference in your bodily functions, and cocked his head as you looked at him in horror, backing away.

“What?” He asked, his tone concerned.

You stared at your lover with pure disgust. Watching as he grew more and more confused. Your mind and mouth did not respond to his series of questions, demanding to know what was wrong and why you were looking at him with such terror.

Everything appeared to soon be ignored as you were only focused on one thing and one thing only.

Betrayal.

Your heart rate finally picked back up again, causing you to run out of the room. Billy followed behind, but you didn’t care. It wasn’t now until he realised you weren’t just running away, you were running away from HIM.

“Whoa, whoa, wait, wait! Wait, Y/n, wait!” Billy yelled, now full on going after you to get his answer.

You managed to get halfway down the stairs before he stopped chasing you, you could hear him screaming for you at the top of the staircase, leaning heavily onto the banister.

“Wait, wait, wait, WAIT! What’s going on?”

Your heart was in your throat whilst you could not believe what was happening right now. Too much, too soon.

“Y/n, come back!” He shrieked.

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Now, Woodsboro Police Station:

Tears welled up in your eyes as those dark memories of tonight replayed, ones that would never quite leave your head.

“Y/n!” The same voice from your flashback called.

You looked up, slightly wincing at who you saw through the window of Sheriff Burk’s office.

Him.

Billy stared intensely at you from afar through the glass, his eyes filled with nothing but anger and never ending thoughts of confusion.

Yet, something else hid behind those eyes. A dark type of mystery you weren’t ready to know yet.

It was as if your lover felt the same feeling of betrayal you were experiencing yourself. But not betrayal because you’d suspected it was him trying to kill you, something else that was far different. Something worse.

I mean, you hadn’t did anything, right? It was Billy who had made himself look as guilty as he did. Far too suspicious for anyone to believe for the time being. Yet, his aura practically told you he showed no signs of guilt..

You began to sweat nervously as he continued to stare. What if, it truly had nothing to do with Billy? Had timing been your saviour tonight? Was he innocent enough to prove he had only arrived to your house to see you again?

A darker truth lay untold for now. The feeling of betrayal was mutual, but something else just told one a devious message about the other.

Something was coming.

Something, bad.

Something that in reality, was already here..

B

E

T

R

A

Y

A

L.

[xzhdjsj]

Shameless

Elias x Reader

Elias wants you. (suggestive)

Guess who's backkkkk🤡 Hi hello how are yall doinnnn👹 It's been a while

Last month, my laptop died and i lost a bunch of my files:( I was heartbroken and unmotivated BUT I WANNA GET BACK TO WRITING That being said IF ANYONE WANTS ANYTHING WRITTEN LET ME KNOWWWWW (seriously bully me into writing it if you must, you have my full permission)

But yh here's a little Elias fic I whipped up this week. This one is pretty suggestive/ kinda nsfw-y so if you don't like that you can just ignore it altogether! If you do decide to read it, I hope you like it💕

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Elias is shameless.

He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, or sees, or hear.

One time, Warden had scolded him about how close he’s gotten to you in such a short time and why it was unnecessary bla bla bla, the whole works. His father’s lengthy lecture ticked him off just the right amount, but he stayed quiet, silently scheming revenge.

When he spotted you as he exited his father’s office, patiently waiting for him, it all clicked. What could piss his father off more than the exact thing he was warned not to do? He tugged you down the hall, pulling you into a corner to kiss you, shielding your body with his. He purposely chose somewhere close to Warden’s office where a camera would easily catch the entire scene but keep you hidden behind him. It was a direct response to his father, a sort of 'fuck off, let me live my life' notion. Before leaving, he turned his head to slyly eye the camera with a content smirk. In every aspect of the word, Elias is a rebel.

And it didn’t stop there, Elias just loves kissing you. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing, if he wanted to taste you he was going to initiate. Not that there’s much to do at the safe house anyways, so when you return his eagerness it quickly escalates, but in addition to being a boring concrete crate the safe house is also loaded with camera. FUN!

So, much to Warden’s delight probably, the ‘escalation’ never gets as far as you both would like. The realisation of some random weirdos watching in on your intimate deeds together kills the mood faster than a speeding bullet, at least for you. Elias, on the other hand, respects your boundaries and take a moment to pace around, to distract himself, so he calms down.

You’re something that gets the mechanics in his head moving, he’s constantly thinking of you and if he finds himself staring at you a second too long, his pants start to feel tighter a little too easily. So just imagine what a touchy make out sesh does to the guy.

It’s far too clear how much you want each other, the sexual tension would cut smoothly, like a hot knife through butter. The employees weirdos monitoring the cameras must be entertained by the chaotic aftermath of a cuddle-turned-make out and laugh at the effort you make to avoid each other for the past couple weeks. Its like an embarrassing reality show.

Being the only two persons in the house, with very little entertainment, doesn’t make it any easier to survive either but there’s no other way to rid the desire so its best simply ignore it. It’s especially difficult for poor Elias, because he downright CRAVES you. It wears away at his resistance and he struggles to hold back at every sight of you.

Especially right now, when you walk into his room in shorts and a skimpy tank top that reveals too much skin for his ‘you engulfed’ brain to handle. If this were a loony toons episode there’d be smoke wafting out his ears as he melts into a puddle atop his sheets.

“Hey Elias, did you finish the Doritos?” You tilt your head at him.

Your words pull him back to reality and he scrambles for his blanket, dropping his astronomy text in the process. The pointy edge of the hardcover book sharply stabbed into his thigh as if an instant karma is chastising him for his inappropriate thoughts.

“Fucking OUCH!”

You rush towards him, worried eyes scanning his doubled over body.

“Crap I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in- I just wanted some- Christ are you okay?”

He stays crouched over groaning but when you reach out to touch him, he grips your wrist pulling you on top of him. You scream.

“You fucker! I was scared you lost a testicle or something!”

You scolded and smacked his arm while he’s choking out a hyena laugh under you.

“Okay okayyy I’m sorry,” he pouts “But I may have lost one wanna check?”

The red colour in your face burn brighter, you scold him again as he continues to giggle at your flustered expression.

“Alright I’m actually done this time.” He keeps his arms securely around your body, burying his face into your neck. God you smell good, he prays you wouldn't move on too of him or it'd be difficult to NOT feel him.

“You’re such an idiot, god why do I even find you attractive again?” You sigh and wrap your arms around him in defeat.

He perks up like a naughty cat, “You find me attractive, huh?”

“Oh please, don’t play dumb with me you made me call you pretty so many times I’m basically programmed to it now”

His eyes reflect pure mischief, “That doesn’t answer my question”, he moves closer to your face. His eyes trail down to your lips before finding your eyes again and he leans in closer. Instinctively, you close your eyes, waiting for him to close the space between your lips but he doesn’t. Instead you feel them on your ear, “Tell me and I’ll give you what you want”

You sigh, outmatched by his impish tactics. “Of course I do, else I wouldn’t be on top of-”

Finally satisfied with your answer he presses you into his body, lips finding yours in a familiar pattern that tie knots in your lower abdomen. The feeling of your body bubbling to life is enough to have you craving even more. You’re greedily pulling his face closer, hand on his neck while the other tugs at the back of his head. He's in no better shape himself, his fingers grip into you waist and one hand sneakily crawls up the back of your shirt.

The weeks’ worth of resolve and control immediately flushed down the sink and you both give into the desire that pesters the atmosphere. Its intense, it’s so much sweeter and it feels sinful.

The heat is addicting and your hips have no shame grinding down onto Elias, but at this point he's forgotten thats something he previously didn't want. He's immediately grips them, stilling you as he pulls away.

"You're gonna get yourself into deep trouble"

He voice sounds octaves lower and it might just be the hottest thing you've ever heard. Completely entranced by his demeanour, you don't fight the urge to harshly pull at his shirt.

He easily overpowers you, pushing you onto the mattress and crawling over you, between your welcoming legs. Its difficult to stay still, but his hands have no problem sinking into your body and pressing you firmly to the bed. The expression on his face is simply dreamy and his warm breaths paired with his breathy giggles only fules your need to kiss him more. Your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him down to kiss you again. He's quick to respond, consumed by the desire to simply have you. He kisses down your jaw to you neck, where he stays, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses.

"Elias- fuck"

Whatever thought was in your head quickly voided existence when he bit down on your skin. It was magical. He didn't hold out, sucking bright red-purple marks all over you, trailing down to your chest. A path of lovebites scatter down to your collar bones and he kissed lower to the top hem of your shirt. Its obvious what he wants.

He bites the thin strap down your shoulder.

"Elias..."

You called out to him, hoping he'd remember. But how could he when you were below him in this state? Eyes shut closed, breathing heavily and making those sounds that makes him greedy for more. Before he could pull the other side down you manage to grab his arm pulling him out of his trance.

"Cameras remember?"

You whine covering your face as the embarrassing realisation sets in.

"Fuck, I'm sorry"

He sounds so defeated, so desperate. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sighing against your skin. It sends a shiver down you spine and you gently pat his head

"Its okay, I'm pretty sure we both feel the same way, but we don't exactly need a sex tape to our name as well as a bounty."

He laughs again, the breathy kind that toys with the nerve endings where his breath touched.

He suddenly pulls away, sitting up.

