#Definitely not the worst part of the thing but...

[skzstarl0ver]

𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒔, 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏

reader x stray kids ot8 / smut / tension / bit angst, fluff / slow burn

**involves!!** cursing, sex, dirty talk, multiple partners

you move in with 8 men and somehow… all of them want a piece.

Plot Setup:

You needed a place to stay.

A friend (Minho) offered a room in a house he shares with his seven other “friends.”

You said yes—how bad could it be?

Turns out? Bad. Or good. Depends on how you look at it.

Because now you’re waking up to 8 hungry men looking at you.

It starts innocent. Barely.

Then it spirals.

They all want you. None of them are shy about it. And slowly… neither are you.

The rules? There aren’t any.

The tension? Electric.

And one night, you finally snap.

Maybe it’s truth or dare. Maybe it’s just a look passed around the dinner table. Maybe it’s you saying “fuck it” and seeing who breaks first.

Spoiler: they all do.

enjoy xx (request open)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

Chapter 1: Bang Chan – "Discipline" Trope: Slow burn, tension snapping, “I shouldn’t want this” Vibe: Low lights, sweat, dominance barely contained

_

You’d been living with the boys for a month.

Long enough to settle in. Long enough to know who stole the last slice of pizza (Jisung). And definitely long enough to know Chan was the most dangerous one of them all.

Not because he was loud. Not because he flirted.

But because he didn’t.

Chan was… quiet. Controlled. He watched. Not creepily—but like he was waiting. Studying. Calculating.

And when you caught him watching? He never looked away.

Tonight, the house was loud. A movie playing downstairs. Laughter, yelling, Jisung probably screaming about snacks again.

You wandered into the home gym after everyone else got distracted. You didn’t mean to interrupt. But there he was—Chan.

Shirtless. Sweaty. Breathing hard. Tank top discarded, towel slung over his shoulder, muscles flexing with every pull of the resistance bands.

He saw you immediately.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t say hi.

Just kept going, glancing your way every few reps, until finally—

“Wanna try?” His voice low, soft.

You blinked. “Try?”

He dropped the band. “Come here.”

You stepped closer.

Too close, maybe.

He pulled another band from the wall, stepped behind you, and handed it over your shoulder.

“Like this,” he murmured. “Pull. Slow.”

You did.

His hand brushed your arm, adjusting. Then lower. Your hip. Steadying you.

“Not bad,” he said, voice thick. “But you’re shaking.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “You sure it’s the band?”

You swallowed.

His breath was warm on your neck now. His hand stayed at your waist, not leaving. Not moving. Just claiming.

“You keep teasing them,” he said suddenly.

You froze. “Who?”

“The boys.”

Your lips parted.

Chan’s eyes met yours in the mirror. “You know what you’re doing. Walking around in those tiny shorts. Sitting on their laps. Pretending you don’t see how they look at you.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he interrupted gently. “And they’re going to snap.”

You turned. He didn’t move.

“You think I’m better?” he asked, gaze dropping to your lips. “You think I’m safer?”

He leaned in, so close your breath caught.

“I’m the worst one, sweetheart.”

Your heartbeat kicked up, wild and messy.

“Then why haven’t you done anything?” you whispered. “If you’re so bad?”

He stared for a long, quiet second.

Then his hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip.

“I’m trying to be good,” he said.

And then he backed away.

Just like that.

Leaving you breathless, throbbing, wanting.

“Shower’s free,” he added, voice back to calm. “Use it before someone else steals it.”

And then he walked out.

Chapter 2: Lee Know – “Mine Before The Others” Trope: Possessive tension, soft dom/mean dom combo, quiet jealousy Setting: Late-night in the kitchen—just you, him, and the things unsaid

_

It was 2:37 a.m. when you padded into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and craving something sweet.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be up.

But there he was—Minho.

Back against the counter, arms crossed, shirt hanging loose off one shoulder. Hair messy. Eyes sharp.

“Midnight snack?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, a little startled. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He watched you silently as you opened a cabinet. Too aware of how small your tank top was. Too aware of his gaze dragging over your bare legs.

“You should be more careful,” he murmured suddenly.

You turned. “What?”

“Walking around the house like that. Half-dressed.” His tone wasn’t teasing. It was dark. “The others are starting to look at you differently.”

“Is that so?” you asked, trying to stay light.

He didn’t smile.

“I don’t like sharing,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “Sharing what?”

Minho pushed off the counter and stepped in close—close enough that your back hit the edge of the island behind you.

“You think this is funny? Teasing them? Letting Chan touch you like he’s got some kind of claim?”

Your breath caught.

“Minho—”

“You were mine first.” His voice cracked like thunder in a whisper. “Before this house. Before them.”

The air shifted. The truth hit heavy.

You’d kissed Minho months ago. Drunken. Stupid. And never spoke about it again.

But he hadn’t forgotten.

“You wanna be touched?” he asked, eyes burning into yours. “You want someone to ruin you?”

Your thighs clenched.

His fingers brushed your waist. Not gentle. Not asking.

“I’ll remind you how good I make you feel,” he whispered, lips at your ear. “So you stop playing with boys who don’t know how to keep you.”

“Minho—what if someone comes down?”

He grinned, slow and cruel. “Let them.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

Teeth. Tongue. All dominance. His hand slid up under your shirt, gripping your ribs, dragging you forward into his chest like he owned you.

Because in that moment—he did.

“You like the attention,” he growled between kisses. “But when you’re dripping and shaking? It’s my name you moan. Isn’t it?”

You whimpered. “Y-Yes.”

He kissed your neck, right where it would bruise.

“Good girl.”

Chapter 3: Changbin – “Say Please, Pretty Girl” Trope: Gym tension, soft dom with a possessive twist, body worship Setting: His bedroom, post-workout, heat between you building for weeks

_

You weren’t supposed to be in his room.

You’d only wandered in to return the hoodie he left on the back of the couch, still warm from his body. Still smelling like him.

You didn’t mean to try it on.

And you definitely didn’t mean to be caught in it—half-dressed, curled up on his bed—when he walked in from his workout, shirtless and glistening.

“...That mine?” he asked, breath a little uneven, towel around his neck.

You blinked up at him.

“…Maybe.”

His gaze darkened, chest rising. “You trying to kill me or something?”

You sat up, cheeks flushed. “Just cold.”

“Right,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Cold. So you decided to crawl into my bed wearing nothing but my hoodie?”

You didn’t answer.

He stopped in front of you, towering, eyes dragging over your thighs. “You know I’ve been good, right?”

You tilted your head.

“I’ve been so good,” he said, voice low, dropping to his knees in front of you. “Helping you stretch at the gym. Not touching you when you’re moaning and whining, saying everything but my name.”

“Changbin…”

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” His hands gripped your knees, spreading them slowly. “You think I don’t see the way you squirm when I call you baby girl in front of the others?”

Your breath caught.

He smirked.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he whispered, dragging his hands up your thighs. “But you gotta ask real nice.”

You swallowed hard. “Please.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That all you got?”

“Changbin… please touch me.”

His eyes closed for a second, like he was praying. Then his hands slid under the hoodie, fingers grazing your bare skin.

“You’re so soft,” he groaned. “So fuckin’ pretty. How did I go this long without tasting you?”

You whimpered.

He leaned in—mouth brushing your inner thigh.

“You let Chan get in your head. You let Minho mark you up.” His voice dropped. “Now it’s my turn.”

He kissed your skin, slow and possessive. “And when I’m done, you’ll be so full of me, they’ll smell it on you.”

You gasped. “Changbin—”

“Shh, baby,” he said, dragging your hips forward. “Let me take care of you.”

Chapter 4: Hyunjin – “Masterpiece” Trope: Artistic obsession, soft & sensual but possessive underneath Setting: His bedroom, candlelit, music playing, canvas untouched—because you are the muse now.

_

You always knew Hyunjin was… different.

Where the others looked at you with hunger, Hyunjin looked at you like he was starving.

Like your very existence inspired him.

And when he asked, “Can I paint you?”—you thought he meant something innocent.

He didn’t.

It was late when he pulled you into his room. The air smelled like lavender and linseed oil. His sheets were messy. His shirt was half unbuttoned. And the moment he looked at you…

It was over.

“Sit,” he said softly, pointing to the edge of his bed.

You did.

“Take this off.” He reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers gentle—like peeling back silk.

You shivered under his touch.

“I need to see you,” he whispered. “Just… let me look.”

He stepped back, eyes dragging over every inch of you like you were a piece he’d never be able to finish. His pupils were blown, lips parted, paint-stained fingers twitching at his sides.

“I’ve tried to draw you before,” he confessed, voice breathless. “But it never felt right. It was always missing something.”

You tilted your head. “What was it missing?”

He stepped closer.

“You.”

His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You drive me insane, you know that? Walking around this house like art come to life. Laughing with Jisung, hugging Felix, letting Seungmin rest his head in your lap like they all deserve you.”

Your breath hitched.

“They don’t.”

“Hyunjin…”

He kissed you.

And it was everything.

Slow. Desperate. Starving.

His hands moved like brushstrokes—down your neck, over your waist, gripping your thighs as if memorizing every shape, every line.

“I want to paint bruises on your hips,” he whispered, dragging his lips down your collarbone. “Mark you up in color and come. Make you mine on every canvas I touch.”

“Then do it,” you breathed. “Make me yours.”

He looked up, eyes on fire.

“Lie down.”

You obeyed.

He climbed over you, all loose limbs and trembling restraint.

“Stay still,” he whispered. “You’re perfect like this.”

And then—he reached for his paintbrush.

Not for the canvas.

For you.

He dipped it in warm, wet pigment—soft pink, like your flushed cheeks—and dragged it slowly across your bare stomach.

You gasped.

“Every inch,” he murmured. “A masterpiece.”

And when the brush dipped lower…

You realized art had never felt so intimate.

Or so filthy.

Chapter 5: Han Jisung – “Mine and Loud About It” Trope: Jealousy turns into desperation, praise kink, messy needy sex Setting: His room, after catching you laughing a little too hard at Seungmin’s jokes

_

Jisung was pacing his room when you knocked.

He opened the door like he knew it’d be you. Like he manifested it out of frustration.

You smiled, clueless. “Hey, you okay? You left kinda fast.”

He stared at you, jaw tight.

“You really like making me lose my mind, huh?” he muttered.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“That thing you do,” he snapped, shutting the door behind you. “Laughing at Seungmin’s jokes like he’s the funniest fuckin’ person alive. Leaning on him. Acting like—like he’s your favorite.”

You blinked. “I was just talking to him, Ji—”

“That’s the problem!” His voice cracked. “You talk to everyone but me. You give everyone your attention like it’s free. But when I try to flirt with you, you laugh like it’s a joke.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I’m not a joke,” he said, suddenly quiet. “I want you.”

He stepped closer.

“And if you keep pretending you don’t know that, I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

You swallowed hard. “Then do something about it.”

His eyes darkened.

“Don’t test me.”

You stepped forward. “Or what?”

The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

And then he pounced.

You were against the door in seconds, his mouth crashing into yours—messy, hungry, real. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing, grinding you against him with reckless desperation.

“Is this what you want?” he breathed, lips bruising yours. “You want me insane for you?”

You moaned.

“Because I am,” he whispered. “You make me so fucking crazy I can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t breathe unless you’re near me.”

He dropped you onto his bed, climbed over you, eyes wide and unhinged with need.

“You wanna make me jealous?” he panted, pulling your shirt up, lips dragging over your skin. “Fine. But just know—when I fuck you, I’m gonna be so loud, the whole house will know who you belong to.”

You whimpered, back arching. “Please, Ji—”

“Oh, now you want me?” he smirked, cocky and breathless. “Beg a little louder, baby. Make sure Seungmin hears it.”

You moaned his name again—and his mouth was everywhere.

He didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

Your back hit the mattress, his hands already under your clothes, voice low and shaking with need.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, dragging his lips down your chest, every kiss a promise. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. Since the moment you smiled at me like I meant something.”

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, and he groaned.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispered. “Looking like that. Moaning my name like it’s the only thing you know.”

You whined as he kissed down your stomach, every breath hot against your skin. His grip was firm — not rough, just claiming.

“Look at you,” he said, voice thick with awe. “So fucking pretty. So soft. So mine.”

He looked up at you from between your thighs, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. “Let me make you feel good. I’ll go slow — just how you like it.”

You nodded, breathless, and he smiled — that sweet, crooked smile that made your heart stutter.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he said as his hands roamed your thighs, gentle, worshipful. “My perfect girl. I’ll ruin you sweet, yeah? Fill your head with nothing but me.”

Every touch was tender, but every word was dirty devotion.

“You don’t need anyone else,” he whispered, voice darkening as you squirmed beneath him. “You’ve got me. Only me.”

You moaned his name again and he shuddered.

“Good girl,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

The praise poured from his lips like honey — warm, slow, sinful.

And even before he finished, you already knew:

Jisung wasn’t the loudest in the house for nothing.

Chapter 6: Felix – “Sweet little Movie Night” Trope: Duality king, soft dom, aftercare kink, “don’t let the others hear us” energy Setting: Movie night gone very off script in the shared living room after hours

_

You weren’t supposed to fall asleep on him.

The movie was long, the couch was cozy, and Felix had that warmth that made you melt. You’d curled into his chest without a second thought, legs tangled, his arm around you like it belonged there.

The others had disappeared hours ago. But you?

You stayed. Because Felix didn’t let go.

And now, in the soft hush of 2 a.m., you felt his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare thigh, your body draped across his lap like it was meant to be there.

“Y’know,” he murmured, voice that sinful whisper against your temple, “if you keep squirming like that, I’m gonna think you’re doing it on purpose.”

You looked up at him—half-lidded, warm, wanting.

“Maybe I am.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, that Aussie drawl ruining you.

“You really shouldn’t tease me, angel,” he whispered, hand dipping just a little higher. “Not when everyone’s sleeping just down the hall.”

Your breath caught.

“That excite you?” he grinned, pressing his forehead to yours. “Knowing someone could walk in? That someone might see you in my lap, moaning into my neck like a needy little thing?”

You whimpered, and his eyes darkened.

“God, you’re so pretty like this,” he whispered, dragging his fingers down your side, slow and reverent. “So soft. So good for me.”

You bit your lip, back arching just a little—silent, desperate.

“You wanna be good for me, yeah?” he purred. “Be my sweet girl? My perfect baby who keeps quiet while I touch her exactly how she likes?”

You nodded, gasping—and his mouth was on yours.

Hot, deep, possessive.

His hand held the back of your head, the other still gripping your thigh. Every kiss felt like worship. Every groan felt like sin.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, voice a growl in your ear. “But only if you ask me real nice.”

You whispered his name—again and again—and he moaned like it was the only sound he ever wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” he murmured, slipping lower, breath warm against your neck. “Just like that. Let me take care of you.”

And when your head tipped back, body trembling, legs clenched tight around his waist—

He held you through it.

Kissing your cheek, stroking your hair, whispering:

“You did so good, angel. So fuckin’ good for me.”

Chapter 7: Seungmin – “I Heard Everything” Trope: Jealousy, overheard moans, “you moan like that for everyone?” energy Setting: His room. Door locked. Eyes dark.

_

It started with silence.

You’d walked past his room, just a glass of water in hand, hoodie sleeves over your fingers, when his door opened—quiet and deliberate.

“Come here.”