"Or maybe I can just," he rolls off the corner of the bed walking up to the camera in the corner of the room.

"For your own good you'd better turn off the cameras for today."

He spoke directly at the lens pointing at him and before you know it he was pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it over the camera.

You sit up on your knees, amused to his action but even more dumbfounded at a shitless Elias approaching you.

"'m sorry babe, I can't take it anymore." he crawls back over to you, his hands perfectly moulded for your body. "I don't want to ignore this anymore, I don't think I can."

"They can still hear us", you point out but don't pull away from his touch.

"I'm sure they were able to read the room. They'll take them off, and if they don't.... we'll just have to give them a show, right?" his signature grin returns to his face. Lithe fingers run along the bottom hem of your shirt before sinking under and dragging it over your head.

If he wasn't already turned on, he's definitely ten times more aroused now.

[l8rs-gat0rs]

You're legit the only Eva writer, so I have a cute, fluffy request of the girls helping Eva ask reader out because she's scared of being rejected. I love your work btw, i literally stalk you to make sure i didn't miss anything

The Golden Window

Pairing: Eva x Female reader

Warning(s): none, just Eva overthinking and gallons of fluff, quite a bit of y/n use at first. Sorry if the POV situation is weird, I couldn't get a solid gage of what the POV would be, this is the closest fit.

Summary: Eva turns to the girls for some help telling you that she likes you, but it doesn't go as planned...

Word count: 1.1k

WHAT THE HELLLL. I AM SO HONORED. I have an account stalker :') Ugh no but fr, you're so sweet and thank you so much, I'm always over the moon when people tell me that they like my writing, because it's something I'm genuinely passionate about and love to share. So I hope you like this one too :)It's a bit shorter than my usual fics. (I am so sorry for making you wait literal months for this oh gosh)