You froze. Seungmin didn’t look at you. Just stepped back, giving you space to enter.

“Why?” you asked softly.

His eyes flicked to yours.

“I think you owe me something.”

You stepped in, confused, cautious. “What are you—?”

“I heard you.”

You blinked.

He shut the door.

“I heard you and Jisung the other night.”

Oh.

“Didn’t even try to keep your voice down, did you?” His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous. “Letting him make you moan like that. So loud. So desperate.”

Your breath caught.

“You sounded wrecked.” He stepped closer. “And you didn’t even think about me once, did you?”

“Seungmin—”

“No.” His hand shot out, catching your wrist. “You’re gonna listen. You’re gonna hear how unfair that was. You let him hear you like that. And you didn’t even knock on my door after.”

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” he growled. “You didn’t think. Didn’t stop to wonder what I’d be doing. Lying there. Hard as hell. Hand around my cock. Hearing you scream his name while I had to pretend I didn’t care.”

You gasped, stunned. Staring at him.

He stared back.

“You gonna do that to me again?”

“N-No.”

“Good.”

He shoved you gently back against his bed, hovering over you now, voice like velvet-wrapped fire.

“Then make it up to me.”

You blinked. “How?”

He smirked.

“By making the exact same sounds for me.”

You whimpered.

“Yeah,” he whispered, mouth brushing yours, teasing. “Louder, if you can. Let him hear what he doesn’t get anymore.”

He kissed you then—deep and sharp-edged, hands on your waist, possessive.

“Tonight?” he breathed. “You’re not their toy.”

“You’re mine.”

Chapter 8: Jeongin – “Don't forget About Me" Trope: Sweet to savage, hidden confidence, you-thought-I-wasn’t-watching energy Setting: Practice room after hours. You stayed late. So did he. On purpose.

You thought you were alone.

The rest of the boys had gone back to the dorm hours ago. But you stayed behind—watching the mirrors flicker in the low light, curled on the floor with your water bottle, skin still warm from dancing.

That’s when you heard the door click.

Jeongin stepped inside, hoodie pulled low, eyes shadowed.

“Oh,” you said. “Didn’t think anyone else was—”

“Still here?” he finished for you, voice calm. “Yeah. I know.”

You tilted your head. “Were you waiting?”

He didn’t answer. Just walked over, kneeling in front of you, gaze locked on yours.

“I saw you.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Last night.” His eyes didn’t waver. “With Seungmin. With Changbin. I saw the way you looked after. The way your legs were shaking.”

You flushed, heart racing.

“You think I’m the innocent one,” he whispered, crawling closer. “The cute one. The baby.”

His hand touched your thigh—soft. Gentle. Dangerous.

“That’s why you haven’t touched me yet, isn’t it?”

“I—” Your breath hitched. “Jeongin…”

“I waited,” he murmured, fingers tracing slow circles over your skin. “I’ve been patient. Smiling. Sitting back while you let everyone else have a taste.”

He leaned closer. “But you want me, don’t you?”

You nodded—barely.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered, his voice dipping deep. “You want the one who’s been watching. Listening. Learning everything that makes you fall apart.”

His lips brushed your cheek.

“So let me show you,” he breathed. “Exactly what I’ve been saving.”

He pulled you into his lap like he’d done it a thousand times. Like he owned the right.

“Look at you,” he whispered, tilting your chin up. “Shaking for me already. And I haven’t even touched you properly.”

You gasped.

“You’re gonna fall apart so pretty, aren’t you?” he smirked. “I’m gonna make it better than they ever did.”

He kissed your neck, slow and possessive.

“They got your body,” he whispered, “but I’m taking your mind.”

And the way he looked at you after—like he’d been starved for you this whole time—

You knew.

You had saved the most dangerous for last.

Final Chapter: “All For You” Trope: Jealousy-turned-poly-bliss, praise kink, possessive chaos, worship, and indulgence Setting: Private suite. Champagne. Dim lights. Eight men. One purpose. You.

It started with a look.

A glance across the room. One spark—between Jisung and Seungmin, then Jeongin and Chan. A flicker of tension, jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Because they all knew.

You’d been with each of them. Tasted. Touched. Ruined a little differently by every single one. And now?

You were sitting on that plush couch in nothing but silk, legs crossed, glowing with the smug satisfaction of someone they’d each fallen for—hard.

Felix was the first to move.

He knelt at your feet, lips ghosting over your knee. “We all keep trying to be your favorite,” he murmured, voice honey-thick and dark.

“And you let us,” Hyunjin added, standing behind you now, brushing your hair off your neck with featherlight fingers. “You love the way we fall apart for you.”

You smiled. “Can you blame me?”

That’s when Chan stepped forward—commanding, calm, but dangerously close to losing his patience.

“How about,” he said, voice low, “we stop pretending?”

You blinked. “Pretending what?”

“That we’re not all dying to have you,” Changbin growled, eyes locked on yours from across the room.

“Together.”

Your heart stopped.

And then it all exploded.

Hands. Lips. Heat.

Jeongin kissed your shoulder. Seungmin whispered filth in your ear. Minho dragged you into his lap like he owned the spot. Jisung’s fingers danced along your thighs like he’d written symphonies for them.

You were surrounded. Drenched in attention. Worshipped like the center of their universe—because you were.

One hand tangled in Hyunjin’s soft hair. Another clutched Chan’s wrist. Felix kissed your stomach while Jeongin spread your knees wider, eyes wide and dark with adoration.

“She’s ours tonight,” Seungmin murmured. “So let’s make her feel like it.”

And they did.

With praise that made you melt.

With jealousy that turned into competition—who could make you moan louder, tremble harder, come undone faster.

With so much love beneath the chaos you felt like a goddess being devoted to.

“You take us so well, baby,” Chan whispered against your temple. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard,” Han gasped when you whimpered his name. “Let us give you everything,” Minho said, voice velvet-rough.

And when you finally collapsed into the sheets, trembling and spent, they were all there—holding you. Kissing your skin. Stroking your hair.

Home.

You didn’t have to choose a favorite. Because they’d already chosen you.

And they’d never let you forget it.

Thanks for reading xx

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Cain (p4)

Tw: Cain is really violent, like verbally violent. Tantrums, toxic relationships, isolation from friends and family, sexual content, sexual descriptions, profanity- like a LOT of them, Cain losing his shit really frequently. Gender neutral reader, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is part 4.

Click here for part 5

Click here for part 1

Cain tries. He really did.

The first week or so after his earth shattering confession, Cain was elusive. You hardly see him at home, not even for meals. But you know he's eating, because you would leave leftovers in the fridge and it would disappear the next day. You thought he was avoiding you, and you understood, because you practically rejected him at first.

He came back one day, seemingly waiting for you in the living room. To your surprise, instead of only acknowledging each other with a split second glance, Cain tried to make a conversation.

"How was it?" He asked.

You asked him what he meant.

"Your day." Cain continues, looking right into your eyes, which caught you off guard. Usually, eye contact means he's about to stir some trouble up, but you think this time he's actually making an attempt to communicate. "How was... your day?"

You told him that it was okay. Then you asked him about his day.

You could definitely see that he physically stopped himself from responding like he used to. Cain closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering.

"My day is okay too."

And both of you left it at that, as you did your own thing, he did his own thing... which happened to be reading a book of sorts? Strange, he doesn't seem like the type to even be remotely near words. But you didn't want to pry and potentially get your head bitten off.

"It's cold." You turned to him and finally noticed that he's actually bundled up in a hoodie instead of his usual sleeveless shirt. That made sense, the seasons are changing, and very soon you would see frost on the sidewalk again.

Come to think of it, he has recently changed up his fashion sense to cover up a lot more, adjusting according to the weather. No more ripped jeans, instead opting to wear a pair of thick cargo pants with numerous pockets. He also got himself a new pair of shoes, trading in his tattered sneakers for a new pair of combat boots.

You asked him if it bothers him. Cain seemed to pause and think about his answer for a moment before replying.

"I always hated the fucking cold." He spoke with a sense of dread in his voice. Cain knows that he can't change the weather, and he just needs to tough it out. He has done this for years, ever since he was abandoned in that dumpster. But it doesn't make it easier, and each winter feels as intense as the last. And the worst part is, he doesn't understand why the bites of frost disturb him so much. Cain never found out how he was abandoned by his parents; he only knew that they did.

You nodded and decided to just... put aside a bit more cash for the heating bill. You cranked up the heat enough at home to make it comfortable for him. The water heater is also switched on 24/7 now, even if it does hike up your bills. Sometimes you even think the apartment was a little too warm for your liking, but seeing Cain being a lot less miserable made you suck it up and just wear lighter clothing instead.

And you didn't think much of it, until there was one night, when the wind was howling and all you could see was powdery white outside; You heard a knock on your bedroom door, and you were about to fall asleep in a pair of shorts and shirt, because the thermostat is dialed all the way up that it felt like summer. Upon opening it, you saw Cain towering over you, exuding vulnerability. He's not wearing his hoodie, but a white t-shirt, a pair of comfortable plaid shoes, and warm, fuzzy slippers. You were surprised that he showed no signs of sweating, unlike you, struggling to cope with the artificial heat, yet you do so for the sake of your troubled roommate.

You asked him if he needed anything from you. Only to be pulled into his arms for a tight hug. You were about to say something, but you felt wetness on your shoulder. Cain was crying.

"I don't... I don't know what I'm feeling..." Although muffled, you could hear how pained and conflicted he was.

You patted his back as he let it all out. You were dying to ask him questions, but knowing Cain, it wouldn't get you very far if he wasn't ready to share it in the first place.

"It feels good. I-It's warm." He spoke between sobs. "Please... let me stay."

You didn't understand what gave him the impression that you were planning to kick him out anytime soon. You told him that he's welcome here. And that was all he needed to hear tonight.

And what neither of you knows is that today was his birthday, or rather, the day those bystanders found him discarded like trash. Cain may not remember, but his body does. And it was the first time in his life that he wasn't shivering on this special day.

And Cain is afraid, utterly terrified to lose what he has now. Yet he doesn't know how to keep it. So he latches on, he does his best, he tries.

He slept in the same bed as you that night. It wasn't comfortable at all; his body ran hot. And on top of the running heaters? You felt like you were in a furnace. Cain had his arms wrapped around you at all times, constricting your movements, but he wouldn't budge, no matter how much you squirmed. His hold felt desperate; you could feel the aching yearning he held in his body for decades. Cain would bury his head at the back of your neck, making you wonder if he just liked the feeling of being suffocated by his own breath.

You woke up the next day earlier than he did. Cain was still clinging to you with dried tears on his face. But you didn't have the heart to wake him up, because he looked truly peaceful. Though you didn't have to wait long until he opened his eyes and groggily rubbed them, freeing you from his prison.

You greeted him and asked him how he slept last night.

"Good..." He yawned and stretched his arms. Well, at least one of you had a good night's sleep. Cain doesn't seem to be particularly embarrassed that he reached this level of intimacy with you; hell, he doesn't seem to see it as anything out of the ordinary at all. It's as if he were sleeping in the same bed as you for months.

He got out of bed to freshen up, leaving you to finally reclaim your space and take your turn to doze off. Luckily, today is an off day for you, or you would have gone to work in a sour mood.

"Who the fuck are you all?!" You were jolted awake by Cain's sudden outburst in the living room. You heard extra voices and assumed he had opened the door to someone.

An argument ensued, making you scramble back up on your feet to see what was going on. Upon poking your head out of the door frame, you saw Cain heavily berating someone outside your apartment.

You called him by his name, and that caught his attention. "I don't know who these assholes are, they are not coming in!" He yelled, attempting to shut the door on the visitors.

You caught a glimpse of your long-time friends' confused and horrified faces before he slammed the door loudly against them.

Oh.

You forgot that they were visiting. Shit.

You see that Cain was agitated, threatened, even. He began hurling profanities at them, wishing doom on them, so on and so forth. He was panicking; the only way he could express this was by lashing out and pulling on his already messy, short, fiery hair.

You tried calming him down, but that only made him spiral more.

"They said that they're your friends-- They're nothing! They're nothing to you, they don't fucking matter! They're scum, they're trash!" He screamed as tears streaked down his frenzied face. Cain began hyperventilating, the more you tried to get him to see reason. "I'll fucking kill them, I fucking will!"

You decided to shut up and let him burn all his fuel out. All this while, you were extremely baffled as to what suddenly set him off. You know, Cain could be somewhat decent to strangers; he doesn't go off on the delivery men that sometimes come here to give you your packages or food. He would sometimes even be the one who signed the delivery confirmation form with no issue. Not even door-to-door salesmen would make him erupt like this; at most, he would just close the door on them. Why is he suddenly so territorial?

And as predicted, his explosion ended with him curling up into a pathetic ball of misery on the floor. You think your friends decided to leave you and him alone for a while, you're definitely getting a very concerned phone call later.

So, you did. And you managed to convince that you're okay, and Cain is a good man. It was challenging, but they decided to respect your wishes. Or maybe they also didn't want to deal with that unstable landmine of a person.

You don't think he left the apartment without you during the entirety of winter. He would flare up as soon as he felt a draft, and you wonder if it's a traumatic response to something. Either way, you don't think you should pry if he's not ready to talk about it.

Cain got very comfortable with you now. The sofa bed is left empty, now he goes straight into your bedroom. It doesn't matter if you're purposely hogging the bed, he would either manhandle you as if you're his beloved stuffed teddy bear, or have the audacity to say, "Scoot your ass over."

He developed a habit of possessively wrapping his arm around your waist whenever both of you were out. Instead of waiting for you to move out of the way or barking commands to move aside, Cain would just manually move you by guiding your shoulders or sometimes, your hips.

He seemed to be starved of touches. Whenever you take an afternoon nap without him, you would wake up to find Cain holding you in his arms. And he gets annoyed at you for waking him up. When you would spend the day watching television on the sofa, Cain would either lie his head on your lap, or trap you into his- making you his personal lap table for the bowl of popcorn you two shared.

Cain needed something to occupy his hands. So he chose to massage yours instead to soothe himself. It felt nice to apply pressure to your palm and fingers, but sometimes he wasn't aware how strong he was. You would wince at the pain, which caused him to frown, and spit,

"Fucking wimp."

But then, he would bring your hands to his lips to kiss them, and adjust his strength to not hurt you anymore. He wouldn't outright apologize or thank you for most things, but he has his own way to express remorse, guilt, and gratitude.

It felt... strangely natural. He wasn't making it awkward at all when he transitioned from not touching you at all to giving you regular cuddles, kisses, and even sharing beds. Cain moved like it's always been this way, as if he had always given you a kiss on the forehead before dropping you off at your workplace, as if he had always kissed you on the back of your neck to thank you for the meal. Whenever you stood in front of him to say something, he would have his large, calloused hands gripping your arms in place as he listened. You never knew what the purpose of it was, as he doesn't seem to be aware that he's doing it.

You're not necessarily complaining that whenever the two of you waited at the bus stop, in the cold, he would bury you in his chest. It's ridiculously warm, and he would wrap his heavy coat around both of you. Cain would absentmindedly rub your back up and down, stroke your hair as he remains hypervigilant for any assailants that could attack the two of you. And you would be lying when you said that it doesn't make you feel all fluttery inside.

Cain was willing to open up even more on how he feels about various things. But it was still excruciatingly difficult.

One day, he decided to talk to you about your giving nature. It occurred when you decided to give a homeless man some spare change.

"Why did you do that?" He asked when you and he reached the comfort of your apartment. Cain didn't remove his coat just yet, while you're practically stripping everything off yourself because your heating system is too efficient.

"Why did you give that bum money? He didn't work for it." He clarified what he meant. You can see that he's asking from a place of curiosity, not hostility or judgment.

You shrugged and said that it makes the world a better place.

"How?" He furrowed his eyebrows in frustration.

He would have enough money to buy himself something hot to eat and drink.

"That's bullshit. He's going to waste it on booze and drugs."

You asked him how he would know.

"All these bastards think about is their next high." He frowned bitterly.

You said that everyone can change. You wanted to tell him off for being a hypocrite, but it probably isn't a good idea. He vehemently disagreed.

"No they fucking can't. You're being used, you're being a damn jackass! You should have kept that for yourself, these fuckers can't even give you anything of worth back but have the balls to ask for a handout!" He was getting more and more exasperated by the second.

You decided to clam up.

"They're scum, they're all fucking good for nothing pieces of shit!" He continued his angry ranting as he entered the bathroom to freshen up.

And conversations that were deeper than small talk usually go something like that. You refused to be the one who started chatting, allowing him to take the initiative. It seems like he's jealous that you're also generous to other people, as anytime he sees you doing a good deed, he would be throwing a tantrum about how you're letting others walk all over you.

You can't really do donations under his watchful eyes anymore, because he would find a way to get it back from them and return the cash into your wallet.

He's always the nicest when it's just the two of you, and the concept of the world stopped existing. The apartment is his safe haven where nothing outside matters. He is in no way romantic, but he would be much, much tender compared to when you first met him. However, it is actually agonizing to live with him hovering over you every waking minute. If the shows you watch involve the topic of child neglect or even families in general, no matter how mild, no matter how positive or negative, ten times out of ten, he would have one of his infamous, explosive meltdowns.

Oddly enough, he's mostly unaffected by documentaries, even if they potentially touch on his traumatic experiences. He tends to watch those that describe how everyday things are made, unfazed by true crime.

You avoided nature and animal documentaries because Cain would get unbelievably distressed if they involved the abandonment of their young.

Outside of that, you don't know what else to do with him. Cain seems uninterested in anything creative, but recently got obsessed with chess for some unknown reason. Regardless of your chess skills, he would beat you in almost every game, only losing to you when he first started out.

Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was arousal, but you and Cain would begin to frequently have sex. And he fucks like a rabid animal, forceful, angry, desperate and primal. Cain would leave bite marks deep enough to bleed, as if he's trying to shred you into pieces. The curtains are always drawn shut because of his inclination to go down on you anywhere in the apartment. He has no problem bending you over the kitchen counter, making your legs spread on the sofa bed, pinning you against the wall, pounding you deep into your bed, letting the sound of the shower drown out your moans... The only place that's off limits is whatever table that held his valuable chessboard and pieces.

And you know that it just takes a deep kiss on the lips to initiate it, where both of your tongues must dance together. Cain would escalate quickly by rubbing his hands under your clothes. But he wouldn't press it if you decided that you're not in the mood anymore; he would just need to deal with his disappointment and sexual frustration on his own, in pure silence.

Cain doesn't say anything when fucking you. There will only be grunts and groans, but no dirty talk. Probably since he's too busy biting the hell out of your flesh.

His aftercare is a bit strange to you. It would be a strange mix of his usual harshness and an unusual dose of sentimentality:

"Get up." He would order you after a long session of post sex cuddling. Knowing him, you shouldn't oppose it.

"Go shower. I'll clean up." He began chucking the blankets, bedsheets, and pillow cases into the laundry hamper. Once he's done and sees that you're still there, he would turn to you and give you an affectionate peck on the forehead.

"You've been so good to me." He then squeezed the cheeks of your face firmly, causing you to pucker. Cain would chuckle at how silly you looked before kissing you lightly on the lips.

"I love you." He would whisper in your ear before letting you go, patting your head in praise.

However, if you just stood there and watched him ready the laundry basket, he would get annoyed.

"The fuck are you doing there, standing ass naked? Either put on some clothes or go take a damn shower." He would point in the direction of the bathroom. This would be enough to send you on your way.

Overall, you think Cain is a confusing man with moods that swing like a pendulum. You don't think he really feels shame towards you, just familiarity, trust, and comfort. And you feel honoured that you get to see his sweet side (sometimes), no one else outside of this apartment could ever hope to witness it, as he's just so spiky towards everyone. You're still so curious as to what sets you apart from all the other people who tried to help... You assume that Cain does have people who tried putting him on the right track in his life, but he pushed them away.

So one day, you mustered the courage to ask him about it. Expecting nothing more than some deranged yelling, you braced yourself:

"They shoved their help down my throat."

To your surprise, his response is as if you asked him for the time. Your speechlessness prompted him to continue.

"I fucking hated them. None of them really wanted to help me; they just wanted to feel good." He scrunched his nose as if he recalled something disgusting. "To them, I'm nothing more than a broken pet to fix. Something that should get no respect. Something practically useless in everything else, but gets them off like some street whore."

That sounds similar to what you thought of Cain. But you didn't say that out loud.

"They can take their fake sympathy and shove it so far up their asses that it kills them. Fuck them all." He snarled.

You let him release whatever steam he had for them. Well, that made sense that he gets crazily upset when you try to impose help without his request in the first place.

Once he's done, he decides to get up from his seat and pick up his now-worn duffel bag. You didn't have to ask him where he's heading out to.

"I'll be back by eight, I just need to get some stuff. Leave your bedroom door open for me." He pecked you on the cheek and smoothed your hair.

You watched him open the door and turned back to face you one more time:

"And don't fucking open the door to anyone that isn't me! You have a habit of doing stupid shit that's going to get you killed if it wasn't for me looking out for you!" He scolded before slamming the door behind him.

You wonder if Cain thinks of you as someone needing his protection, and so that's why you're not a threat to him but an object of his affection. You sat with this question, and you pondered if Cain genuinely thought of you as someone who is handicapped in some way. Made sense, your boundary-setting skills are non-existent, and you're always people pleasing, no matter how detrimental it is to your wellbeing. That's how you scored Cain.

Finally home alone after a while, you felt a little clueless as to what you should do. You know you should update your friends and family that you're doing well, and Cain is nothing they should worry about. Then again, you don't feel like talking to anyone right now.

The apartment looks pretty messy, with all the random junk Cain would bring back. God knows where he gets this merchandise, or where he got the money to buy it. You are actually in heavy denial that he's been shoplifting and wanted to believe that he's living honestly.

You thought it would be a good idea to tidy up a bit before he gets back and unloads more things from his duffel bag. It's a mystery how that bag could contain ungodly amounts of stuff.

You decided to start with the most cluttered part of your living room: the sofa bed. You know these are things that Cain would use daily, but it wouldn't hurt to organise them a bit.

The first thing that caught your eye? The book that Cain was attached to lately, and was almost obsessively reading. You wonder what was so interesting about it until you read the cover of the book.

It was a copy of "How to Be a Good Boyfriend".

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Megamorphs #1: The Andalite's Gift thoughts (pt. 1):

I love that this is THE definitive Animorphs cover, (not counting the dumb memes). It's gross, it's weird, it's unsettling, it actually depicts the right morphs in this book. This cover gets a solid 7/10 for me. It loses 3 points because Where's Ax? but it gets the team dynamic across, it does something cool with the cutout, it acknowledges Tobias not morphing, and it's got Marco's long hair. Plus it was clearly made after the book was written — it shows Marco not Cassie using wolf morph in the only book where Marco morphs wolf and Cassie does not. Not every Animorphs cover can claim that much accuracy.

Jake's opening narration has such great examples for "controllers can be anyone": he lists police officers, reporters, school officials, his best friend's mom, and then his own brother. Like, basically every single person a kid would think to go to for help, wiped right off the map. And those are non-random examples, since #1 features a controller cop, an implied controller journalist, and of course Chapman and Tom.

Love that the premise of this book is "a nice, normal weekend" (p. 6). Rachel goes to sleepaway camp! Jake and Cassie go to a pool party! Marco and Ax prank a classmate! Tobias eats a live snake! Technically, they all do do normal kid things over the course of this weekend.

The motif of the Animorphs' dreams is a big part of the series, but IMHO never gets overused. Because through them we learn what the Animorphs are scared of. Cassie's scared of having to choose which of her friends will die (this book). Rachel's scared of becoming a controller (#17) or otherwise losing herself (#2, #48). Jake's scared of how easy it would be to kill Tom (#6, #26). Marco's scared of having the chance to save Eva and failing (#5, #30). Tobias is scared of no longer knowing who he is (#13). I don't know if we ever get any dreams from Ax, which is a shame, since we know his worst fear is "my parents... would soon lose a second son on this alien planet" (#38) and that sounds like heartbreakting nightmare potential.

Animorphs books can be read here | Book Club schedule is here

[ferigrievous]

attractive things they do ; karasuno ver . ⋆˚࿔

hinata ; gets excited over the little things. it could be the most mundane thing ever and he’d still get all happy about it. that person who hypes up the ‘weird’ kids in class but genuinely means it.  being around him feels like remembering how to love the world again. he makes even the boring parts feel like a celebration.

tsukishima ; knows when to shut up. doesnt talk to talk. if he says something, he means it, in that weird fucked up way of his. doesnt do small talk, doesnt beat around the bush. talking to him is walking in a straight line. doesnt argue for the sake of arguing, too. if he knows he’s wrong, he wont necessarily apologize, but he wont beat a dead horse.

kageyama ; tries really, really hard. he might not always get it right—social cues, compliments, emotions—but he tries so hard. he’s awkward and quiet and a little off putting, but he’s also earnest in a way that makes your chest ache. he wants to be better. not just as a setter, but as a person. 

yamaguchi ; being quietly brave. he still has anxiety, and it still affects him, but he does what he can. he orders for the both of you and takes the lead in crowded places, even if youre more extroverted than him. he doubts himself constantly, but he still shows up, even if he feels like hes about to throw up.

daichi ; being reliable. he’s the guy you go to with everything. when your trains delayed, or you’re drunk on a night out. never forgets a birthday, an anniversary, and definitely not the homework. he doesn't need to prove anything to anyone, because he already is that guy.

sugawara ; always watching. not in a creepy way, but he wants to know everyone else is doing okay before moving on to something more ‘trivial’ like what he’s going to eat for dinner after school. he notices when you’re tired before you realize it yourself.

asahi ; overtly careful. its somehow very endearing seeing someone like him, who most people consider as intimidating or even scary, handle everything as if it were made of glass. he double-checks expiration dates, gently folds his laundry, and unpacks his bag so it doesn’t wrinkle.

nishinoya ; never hesitates. acts first, thinks later. kind of a pet peeve at first, but it amazes you how he always lands on his feet. it could be the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life, and he somehow achieves it everytime, at 110%. this includes putting all of his trust into you, even if you think you dont deserve it.

tanaka ; shamelessly himself. hes loud, and boisterous, and you cant go one minute with him without getting secondhand embarrassment, but hes real. he doesn’t hide parts of himself to seem cooler. he doesn’t pretend. and that kind of raw honesty is more attractive than whatever stupid pick up line he’s trying this time.

ennoshita ; knows when to step up. he doesn’t crave leadership, but he steps up when no one else will. he watches, listens, and steps in just before things fall apart. he notices you’re overwhelmed and changes the subject without making a show of it. doesnt talk over people, doenst make a scene out of thing. gets it done, and gets it over with.

kinoshita ; good memory. its a miniscule thing, but he remembers every single order youve ever made at any restaurant. he brings your coat when you two go out because he knows you’ll forget it everytime, even if he knows you purposely forget it so that he can bring it for you.

narita ; finishes what he starts. he doesn’t leave things halfway. doesn’t ghost, doesn’t flake, doesn’t quit unless he absolutely has to. you never have to wonder if he means what he says—if he says he’ll be there, he will.

[callsignpxnguin]

Task Force 141 ‘Icks’

John Price snores. Loud. You just know that bear of a man rumbles like a lawnmower when he’s fast asleep, the deep sounds echoing in your room. You liked to tease him about it, but honestly it always made you feel safe when the two of you were cuddling together. It assured you of his presence and wellbeing, and on nights where he was away on mission you missed it dearly — to the point where you made him send you audio clips just for you to fall asleep to. Ironic, considering your initial complaints, but life works in funny ways.

Ghost is really bad with your friends. Not in an argumentative or pissy way, but he just doesn’t know how to deal with them, considering his humour basically just revolved around killing things. He’ll always say the worst possible comment in a conversation, leaving all of them staring at him in horror, and it got so bad that he’d actively avoid joining you on outings with them. Poor guy genuinely tried, but it just never worked out. It wasn’t that bad, though, because he preferred being alone with you anyway.

Soap definitely can’t mask the expressions that show up on his face. Confused at something? His head is cocked and his eyebrows are deeply furrowed. Angry? Oh, he’s parted crowds with his furious face. But the worst is disgust. And whilst you also wanted to make a face at everything that displeased you, whether it be situations or people, he was just so obvious with it. Even as an SAS operator, that man did not have an inconspicuous bone in his body when it came to social situations, and it showed.

And Gaz is just a huge flirt. He doesn’t mean to do it, obviously (he’s far too good a boy to do that), but it’s just in his nature, you know? He’ll smile and wink in good humour to the waiter or the new barista in the cafe, or invite the new neighbour over for tea. And while you understand that he’s just trying to be nice, sometimes it drives you up the wall with jealously.

Yeah, if you cant tell I don’t really believe in ‘icks’ lmao — why do you need to put the pet peeves you have about your partner on the internet? Which is why I showed the nice sides of them, too. Also I just really hate the word ‘ick’ idk. 😭

But anyways, hope you enjoyed!

[wtfisgoingonirl]

Why everything is as bad as JDs outfit

Horrible. Yes, JDs outfit definitely was. I can’t believe a stylist put this very unflattering combination together for him. The shoes, the shirt, the sweater, even the suit didn’t fit properly. At least with that you can prove not every gay man is a style icon. But that wasn’t the worst thing. N and JDs misfortunate red carpet appearance was not well received. Bad move. While it is probably necessary for whatever is going on behind the scenes, it is more than disappointing for the fans. Totally understandable, some unfollowed and others jumped ship. Got fame into Nics head? Sadly she made fans very angry. What abut JD? Appears to opportunistic. As they say, negative press is still press, but come on… Using a polaroid was the worst thing. This boy doesn’t learn from the backlash he already got. Of course it’s his choice to give a FU to us. I didn’t like him before and now I will definitely avoid any show or film he takes a part in. JD now shares the same popularity as A. Congratulations to that! At this point N should remind herself of the words she shared once: mindful and demure. That was only a meme and therefore has no true value. N has build her image as the super nice girls, gays and Lukes gal. Even if she wants to keep her private life private and L has still to fulfill some obligations, this is to much for the fans.

It has gotten ugly. But we’re at fault too. All of us fans, weather it’s us Lukolas, the Jakolas and Figatonis or the Btons. We are always judging every single thing they do. The trolls and haters are merciless. Celebrities are just ppl like you and me, so let’s cut them some slack. N will at least try to make it look beautiful with new photos from Cannes. But I doubt it will help, if L won’t be in the picture.