PSA: I am giving my editor a break so this is lowkey not edited as great as usual. I apologize if there are any mistakes😭

~~~~Happy Reading!~~~~

Eva sat at the kitchen table, nervously twiddling her fingers distractedly, staring at nothing.

"Eva...Eva!?"

Suddenly her attention snapped to the person in front of her, whose hands were waving in her face.

"Oh shit, sorry Cricket, what's up?" Eva said apologetically.

"What's on your mind? We're usually the ones who are all in our heads" Cricket chuckled.

Eva cringed at the thoughts currently going through her head.

They were all about you, of course.

come onnnn, spit it outttt Cricket urged.

"well... I like..." Eva sighed, she was usually the one helping the other girls with their emotions, but ironically she was struggling with her own emotions.

Cricket put her arm on Eva's shoulder

"Hey, it's alright" She said softly

"I like y/n." Eva said suddenly.

Eva stared into cricket's eyes for a moment as Cricket said nothing.

"Well, we all like y/n..." Cricket said.

"Cricket!" Eva slapped cricket's arm causing the other woman to laugh.

"I'm just fucking with you! okay okay so, what's the problem with that?" Cricket asked curiously.

"I-" Eva cut herself off, frustratedly running her hands through her hair.

"I'm scared to ask her out" she slapped her hands onto the table.

Cricket looked at her and held her chin in her hand as her elbow rested on the table.

"I think this is a job for the group" Cricket smiled.

...

"okay girls, I have gathered you all here today because-"

"Where is y/n?" Salem spoke up.

"I was just getting to that, if you would let me continue Salem" Cricket said with strained politeness.

"oh okay, sorry" Salem said sheepishly.

"As I was saying, I sent y/n out for some groceries because we need to help Eva with something. Cricket continued

all the girl's turned to stare at Eva, who blushed embarassingly.

"we are gonna help Eva here confess her feelings to y/n"

the girls gasped and Eva even heard one "I knew it!"

"okay okay, settle down!, settle down!" Cricket yelled over the women's voices, causing them to quiet down.

"Eva, you have the floor" Cricket continued when it was quiet once again.

Eva cleared her throat and addressed the girls.

"Alright guys so, as Cricket says, I have a crush on y/n... and it's eating me up inside that I don't know how to tell her because I'm scared she doesn't feel the same way."

a few "awwww"s were heard from the girls before Salem spoke up once again.

"I think you should do something big, like maybe buy her chocolates and flowers and leave a letter for her that tells her to go to the garden and then you tell her there" Salem said with a dreamy smile.

"um, no you idiot, y/n will hate that" Isis scowled at her.

"hey, Isis! Eva chided causing Isis to look back at her.

"that wasn't nice, Salem's idea was good" Eva scolded Isis

"apologize to her."

"fine. I'm sorry Salem" Isis rolled her eyes.

"I accept your apology, and forgive you for the harm you have caused" Salem responded tightly.

"Good, but that being said, Salem, even though your idea was good, I also don't think y/n would like that" Eva said gently.

"what if you did it during one of your sessions?" Audrey spoke up.

"No, I can't do that, the session are for you guys and your feelings, I'm not going to make it about my feelings." Eva shook her head.

"I think you should just flat out say it to her some time. Pull her to somewhere private and just speak your feelings to her. That's what you always teach us" Cricket spoke up from Eva's side, uncrossing her arms and placing a hand on Eva's shoulder.

Eva looked at her and smiled a little.

"yeah you're right. Fear is an emotion that I can persevere through as long as I speak my truth." Eva smiled.

"That's the spirit! Right girls!?" Cricket asked the girls sitting in front of them.

A chorus of "yeah!"s and "Yeah! just tell y/n you like her!" could be heard.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and all the girls were startled into silence as they turned to see what had made the noise.

There, standing in the arch leading into the living room was y/n, mouth agape, staring at Eva. She had dropped the bag of groceries she was carrying.

The silence that filled the room was deafening and Eva could practically hear the blood rushing through her body.

Eva was the first to speak up though.

"um, girls, can you uh..." Eva started

before she even finish her sentence, the girls were already quickly getting up and leaving the room. Cricket picked up the bag of groceries and finally left, Eva and you alone.

"Would you sit down please?" Eva said softly, gesturing to the couch.

you nodded and took a seat in front of her before she moved to sit next to you, causing you to turn towards her.

"how much did you hear?" Eva cringed.

you smiled a little,

"I heard enough. 'tell y/n you like her!'" you said in a teasing voice.

Eva put her face in her hands and groaned causing you to giggle a little before gently removing her hands from her face to see her red face.

you looked into her blue eyes that you always seemed to get lost in.

"hey, it's okay" you whispered gently.

Eva found herself getting lost in your warm brown eyes as well.

"it's just that... i don't know, I didn't expect to tell you this soon, I was going to plan it in my head" Eva explained, looking away, feeling embarrassed.

you were silent for a moment, and as Eva was about to turn her head back to you, you took the liberty of doing it yourself, grabbing her chin and connecting your lips to hers.

Eva was surprised at first, but quickly returned the kiss.

Once the two of you separated, you smiled brightly.

"Now are you ready to tell me?" you smirked.

Eva laughed before responding,

"yeah that definitely helps"

"well?" you urged her on.

"y/n, I like you" Eva said with a smile.

"I think you have my answer" you giggled.

"I don't know, I think I need your answer again" Eva said with faux confusion.

You laughed, causing her to do the same as you smacked her gently.

you kissed her once again, reveling in the feel of her soft pink lips that you could never seem to keep your eyes off of.

When you pulled away again, you pressed your forehead to hers and smiled.

"I like you too Eva"

[reds-skull]

Post script on Not Alive, Nor Dead

Like I mentioned yesterday, I have a lot to say about the fic now that it's done.

The TLDR is that I'm leaving an option for a sequel. No promises though.

Leaving the rest of it under the cut because idk how long it will end up.

Okay, so first thing I gotta admit is that I didn't plan shit lmao. I had the start very clearly in my head, which were the scenes I talked about in the first post I made about revenant AU. But the entire plot line with Graves being a secret revenant? Hell, even the whole 'revenants and non-revs are getting kidnapped around the world' was not planned.

The scene in chapter 4 with the PMC was the introduction for the anonymous PMC, but I didn't think of making Graves and in extension Shadow Company all the work of a revenant. I was debating even making him a revenant at all, up until I wrote the chapter introducing him.

This approach, of not planning shit, is what made me excited to sit down and write every day. It felt like I was discovering the story myself.

It's also a fucking miracle the story is coherent in any shape or form.

Now, I did write a few things before starting. They were a small overview of the character arcs I want the 141 to go through, and a brief about each revenant's powers, because those things need to be consistent.

The arc overview isn't accurate anymore, it has a version of Gaz's storyline that I didn't manage to fit in, where he has a fear of heights, and overcomes it throughout the fic. The only one really left unchanged was Soap, who had the whole "my powers are too destructive" thing ongoing for most of the story.

Speaking of Soap, the Konchar mystery? I was figuring it out while writing the 3 chapters before introducing 'Konchar'. There are some inconsistencies because of that, specifically in a line where Soap says something along the lines of "I did something on my Reaping, something that if I could replicate, I might've not been let on the team." which kinda makes sense but kinda doesn't, considering all that Ghost has done.

Ghost's struggles with Limbo were something I added after wanting to give him a parallel to Soap. Originally, Ghost's role was to be the guy that has already gone through what Soap is going through, already knowing everything and having as much control on Limbo as he can. But making Limbo this uncontrollable realm was more interesting... also having it reflect Ghost's mind and emotions was cool.

One of the most pleasant surprises was how Price's powers interacted with everyone else's. I think it was the best power to personality match I made, he's not as scary as the others at first glance, but the ability to bore into the minds of his enemies, the way no one can keep secrets from him? Makes him terrifying. It's not made clear in the fic, but the reason it took Price so long to figure Graves out is their previous encounters. Graves knew how to divert his thoughts away from his Shadows, and stop Price from finding out.

What made Price realize Grave's Shadows aren't human is he tried to read their mind, only to find a list of commands. Graves tried to keep them away as much as he can, but it was inevitable. Shepherd knew it, which is why he ordered Price to keep his mouth shut almost instantly.

Since the way revenants get their powers must be linked to the way they died, some revs were easier to find powers for than others. Obviously the 141 was first, some at the time I started thinking about how they died didn't have a canon near-death experience, like Price and Soap.

I took Ghost's og backstory, and the idea of Limbo was gotten from the fact he died in a coffin, in a state of in between life and death. What Limbo does to people was just 'scariest thing I could imagine' type of situation. In the end, I don't know if Limbo is scarier when Ghost couldn't control it, or when both he and Soap could.

With Soap, I knew I wanted something with explosions, so it was a no-brainer to make him die from one. I mentioned in another post, but revenant AU was originally at the very beginning just a thing of 'what if I put mw characters in my original magic system?', and in that scenario, Soap was the only one with powers, which were control over anti matter, meaning anything he touches or touches him explodes. The only scene from that one is of Soap pushing Ghost away and getting shot to high hell, only to go and explode the people that tried to kill him - which is chapter 8.

I chose to use Gaz's iconic hanging out of a chopper scene, because I found it funny tbh lol. Later, when I thought of how exactly he died, it became more serious.

Price's were just kinda random tbh. I figured telepathy is a good ability for a Captain.

Rudy obviously dies in the house fire he almost did in the campaign. Alejandro was harder, but I thought of how Graves locked him up in the black site prison alone, so I went for something similar.

It's not mentioned in the fic, but Farah was the youngest to die from all of them. The house collapse in the start of her flashbacks in mwi, where her father pulled her out of the rubble? She didn't survive it. She's a very rare revenant, to be Reaped when she was a kid.

Farah and Ghost's og backstory have a lot of similarities, in my mind they're parallels to each other. What Farah had that Ghost didn't, however, is other people, a community. I think that's why she didn't lose herself the way Ghost did.

Alex's was difficult, because his canon near-death experience was being exploded, like Soap. I used the fact he's ex CIA, to figure he probably took part of many covert operations, and one went wrong. He was caught, so now he can go invisible. This was the thing I failed to make clear the most in the fic, I think, since a few people asked, more than anything else.

Thomas Anderson, the revenant with underwater breathing abilities, was originally made just for Ghost to roast him. When chapter 8 rolled around, and I needed a random revenant to kill there, I thought using the one established would make sense.

Accidental foreshadowing like this was what carried the fic, tbh. It was like a huge session of 'yes, and'ing myself. A little bit of bullshitting confidently, sometimes it felt like that lmao.