Stay sturdy! Peace✌🏻

[starlightwhisperer1]

Marked by Desire

➳➳➳ Tattoo artist!Rafayel x reader

➳➳➳ Synopsis: You thought you were in control until Rafayel broke every rule. You wanted to resist, to hate it, but couldn’t deny how deeply he claimed you. Messy, electric, and impossible to forget.

➳➳➳ Warning: Dirty talk, dom/sub vibes, spanking and choking, teasing and denial, standing and from behind, semi-public sex, pain kink, biting and marking, overstimulation, finger sucking, unprotected sex,

➳➳➳ Word count: 4.8k

AO3

This was definitely not the ideal situation. In fact, it was as bad as it gets. But there were a few things that had led you to this uncomfortable place.

First, the cold. The room felt like it had been set to freeze your skin off. You swore you could feel the chill creeping through your bones. You could blame yourself a little for that. They had asked you beforehand if the temperature was comfortable, and you, trying not to be a hassle, had smiled and nodded, pretending the cold didn’t bother you.

Then, there was the sharp sting of the needle piercing your skin. You’d been in this chair before, never once bothered by the discomfort. But this time? The needle dug deep into your ribs, and honestly, you hadn’t expected it to feel so intense. The worst part? You couldn’t deny that you liked it. Maybe even more than you should have.

But what really got to you, what made your whole body tense with both discomfort and something else entirely, were his hands. Now, that part was absolutely not your fault.

The studio you’d chosen was one of the best in Linkon city, a coveted spot that had taken months to get into. Unfortunately, the woman you had met for your consultation, Carla, had been called away for a family emergency. You were given two choices: wait another few weeks, or let Rafayel take over today. You were mentally prepared for today to be the day, so fuck it, Rafayel it was.

Big mistake.

A huge mistake, and now that you were here, you knew you should’ve just waited a few weeks.

His gloved hands were everywhere.

They’d slid across your back when he nudged you inside, casual like it wasn’t a big deal. Brushed your thigh when he leaned over. Way too close to grab something from the tray. Rested against the back of your neck as he adjusted your position, voice low and stupidly gentle. Then wrapped around your wrist, lifting your arm just right so he could get in.

And now? Now they were on your stomach, moving slow, deliberate. Pushing here, tugging there, making sure the needle would hit exactly where it needed to.

You know what pissed you off the most? The asking.

"Mind if I get a little closer?" "You good with me being right here?"

Like you had a choice. Like he didn’t already know the answer. You could’ve said no. Could’ve rolled your eyes, told him to back off. But no. Because apparently, hands in gloves were now your thing.

You couldn’t even see his skin, but somehow that made it worse. The gloves clung to every detail. Those long fingers, broad palms, knuckles that looked just a little too sharp. Thick, steady, dangerously smooth in the way they moved.

And Rafayel? That wavy purple hair, those eyes watching you like he wasn’t doing exactly what he was doing? Yeah. You were doomed.

Let’s not even bring up those arms. Ink laced down them like it had a purpose, like it was meant to be admired and your gaze couldn’t stop tracing each stroke, each mark like it held secrets. You silently thanked whatever force decided to put him in an oversized shirt because if you'd had a full view of those biceps, you might’ve actually combusted. Even so, the way his hand clenched around the machine made every vein rise under his skin like a slow tease.

And the man had the audacity to have a face that looked straight out of a fever dream. Unfair. Borderline criminal. A sharp jaw that could cut glass, a nose straight and proud, and those damn eyes that seemed to pull you under without even trying, framed by a few beauty marks that only made him more impossible to ignore.

You didn’t stand a chance. If this was power, you had already surrendered. No defenses, no hesitation. You were fully and willingly undone by him.

You shifted slightly, one thigh sliding over the other more out of desperation than grace hoping the seat beneath you hadn’t become some sort of betrayal.

His eyebrow piercing caught the light as he glanced up, catching the motion. His tongue pressed into his cheek as if he were holding something back. “Still with me?”

You nodded, lips sealed, because opening your mouth right now would lead to a sound neither of you were ready for.

“Need to hear it, pretty thing,” he murmured, voice velvet-dipped steel. “If it’s too much, just say so. We’ll stop.”

The praise hit you like a jolt, sharp and unexpected, settling low in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground yourself. This was getting ridiculous. Absolutely mortifying. You needed to leave. Run, disappear, anything but stay pinned under his attention.

“No. Keep going,” you muttered through clenched teeth.

“You sure, pretty? That spot’s no joke, it can really-”

“Please. Just shut up and finish.”

That caught him off guard. His brows lifted slightly, clearly not expecting the sudden snap. The soft-spoken version of you from earlier had vanished, and he wasn’t entirely thrilled about it.

“Alright then, cutie. Just a few lines left.”

Your eyes cracked open, glare sharp. “The nicknames. Seriously. Stop.”

He didn’t even flinch. Just gave you that quiet lift of his brow, all amused calm and zero shame.

“My bad. Force of habit,” he murmured, voice far too soothing as he braced a hand against your stomach and leaned in. “I’ll be fast. Try to breathe for me, yeah?”

You inhaled slowly, trying not to think about his palm, warm and steady, holding you down like he knew exactly how to keep you still.

The pen made contact again, buzzing low against your skin. You let out a small, strangled sound before you could stop it.

“Easy now,” he whispered, fingers pressing a little firmer. “Almost over.”

Your mind betrayed you in the worst way. Vision blurring with flashes of him hovering over you, that same hand pressed to your lower belly as he moved his hips against you.

"You're doing so good,” he murmured again, voice low and maddening.

Your toes curled in your boots, nails carving crescents into your palms. You genuinely questioned whether your body could handle this. Your nose crinkled as you fought the onslaught, but it was useless. Between the sting, the pressure, and him, your body gave in. A quiet, traitorous wave rolled through your core.

Your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, thighs drawn tight as your chest rose with an unsteady breath. Shame flushed hot down your neck. You tried so hard to play it off, to keep your body still, but you knew he felt it. Knew Rafayel knew.

He cleared his throat, short and dry, tongue flicking out to swipe across his lips before toying with the silver metal that sat in the corner of his mouth. A poor attempt to cover a laugh.

Your eyes stung, blinking fast. Nothing like this had ever happened to you before. You didn’t even know where to look, what to say. And then came the cherry on top, his voice smooth and way too pleased.

"All done, cutie. Looks almost as good as you do."

You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. Eyes squeezed shut, you sat up in a rush, fumbling to yank your shirt back down with shaky hands.

“Hold on- Wait! You need aftercare. Don’t touch it or it’ll get irritated.”

Rafayel’s voice cut through, low but firm, his hands catching yours mid-motion. You froze under his grip, his palms warm against your skin. The panic only worsened, heat crawling up your neck as you quickly turned your head away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see how flustered you were.

“It’s alright. Seriously,” he said gently, not letting go just yet. “More common than you think, pretty. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I couldn’t stop it.”

Your voice sounded so small even to your own ears, and Rafayel had to steady himself. He had been doing a decent job at keeping it professional. Until that moment. Ever since you walked into his studio in that tiny skirt and tight shirt, he’d been distracted. You looked like temptation wrapped in sunshine, and he was losing his grip fast.

“It’s okay,” he said, a bit softer now. “Let me finish this properly, yeah? Gotta cover it.”

You gave a hesitant nod, raising your arm just enough for him to work. He reached over to the metal tray, popped the lid off a small tub, and dipped his fingers into the cream.

“This might feel a little cold,” he warned, already moving in closer.

You swallowed, chest tightening as his palm glided across your tender skin, smoothing the ointment with quiet precision. The coolness made you gasp, a soft sound slipping out before you could swallow it down. Then he leaned in. Close. Too close. His warm breath ghosted over the sting, trying to soothe it.

“That help?” he asked, voice husky near your ribs.

You flinched, more from the way he said it than the sensation itself. The word wrapped around you, made your body sink into the table like you belonged there.

“Mhm,” you exhaled, dazed.

“Good girl.”

You didn’t even notice him finishing up. He was moving, cleaning, bandaging but it all blurred into the background. You were somewhere else entirely. Floating.

Until his hand landed on your knee.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide, searching. The touch wasn’t clinical. It wasn’t gloved. It was skin. Real and warm and steady. Your eyes dropped instinctively. His hand was everything you imagined and worse. Inky smudges and faint tattoos scattered like constellations. Veins rising, catching the light just enough to make your breath catch.

It hit you hard. Way harder than it should’ve.

“I need you to hear this,” he said firmly, the weight of his voice cutting through the haze. “This is important. You need to be careful, alright? I don’t want you messing it up.”

You were done. Completely unraveling.

“Can you do that?”

Your eyes dragged up slowly, lashes heavy, meeting his with something you didn’t bother hiding anymore.

“Yes,” you said, tone dipped in something darker.

And before you could stop yourself, the word was out. Soft and deliberate.

“Sir.”

His grip tightened, cheeks hollowing as he sucked his tongue in. His hypnotic eyes roamed over you boldly, pausing shamelessly where your nipples strained against the thin white fabric. A state that had lasted since you entered the cold room.

Slowly, his hand climbed, fingers brushing your exposed mid-thigh. “Where’s that coming from, pretty girl?”

You dropped your gaze to your lap, avoiding his intense stare. Your fingers twitched, desperate to reach out and touch him. “I don’t know.”

“Look at me.”

His voice was sharp, making you flinch, but you couldn’t refuse. “When you answer, I want your eyes on me. If you want this, you keep those pretty eyes locked right here. Understand?”

You gave a quiet nod. “Yes.”

He cleared his throat and bent close, his lips brushing your ear. “Seems like you forgot something.”

Dizzy and breathless, your hand shot up to grab the fabric of his shirt, clutching it tightly at his bicep to steady yourself. “Sir.”

“Good girl,” he growled against your skin. His tongue traced the edge of your ear while his teeth lightly scraped it. “Now, cutie, here’s how this is going to go.”

You let out a soft whimper, burying your face in the curve of his neck. His hand cradled your head firmly, fingers splayed over your scalp. The pressure at the roots was sharp as he tugged, snapping your neck back and leaving you no escape. A smile played on his lips as he admired how completely you surrendered to him.

“From the moment you showed up today, you had me rock hard. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you. You looked absolutely beautiful. Then you go and make me tattoo your ribs. Pure torture.”

He straightened, biting his lip, then slid his hand from your hair down to the edge of your shirt. “Pulling this thin thing up like that, barely covering you. I saw your underboob the whole time. Such a tease. Was that nice of you?”

Your knees bent, craving some friction, his grip on your thigh still firm. “No, sir.”

He growled low, his eyes filled with hunger as he took in your flushed, vulnerable state. Your breath hitched, body humming with heat, completely undone beneath him.

“That’s right. It wasn’t nice. Now get on all fours.”

Fuck, that low, rough voice of his hit somewhere deep inside, making your body obey before your mind could catch up. Without thinking, you scrambled forward, dropping onto the leather bed on all fours.

Rafayel’s hand landed softly on your lower back, steadying your movement. “Easy, don’t fall over,” he murmured, then pressed a quick kiss to the bandage covering your new tattoo.

This couldn’t be real. How could he be so damn tender and yet so commanding at once?

Your knees wobbled, your back sagging until your elbows caught the weight. He was quick to grip your hips, anchoring you. “You’re making me crazy, cutie. I barely even touched you,” he teased, the edge in his voice daring you.

“You touched me plenty,” you shot back through clenched teeth, matching his challenge.

His hands slid down, palms spreading over the backs of your thighs, fingers toying with your ass. “Is that so? Don’t want me to touch you anymore?”

You pushed your hips into him with a whine.

You felt him shift behind you, fingers fidgeting with your skirt as he settled in. Your breath caught. He had an unobstructed view of the wet patch on your panties, the skirt doing nothing to hide it. He hummed low, clearly pleased.

“So beautiful,” Rafayel murmured, fingers teasing just above your heat. “We don’t have much time, okay? I’m going to touch you now, but you need to keep that sweet voice quiet for me.”

You exhaled sharply, irritation flickering in your eyes. “You’d have to make me raise it first.”

A low growl rumbled from him at your defiance. Then, with one sharp motion, his hand slapped down on your bare skin. You gasped, chest falling forward against the warm leather beneath you. “Listen, cutie. You don’t talk back like that. At least, not today. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s my good girl. The best. Now let me have some fun. Let me taste you. If anything’s too much, you tell me to stop, okay?”

Your heat throbbed fiercely, your whimpers betraying your need. “Please, sir. I want it. I want you.”

He caught every tremor in your voice, every desperate pulse. Not holding back any longer, his hands slid your skirt higher over your hips. His lips found the fabric covering your core, tongue slipping out to sample.

Craving more, you pushed your hips forward, pressing against his mouth. You flinched, bracing for a spank but instead, he met your motion, his hands hooking under your thighs, holding you steady.

He was eating you through your panties. Tongue messy as it explored your folds. Your whines grew louder. He knew your skin craved skin, could feel your thighs quaking with need beneath his grip. You caught the ghost of a smile against your core. He was savoring this. Deliciously cruel, and fully aware of it.

“I know, cutie,” Rafayel purred, the rumble of his voice vibrating through you. “But patience wasn’t exactly your strong suit, was it?”

“Please, I’m sorry,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, barely holding steady.

He traced a messy path of kisses from your core up to the waistband of your panties, teeth lightly grazing your skin as he tugged the fabric into his mouth. A moan slipped free as you braced for what came next.

Slowly, the fabric slid down your skin, his lips following, exposing your slick folds to the cool air. Rafayel stepped back, a low groan escaping him at the sight. Wet, glistening lips, panties pooled around your knees, your ass high and tempting. His jeans tightened over his pulsing arousal. “So tempting. I need a real taste.”

He dove back in without hesitation, tongue slipping between your lips, lapping and sucking your essence. His mouth moved down to your clit, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth, relentless in his attention. His hands roamed over your ass, squeezing and teasing the soft curves.

Your body was unraveling, stomach tightening, fists curling into tight balls. Your moans grew louder, rougher, until a sharp slap landed on your cheek, his warning clear. Quiet down.

“More,” you gasped, teetering on the edge.

Rafayel flicked his tongue up your slit one last time before straightening. “I’d love to have you come on my tongue, but I’ve got another thing in fifteen minutes.”

His strong hands dragged you to the foot of the bed, guiding you gently. “Feet down,” he said softly, fingers working quickly to undo his jeans.

Sliding down to the floor, you planted your feet firmly on the cold concrete, swaying your hips while glancing back, hungry for his touch. He smiled deeply, clearly captivated by your need. One hand settled on your hip, pulling you closer as he freed himself from his boxers.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, cutie,” he murmured, his cock already hard and pressing against his skin, eager for you.

“I was so close... I want to come,” you whispered.

“What about me? You’re so desperate, it’s driving me wild,” he said, gently stroking the spot where his hand had landed moments before. “If I had more time, I’d make you wait until you begged for more.”

A quiet, eager sound escaped your lips.

“I love hearing that,” he said, pressing his body into yours. His hand cradled your throat gently, pulling you close against his chest. His hips rolled, grinding softly against you.

His warm breath brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Touch that beautiful clit for me, cutie. Get yourself ready for me.”

His grip was firm but tender against your neck as you began circling your fingertips over your sensitive skin. His hips pushed deeper, his throbbing cock pressing against your ass. Your legs trembled beneath you, craving to feel him fully inside.

“So wet for you. Please let me have you.”