The wedding vows in chapter 31 were, again, unplanned. Ghost said "till death do us apart, Johnny?", so I started looking up Christian wedding vows in English because I don't fully remember them. Later I thought "wait, Soap is Catholic, maybe they have a different version." and then I thought, "shit, he's fuckin' Scottish, he won't use fucking American Catholic vows." (maybe he would idk).

Anyway, I found the Celtic vows present in the fic, which sounded like a metaphor, so perfect I couldn't use them just for the original joke they were meant for. So Soap ends up reciting literal wedding vows at the man.

[here's a link to the website I found the vows at]

Last thing is the whole Makarov tie in to Konchar. I was thinking about how we never really dove deep into why Konchar did what he did, besides having his Reaper tell him "you have to kill Soap before he kills you". I heard an advice somewhere, that in world building you have to dive in two questions for it to be believable.

So, let's take Konchar for example. First question is, "how did Soap killing Konchar not bring on an international incident between Kastovia and the UK?". The answer is, "Konchar was an army deserter." Second question is, "why did Konchar desert the army?", and the second answer is, "because he left to work with Makarov."

We don't need to know why he left, not at the point I left the fic at. Those two answers would be enough for readers to not feel like there's a plot hole there, at least according to that advice I've heard.

NOW, with all of that out of the way, I wanted to post the notes I've made on each revenant's powers, because I thought it could be interesting for someone. AND! I kept some deleted scenes, and it would be a shame to just let them rot in the Google Doc lol.

First up, list of revenants and their powers:

[These aren't 100% accurate anymore, as they were written before I started writing the fic, and I only added stuff to them]

Ghost - limbo: is able to send a circle around him into “limbo”, a space between life and death, that no one can escape. Filled with his enemies. Only way to survive is if ghost brings you to the eye of the storm, where he keeps himself safe of his own powers. Ghost can be killed by any means if taken by surprise and doesnt activate his powers.

If stands still too long, inky hands start grasping at him from the ground. Prefers to sleep elevated.

Died in a coffin.

From chapter 21 and beyond - able to wield to withstand fire in his right hand.

Soap - explosion: cant be killed by explosions, and can explode anything he touches. Any injury with the root cause being explosion (fall from high building, debris scratches, etc.) will be healed, but he does feel pain from it. Gunshots cant kill him (the bullets shoot with explosions). Can be killed by any melee attack, poison, electricity.

Fire burns from his fingertips, hard to put out. Spreads when agitated. Hot to the touch.

Died from a fall because of an explosion.

From chapter 21 and beyond - able to wield the protective light in his left hand in Limbo.

Gaz - gravity: can manipulate gravity of himself and objects he touches. Cant die from falling. Can be killed by any means, but hard to catch and aim at while at motion.

Usually floats a couple inches off ground.

Died in a helicopter accident.

Price - telepathy: can talk and transmit simple ideas to other around him. Can feel emotions of others. Can be killed by any means, but Price can manipulate the enemies thoughts and distract them.

His thoughts can “leak” if left unguarded.

Died after being abandoned and without comms.

Alejandro - phase: can phase through solid objects, including bullets. Can be killed by any means if caught by surprise.

Sometimes accidentally phases through things.

Died in captivity.

Rodolfo - ice: can lower the temperature of anything he touches rapidly. Can freeze and jam guns. Can inflict ice burns. Can be killed by any means beside fire.

Breath always visible, cold to the touch.

Died in a fire.

Farah - steelskin: can deflect any attack to her body. Bullets, knives, rockets. Can be killed by poison easily, as needles cant pierce her skin and therefore medical administration is hard to give.

Skin shines oddly.

Died from a stab wound. [changed to what I explained above]

Youngest to become a revenant.

Alex - invisibility: can become invisible. Otherwise can be killed by any means, hard to spot.

Skin sometimes flickers.

Died when got caught.

Graves - shadow company: can create “shadows”, puppets he controls. Can be killed by any means, but hard to get through his shadows.

Doesnt have a shadow of his own, eyes become milky and vacant, leaking after a while.

Died from betrayal.

[I didn't manage to find a place to add this - yes, Graves died after his squad betrayed him. His powers are a replacement for the whole army. His last line, "Me? I am the army." was what he boiled down to. Limbo's victims marking him a traitor was two fold. He betrayed the 141, Vaqueros, the UFL and basically everyone around him, but he also betrayed his own Reaper, who gave him powers to not go through that very thing. It's also another reason why chapter 30 is called 'Die As You Live'.]

Kirill “Konchar” Bogomolov - telekinesis: can move objects with his mind. Can protect himself from any physical attack, and redirect them towards the attacker. Is a revenant of the Pull, like Gaz.  (name means “Lord” and “devotionalist”) First death from RPG, second death by Soap.

Now, for the cut content. Most of these are one scene, usually one that didn't fit the emotinal arc of the characters, or the direction was going somewhere I didn't like. There's one that is a page and a half long, and that chapter was one of the hardest to write, so I practically restarted it at one point.

I'll try to add the context they were originally in if I remember.

[Context: the scene in Chapter 5, where Ghost watches the night sky out of a window, unable to sleep, and Soap comes to speak with him for the first time since they fought about Soap's tendenticy to let himself get hurt. Soap says he heard rumors about Ghost, and Ghost asks what they said.]

“ (rumors) That you murder our soldiers.”

Something akin to fear rang through his chest. So he knows… He supposes it was meant to happen eventually.

Soap’s face, for some reason, doesn’t lose its newfound cheerfulness.

“And what do you think about those rumors?” Hell knows why he wants to keep hearing him talk.

“Well, that makes the two of us.”

… What.

“What?” Ghost intelligently mutters.

Soap’s eyes widen, face not unlike a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

[Reason to cut: Soap wasn't supposed to admit that yet. He also wouldn't have done it in such a non-chalant way, with how heavy the guilt weighs on him.]

[Context: Chapter 10, where Ghost was showing his powers to the Vaqueros and Graves.]

The Captain’s voice fills his head, “field’s clear, go ahead Lieutenant.”

Ghost glances one last time at Soap’s figure, no more than a small speck, far, far away from him.

He closes his eyes. The warm air of Las Almas dissipates into the chill of Limbo.

He opens them, confused. The void is quiet, the residents of Limbo looking at the distance, calm and still. It reminds him of… before.

Ghost frowns, narrowing his eyes to try and see what caught their attention. There, a far away point flickers.

A small, white flame. Where… Soap was standing. 

Ghost blinks and stumbles back. Price instantly sounds in his mind, “Simon, what’s going on?!”

“I saw something there…” He makes eye contact with the Captain, who is now jogging towards him, Gaz and Soap behind him. “Light… from Johnny.”

It can’t be… how is Soap able to affect Limbo? Every single spiritulogist he met agreed on the fact he’s a sort of master over Limbo, that the realm is a manifestation he’s inseparably linked to.

The only thing others can do there, is die.

“What do you mean light?” Price urges on.

“A small flame. Where Soap was. The victims were all staring at it.”

The 141 members reach him, Johnny rushing to him, “are you alright?”

Ghost gapes at him, “you’re different. I’ve… changed you.”

Soap frowns, “what are ye on about?” he steps closer.

Ghost takes a step back, “stop.”

The Sergeant stills, a hurt expression flashing on his face before he schools his features.

Price invades his mind, “Simon, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down?! I fucked up Soap! I need to-”

The ladder patterns. Ghost turns around.

“SIMON RILEY”

“Reaper”, he exhales shakily.

“YOU’VE DOOMED YOURSELF. IT IS TOO LATE.”

“What are you talking about?!” Ghost screams, “you keep saying I’m gonna die, while Johnny keeps suffering!”

“I DO NOT CARE ABOUT OTHER REVENANTS, SIMON.”

The Reaper leans in to shriek in his ears, Ghost clutching his head uselessly.

“YOU ARE INTERTWINED.” 

Ghost cries from the pain. His Reaper does not falter.

“KILL HIM FIRST.”

His vision fades along with the Reaper’s words.

“Ghost! Fuck, someone get a medic” Someone shouts above him.

Another voice interjects, “he’s not injured, Sergeant. He’s with his Reaper.”

“From my experience, that doesn’t make me holler and pass out!”

A third person joins the conversation, “shut it! He’s waking up.”

Ghost groans and makes a move to rub his eyes, only to be stopped by his hard-shell mask. “Simon? You alright son?” Price asks, bringing the smell of fresh flowers and a soft bed to him.

He gets up (when did he lay down?) and mutters, “fine”. His voice hoarse from screaming. He takes in his team, the three of them concernedly crouch beside him, except Soap, who’s pacing around.

The Sergeant stops and eyes him warily. 

“My Reaper’s mad.” he says in lieu of explanation to the others.

Soap stops, and looks down at him, still avoiding his stare, “it’s because of me, isn’t it?”

He sighs, “when those arms started grabbing ye I thought it was gonna-”

“What arms?” Ghost gets up.

“The dark arms from the ground, don’t tell me you didn’t noti-”

Ghost grabs the front of Soap’s shirt, “you fuckin’ see them?!”

The Sergeant struggles against his iron tight grasp, “aye! Thought I was hallucinating last night, fuckers made a pass at me-”

Ghost pushes him away, “fuckin’ hell”. 

What the fuck is going on?! Nobody can see the victims outside of Limbo. It’s almost like…

“He has some of my powers…” Ghost whispers to himself.

But that’s not possible? 

[Reason to cut: chapter wasn't working out for me. Characters not reacting in character. Reaper not supposed to show up just yet, and what it says kinda repeats previous encounters.]

[Context: chapter 13, instantly after Rudy and Gaz confront Ghost on his relationship with Soap.]

What, do they think he and Soap are sleeping side by side every night, comfortably tangled under the thin sheets? That he warms himself on his Sergeant’s eternal flame, that Johnny brushes his charred, calloused fingers over his arms, his shoulders, his neck, chasing away the cold, inky grasp Limbo always has on him? That Ghost reciprocates, that he holds Johnny’s face softly, bringing them closer and closer until-

[Reason to cut: out of character. Ghost doesn't think about affectionate actions, he jsut does them. Too early in the story for him to express such wants.]

[Context: I don't remember honestly. Entire scene was cut. Might be later in chapter 13, before Graves threatens Ghost.]

He catches Alejandro pacing around the base one day, frowning and arguing with Rudy in Spanish. From what Ghost can pick up, it’s something about an American. He’s pretty damn certain which one.

“Vargas, any issues?” he stops him before the man pops a blood vessel.

Alejandro glances at him, scanning their surroundings for eavesdropping ears. “Come with me.”

The three enter the Vaquero Commander’s office, Rudy locking it behind them, “it’s about Graves.” Alejandro starts pacing again, “fucking gringo is ordering his shadows to collect intel on us.”

“What?” that’s a huge fucking development.

Rudy is quick to correct him, “we can’t prove anything. But yes… Graves knows more than he should.”

“He knows about secret tunnels we have under the base, and weapon stashes that not even Price knows about. We got fucking Shepherd trying to get us to use locations for the mission he shouldn’t even know exist.”

Ghost feels the tension climb up his spine, “what the fuck do you think he’s playing at?”

Alejandro exhales loudly, “whatever it is, [I didn't finish the sentence]

[Reason to cut: Decided that Vaqueros wounldn't suspect Graves, and he wouldn't risk his powers found by using Shadows to spy on them. Didn't like where the scene was directing the story.]

[Context: chapter 19, when Ghost asks Gaz for help with showing emotions with Soap. Gaz asks why can't he now.]

Garrick nods thoughtfully, “and what is it that stops you? Fear?”

Ghost clenches his teeth, this conversation feels like pulling them out one by one, “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Wasn’t saying that sir”, Gaz thrums on his boot, “could be rejection, or… shit. Of course.” he stares at Ghost, eyes soft.

“The fuck’s it?” he glares back.

Gaz releases his powers, standing up in front of him, “you need to get over your fear of feeling.”

[Reason to cut: out of character. Wouldn't confront emotions head on. Unnatural for Gaz to just state that, rather have it implied. Not where I wanted Ghost's mentality to go.]

[Context: no idea. Probably after Ghost sent Soap to Limbo, and he gained an immunity to it.]

“We don’t have to be afraid, Simon. You can’t hurt me anymore.” Johnny whispers

[Reason to cut: don't remember.]

Tumblr is starting to lag, which means this post is huge lmao. Again, thank you to each and every one of you! The response to the fic was amazing, I never expected my little revenant AU to turn into something this big!

I loved the experience of writing Not Alive, Nor Dead. You can certainly expect more from me in the future!

For now, I have to focus on uni, and after that I have a few ideas for comics I wanna do. Might make a few oneshots in between, but no big projects like this one just yet!

[megplant]

Killshot

Tangerine x F!Reader

Summary: Rival assassins! You run into Tangerine at the tail-end of a job gone wrong. Wordcount: 1.5k Warnings: blood, violence, language, sexual suggestions (no smut, at least not yet), choking

A/N: I don't know if this is a one-shot or possibility of a bigger story, but I couldn't get this scene out of my head and I knew it would be fun to write! I LOVE rival assassin Tangerine fics, but I really wanted to feel like they would actually kill each other and kind of highlight the unhealthiness of what a 'situationship' in that world might actually look like. Basically if you shipped Obi-Wan/Ventress back in the day, you know the vibes.

Recommended listening: Killshot by Magdalena Bay, I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Maneskin

Read Pt. 2 - here

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An explosion runs into your jaw. Or, at least, it feels that way for the split second before your vision goes black from the impact and careens back to reality as your head is slammed against the wall behind you. 

Fuzzy black edges are creeping in around the periphery of your vision as you struggle to catch your breath. Some hair from your updo has given up staying in place and falls into your face. You blink a few times to clear your vision and catch the glint of brass on the knuckles that are swinging toward your face. 

Of fucking course, he’s here. There’s enough blood pooled in your mouth from that hit that it takes minimal effort to expel a bloody gob of spit into his face. He stops short of a follow-up punch and pins his arm against your chest to hold you in place instead. 

“Tangerine!” You exclaim, sounding just like you were so pleased to run into an old friend at the supermarket. “Fancy seeing you here!” 

To his credit, he didn’t flinch, but he looks pissed. He wastes no pleasantries, his hand shooting out to grab your free wrist and pinning it back against the wall. “Looking for something?” 

The knife you had been reaching for in your thigh holster gleams menacingly in his hand. He spins it around on the butterfly axis, holding the blade against your throat. You’re annoyed he knows your playbook so well, but you chuckle anyway, amused. 

You give up the pretense of fighting back, opting to roll your body against his - bringing your hips flush together as you arch your neck away from the knife. You let out a breathy whimper - merely catching your breath, of course - 

You don’t miss the way he swallows, the way his eyes darken in a flash, that little tic between his eyebrows that jumps when he gets riled up. His grip tightens, and you know there will be a bracelet of bruises on your wrist from the crushing pressure. It’s just too easy. 

“You look like a right tart in that get-up, love - didya lose a bet?” He looks you up and down, taking the moment to pretend to think. “Or…you must be here to honeypot that jackass upstairs, hmm? Musta been too difficult for you to get to him directly, I suppose.”

Your amused expression drops - he’s insulting your skills and your outfit, cheap shots. He must be having a bad night, too. 

You keep your bodies flush together as you lean in close, ignoring the slicing sting of the blade as it presses against your neck. You lick your lips, take a breath, taking all the time in the world as if you’re about to tell him just what he most wants to hear. You can feel the held breath, feel his grip loosen a fraction on the knife, and you smile as you whisper - 

“Where’s Lemon?” 

His eyes dart up to the ceiling for a split second and you grin, all sharp teeth. It’s the opening you wanted. 

You slam your knee up into his groin with all of your strength. There’s a satisfying crunch of connection and his grip on you slackens as he groans loudly. You’re already inside his space, and it’s easy work to break his hold on your knife and to slash out at the arm boxing you in. 

“Fuckin’ Christ!” Tangerine exclaims, eyes screwed up in pain even as he’s still valiantly trying to hold you off and keep you pinned. 

Your wild slashing manages to cut across his arm, the blood arcing out across his shirt and your face and he roars, surging forward and pinning you to the wall by the throat. He slams your arm against the wall as hard as he can and the blade drops as you can’t hold your grip. If the crunch you felt in your wrist is any indication, something’s broken. 

“Where is Lemon?!” He roars at you at the top of his lungs, spit flying and mingling with the blood and sweat smearing across his face. His hair is a riot of curls, and his chest is heaving with the effort he’s exerting to hold you in place. 

His grip is iron-vice and you feel the hammer of your heart in your throat, the slam of it against your ribcage. Your breath flutters in his fist and the dark spots are reappearing at the edges of your vision. You are regretting using Lemon to get a reaction, in hindsight. 

Your feet slide against the wall as you struggle, your hands coming up try to pry his grip loose by any fraction of an inch that you can. It’s like trying to move stone. But you knew, you only needed to buy some time. You manage to crack a smile, spluttering out a regretful chuckle as you realize-

“Upstairs, I bet.” 

There’s a loud boom from above you both, the ceiling and walls shaking before the lights in the hallway immediately cut off. You take his moment of shock to make a final effort to free yourself and dig your nails into the slash you’d made across his arm a minute ago. He roars through clenched teeth as he tries to bear it and keep choking you but you rake your acrylics through his wound and he yells and hurls you down the hallway. 

You fall several feet back, slumped across the floor, wheezing and coughing. You glance back to see Tangerine lumbering towards you, the look in his eyes absolutely crazed. You have really pissed him the fuck off, this time, you think as you try to scramble backwards. 

You both freeze, though, hearing shouts coming from all directions now, mixing with the blaring of the fire alarm. You and Tangerine look at each other in the dark hallway for a charged heartbeat. 

“That was supposed to be my escape distraction.” You manage to croak out the admonishment, taking the moment of respite to awkwardly clamber to your feet. You hold your broken wrist to your chest and tilt your head toward the far window - where you had originally been running when somebody clotheslined you into a wall. 

You step over to the window, noting that Tangerine has swapped his brass knuckles for his gun. You roll your eyes, sliding the window open to reveal a rope ladder already tied to the sill and hanging down. “Hurry the fuck up, you absolute prick.” You hiss at him in a hoarse whisper, already swinging a leg out and over the windowsill. 

He closes the distance between you two in a second, grabbing onto your hurt wrist and squeezing. You freeze with a gasp, glaring into his eyes. You have never seen him like this. He holds the mouth of the gun to your temple, unwavering. 

“If Lemon was hurt in that explosion-” His voice is steady and slow. Scarier, even, than when he roars and raves at you. “-You will regret it.” 

“Relax, Tan.” You match his tempo, keeping the same unflinching energy even with a gun to your head. “It was just a little thing to knock out the power - even if Lemon was in the same room when it went off, he’d barely notice. I didn’t know it was Lemon following me, I could’ve left him some guards to kill.” 

Tangerine growls in response, only half-satisfied with your answer. You know he won’t calm fully until he can see Lemon for himself. You lick your lips, decide to try your luck. 

“I am sorry - it’s just business, you know that.” Your head tilts in toward his and you feel the barrel of the gun move away from your temple. Your eyes close in relief and anticipation, waiting for Tangerine’s lips to brush yours. 

You feel the steel of the gun push into your side and Tangerine mutters next to your lips. “Get us outta here, love, and I won’t kill you. That’s business.” 

Your eyes open to stare into his, though neither of you move an inch. Your options are few, and none of them are very good. This job was done, and as long as you don’t get caught, you can get paid. But to not get caught now, you need the Twins. You must have stolen this contract from under them, so they’ll want the money. There was no way to escape with all the money, and live. 

You break the moment by leaning all the way in, and planting a chaste kiss on his bloody, sweaty cheek. “Let’s go, we’ll pick up Lemon on the way.” 

You give him a cheeky grin, and he lets you go with narrowed eyes and a distrustful expression. You slip down the rope ladder with your one good arm, scanning each floor of windows while descending for familiar blonde curls.

[crescent-witch]

season of the witch

ship: soft!dark!wanda x reader x dark-ish!kate

summary: wanda gets kate every birthday present she could possibly ever think of, including you.

warnings: kidnapping, dub-con/non-con, degradation, praise, dark!dom!wanda, switch!kate, sub!reader, light pet play, pet names, magical restraints, magic use, manipulation via wanda’s magic, magic strap, magic cum, tentacle strap, mommy kink, magic gag ig | MINORS DNI

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this fic is so self indulgent im sorry 💀 this took my an embarrassingly long time to write

The smell of something cooking is what woke you from your heavy sleep. The smell was rich and heady. A stew, you hoped, as the aroma both made your stomach growl and your head dizzy while you struggled to fully open your eyes.

The world was a blur of colours and shapes, nothing going into focus as you tried to make out where you were. You noted that you could make out a lot of green, and brown. Perhaps somewhere in the forest, you thought, attempting to smell flowers or damp soil, anything past whatever was cooking nearby.

You groaned as your head lulled back, the dull ache fading but still present as you screwed your eyes shut, blocking out whatever dream you seemed to be having. You tried to lift your arms from the armrests of the chair you were sitting in to rub at your eyes, but they refused to budge, tied down by some kind of rope or strap. You didn’t have to try and move your feet to guess that they were the same.

The sound of heavy footsteps is what caused you to quickly open your eyes again, head shooting up as your vision suddenly cleared.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” A soft voice cheered, and you turned your head to the sound. The breath was knocked from your lungs when you saw the redhead standing before you. The woman’s face was framed with bright red hair, draping down to her waist in a stark contrast to the black dress and boots she wore. She was unlike any woman you had seen in your small town, dark clothes and satanic symbols adorning her jewellery aside, you had never witnessed someone levitate a bowl of stew, as she was doing now.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled softly at you. “I’m Wanda.”