Your voice wavered, desperate as you silently pleaded for him to give in. He bit down softly on your earlobe, low grunts vibrating through you. Each sound ignited a fire inside, irresistible and wild. Without thinking, your hands moved faster, harder, drawing you closer to the edge.

“What do you want, cutie?” he teased, slipping a hand inside his briefs to free himself. His fingers traced the curve of your ass, leaving a slick trail in their wake.

“Your cock,” you gasped, voice raw and urgent.

He tightened his grip on your throat for a moment longer, savoring your desperation. “Remember what I said about keeping your pretty voice low?”

“Please… I can’t help it. I need you.”

His hand left your neck and traveled down to meet yours, fingers sliding easily through your wetness. “You weren’t exaggerating, cutie. You’re soaked, ready for me.”

Your head rested against his shoulder, heart pounding, lost in his touch. Suddenly, his fingers pressed against your lips, catching you off guard. “Why don’t you go ahead and taste them? I saw you eyeing them all afternoon. Bet you’ve been dreaming about this. Sucking on them as I take you.”

Dizzy from desire, you didn’t hesitate. Your lips parted, and you welcomed his fingers, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, savoring the intoxicating flavor. So raw, so alive.

In your haze, you barely registered his thick tip teasing your entrance, sliding slowly over your folds, coating himself with you.

“Cutie, can I take you raw?” he murmured, voice thick with need.

You hummed around his fingers, swirling your tongue in response. No hesitation now. Whatever comes next, you were ready. Deal with the consequences later right?

Using his foot, Rafayel nudged your ankle, urging your legs wider apart for perfect access. Settling his weight, he aligned himself with your aching center. If someone were to walk in, and it wasn’t impossible, they’d witness a scene soaked in raw desire.

A girl, helplessly stroking her clit, saliva tracing down her chin as she eagerly sucked on a beautifully tattooed hand. Her ruined panties pooled around her knees, legs trembling with need. Eyes squeezed shut, caught between anticipation and vulnerability. It was chaotic, but breathtaking.

Rafayel’s hips pushed forward, sliding inside your hungry walls. Soft moans escaped, thankfully muffled by his fingers pressed against your lips. Each thrust plunged deeper, filling you completely.

You felt utterly full, his abdomen pressing firmly into your ass. Teeth sank into your shoulder, biting down as he fought to contain his own pleasure. “So tight… so warm,” he murmured, licking over the fresh bite mark.

The hand resting on your clit paused, your mind adjusting to the new sensation. He held steady, giving you a moment to settle. But patience wasn’t your friend. You needed him moving again, needed to feel him buried inside you.

Your hand shot back, grabbing his shirt in a desperate fist, pulling him closer. Silent pleading in your grip. He answered eagerly, craving the way your walls clenched around him. “I know, beautiful. I’m coming for you.”

Without warning, the relentless pounding began. His hips snapped forward violently, the impact making you jump. Your breath hitched, your thoughts scattered.

The hand on your clit slid up, fingers scraping along his inked wrist. A sharp hiss escaped him at the sensation, followed by a harder thrust. “Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?”

You shook your head, releasing his shirt only to drag it over your chest. “Good girl. The best. You love praise, don’t you? Sucking me in so deep you can barely move.”

Tears welled in your eyes, pleasure mounting beyond control. Rafayel’s relentless rhythm never faltered, driving into your soft, trembling walls without mercy, unceasing. Your clit throbbed from the constant stimulation. Overwhelming, but utterly delicious.

Your back arched sharply, your head falling back over his shoulder as if he were lifting you toward the heavens. The knot in your stomach tightened fiercely until it snapped free. Eyes fluttered shut, teeth grazing his fingers as you struggled to silence the sounds escaping you. “So tight. Clenching just for me. Are you coming, cutie? Such a perfect angel.”

His words sent you soaring. You wrenched yourself free, collapsing forward onto the bed. Rafayel slowed, concern flickering across his face.

But you craved more. “Don’t stop. Keep going, please. I want you to come. Now.”

Your pleading trembled against his skin, stirring something fierce within him. If that’s what you wanted, you’d have it all. “You asked for it, beautiful.”

His palms pressed firmly against your lower back as his hips crashed forward, again and again, the pounding unrelenting. The slap of his skin against your thighs echoed with each powerful thrust. Your body slid across the leather beneath you, the friction driving sharp fire to your aching clit, pushing you closer to losing yourself completely.

Words deserted you. Only heavy breaths and desperate gasps filled the air. Your hands reached back instinctively, pressing against the hard plane of his abdomen beneath his shirt.

Rafayel groaned deeply, tilting his head back, a low curse slipping from his lips. “So perfect, so wet... my beautiful, messy treasure. All mine.”

“Yours.”

He growled at your surrender, gripping your wrist firmly. “Mine. Say it, cutie- say it as you come for me, as you drain me.”

Resting your forehead against the cold black chair, tears spilled down as you repeated the words, over and over. Your soul echoing that you belonged to him. Each whispered vow sent electric pulses straight to his cock, relentlessly pounding against your tightening walls.

Your body seemed to float, pleasure flooding every vein. Your vision blurred, knees threatening to give way. “Come.” The word escaped you again and again, your entire being focused on that single release.

Rafayel watched you tremble like a fuse burning down to an inevitable explosion. Ready to claim you fully, he trapped you, one hand covering your mouth. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

Suddenly, everything crashed over you. The pleasure and the release were consuming and overwhelming. You writhed and cried out as a deep calm washed through your core, as if you were drifting beyond the world. Sounds dulled, replaced by the pounding of your heart and a high ringing in your ears.

He held you close, lips pressed to the hollow of your neck, whispering soft reassurances as he guided you through the height of your ecstasy. His own body tensed, hips twitching, desperate to unload the pressure building inside him.

Breath caught in his throat, trapped by your wet, gripping walls, Rafayel tried to pull back but found no escape. His cock pulsed fiercely, begging for release. “Inside please... I want you to fill me,” you gasped, voice thick with need.

His body didn’t wait for permission. At your words, he shattered, sucking fiercely at the tender skin of your neck, marking you deeply. He spilled himself inside you, overcome by his own wave of pleasure.

Warmth coated your depths as his moans trembled through your skin. He thrust and emptied every last drop, until all you could feel was him. Until your mind was nothing but him.

Both of you lingered in the quiet aftermath, savoring the warmth and the weight of being completely consumed by each other. Rafayel’s body pressed firmly against yours, grounding you both in the moment. After a while, he began to gently pull away, testing his strength as he eased free.

The sensation of his release dripping down your thighs made you flinch. “This is a reward,” he murmured, licking his lips as he carefully parted yours, giving him an intimate glimpse of the evidence left behind.

“Messy, isn’t it?” you murmured, a little breathless.

“Exactly the way I like it, cutie.”

Your thighs instinctively pressed together, the high slipping away slowly. Rafayel kissed the small of your back, his hands soothing your thighs and hips. “Come on, we should clean up. I’ve got a client arriving any minute.”

You pouted but pushed yourself up, legs wobbling as you fought to steady your balance. He chuckled softly, poking your cheek with a teasing grin. “Adorable.”

He moved to the sterile table, grabbing a towel. Suddenly aware that the whole studio probably heard everything, you felt an urge to disappear.

Gathering the last of your strength, you slipped your panties back on, adjusted your shirt, and wiped your face with the back of your hand. By the time Rafayel turned around, you looked mostly put together. Except your hair, which was wild enough to give away what just happened. He laughed softly at that, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

You shifted awkwardly, feeling the sticky warmth between your legs and unsure what to say or do next. “Um, thanks. I should probably head out.”

His eyes widened like a startled deer, and before you could grab your bag, his hand caught your forearm, gently holding you back. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

His voice had softened completely, no trace of teasing. Just genuine concern. You swallowed and nodded, forcing a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t want to keep you.”

“Oh, um, wait a sec.” His fingers tangled in your hair, smoothing out the knots. “Sorry, it got a little messy earlier.” He confessed quietly, then turned to fix himself.

He was utterly captivating.

Once he looked presentable, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Are you sure you don’t want a towel or something?”

“It’s okay. It’s not that bad,” you said, flattening your skirt with a shrug.

“Maybe you just like it that way.” His smirk deepened as his eyes traced your curves, making heat rush to your cheeks.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong.

“Alright, then... I’ll go.” You spun around, ready to make your escape.

“Wait!”

You nodded quickly, grateful, bowing your head slightly in thanks. He bit his lip at the gesture, finding it utterly charming. He flipped the page to reveal his number.

“And this is my number. I finish at five. If you text me before then, I can come by, you know... to make sure you’re taking care of it properly.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, for the tattoo.”

[aquatic-armageddons]

The mercs with a terminally ill s/o

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CW: mentions of death & grief

---

A/N: Honestly, writing this brought me to tears, because it reminded me of my coworker whom I lost some time ago (his death was somewhat expected but still sudden). But I wanted to do it anyway, and it made me feel a little better :')

---

SCOUT

For someone who looks so headstrong, Jeremy seems like he handles grief very poorly (i.e. lashing out, acting and saying things without thinking, etc.)

This boy would probably be in one of the worst mental states of his life.

He may even ask Medic to try saving you, even if you're beyond help.

But he knows he has to prepare for life without you.

He'd still want to keep you with him at all times, even after your passing; if you decided to be cremated, he'd want your ashes in a special dog tag necklace.

He'd visit you every single day in the hospital/hospice, telling you silly jokes and bringing you snacks/plush toys. Hell, he'd still visit you, even after you've been laid to rest.

SOLDIER

With all of the time he's spent in the war(s), Jane has lost quite a lot of close comrades. He's desensitized himself to it all so he doesn't get overcome with grief.

He knows that death is an inevitable part of life, so he tries to live each day with no regrets.

And he'll try to instill that mindset in you as well.

Jane will do his best to make you as comfortable as possible, though it's extremely difficult given the circumstances.

Hand holding, soft forehead kisses or pretty much any kind of physical affection is a must.

But he'll finally break down once you actually pass, but his tears won't be of just grief. They're tears of relief, knowing you don't have to suffer anymore.

PYRO

It will take some time before they accept you'll be gone soon.

It's almost as if they're already experiencing that first stage of grief (denial).

Pyroland won't ever be the same once the dust settles.

They'll be clingy for sure, not leaving you out of their sight if they can help it.

You don't have the heart to tell Pyro you need a little space.

And it's better that you don't; they feel crushed already as it is, and you don't want to kick them while they're down.

Let Pyro smother you as much as they want, and give them all the attention you can.

DEMOMAN

This man's coping mechanisms vary.

On one hand, he'll spend as much time with you as he can, talking with you for hours.

But he may also seclude himself in his room and drink the stress away.

Random crying spells will occur on and off, in the weeks leading to your death.

He'd definitely go on drunken rants as well.

Tavish will initially want to avoid the reality, but the team will convince him otherwise.

Constant reassurance from you is the best thing you can do for him at this point.

HEAVY

Mikhail would have little to no reaction upon learning the news of your illness...at first.

He looks like he'd have it all together when with the rest of the team.

But once you're actually gone, he just breaks down and is inconsolable.

Quiet cries, burying his face in his hands, he just couldn't hold it together at your wake/funeral.

Mikhail will vent out his feelings to Medic, as he's the one person he respects the most. He may also try to ask him to bring you back.

But in the meantime, try to talk to him as often as you can.

As much as this guy likes his alone time, just try and break some of those walls down.

ENGINEER

Dell would have the same reaction as Heavy, though he wouldn't shed as many tears.

This man is one of the more sensible mercs on the team, so he'd try to be realistic about dealing with grief.

But that doesn't take the pain away.

He's obviously devastated, but chooses not to show it.

You know he's hurting, so just try to hold him and tell him everything will eventually be alright.

But don't ramble on; just you being next to him is more than enough.

MEDIC

Oh lord.

Where do I even start?

Herbert is practically the most emotionally unstable man on the team.

He'd definitely be stuck in denial, like brainwashing himself into believing you're not dying.

Despite how much everyone tries to get through to him, he acts very pigheaded and shuts down anyone.

He needs a serious reality check, and the only one who's capable of that is Heavy.

Once it finally sinks in, he just falls apart; sobbing, throwing equipment, etc.

Don't be shocked if he trashes his whole lab.

You're the only one who's able to calm him down.

Don't leave him alone for a second.

SNIPER

Mundy is almost as emotionless as they come.

...or at least that's how others perceive him.

Don't expect much of a reaction out of him, as disappointing as that sounds.

After everything passes, he'd try to go on with his daily life.

But once he's alone in his watchtower, his walls will finally crumble.

He can cry as much as he needs to in that space, because he knows no one can see him.

It's impressive how well he can hide his grief.

Just give him some time to be alone with his thoughts, and he'll come around on his own.

SPY

As the (unofficial) leader of the team, Spy feels as if he needs to set an example for everyone.

Death is a part of life, and time waits for no one.

He's pretty much in that final stage of grief almost immediately.

But just because he shows a lack of emotion, don't believe he doesn't care.

He's sad, don't get me wrong.

More than likely, he'd seclude himself in his smoking room.

Try to visit him whenever you're able to; it makes the situation less depressing for him.

[timeslipcamp]

honestly looking up the demons in the ars goetia was the worst because as i was reading through it and looking at some of the connections i was like DAMN this is really cool. aw man, now ive gotta do a whole post on subarus demon smh

spoilers through ep 15

back at it again with the crack theories!! it's what i do best, what can i say.

initially, when i was going through the demons in the ars goetia, i was like "huh, dantalion sounds a lot like dandelion. i wonder if that's going to have to do with us." and then i got further in my list and saw it was subaru's demon and there went that theory. and THEN i read more about dantalion and holy shit dude

anyways this is just a post going a lil more in depth on subaru's stigma, demon, and where i think he fits in the story

so first off, the ars goetia is fucking bonkers. in my professional opinion (i'm an opinionated nerd and a former humanities major), all grimoires that were written around the 13-15 centuries (and were widely publicized) are so goofy. the like, "modern" witchcraft thing is so funny to me because these experts were just making things up and making up their rules and all wildly contradicting each other in every book. i love the drama

but that's not what you're reading this for so i'll get off my soapbox

several of these demons are listed in a bunch of grimoires, but the tkdb wiki (however reliable) lists the ars goetia, so we'll go with that description

shoutout to wikipedia for having one of the only compilations of info that didn't have pretentious drivel to get through (i'm not being a hypocrite shh). tumblr mobile stop deleting my drafts challenge

as far as i can gather, the rankings in the ars goetia are meaningless lol. each demon has their title and their legions and satan rules over all. each demon is also listed as the things they were meant to teach, because the purpose of having these demons in a list was for summoning purposes. you would summon a demon, wear its seal so you could control it, and ask it questions based on what it had dominion over.

the demon's other abilities were what i was really interested in, especially in relation to subaru. the first one listed is the ability to declare counsel on anyone; basically he can read minds. he knows anyone's secret thoughts and can also apoarently change them to his will.

this one applies directly to subaru's stigma. his stigma is the ability to read residual thoughts from people and objects. there is zero doubt in my mind that if we were to enhance his stigma, he'd be able to read active thoughts. or more! luca summoned a whole ass creature with his and all he can do is guard or whatever. who knows what he could do? change thoughts maybe?

manipulate thoughts to the point of someone being intermittently amnesiac? side eyeing my incomplete taiga theory post

the next ability listed isn't as relevant, "cause love and show similtude", but the NEXT part: "show the same by means of a vision." could subaru, in theory and while using us, project the memories he's seeing so that everyone can see them as well?? i think so!!

the last part is also just so subaru, "many faces," meaning he can appear as anyone, man or woman. ngl, i thought subaru was a lesbian the first time i saw him and got so excited, but this is definitely referring to his ability to act. we saw a bit of it in episode 15 where he auditions for the haunted house and then acts like SUCH a freak in that room. love him.

there's also a part about the demon always being depicted holding the book but idk what that means yet, will revisit later

subaru's abilities are so fascinating and honestly he has so much potential to do some crazy shit with us boosting his stigma. i do think he fits aomewhere into my theory about what's going on with taiga's memory but again, i don't have a solid theory yet just because of how little information we have.

the main theory thatni have about subaru is that i think he did have something to do with taiga's memory issues, and i do think he's the type of person that could be blackmailed into helping the faculty and work against the ghouls. his stigma would allow him to get an insane amount of information on the other ghouls simply by touching things discarded by them. the galaxy express area is full of lost items, it'd be a field day for him. who knows how much he's found out about the campus just by grabbing things in there?

maybe he doesn't leave his room anymore because he found out too much last year. maybe he doesn't want darkwick to use him any more than they already have. who knows?

what we do know is that subaru is a squishy little freak and i'm so fascinated by him and his story. can't wait for the next sinostra chapter to come out and (hopefully) get more info on taiga.

asks and dms always open!