“Hi,” you croaked out, words failing you. It was ridiculous, you thought at that moment. This woman, who had presumably kidnapped you, was rendering you speechless with a pretty face and kind smile.

“Mm,” Wanda hummed in appreciation and admiration as her hand reached out towards you, the other still glowing with wisps of red and keeping the hot bowl afloat in the air. Her hand landed on your cheek, fingers languidly stroking your cheek as her smile shifted, twisting into something more of a smirk.

“Go on sweetheart, eat up,” she encouraged as she moved away from you, and you missed her body's warmth before the bowl of stew landed in your lap, and you would’ve winced in pain from the heat if it wasn’t for the overwhelming draft flowing through the house she had brought you to. “You need all your strength for later,” Wanda reached for the small spoon sat in the bowl and lifted the spook of the rich brown sauce to your mouth.

You didn’t question what Wanda wanted from you, just allowing yourself to lean into the comfort of her caring for you. After all, incessant questions annoyed Wanda, so she allowed her magic to deep into your mind and steer you away from them.

“Such a good girl,” Wanda crooned at you. The words snapped you out of your haze, common sense finally taking over you as you realised the situation you were in.

“I-I don’t understand,” you stuttered out, fighting against the heavy fog settling in your mind. “I want to go home.”

“Oh, no detka,” Wanda pouted. “You’re going to stay here with me. Such a precious little thing can’t be left all alone.”

You knew fighting against the fuzziness in your head was futile, but you still struggled and refused to give in. You weren’t that weak, were you? This woman had kidnapped you, for fucks sake! You were sure you could resist her stunning smile and gentle words long enough to escape.

You were, of course, terribly wrong.

Wanda could feel your mind fighting against her and she increased her magic tenfold, drowning you in thoughts of her, of staying in the little cabin for the rest of your days.

“No,” you whimpered pathetically with a small shake of your head, looking up at Wanda with pleading eyes.

“Hush, little one,” she murmured to you, running a hand through your hair and you leaned into her touch, closing your eyes as you allowed Wanda’s magic to take hold of you. “Good girl malyshka, such a well behaved girl.”

You preened under Wanda’s praise as your eyes lazily opened, swirls of scarlet an evident sign of Wanda’s magic.

You and Wanda were broken out of your trance by a loud crash coming from upstairs, followed by a “shit!” and a set of footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Wandaaa!” You heard a voice call, a second later a brunette swerved into the room, narrowly dodging a small table with a lamp on it before her eyes landed on you.

The girl’s eyes widened in shock as she spotted you, tied to one of the kitchen chairs, dopily smiling at Wanda as she fed you.

“Kate honey, please be careful. We don’t want another hospital visit, do we?” Wanda warned her, not sparing the girl, Kate, another glance as she held another spoonful of food out to you again, which you took gladly.

“Wanda..what the fuck,” Kate was well aware that the woman who had taken her under her wing wasn’t exactly the Patron Saint of Ethics. In the past two years being Wanda’s..well, Wanda’s pet, Kate had learned that the witch didn’t shy away from getting her hands a little bloody, especially for what she deemed was the greater good. Kate started off as Wanda’s mentee, until the redhead gave up on the hope of her husband, Vision, returning. And that’s when her and Kate’s relationship developed into what it was that day you were taken, one fueled by a twisted need for one another.

Wanda never loved Kate, not like that. And despite the void that Wanda and Kate filled for each other, Wanda could sense that her young apprentice was becoming lonely. And that's where she figured you could come in.

“Oh, Katie,” Wanda pouted, disappointed. “You’ve ruined your surprise! You weren't supposed to see her until your birthday.”

While Kate’s birthday was in a couple days, she didn’t expect a kidnapping to be on the agenda.

“What the fuck did you do?!”

“Watch your language,” Wanda scolded her, furrowing her eyebrows as she turned to Kate for the first time, who hung her head as a brief sense of guilt took over her.

“Sorry, mommy,” Kate whispered, still so confused and scared.

Wanda sighed as she stood up, wandering away from you as she reached out for Kate, taking Kate’s cold hands in hers.

“I thought you could use a little toy, you know, to have some fun with, take your stress out on,” Wanda smiled, happy with her plan as she moved behind Kate to rest her chin on the younger girl’s shoulder, moving her closer to you. “I know you miss being in control sometimes, puppy,” the name nearly made Kate stumble, her knees going weak. There were many things Wanda was proud of ingraining into Kate over their time together, but one of her favourite was the way she knew every corner of the archers mind, how to make her give in instantly.

It was true, Kate did sometimes long to be in control. Not of Wanda, but the brunette was slowly coming to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be fully content to just sub for Wanda, no matter how much she denied it at first. But she had no clue Wanda would go this far.

“Go on, say hello,” Wanda encouraged Kate, grinning as she stumbled towards you. Kate’s toe caught the edge of a loose floorboard, sending her tumbling towards you. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, not looking where they landed. Kate prayed for the ground to swallow her up whole as she looked at her hands, one planted firmly just above your breast and the other gripping the arm of the chair. If you weren’t already trapped in the chair, you would be with Kate towering over you, her face inches away from yours.

“Oh, god…” Kate groaned, a blush staining her cheeks as she quickly removed her hands, looking down in embarrassment as she shuffled away from you.

“Aww, look at your little slut, Katie,” Wanda giggled happily, turning Kate’s chin up to see you. Kate nearly whined when she saw you in a similar state, blush spreading down to your neck as you struggled to not react to the ghost of the handprint left behind. “She loved it.”

Short-lived confidence taking over Kate, she moved towards you again, her movements more predatory as her boots thumped against the hardwood with every step. She tilted your chin up to look her in the eyes, and you desperately tried not to whimper at her hungry gaze.

You knew it was wrong, so completely wrong. These two women, strangers, taking control over your entire being. But you couldn’t stop it. Wanda’s magic had taken hold of you, wrapping around your mind and soul like vines, growing and poisoning, consuming you. And you didn’t want them to ever stop.

“She’s so pretty,” Kate murmured. “Such a pretty girl,” the attention from the brunette had your cheeks heating up, eyes cast down in an attempt to avoid Kate’s gaze.

No longer quiet, a noise that was damn near a moan ripped through you.

Kate was still unsure in her movements, her hand moving down from your chin, trailing past your neck until it once again landed on your breast. “Is this okay?” She asked, nervous as her hand dipped beneath your shirt, reaching towards your bra-covered tits.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, head thrown back as the pleasure of Kate’s hands on you overtook you so quickly. “Please.”

“Not yet,” Wanda told Kate as her hands ventured further up your torso, palming the sides of your breasts. With another flick of her wrist the roped fell away from your wrists and ankles slithering and writhing like snakes.

“Come on, pup. Let’s have some fun with your new little toy.”

You started to complain as you felt Kate’s hands leave your body briefly before encircling you in them, lifting you to her chest as she stood. Your legs quickly wrapped around her waist, the shorts you were wearing riding up in the process. Your arms quickly gripped Kate’s biceps, fighting to maintain balance, but the hard muscle underneath your fingertips assured you that you were in no danger of being dropped.

You hadn’t noticed Kate’s muscle at first, but with the way the muscles of her strong arms rippled and stained as she flexed them, her tank top leaving little to the imagination, you decided the title of daddy definitely suited her.

“You’re gripping me so tight, huh, baby? Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Kate cooed in your ear, sending a chill throughout your system. Your shudders didn’t go unnoticed by her, causing her to smirk as she kicked a door to a room and let you go as she walked into the room.

You screw your eyes shut, preparing for the impact of the fall, but instead being met by the softness of a mattress underneath you. You slowly opened your eyes to see Kate towering over you, tank top already removed to reveal her sports bra underneath, and watching the way her muscles contort with her every movement distracted you from the witch sneaking up to you from your other side until you felt Wanda’s hand land on your stomach, trailing downwards.

“Such a good whore,” Wanda said as her hand dipped into your shorts, smirking at the way your legs instinctively spread open and she stole your attention away from Kate momentarily. “You want mommy’s fingers inside you, honey?”

“Mommy,” you whined, bucking your hips up as Wanda’s fingers made contact with your covered clit and she began rubbing slow and harsh circles there.

Bucking your hips into Wanda’s hand, you could feel yourself leaking through your shorts. But, much to your dismay, Wanda removed her hand when loud moans began to leave your mouth.

Your hips lifted off the bed, trying to chase Wanda’s hand, but red wisps floated around you and were suddenly pinning you to the mattress.

“Patience, “ Wanda warned you, her harsh glare bore into you as her magic kept your head in place. “I want Kate to have the first turn with you.”

Your eyes flickered to Kate, unable to move your head with Wanda keeping you completely immobilised.

The brunette still leaned over you at the edge of the bed, unintentionally sending chills through you with her eyes staring into yours while she tried to avoid looking at your body, which Wanda was slowly unveiling, knowing all it would lead to is weak knees and blushing.

“Come on, Katie,” Wanda reached out for her hand, pulling Kate until she landed on the bed with a soft thud, laying sprawled across your stomach. She manoeuvred herself so her body was laying across yours, her face inches from yours.

Wanda’s fingers threaded through Kate’s hair, twisting the locks around her hand and yanking back, abruptly pulling Kate’s face away from yours.

Wanda’s hand trailed down Kate’s front, whispering soft words into her ear in another language that you could barely hear. The sentences were soothing, a lullaby of sorts, to you, and they had you relaxing into the soft cotton of the bed and sinking deeper into submission underneath the two women.

Wanda’s hand stopped short of where Kate was dripping from, red swirling from her fingertips as the magic entrapped Kate’s thighs in its strong hold, black material sewing itself under Wanda’s hand under nothing but a rather thick harness covered Kate’s body and something dangling from her which was obscured by Wanda’s hand, and you nearly cursed yourself for hoping it was something she would fill you up with. Although the intimate place it was didn’t leave much to the imagination.

You could see Kate’s nervous glances, thrown over her shoulder to Wanda who reassured her, smiling at Kate and guiding her hips towards yours, but by that point your too dumbed down brain couldn’t make much sense of anything until Kate’s strap was trialing through your folds.

The strap was flexible, the small ridges creating stimulation that made you want to beg for more within seconds, but as soon as your mouth opened Wanda’s magic was slithering inside, filling your mouth, gagging you and muffling any words or sounds.

“So pretty,” Wanda muttered as a string of drool trailed down your chin and small whimpers vibrated around her magic.

“Aw, I think the sweet thing’s trying to beg,” you nodded your head quickly, bucking your hips to emphasise your point.

“Go on then, pup. Give her what she wants,” Wanda encouraged.

Kate looked back at her with wide eyes as you whined for her.

“I-I don’t know how to-“

“Shh, it’s alright,” Wanda interrupted Kate’s whispers, gripping the brunette’s hips, surely leaving bruises for the next morning. “Just help your toy feel good.”

You moaned loudly as Kate held the end of her strap, directing the tip into your entrance.

“More, please,” your muffled begging filled Kate’s ears, and suddenly her entire strap was pushed inside you.

“Fuck,” Kate sighed, nearly falling against you if it wasn’t for Wanda’s hands on her.

“Can you feel that, Katie?” Wanda said in her ear, guiding Kate’s hips in rocking movements. “Did I forget to mention that little surprise?” Kate let out a strangled moan as you clenched around her. “It’s a magic strap, baby,” Wanda muttered against Kate as her mouth fell to Kate’s neck. “You can feel everything that your pretty little slut does to you.”

“Mommy,” Kate ground into you as she spoke to Wanda, nearly ignoring you completely aside from her strap inside your pussy.

“Shh, I have one more surprise for you both,” Wanda said, red coils floating from her and wrapping around Kate’s strap, seeping into the tentacle.

Kate wasn’t sure what Wanda had done until she heard your moans increase in volume, and saw her strap wiggling inside of you.

“The little princess will be cumming in no time.”

A blush stained Kate’s cheeks, knowing what the tentacle was doing inside of you as she rolled her hips, moving it in and out of you.

Stifled begging filled the room as a coil tightened in your stomach, the rush of your orgasm quickly approaching. Kate’s hips rocked faster, desperate for the feeling of your walls surrounding her.

“Come on, please, please,” Kate groaned, grunting as her thrusts picked up and her tentacle-like-cock slammed into you. “Cum, baby. Just cum. I need you, please.” Kate’s hand reached out, her fingers quickly finding your little ball of nerves, rubbing furiously, trying to draw your climax out of you.

“Fuck,” Kate moaned with you as the tentacle twisted inside your pussy with a mind of its own, filling every part of your core and hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. “Cum!”

And with a strangled scream your release washed over you, Wanda studying your face while Kate’s head was thrown back in pure ecstasy, reaching her peak seconds after you.

Hot cum spurted from crevices and holes in the tentacle and you tiredly sighed as it filled you up, cum leaking from both you and Kate as she collapsed against your chest, strap still buried in you, although it’s movements had stilled, and her hand had moved from your cliff to rest on your torso.

“Good girls,” Wanda whispered to you and Kate, dismounting from behind Kate to fall into bed beside you both, a sleepy look on Kate’s face while you were almost passed out. “You took it so well, angels.”

Kate hummed happily, shifting on top of you to get more comfortable, wet noises from where her strap was filling all of your ears, even from just that slight movement.

“Don’t wanna pull out,” Kate mumbled, burying her face in your neck as darkness lulled you towards sleep.

“It’s okay, detka. You don’t have to,” Wanda soothed her, hand coming up to stroke Kate’s hair, her fingers lightly scratching at her scalp. “Just relax and rest.”

Kate’s eyes fluttered in an attempt to stay awake, but she quickly succumbed to sleep and fell limp against you, Wanda gently shifting Kate’s body to stop her muscles from crushing you.

“Now everything is as it should be,” Wanda smiled at you, your eyelids illuminated with red as her magic did its work. Soon you would be just like Kate, if not worse. So obedient and dependent on her.

Just as Wanda wanted things to be.

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 30 | Wing Fic

Blanket Nest | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Season/Series 08, Wingfic, Nesting, Angel Culture & Customs (Supernatural), Wing Grooming, Fluff, Light Angst, First Kiss, Grace-Soul Bonding (Supernatural), Interspecies Romance Summary: Dean sits on the bed and Castiel repositions to make room for him. Strong, careful fingers begin combing his plumage and he immediately fluffs up slightly in response, which is something he can’t control. Castiel has been refusing to acknowledge for years how strong their bond has become, and he ignored it further in purgatory because their lives were constantly under threat, but now… now, in the safety of the bunker, Dean’s new home, he’s losing the struggle to not finally address it.

Wet Hot American Hunter | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,055 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, First Time, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Rutting, Massage, Coming In Pants, POV Alternating Summary: Dean and Cas take a nice hike together on a sunny day. An unexpected development on their excursion results in some long-overdue changes to their relationship status. TL;DR: Cas's wings pop out, so Dean and Cas fuck a little.

Un-Simple Miracles | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,122 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Heavy Angst, Castiel Out of the Empty (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Suicidal Dean Winchester, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Miscommunication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: It’s so stupid. Dean doesn’t even fucking like dogs.

Fractis Alis | @unanimous-anonymous

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,669 Main Tags/Warnings: Wing Kink, Wing Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, First Time Confessions, Internalized Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Pushy Bottoms, Loss of Virginity, Happy Ending, Post-Leviathans Summary: [This fic takes place after Leviathan!Cas when tensions are high and Cas's guilt is thick. Cas appears in Dean's motel room, injured after an altercation with the angels. Dean plays nursemaid.] “Uh, Cas,” Dean cleared his throat. "How come I can still see your wings? I usually never see them for more than a couple’a seconds at a time.” Dean peered over Cas’s shoulder, letting the washcloth lag over his collarbone as curiosity got the better of him. Cas took in a sharp breath and retreated just slightly from Dean’s proximity. “I seem to be having trouble stowing them away entirely. My apologies, they became slightly damaged in the altercation.” Dean furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘entirely?’” “What you see is only their shadow; not their physical form. I keep them in a different plane of existence, but when they need tending to it becomes… more difficult to keep them hidden.” Cas’s body language was steely, as usual, and hard to read. “You mean what I’ve been seeing is just some heavenly jacked-up angel-juice projection? You have actual, physical wings, like with feathers and crap?” Dean raised his eyebrows in amazement, but Cas seemed tense.

Wish Upon a star | @malicmalic

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,000 Main Tags/Warnings: WingFic, BlanketForts, Nesting, FallenAngel Castiel, Angel/Human relationship, Human AU, meet cute Summary: Prompts: - wingfic (wing grooming is especially a bonus) - snow fort building OR blanket fort building after a day in the snow. basically: forts and comfort - nightmares and h/c - picnic (cloud watching, homemade food, etc etc) but honestly i’m not picky - as long as it’s destiel, i’ll devour it hahah Or the one where MalicMalic decided to write ALL the prompts.

Flight Back to You | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: General Word Count: 11,924 Main Tags/Warnings: Resurrection; Fallen Angels; Exes to Lovers (Dean and Cas); Supportive Sam; past minor character death; past Amelia Novak/Castiel; Castiel/Michael and Jimmy/Dean in a way but not really Summary: Dean's exhausted, wracked with strange dreams that bring back memories of a teenage fling he had years ago. While on the way to check out a potential case with his brother, his exhaustion catches up with him, nearly sending both him and Sam over a cliff's ledge. Luckily, a familiar face from Dean's past comes at the perfect moment to provide them shelter for the night. The thing is, as it turns out, they actually have a lot more history than Dean initially remembers. And all three of them apparently have a lot more feathers than Dean is comfortable with.

My Soul Whispers Your Name | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,933 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, winged Dean, wing kink, wing grooming, soul and grace bond, fluff, hand jobs, blow jobs, bunker, domestic, happy ending, mutual pining, jealous Castiel, protective Castiel, sweet Dean, getting together, hurt and comfort Summary: When Amara tells Dean that she will give him what he needs most, the last thing he's expecting is to sprout fucking wings and to be able to sense what his own soul — and heart — really want, making it impossible for him to ignore all the feelings he's been harboring for Cas over the years. It’s no shock that Dean’s soul is drawn to Cas like gravity and now that Dean can perceive Cas’ grace all the time, he’s constantly reminded how stupidly breathtaking it is. He had been a goner since the second he laid eyes on Cas, and this just seals the deal. Now that he’s stuck like this, he might as well pull his head out of his ass, give it a shot, and finally get what he always wanted.

Cupid in Love | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Retired Hunter Dean, Angel Castiel, Oil Gland Kink, Wingfic, Bottom Cas, Top Dean, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Happy Ending Summary: Castiel’s success rate for matching humans who stay together for the rest of their lives is the best among his kind. Enter Dean Winchester, an alpha who breaks up with the perfect match Castiel found for him not once, but twice. If he wants to save his reputation as a cupid, Castiel has no other choice than to go to Earth in order to find out what this alpha’s issues are. It is supposed to be a quick trip. But things don’t always go as planned…

We're Butter off Together | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,207 Main Tags/Warnings: Butter sculptures, Bed sharing, Magic, True love's kiss, Bed and breakfast Summary: Set immediately after the Season Five episode “The End” this canon-divergent story begins with Dean and Sam heading to the Wisconsin State Fair to check out a butter sculpture of an angel that sounds awfully similar to Castiel. Sure enough, when they arrive the incomplete sculpture looks a lot like Cas - enough so that the Winchesters call in the angel himself to help investigate it. Castiel, upon arrival, is mistaken as Dean’s partner - as in “life partner” - and they’re forced to share a room at a local B&B during the investigation. When Cas falls prey to the dark powers at work, Dean must confront his feelings in order to save Castiel.

Calming the Weather | @seidenapfel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 35,490 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post 15x18 – Despair, the finale never happened, Angel Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Repressed Dean, Internalized Homophobia, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Dean Winchester Has Sexuality Realizations, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Kid Jack Kline, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Wing Kink, Mild Smut, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: Rescued from the Empty, Cas is fully human, and miserable. So, rather than acknowledge what happened in the dungeon, Dean searches for a way to change that. He finds it in a simple spell. The spell gives ordinary humans a limited dose of angelic powers. Too afraid it might harm Cas, Dean tests it on himself. But it backfires. Thanks to a piece of Grace bound to his soul, Dean wakes up fully powered, wings and all. With their roles reversed, it is up to Castiel to teach Dean how to wield angelic powers, and for Dean to share the peaks and lows of humanity with Castiel. Misconceptions come to light as they learn from each other. Meanwhile, a storm is brewing. In order to stop it, Dean not only has to get a hold on his emotions, but he must face a revelation about himself, one he had repressed all his life.

The Angel's Widower (WIP) | @pray4jensen