[mediocre-hospital-24]

Pleasant Awakenings ( Part two of EAT ME)

Warnings: MDNI! 18+, Oral, somnophilia kinda?, mention of fluids and breeding kink. NOT beta read we die like Silco.

Author’s Note: Hello all! I have prepared your regularly scheduled girl dinner! Glad the first one went over well so here’s part two! I love comments also so if you wanna leave one I’ll definitely read it! I’m still working on getting formatting right so bear with me for a little bit. 💙

A/N Continued: so I basically rewrote the whole thing because I hated it and that’s why it’s late, sorry! I just wanted it to be as good as it could be and I felt it wasn’t. Anyway thank you!

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/mediocre-hospital-24/781597946066206720/eat-me

******************************************************************************************

Jayce was awoken quite early by something he didn’t expect.

He usually slept well at night but he was so excited by the fact that you, his beautiful, perfect, girlfriend were asleep in his bed.

All he could think about was how lucky he was to be with you and how excited he was for things to come. The experience of you cumming around his fingers while keening out his name was an experience he won’t be forgetting, and one he hopes to repeat in the very near future.

While you were soundly dreaming, Jayce simply reveled in your unconscious presence, trying to resist the urge to run his fingers through your silky hair. However, upon further inspection he realized something that immediately made his dick twitch. He lifted the blankets carefully to reveal that you were in fact humping his thigh while you were sleeping.

The sight was unholy.

Your thighs were clenched around his, a very obvious wet patch between your legs that seeped into his pants, and a slight pinched expression appeared on your face despite being totally asleep. Little whimpers and gasps escaped your lips as you continued to grind your soaked, hot, throbbing core against him.

He was left with a couple options. He could stay still and hope you finish soon by yourself, or… he could help you along. He remembered something about you expressing to a friend that waking up to someone between your legs would be the most euphoric experience ever. It was a bit risky to try, considering he’s never even performed regular oral while you were awake on you but you always talked about wanting it.

You were always teasing him about his long, thick tongue, and how you could think of a few things that you’d rather he use it for than giving scientific lectures. He thought for a moment. The worst that could happen is you tell him to stop, which of course being the gentleman that he is, he would. But the image of you waking up to his swirling tongue on your clit was too much for him to ignore, especially now that his cock was painfully hard.

Carefully, he untangles himself from you, taking great care not to jostle you. He made his way down to the end of the bed and positioned himself between your legs. He gently brushed against the softness of your hips before he looped his fingers into his boxers that he’d lent you on the previous night. He took a deep, shaky breath and pulled gently and slowly. Being patient was agony considering he could smell you. It was a dizzying, heady mix of musk and citrus that that made him salivate. He could hardly refrain from tearing his boxers off you to devour you whole. After finally slipping the boxers all the way off, he placed his warm hands just above your knees and parted your legs just enough to settle between them.

With the early morning sun peaking through the window he could finally see you. You were fully clothed last time and he wasn’t going to deny he was curious. He couldn’t resist taking two fingers and gingerly spreading you open to gaze at your tiny fluttering hole. Seeing how small you truly were was a bit scary to him. He wanted to give you everything but what if he just physically couldn’t? He shook the thought from his head. You were both in too deep now. He loved you, there was no questioning the fact. He softly ran his index finger over the slick flesh of your opening. It felt tougher and more elastic than he expected. He curiously slipped a finger into you and had to choke back a moan when you instinctively clenched around it. Your body was enthralling to him. He always felt a deep respect for women and you were no exception. It was still shocking to him that you could grow an entire life inside you. Could you really do it? Certainly if your body could handle birthing a baby it could handle him. Even he wasn’t comparable to the diameter of an infant’s head. He slowly pulled his finger back out of you, not wanting to wake you. Your slick clung to his finger and a string of it connected you to him as he dragged his finger away. He shutters at the sight and can’t resist the animalistic urge he has to place it on his tongue. He’s a bit disgusted with himself. But he doesn’t resist. He pushes his finger between his lips and gives an experimental lick. You taste like heaven, an addictive mix of peach and orange smothered in lavender honey that makes his head spin. He greedily sucks and swirls his tongue around his finger before pulling it out and lapping up every last drop. He needed more.

He lowers his head close to your slippery center and tenderly buries his nose into the patch of tiny curls. His mouth is flooded with drool as he practically melts in your presence. He peers up at you through his lashes, taking in the sight of you. You look like an ethereal goddess. Your hair is splayed out over the pillow and the top of your cleavage on display due to the top of his button down having a few buttons popped open. He could cry at the sight of you laid out like this. Instead of letting his emotions overwhelm him though, he brought himself back to the moment. He presses a gentle, almost thankful, kiss to your mound before pressing his soft lips to your needy core. He parts you open, then slowly nudges and drags his tongue through your puffy folds. He stifles a groan as his eyes roll into the back of his head. The heat of your tender and malleable, silken cunt was nearly stifling. Combined with your scent, something carnal was unleashed inside of Jayce’s thumping heart. It wasn’t often that he had been able to indulge in his pussy drunk side.

Mel was always too busy for extensive foreplay. To his recollection the only time he ever really went down on someone else was when he had a small fling with a slightly older woman who he hadn’t known was using him as a side piece while her husband was away on business; So being able to shove his face in not just any pretty cunt, but in yours had his stiff leaky cock thrumming. He couldn’t keep himself from desperately humping the bed. If you woke up he’d certainly feel a bit of embarrassment later for being so needy: but currently he couldn’t give two fucks about that, not while your pussy was making him higher than any drug that humanity had ever created or discovered.

Jayce was eating you out like you were the only drop of water in a desert. He pushed and flexed his tongue inside your pulsating hole, causing you to clench in an attempt to pull him in. He sighs against you as he grinds his hips into the mattress, thinking of his cock being inside you. You were so tight and responsive, he’d be afraid of cumming inside you immediately. God would you want that? Would you let him stuff you full of his cum? Were you on birth control? He couldn’t remember, but would you actually let him breed you.

Mel had too many people depending on her to ever even consider the possibility of a little one, but you? You weren’t prestigious or responsible for the welfare of others. You were just the little woman who worked at a junk shop that stole his heart and wouldn’t let go of it. He’s always wanted a family but it never seemed like a possibility. But maybe with you things could change. Would you possibly even want to marry him? He’d certainly marry you, especially if you had his child inside you. His cock twitched at the thought. Oh how he’d pamper you, make you feel like the most precious, and treasured thing in the whole world; how he’d make you scream with pleasure every night as he satisfied you and filled you to the brim.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the running of your fingers through his hair. You’d woke up, and now he wouldn’t have to hold back. He purrs against you, delighted by your now conscious presence. He was right about you wanting this. Waking up to his tongue in you had you mewling, twitching and whaling at the delightful sight and feeling of the massive, obviously sex starved male between your thighs. When you pulled his hair back and his eyes met yours, he growles into you, causing you to throw your head back with a sigh as the vibrations deliciously ran right through your clit. He possessively pulls your legs apart and drags your hips closer to him as your calves are guided over his shoulders. You feel like you’re being devoured by a starving dog and you were fucking living for it. This is part of what you’ve wanted for so long, for him to let go and he was practically worshipping your gushing cunt.

He was so messy, the sounds emanating from between the two of you were absolutely debauched. The mix of your arousal, along with copious amounts of Jayce’s saliva was causing the apex of your thighs to be absurdly drenched . The resulting sounds of slurping, gulping, and squelching were disgustingly sexy and made your heart sing with pride. Jayce couldn’t tell if you were just absurdly wet or if he was drooling buckets, but it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, he was hardly a man at this point, more akin to a tongue fucking beast.

You are absolutely WRITHING against him at this point. As hungry as he was, you were just as eager to feed him. You were completely fucking yourself on his face now. You hoped he could breathe but the thought dissolved from your mind when he pushed a finger into you along with a sharp sucking pressure to your clit from his mouth. You were crying now, desperate for the relief of an orgasm after so much prodding and licking to the sensative and overstimulated petals between your mound. You were gasping for air and practically howling from the overwhelmingly, nearly painful, pleasure he was making you feel. Your throat was raw from the moans that border on sobs ripping their way through your vocal cords. Your sharp nails sink into Jayce’s upper arms as you feel the muscles in your legs and lower belly start to tighten and burn. You were going to cum fast and hard.

“J-Jay-ce, gon-na,cu-AHh!” A loud smack rings in your ears and you feel a sharp sting on your ass. Jayce looks you dead in the eyes, he looks absolutely wild, like a possessive predator guarding its latest kill.

“Look at me when you do! Please, don’t you dare take those pretty eyes off me.” He desperately murmurs directly into your folds. He pushes another finger into your abused hole and powerfully pumps and curls into you, hitting something you’ve never felt before.

“ Oh gAH- GOD JAYCE WHAT ARE YOU TOUCHING?! fUCk, don’t stop! RiGHt tHeRe P-pLE-eaSE!” You are completely fucked out and incapable of holding back your wild pleas of ecstasy. Tears run down your face, sweat drips down your body quivering body, and you’re certain Jayce’s arms and shoulders are scratched to ribbons. With a curtly timed clit suckle and Jayce absolutely abusing your G- spot, the tightly wound coil in your abdomen snaps. Your vision blurs and you cum screaming. Your hips thrash so wildly Jayce is sure you’ll have beard burn on your thighs from the friction. You break eye contact with him as your eyes roll back and your vision goes white. Your legs clamp and tremble against Jayce’s head and neck, and your back arches so much it looks like it hurts and Jayce uses his free hand to support you, as he still rubs and licks you through the aftershocks with the other. Even in your delirium you pick up on his thoughtfulness, and careful support. You mutter something that you don’t think he hears but he picks up on it instantly.

“ You’re so good Jayce, - My good boy…” the whimpered praise goes right to his abused dick that he’s been lazily and haphazardly been overstimulating into the mattress and an orgasm hits him like a freight train. His thrusts jostle you and the almost painful sounding, high pitched, breathy groan he lets out startles you, but he places his large palm onto your pelvis to keep you from moving up to check on him.

He removes his mouth from you and stands up to straighten out his back, only to hurl his body next to yours as he flops onto his side of the mattress. He doesn’t even give himself time to breathe before pulling you into his chest and absolutely engulfing your body with his. You snuggle into each other as you each breathe in the smell of sex and the comforting afterglow that envelops you both. You pet his hair and drift off to the sound of his heart beating but you’re only asleep for a moment. You didn’t notice when Jayce removed himself from your exhausted form but you stiffened and became fully alert when you felt him licking at you again. He quickly backed off and held his hands up to you, one of which was grasping a cloth.

“ Sorry! I shouldn’t have dove in to clean you like that without asking. I just thought maybe my tongue would be soothing? I don’t know it was stupid!” He hurriedly explained. You let out a halfhearted chuckle.

“ Easy big boy, no harm done,” you smile gently at him,“ I’m just a little sensitive still, ” you express lightly.

You sit up and stretch your arms and back before reaching out to stroke his sharp featured face. The sweet man had already washed up and changed out of his cum soaked sweats, something you didn’t fail to notice when he plopped down next to you. You’re still a bit disappointed that you haven’t touched or seen him in full yet, but you’ll mention it another time. You flop back against the pillows as he gently cleans you of your cum and his spit. You stare at the painted constellations on the ceiling. You were so charmed by his starry aesthetic when you first saw it. It was a bit surprising to see so much blue when he wears so much red.

You were snapped back to reality quite suddenly, and literally by the elastic of your panties. Something Jayce felt aggressively sorry about and fiercely apologized for, but only made you giggle. It was so funny and cute to you how he could be such a possessive and earnest Dom one minute and then a blushing sweetheart the next. You sit up to pepper his face with kisses as a gesture of forgiveness (although you were more surprised than upset to begin with). You pull him down to the bed with you and curl back into his warmth. The room is quiet and peaceful as you drink in the presence of your favorite person. Jayce clears his throat and pulls away to look into your eyes. He looks cautious, like he’s a teenager trying to invite his crush to dance with him at a gala.

“Move in with me?”

You blink. Did he just say that? He’s smiling, nervously blushing and running a hand over his nape. He’s so patient as he lays next to you and runs his warm hand over your thigh.

“ You don’t have to answer right now, just think about it?” He adds quickly, not wanting to pressure you. His yellow- green eyes stare into yours with a hopeful glint.

“ I just- well, I really like this; waking up with you.” He earnestly expresses. He presses a sweet peck to your forehead before resting his own against yours. His strong arms cling to you gently and you can’t help but want this, and him, and every crazy thing that comes with that. You bring your face down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder and softly press your lips to it. You lean into him, and breathe him in. You know it’s fast, only having been dating for a few months.

But… you also know it’s right.

“Yes.”

[joocomics]

DOUBLE TAKE

02 ⋮ off script

MASTERLIST || NEXT

pairing: rockstar!junhan x fem!reader x supermodel!jooyeon

genre: slice of life ( 18+ ) ── 1.2k words

your friend’s rock band books the coffee shop you work at for a day to shoot their new music video. at first glance, everything is going well until the line between story and reality begins to blur

✎… kissing for the cameras

( xdh masterlist )

It’s definitely something... suddenly turning from background noise to a main character.

... because Jooyeon saw something in you.

This is his idea - to kiss you instead of following the original script where he’s tangled up with the hired actress.

One moment you were just the girl behind the counter, and now, you’re the sweet waitress caught in the centre of the main events.

Jooyeon stands inches away with gaze locked onto you like he was meant to do this with you from the start.

You shift your weight against the counter, heart pounding as he steps closer.

“Just follow my lead,” He murmurs so low that only you can hear him.

You nod once, barely trusting yourself to even breathe. With so many lights and cameras around you, every small movement you make, has you feeling like it could be a wrong one.

The director’s voice rings throughout the room, pulling you out of your thoughts. Action!

Jooyeon doesn’t hesitate.