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 60,416 Main Tags/Warnings: top!cas, bottom!dean, soul bond, mating rituals, wing kink, enemies to lovers, s12 canon divergent, angst with a happy ending Summary: After Castiel dies, a portal to another world opens and obliterates the universe that Sam and Dean know. A world with new rules and new consequences, a world where humans live in camps enclosed by high walls to keep angels out, where angels will do anything and everything to seduce and lure humans away. Why and to where beyond the wall, no one knows. But then one night, on the other side of the wall, in the middle of a snowy blizzard and under the cover of darkness, an angel with beautiful black wings and a familiar face appears. His name is Castiel. And he asks Dean to go with him.

Dangerous Temptation | trenchcoat_paradigm (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 101,143 Main Tags/Warnings: Curse Breaking, Mutual Pining, Dreamsharing, dream walking, Castiel Gets Wings Back (Supernatural), Wing Kink, Dean Winchester Can See Castiel's Wings, Mutual Pining, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Smut Summary: “The fuck is that?” Dean grabbed his wrist before fingers could make contact with his forehead. The gold talisman swings wildly with the sudden and fierce motion from Castiel’s clutched fist. Dean’s posture slumped in discontent as green eyes met his stare. “Damnit, Cas.” -------- When a childhood fairy tale comes to life, Team Free Will 2.0 is left with the challenge of finding and destroying an enchanted talisman known as the ‘Crown of Luck’. A mystical medallion so powerful that it is said to grant the wearers' most deep-seated desire. But the boys know all too well from past experience how detrimental that can be. However, Castiel is oblivious to its true power, (even if it managed to fully reconstruct his wings) he already knows the one thing his heart truly desires is something he can never have. Dean thinks he’s going crazy, he’s always had a little crush on his best friend, a ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of thing. But with his head giving him ideas, dreams shared with his favourite angel (and with him flaunting those damn wings all the time!) it’s making his little infatuation harder to ignore.

[novembermorgon]

Op i desperately need to know about your bolton oc(s) for they are beginning to haunt my waking dreams 🙏 i humbly ask for your intel 🙏

FIRST OFF … thank you so much for the interest ive been really rotating them in my brain lately so it means a lot to hear you like them (ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘)

i originally made them for funsies last year for a fic i didnt end up writing but i've gotten back into the swing of it so when i figure out how to put a story together i'll put it out there . for now... > here's a proper doodle of their fits i put together .

their names are ysabel and cayn bolton - their parents are maisie manderly and alaric bolton ( x ) . cayn is ~20 and ysabel is a few years younger but don't ask me about specifics because i ...... <3 haven't figured the timeline out yet .

ysabel is a severe case of troubled youth as a result of being raised in a household that centers its identity around the concept of flaying people . their dad is kind of balls off the wall nutso and insists very early on that both his kids have to uphold their family history and identity which leads to both of them being exposed to excessive violence before they really should have been and it definitely gets to her the most . at the core she's kind of squishy and more delicate than you'd imagine from the horrendous dead stare she has > growing up she definitely struggled more than cayn to deal with growing up in the environment she did > she has frequent delusions of what is basically a reanimated skin of a man that follows her around and gets in the way when she's especially stressed out . physical representation of the terror of her father's ambition and actions etc

she's kind of quiet and weird and doesn't have many friends aside from her brother but she IS very polite and well-mannered as is expected of a noble lady . very influenced by having a manderly mother in that she leans a little more into expectations of women as framed by the faith of the seven . likes poetry and embroidery and whatever else she's been told to like and is determined not to step outside her box of expectation . eventually spirals into further delusion of the religious kind when she gets to king's landing and things start to devolve politically > the spiral and downfall of what being a proper lady in medieval society means . her first encounter with aemond targaryen is in the king's landing gardens where she thinks he's about to attack her so she bites a chunk out of his neck so do with that as you will

cayn on the other hand is by all accounts outwardly pretty Normal . he's charming and an open book and very easy to get along with if you can disregard the ever lingering Blue Eyed Stare . being the oldest son just like ysabel he has a very specific set of expectations put on him but in a very different way . should uphold a clear image of being like his dad and learns to fight and hunt and rule but it all ends up being very fake . you look him in the eye while you chat about northern alliances and how to make sure this and that lord is satisfied and hes smiling but there is nothing behind those damn eyes .

definitely does not help that ... he IS a homosexual <3 both of them are meant to be people who put up very firm appearances of being well-adjusted, matching expectations essentially perfectly - only to have those expectations torn down entirely when they're strained enough . going to sound like a fucking insane thing to say but cayn to me is very medieval patrick bateman - in the sense that he's obsessed with appearances and what others think of him, but it's all just a means of covering up the fact that he is 2 seconds away from snapping and killing someone or himself at all times . i have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. something horrible is happening inside of me and i don't know why. my nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. i feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip etc, if you will .

the plot here is a little lost on me because i havent written it all out yet and i cant keep information in my mind for longer than a second but it's essentially dance of the dragons but if i took all the events and scrambled them around and made it completely different . ´･ᴗ･` more book-focused than show-focused at least in terms of the characterization of people like aemond and alicent (i like when they're a little meaner and more crude . my bad ...)

before the war begins - the greens plot away, realizing viserys is not going to name aegon heir even as his health worsens and tensions become more apparent at court. more political action is taken here with the starks declaring for rhaenyra in any matters of succession much earlier - working counter to this is a little already-formed cluster of northern houses that kind of band together under the boltons with the help of some marriage ties and general disagreements with the starks (ie ysabel + cayn's dad is married to a manderly, cayn eventually gets betrothed to a karstark before the starks can snap them up a generation later as they do in canon). with the north kind of silently divided the greens reach out with the intent to form an alliance there with the promise that the boltons will be given the spot as wardens of the north when the war eventually ends knowing full well when viserys kicks the bucket things are going to spiral without question . they accept and head down south - which obviously makes for even more tensions considering they're still stark bannermen . everyone is a little bit or more than a little bit mad at each other and viserys dies and things spiral as usual .

ysabel marries aemond to secure that northern alliance , goes to storms end and promises daeron + lands and wealth to make up for the fact he can't marry one of borros daughters himself, lucerys dies etc and well ........... i need to iron out some wrinkles . <3

as for their relationships obviously as mentioned ysabel marries aemond and its Weird . she really likes him but in a weird almost obsessive way . watches him from afar before they even get introduced officially and sits awake at night and stares at him and i think part of it is because she doesn't know how to approach . wants to be affectionate and loving but also wants things to be on her own terms while also knowing that the circumstances (WAR) doesn't allow for that to the extent she wants so she's at a loss at what to do . which manifests in Being strange . with both these relationships there's a touch of strange hunter prey dynamics and here its definitely more laid back than with cayn and aegon . you watch from afar but never strike . you learn someone's patterns and habits and the threat of having that used against you is always present but te tension only ever builds and never comes to a peak .

because ysabel is very tall and slender and kind of gangly she struggles a lot with pregnancy and when they eventually do have a child it's a girl . which she's intensely conflicted about . you have a child put in your arms and theres a moment of complete joy that turns just as quickly into horror because she believes so firmly that a son would have been what makes her husband and her family happier . sort of anne boelyn esque . she ends up with health issues and a line of lost pregnancies after that before having a son who is incredibly weak and sickly and doesn't make it into adulthood . horrorshow in the capital here

cayn and aegon ........... scratches my chin. on account of being gay in westeros it's obviously very different . aegon is married and cayn is betrothed and still i think cayn meets him and it's a case of well i will die before i give up being able to be with you . they're kind of similar on the surface in that they bond over sort of skipping out on court duties and prefer to spend time out in king's landing . a lot of watching aegon give out his attention to others freely and getting nothing in return (because shockingly you have to initiate sometimes instead of staring at someone you like longingly and looking like a creep) . again that sense of not knowing how to approach just like ysabel . a slow buildup of shared glances and mutual want that you both know will never be okay to anyone but the two of you . cayn wants to hunt and kill him and tear him apart and make out sloppy with him because it's all he can do to show that affection . violence in place of love in a society that would never accept your happiness .

when that hurdle of Figuring out they're both a little homo for each other is crossed they're definitely more direct than ysabel and aemond . very heavy handed physical affection moreso than verbal or emotional signs. rip at each others flesh but never express all the things you'd do for each other . share desperate fumbling kisses in some back alley but don't begin to think about what it might be like to run off and never be seen again or how differently youd be able to see each other if one of you happened to be a woman . i <3 medieval homosexuality !

THAT'S ABOUT ALL. sorry this was a whole load of nothing but i loved getting to ramble about them . final notes are some design pointers

the little eyes on the necklace ysabel wears + the eye on the armour design i did for cayn is meant to be similar to 18th century lover's eye jewelry! : -) essentially a form of affection in literally carrying a lover's gaze with you . i think it's very bolton esque

cayn has a little gold ring to tie back to aegon . and the earring is meant to look like a drop of blood

the armour is his dad's . he dies like halfway through the war and i think it's very telling to have the deeply imperfect son don his dad's fit after he dies . bad fathers who haunt their children etc

he does go off to fight in the war as well hence the scars and the hair . loses parts of his arm as well as parts of his face (lip + his eye is injured so he doesn't see very well) . unfortunately the rat tail had to go but it pains me as well

the white gown instead of black for mourning i think was mostly just for aesthetics (tough to fit with the dark background) but also has SOME intent behind it . atp ysabel ends up barely existing as a person properly as per what war does to someone especially when they're already struggling - it's meant to be a nightgown because she rarely gets dressed beyond that . white was also historically a mourning colour in specific countries in specific eras of history and i do really like that . gives sort of sad miserable ghost in the castle vibes idk