He erases the space between you and his hands find your waist - a confident, delibarate grasp. He cages you against the counter, barely giving you time to react before his lips crash against yours.

For a second, they remain pressed, soft and sweet, but then just as your breath catches, he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

There’s no escaping it - the heat that floods through you. Especially as his grip tightens on your hips as it seems he’s getting effortlessly caught up into the moment.

Just like you are.

Everyone can see it in your hands that lift to his chest, clenching at his jacket like it’s the only thing that could keep you staying composed; like it’s the only thing reminding you this is just a scene.

And then, just when you’re about to forget about the line between what’s real and not... your feet leave the floor.

Suddenly, you’re perched on the counter while Jooyeon settles between your legs, pressing closer. The quiet gasp that escapes you has his lips twitching in a smug smile before he kisses you again.

The shift in the energy inside the room doesn’t go unnoticed - a collective murmuring spreads behind the cameras, but you can’t process any of it.

This is better, they say. This is good.

One of Jooyeon’s hands slides up your back, his fingers go into your hair to tilt your head just right so he can catch his breath by tracing lips against the side of your neck.

At this point, your mind turns completely blank when it comes to everything except the feel of his touch; his warm breathing, and the scent of his cologne.

The crew, the cameras, the flashing lights focused upon you - all of it fades.

Unrehersed, you grasp his hand, the one resting on your thigh, and guide it up your heated body. The skin beneath your clothes gets electrified as his fingers crawl up your stomach, briefly ghost over your chest only to stop around your neck - teasing and waiting for his mouth to detach so he can tug your bottom lip, creating space for his tongue.

Right on cue - the bathroom door slams open.

The entire set freezes in anticipation as Junhan steps into the frame. His shoulders are tense just like his lips.

Jooyeon doesn’t pull away immediately nor completely. His hands are still on your body; you can still feel his warm pants on your face even after he turns in his friend’s direction.

You realise you’re still holding onto his arm. Without looking away, you let go, peering into the bright flame in Junhan’s eyes.

He’s playing his part - the role of the lover witnessing his worst nightmare; his worst betrayal.

Maintaining the cold expression, he cuts the distance between you with few measured steps. Once he reaches the counter and Jooyeon jerks backwards, the camera man shouts excitedly, putting an end to the scene.

The crew congratulates the three of you; one of them teases Junhan, saying that for a moment they really thought he’s about to punch Jooyeon in the face.

As they chatter, you use the opportunity to pull back and collect yourself; to let your heart normalise its speed.

Only to feel it jump as a familiar teasing voise spreads behind you.

“Not bad,” Jooyeon murmurs discreetly as he walks past you.

You find the small bathroom near the back of the coffee shop and quietly shut the door behind you.

You glance at yourself in the mirror. Your lipstick is a little smudged, not enough to ruin the look, just enough to hint at the intensity of Jooyeon’s kiss. Your cheeks still carry the flush of adrenaline when you bring your hands up to touch them.

But that’s not what keeps you staring. It’s something very subtle in your expression that makes you feel... new.

And that’s when you realise it - you finally did it.

You stepped out of your life for a moment and slipped into something unknown, something unpredictable. And even though you’re back, something inside you hasn’t fully returned. Or maybe something from that new world has stuck with you, making it seem like you’re missing something, but it’s actually the opposite - you gained something.

You can feel it, it’s still fluttering in your chest. You just have to get more familiar with it.

You don’t know what exactly cracked open inside you yet. But you kind of like it.

When you return, the crew is adjusting lights in the middle of the chaos. Junhan is sat on top of the counter, aimlessly plucking at the strings of his guitar with Jooyeon standing nearby. Both of them have changed into new outfits for the next scene.

Jooyeon’s eyes shift, tracking your presence - only for a second before they flick back to the drummer of Junhan’s band.

“You guys should throw a wrap party.”

“We’re not even done shooting yet.” Junhan glances at him as you step closer. “And you’re already talking about drinking.”

“Exactly,” Jooyeon responds, keeping his hands busy with a bottle of water, “give people something to motivate them.”

“Just say you want a party.”

“That’s a good idea!” Another band member joins after he spots you in the circle. “What if we throw the party here?”

Junhan eyes the guy.

“Seriously? She already let us take over her entire shift, we’re not doing that.”

“I don’t mind it,” you shrug, speaking up before he puts an end to the whole idea. “I’ll talk to my boss if we can have the place on Sunday.”

Jooyeon flashes you a quick grin.

“I fly to Paris next week so Sunday works perfectly for me.”

The group breaks into laughter and excited chatter. They already start passing ideas on who’s bringing what, who’s going to have control over the playlist… It’s decided.

You find yourself smiling too - until a small, unsettling knot forms in your stomach as Junhan slides off the counter without saying a word.

He didn’t say anything while you were speaking. He also didn’t say anything when the guys began cheering.

You catch him nod at something one of the crew members says before silently disappearing into the chaos behind you.

It’s like you weren’t even there in the first place.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @sweet-dreaming-girl @zelinkcrossing @bahng-chrizz @candlelitvamp

[jessiemeows]

Lost & Found

Chapter 5 - Beneath the Surface of his Charm

A/N - I really liked writing this chapter! I find myself enjoying writing from Astarion's POV quite a bit. I don't know if I said this, but you will see a mix of Astarion and Amaya's POV throughout the story :)) but hope you guys enjoy, the next chapter is going to be a touch of sickly sweet because I adore that lmaoooo. ALSO, should add, this Astarion is just a touch softer than in-game Act 1 Astarion. He will obviously be similar to his Act 1 self in many ways, but for the most part, with Amaya, he is softer to her overall lol. It's just how I've always seen Amaya and Astarion's dynamic <3 Don't worry, I plan on still having him be the little mean freak that we all love and know, but for the most part, I think and hope that I've shown him being a mean little freak quite well in previous chapters!

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! mentions of blood if that makes you uncomfy, but this chapter is rather tame! I think I mentioned only one durge-esque thing.

WC: About 2900

Previous Chapters: Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Story:

Honestly, the grove wasn't the worst place they could have ended up, but the longer Astarion remained watching Amaya's bleeding heart in action the more increasingly tiresome he felt. Every tiefling they encountered seemed more helpless than the last – it was a miracle they'd survived this long at all. He'd felt a glimmer of relief when she'd initially refused to help Zevlor, the tieflings supposed leader. They had far more problems amongst them than to get in the middle of grove politics. 

But he had to be on his best behavior, he bit his tongue and swallowed his groans of frustration, but gods how he wished he could beg their leader to just turn her tail away from these people and focus on anything like finding a healer before whatever was growing inside their heads turned them all into mindflayers. Still, he kept his peace, knowing Amaya could read his annoyance well enough without him voicing it, and she was growing increasingly frustrated with him for it. In his defense, whispering to knock out the human adventurer who had called her a 'foulblood' was more than reasonable. 

And now? To make matters worse or to at least make Astarion’s matters worse, the famous "Blade of Frontiers" had joined their merry band of misfits. Some monster hunter he was. To not only be infected with a tadpole but the man couldn’t even recognize a vampire standing before him. It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.

Though, what truly grated on his nerves was how this supposedly legendary ‘hero’ had fallen head over heels for their tiefling leader - mooning over her like some lovesick puppy. Almost everyone they’d encountered with seemed to gravitate and fawn over her….  He didn't quite understand why, but it irked him entirely.

But Astarion had his own plans. One simple plan, really, centered around their little tiefling leader herself. Amaya was surprisingly receptive to flirtation, and he intended to use that to his advantage; to flirt with her and to seduce her so she would never turn her back on him. She was quite the ally, after witnessing her raw power – the way she'd incinerated that bugbear with a mere touch of her sword, or how she'd destroyed an undead without so much as a gesture. And if Cazador ever came looking for him, he would definitely need her for protection. She was already melting under his attention; the way she'd leaned into his touch last night, how she'd blushed when he'd taken her hands... This might be his easiest mark yet. 

Yet something felt off. The lingering sensation whenever they touched – that burning tingle he'd never experienced before. When she'd healed him, he'd felt warmer than he had in two centuries, like being embraced by moonlight itself. It was... unsettling.

His thoughts scattered as Rolan's voice cut through the air. "I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!"

"He's got a point, you know," Astarion whispered to Amaya, earning a glare that could have frozen hellsfire.

"Just be responsible for yourself then. We have to stay; Rolan, they need us! Its the right thing to do." Lia, Rolan's sibling, shouted back not standing down.

Rolan threw up his hands in defeat. "Zurgan. Fine, we'll stay. It’ll make a good story I suppose but we're heading to Baldur's Gate as soon as possible!"

As Rolan’s siblings hurried off triumphantly, Amaya turned to the wizard tiefling, "Why such urgency to reach Baldur's Gate?"

"You're looking at the new apprentice of Lorroakan," Rolan announced proudly. "Yes, that Lorroakan."

"You say that like it should mean something to me. I haven’t a clue who that is."

"Lorrokan?" Gale jumped in, eyebrows raised. “From what I heard is that he is a bit of a cad back in Waterdeep but according to you he’s an accomplished wizard?

"Of course he is. As if I’d  settle for a lesser mentor. Few can match me - in either magic or talent," Rolan preened and puffed his chest out.

"Perhaps we should meet this wizard?" Gale suggested to Amaya. "Any wizard could be a valuable ally."

"We have more pressing matters, remember?" Amaya tapped at her temple pointedly.

"Well, you've already met a powerful wizard," Rolan said with a flourish. "In the years to come, you'll boast of this meeting – I can assure you. May we meet again in Baldur's Gate, my friend." He spun on his heels, following his siblings' path.

"You should have just let them go," Astarion muttered.

Amaya rolled her eyes at the elf, "They could help if the goblins attack."

"And how exactly is that our problem?" Astarion snapped. "As you so eloquently pointed out, we have our own issues. Finding a healer, perhaps?"

As the two squabbled Wyll and Shadowheart emerged from behind them.

"Bad news," Wyll announced. "Nettie, that healer I mentioned? She’s gone for a ten-day. And Halsin, the grove's leader who left with Aradin, hasn't returned. Though there is this older woman, Ethel, who said—"

"Who cares about this Halsin?" Lae'zel cut in. "We need to find this Zorru who is here in this very grove. Finding him and the nearest creche is our priority."

“Right,” Shadowheart drawled.  "So we find your creche, only to be slaughtered? Aren't we all your people's enemies? You included, with what grows inside you."

"There are protocols," Lae'zel insisted. "Like I said my people will help if I vouch for you."

"Enough," Amaya groaned, massaging her temples. "Lae'zel, we'll find Zorru soon enough. Wyll, please finish telling us about this Ethel before my headache gets any worse."

------

Sunset painted the camp in amber and gold, the air rich with the smell of Gale's cooking as he hunched over a bubbling pot, adding pinches of herbs and spices. From his perch outside his tent, Astarion pretended to read while watching Amaya flit from person to person like a restless butterfly discussing their next plans for the days ahead of them. 

They had finally found several promising leads that could potentially rid them of the damned worms.  Though Astarion hated to admit it, he would miss the little worm - it does let him have the advantage of walking freely in the sun.  Auntie Ethel claimed their "little friends" were dormant, though how the crone knew such things, Astarion hadn’t a clue. Their options were a mixed bag: the old woman's supposed cure at her teahouse, some goblin priestess they'd only learned about because Amaya had stopped a trigger-happy tiefling from killing it (though watching that would have been entertaining), finding this missing Halsin (and potentially dealing with hundreds of goblins), facing a creche of murderous githyanki, or simply waiting for someone named Nettie. Meeting the old woman at her teahouse seemed like the easiest option – no ten-day wait, no armies of goblins, and no homicidal githyanki.

A familiar laugh cut through his thoughts. Across the camp, Amaya was caught between Gale and Wyll, both men practically tripping over themselves to win her attention. Their flirtations had become embarrassingly even more obvious since arriving at the grove. Something hot and uncomfortable coiled in Astarion's chest at the sight. These strange feelings he’s been having had to be the tadpole's doing – the strange heart palpitations, the lurching in his stomach, the tingling sensation whenever he touched Amaya. There were no other explanations, though he had wondered why these feeling only occurred with the tiefling.

"You know, Astarion," Shadowheart's voice surprised him, "you could actually talk to her instead of brooding over here."

He snapped his book shut. "Me? Brooding? Darling, I couldn't care less about their little social hour. I'm perfectly content here with my reading." His lips curved into a practiced smile. "Unless you're proposing a more interesting diversion?"

"One, absolutely not. Two, I've never seen someone so pale turn quite so red while 'reading.’" 

Astarion rolled his eyes at the half-elf,"Sorry to disappoint, but your little observation hour of me while I read is over." He stood with exaggerated grace. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll take a walk." A snide giggle came from Shadowheart as he pushed past her, eliciting another eye roll from the vampire.

The evening summer air felt good against his skin - though he usually ran cold, today\s sun had been exceedingly hot. Funny how he’d forgotten that particular downside of daylight after spending two centuries in the shadows.

Astarion stalked through the forest,while irritation began prickling under his skin. Shadowheart's words echoed in his head: "brooding." He wasn't brooding. These were just more tadpole tricks, it just had to be. Surely the others felt it too, though they'd sooner face Lae'zel's blade than admit it.

Astarion shook his head as his thoughts turned to his plan for protection. Seducing and sleeping with one of his companions was the only way he could truly secure his safety - the sole method he knew or excelled at. Despite all of his well practiced lines, some of them weren’t too off on exactly how he felt towards the one companion he was actively seducing and using them on, Amaya. He was genuinely attracted to her; he found her irresistible, a pleasant change to his usual marks in the recent years. Toying and making her blush amused him, it was also pleasant to finally have someone share his peculiar sense of humor.

Astarion was almost certain Amaya was attracted to him, yet he could also sense her interest in Wyll. The idea of her affection for Wyll ignited something within Astarion again burning hot. He understood the appeal - Wyll was attractive, heroic, and charming, the very image of the man Astarion had dreamed of even marrying when he was younger.

In all honesty any of his fellow companions had a fair shot at the tiefling, she was quite alluring and seemed to make anyone melt before her, Lae’zel being the outlier. This seemed to be the only issue with his plan of seducing the leader. But if his pursuit of Amaya failed, Astarion had been considering seducing any of the others, their power could offer him just as much protection as their leader’s. His first pick would be Wyll, but if that didn't work out anyone else would do, though Gale would be his last option, for some reason, the wizard just irked him. But, in all honesty, he’d hope his plan worked on the tiefling as he’d rather keep Amaya all to himself than let the other’s have her.

Suddenly, a soft rustle in the nearby undergrowth caught Astarion's attention, and hunger stirred. Cautiously, he approached the bush with swift and soft movements, listening intently. As he drew closer, the rapid thump of a heartbeat guided him forward until a boar burst from the foliage, darting into the shadows. Astarion, however was much faster than the boar.

In one swift motion, his fangs found their mark with practiced ease savoring every swallow of the beast’s life essence like it was his last. The boar's blood wasn't exactly fine wine, but it beat the rats and bugs that Cazador would force him to feed on. Still, even as he drained the last drops, that gnawing emptiness remained. Would it be different, he wondered, with thinking prey? Cazador had never allowed it, but Cazador wasn't here now, was he? The tadpole might even shield him from his master's wrath. Something to consider, once he'd earned the others' trust. He then wiped any blood from his lips and then began to make the trek back to camp. 

When he returned to camp, he settled by his tent with his book, only to realize the others had turned in. All except Amaya. She sat cross-legged on the ground, with a prayer book to Selûne open in her lap. Candlelight danced across her features combined with moonlight shimmering in her dark curls that made his stomach feel a faint flutter as he looked at her.  His eyes then wandered and traced the mysterious markings on her skinn, it was in some language he didn't recognize. They then drifted to her new camp clothes – form-fitting leather pants and a green cropped top that highlighted a figure that was deceptively strong despite its delicate and soft appearance. The more he looked, the more beautiful she seemed.

She then caught him staring.

"Shit," he muttered, quickly dropping his gaze to his book. The words swam before his eyes, refusing to focus. "What in the hells is wrong with my eyes?"

"You feeling alright?" Her voice came much closer than expected.

He looked up to find her standing over him, concern written across her face. "Oh darling! Just lost in thought."

She settled beside him, those impossibly large eyes fixed on his face. "About what?"

“I was just thinking about the stars,” he lied smoothly “they are quite the sight. We never get to see them in such clarity back in Baldur’s Gate. It’s peaceful looking at them.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry Astarion, am I disturbing you? I’ll go and let you watch them-”

When she moved to leave, his hand shot out to catch hers. Her skin was warm, alive, sending familiar tingling sensations up his arm. "Wait! Don't go. I was… actually also reflecting about tomorrow, about all these possible cures. Will any of them work? Will this little adventure of ours end?" 

"It doesn't have to," she said softly. "We could still travel together."

"Good! I don’t want you to run off just yet. You're quite ally, after all. Traversing through Avernus. Surviving the crash. Surviving everything that’s followed... I'm not easily impressed by people , but you're stronger than I gave you credit for."

The summer breeze then swept her scent towards him - sweet and heady, like fresh-baked pastries from a popular bakery in the Wide. . But then a new aroma wafted in, a blend of metallic notes, dark chocolate, and cherries. It was the scent of her blood, for she had been anxiously picking at her cuticles raw once more. And Gods did she smell delicious.

"I'm just trying to survive, like you," she murmured, resting her chin on her knees as she gazed at the distant fire.

His eyes fixed on her throat, their was a steady pulse visible beneath her delicate skin, his hunger began to stir again. "Yes, we are more similar than I thought..."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He forced his attention to her necklace – an iridescent moonstone hanging from a gold chain, alongside what appeared to be a broken harp charm. "I was just admiring your necklace. I don't recall seeing it before."

"Oh, this?" She touched it absently. "Found it in my pack. Thought it might trigger some memories."

"Has it?"

Her expression fell. "Only the bad ones seem to come back."

"That's a pity."

"Astarion?" She hesitated. "Since the nautiloid... have you experienced anything strange? Besides the casual mental exchange, of course. Everyone else seems normal, but I'm getting these thoughts – dark ones. When I try to ignore them, I feel sick, my head pounds, and this wound..." She trailed off.

"Like when you threatened to boil Auntie Ethel alive? Which was quite entertaining, by the way."

Astarion began to remember how pale Amaya looked when they had encountered Ethel, in fact, she looked sickly pale and uncomfortable a few times: when they first met, when Gale was trapped in that stone and a few moments after she had drawn a dagger to his throat the previous morning. He’d began to wonder if she was getting these “bad thoughts” during those times, the poor thing.

"Similar. Sometimes worse." Fear flickered across her face. "It feels... wrong."

"It seems you've been dealt a difficult hand," he said carefully. "Perhaps fighting these urges isn't the answer. No one should deny their true nature."

"What if I don't want this to be my nature? "It scares me."

"Then direct it somewhere useful. Those goblins won't kill themselves, after all."

"Maybe you're right," she managed a weak smile and she squeezed his hand. “Oh! One second, I’ll be right back!”

Amaya rushed over to her rent rummaging through her tent, and returned with her hands full, placing a long bow and a pair of gloves in front of him.

“What’s this?”

“I got this bow from that tielfing blacksmith, Dammon - thought you might like it better than your current one. And these pair of gloves… I found on one of the goblin horde leaders we fought earlier today. They reminded me your armor you were wearing. I washed them thoroughly - that’s why they’re still damp. They’re magical too, I think, though I can’t tellyou what they do exactly, so please tell me if you end up figuring it out. 

Astarion stared at the gifts as the tiefling rambled on, momentarily speechless he couldn’t remember the last time someone thought of him like this. Warmth began to spread all over his body when picked up the gloves and slipped one one.

“Do you like them?” Amaya looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I do, they are wonderful, darling, thank you for thinking of me.”

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled shyly, Astarion taking notice of her freckled cheeks flushing pink.

"I should try to sleep. Goodnight, Astarion." She squeezed his hand one final time before setting off to her tent.

As he watched her go, his fingers tingling as if touched by the radiant beams moonlight itself. 

A/N - Zurgan” most likely means “goddamnit” or something similar in infernal from what is implied in BG3

[steddieunderdogfics]

(not your average) Seven Minutes by hitlikehammers

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

4,541 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Season/Series 02, That One Halloween Party; You Know—That ONE PARTY, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Steve Meets Eddie Immediately After Nancy Does Her Drunken Bullshit Thing, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, But Like: By Accident?, Truth or Dare, Eddie and Steve Get Locked In A Room in Various States of Vulnerability, Eddie Being Tipsy; Steve Being Newly-Dumped-As-Bullshit, Weirdly This Is Not The Worst Combination, (Like: AT ALL), Does It Count As A Heist If The Only Thing They Steal Is Each Other?, Of Course It Does: ‘Escape’ is a Boring Word, And While The Kiss Wasn’t Stolen Per Se It Was SOMETHING’D, First Kiss, Pre-Relationship, Fluff, Steve Is Definitely Not Oblivious To His Reactions Towards Men, He Might Not Be Ready To Call Them Out But He’s Definitely Not Opposed To Them

Summary:

Steve just wants to get the fuck out of this place, this party, this fucking…bullshit life he’s found himself in. He’s not at his best, under-fucking-standadably, so when the drunk-ass Halloween masses push and shove and giggle as they lock him in an upstairs bedroom for—oh god, Seven Minutes In Heaven, what are they, goddamn twelve—he’s going to fucking scream, he— “Not quite what you were expecting behind Door Number One?” Steve spins, a little jump in it when he looks for the source of the voice which sounds familiar and then also, not, because Steve thinks he should know a voice like that, because it’s a good voice, a really good voice, it’s not too deep but it’s smooth and it’s— It’s a good voice, basically. And when he finds its owner, shadowed by the curtains in the corner, well. The leather jacket would’ve given him away if the mess of frizzy curls weren’t kind of an automatic tell: Eddie the Freak. Half-hidden as he flips a clear antique of a lighter too fucking close to the gauzy drapes and it…it does something. To Steve. It does something to Steve.

This is a MOD rec as a part of our Fic Fridays.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[dramalove247]

I'm still in my feels over Top Form ep 6

a Kat 🐈 rambles post

We interrupt your regularly (un)scheduled sheKATigans to bring you some Kat-rambling feels on the night BEFORE we get episode 7.

Spoilers for episode 6 below the cut. Also, uh, you know, trigger warning for discussion of SA.

I’m STILL having a lot of feelings about Top Form Episode 6.  When not thinking about it actively it’s not as present as it was the first couple of days… but whenever I think about it everything comes flooding back.

I don’t remember details from the pilot/trailer about the series. I’m sure I watched it at some point, but other than knowing I wanted to watch it and it was about actors, I couldn’t tell you much about it.  I have also been intentional about not watching the episode teasers.  I got a slight spoiler by accident in a reaction video before watching episode 6, so I had some glimpses, but was not prepared for everything that happened.

I think it’s important to note that I think the screenplay and the acting were incredible this episode. My reaction is a testament to just how incredibly well done both those aspects are. I applaud so much about the cast, crew, and production of this series.

I kept watching the plot of episode 6 progress, all the while hoping that everything that appeared to be happening wasn’t. I hoped that I was assuming the worst and that things wouldn’t go that far. But they did. And it was so much worse even.

This wasn’t two intoxicated people past the point of decision making capabilities. This isn’t two people actively participating at different degrees of intoxication, compromised cognition, decision making, and dubious or questionable consent.

This was not a case of one person not intoxicated, with the other intoxicated to the point of unconsciousness. This was one person who, when presented with the opportunity, made the decision to RAPE another person, not impulsively, but with deliberation. From the moment he saw Akin was passed out, Johnny made the decision to rape him and put his plan into motion.  He went full speed ahead, doubling down, with no remorse or hesitation, and a whole lot of malicious glee. When Jin called, Johnny used that as an opportunity to taunt Jin, lighting the fuse on another bomb aimed at Akin, and delighted in what he was doing and planned to do to Akin.

I watched that scene and felt sick. Even taking a break didn’t help. Finishing the scene felt even worse than when I stopped in the first place. With complete respect I need to point out that this isn’t because I don’t like pain, discomfort, or drama in the series I watch.  This wasn’t because I need series to be light and fluffy.  No this is because the content is MASSIVELY TRIGGERING.  Statistically speaking if you cannot relate to Akin, then I guarantee you someone you know can- whether they have shared that with you or not.  This was a lot for me.  This was a lot for a significant number of us.  It doesn’t matter that this is a fictional.  Because the details may look different, but the pain and the shame and the dissociation and the need to keep moving and functioning because the world doesn’t stop even if you feel like you are shattering apart – yeah that’s so fucking real and relatable.  

I have a lot to say about this series, the director, how amazingly he ran his set, and about the cast. And I have even more to say about this episode.  But that will all be a post for another day.  It’s already taken me the better part of a week to say all this.  It’s late. I’m tired.  And this is some serious heavy lifting.

I’ve found myself standing in that parking garage with Akin all week, and I’m hopeful episode 7 brings some healing to him, and to those of us standing there with him.  I know I definitely need it.

[mogruith]

Since I know you feel pretty positively about it as a plot point, I wanted to ask. IIRC, given he romanced her, does the child thing ever come up with Coranzan and Minthara? Does he have any larger thoughts on it?

No pressure to answer, ofc. I just wanna see if it's something you've considered within their back and forth.

Hiya Red! Thank you so much for the ask!! 💖 Sorry it took me so long to get around to answering this, things got a bit busy/weird this week.

But oh boy. Have I considered it?? Only the most normal of amounts of consideration. It's TRULY a struggle for me to stay on topic in this reply, but I cut so much to be as concise as possible.

Thing is, I've actually been thinking about this since I "datamined" the SWD lines myself back last December, never expecting them to become canon. I've always seen it as an interesting topic, given how often she reflects on her mother and her upbringing. It always feels like she's on the brink of some realization about herself. I suspect that might've been the original intent of some of those lines.

Anyway, on to the actual question-answering under the cut.

Does it come up for Coranzan and Minthara? Yes. It absolutely does.

The worst part of this update's execution is she would definitely mention it at least towards the end. So I guess it's up to us to headcanon it!

I imagine it's revealed shortly after Orin's demise - relatively late in the campaign. This is also on the heels of the alurlssrin conversation; the first time they express long-term commitment to one another. If she wasn't sure that he was going to be there for the long term, why should she say anything prior to that?

After Orin's death, she's really shaken up and comparing herself to Orin in terms of generational trauma.

"[Orin] was cruel, maniacal, sadistic. You could have been sisters." Minthara: "Given what we learned of Orin's mother, that is painfully accurate. We were both born of trauma, both raised by parents who protected us with one hand and tormented us with the other."

To me, this is a crucial moment where the gears are turning - there's some self-awareness of the kind of life she's been born into and realizing that it could have been something else. This is a natural segue to considering her role with her own child - and that maybe she needs to adjust its direction from what she learned.

And I think she'd bring this up in a reflective manner - not really sure what she can or should do about it just yet. Just that maybe things should be Different.

Coranzan's Thoughts

You are a better judge on this than I, my friend, but I don't think it's odd for drow to just decide they want to have a child and they make it happen through whatever means available to them. Especially in the noble world. So, I don't think her revealing this to him would be particularly shocking by itself. Her choosing to reveal it after keeping it so closely guarded might be the only thing he's somewhat surprised by. But the circumstances or whose it is? Largely irrelevant unless something about it threatens them - which I'm sure she'd mention if that were the case.

She's Minthara's daughter. Finding a home for her and raising her is important to Minthara. End of. Coranzan needs no other details.

The fact that she tells him about her daughter at all demonstrates some level of inclusion into something that would not be his business under ... traditional? circumstances. Revealing this is exposing a deep vulnerability and a willingness to be transparent. Initially, he's not exactly sure what she expects of him, if anything, but he understands that this is a Big Deal to her and it's extremely important that she's including him.

In the longer term, assuming Coranzan gets the chance to be part of Minthara's daughter's life, I think he'd like to be as involved in her life as much as possible and I think Minthara would encourage it to some degree.

Not for any ideas like father figures or something weird (to drow) like that. But like I mentioned, I think she's realizing that things could be different from her "traumatic" experience. Coranzan's a good example of that difference. Especially after witnessing how incredibly different his relationship is with his sister, Z'ress. Their sibling relationship, with seemingly unshakable trust, is something entirely unimaginable to her with her own family. And for Coranzan and Z'ress it's not a weakness. It's a strength. Something that's been demonstrated over and over while she's been fighting alongside them.

There's... a million other things I can rant about when it comes to this topic. From Coran's parents and his past dealing with kids, more thoughts on Minthara's mindset regarding this, and some other data-mined stuff that has implications for this plot, but it's way too much for now. I will never finish this post if I get into that.

For now, I'm gonna throw a few tags here for folks who have expressed interest in their relationship but I keep getting intimidated out of writing about it (and then I go posting about the most controversial topic she's had in a while - go figure).

@nemo-of-house-hamartia @moriarfer @pavusprince - no interaction expected, just keeping those who have asked about them in the loop.

[jywllkr]

RIGHT.

I really hope this is a setup for something more. intentional.

cuz this whole time we've been seeing from the ninja's perspective and NONE from Jay. sure he explained the ground details about how he has literally 0% memories ever since he woke up,,, but he barely explained more about that further on

the only thing we got was this little sad pouts that he did a couple times which implies that he's completely sheltering himself by not overexplaining the details. WHICH IS A GOOD MOVE FOR HIM- to hide things from the people he doesn't even know who/pretend that they know him

I'm guessing the whole stake between their relationship (the ninja x jay) is definitely communication. every time jay explained a thing or two about himself, like you said, they just completely see the worst in him and never compliment on his ways of things

"but this is not the ninja way" "we told you your past life before the merge" "you are a ninja" AGRHHGH HE HAS AMNESIA LIL BRO, SHUUT UPPPP DSLKJDS

they gotta stop forcing jay into being one of them and start accepting who he is first, so he can open up more. lloyd even said that he trust jay earlier on, which turns out to be a lie the second jay does things differently

even that part when jay started to like hanging out with nya, and she straight up brought the ninja stuff again to him sighhh. that's just majorly suspicious if we're seeing from jay's pov 😭 fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me

jay current sass could be interpreted as how he was with laughter too I'm thinking. its either a masking or a coping mechanism for,,,he pushes people away first so nobody gets close enough to hurt him

or something like, "If you’re going to reject me, you’ll reject the mask—not the real me" yk. idk. aaaaaaaaaaa

one more thing ill say about s3p2: im a jay defender till i die. he is not in the wrong