#just an idea I couldnt shake

[daughter-lilith]

✧When Two Seas Collide✧

"Sometimes it is difficult to love you."

Halsin x Fem!OC | Part 1 of 2

Halsin's quote that spurred this idea! I find it interesting that no matter how much you toy with Halsin by teasing a break up, though he is reasonably upset, he never cuts the thread. This piece sort of drives from that. With that being said, I was going to make this a xReader fic but reader is a liiittle bit villainy in this, so I made them an OC instead, calling her Ro. Not a lot of detailed physical features other than fem biology and having hair long enough to…grip.

Mature

Explicit 18+ (part 2)

Word Count: 7.9k

CW: Conflicting feelings, love/hate, angst, manipulation, bad habits, mood swings, p in v sex, rough sex, vengeful sex?

One year this time. One year since she once again deserted their thriving community, The community she and Halsin shared a home in. One year since Halsin had awoken from their large divan, his outstretched arm resting on empty sheets, a space she had occupied only the night before. He had hoped maybe she was just getting a head start to the day. Perhaps she was in the garden; or out by the falls deep in the forest, maybe at the neighboring town shopping at the markets.

But as the hours went on, and the sun began its lazy descent behind the horizon, his hope for her presence waned. A full day passed, then another.

Halsin hoped to find her asleep in their shared bed, resting on his broad chest or snuggled into his side. But she was not there. She left without a word, once again.

⋆

The first time Ro disappeared, Halsin searched for her endlessly. Fear gripped him like a vice day and night as the massive druid stormed throughout the town questioning everyone if they had an idea of her whereabouts. When that failed, he turned to more primitive ways, concentrating on her scent as he shifted into his bear. But it was almost impossible to follow her path. Her scent was unsurprisingly stronger in their home, and it was clear she left through the front door, but from there it was chaos. Her aroma sailed through the air sporadically, flowing in no single direction which made it nearly impossible to track.

Some pockets of her scent were slightly stronger in some areas than others, leading Halsin’s bear to a wide clearing deep in the thick foliage. But frustration gnawed in the bear’s mind as her scent fizzled, drifting away until it was almost lost entirely. She had gone much farther away than he thought, to Halsin’s bafflement. It was strange of her not to say anything, to not leave a single message behind.

Halsin had noticed a change in her mood for several weeks; some days she’d shower him with floods of love and affection, his heart swelling with more love and devotion for her. But other days, no matter how bright the sun shined and how melodic the birds sang, it was like a storm cloud hovered when she was near… she was distant, colder, and practically seemed annoyed by his presence. This worried Halsin beyond measure, to feel that the one who held his heart so dearly was potentially slipping away.

Was he boring her? Was there another who captured her affections? He would never try and trap her, but he was still worthy of communication, was he not?

“Tell me,” Halsin muttered to Ro one night, his heart beating so fiercely in his chest, stomach twisted and tight. “Are you still happy with the life we tread together?”

She was facing away from him, her back snuggled close to his front as he embraced her. Not long before, she was calling out his name while her nails dug mercilessly into his back. With his face buried in her neck, he had crooned a deep and sincere “I love you, Ro” as he reached his peak, spending himself in her, lost in the clouds of lust and overwhelming love.

But for the first time, she did not say it back.

Even as her breathing started to level, and the pleasurable shivers in her body began to ease, those beautiful words never left her lips. She always said it back. She had said it so many times before.

Instead, she kissed him, a deep, passionate dance before she gently patted his chest to signal him to withdraw from her. With a sleepy smile, she turned over and lazily grabbed one of his arms to proceed into a cuddling position.

Halsin felt her body shift slightly, adjusting her cheek on his arm that she used as a pillow as he waited for a response.

“Hmm?” the sleepy sound drifted from her mouth.

He stared down at her bare shoulders, still glistening with fading sweat as they both came down from their high. She was so warm against him, her naked skin so smooth, slotting into his hold so wonderfully. Selûne’s moonlight filtered in through the large window, illuminating the lovers’ embrace.

But Halsin’s heart still thundered in anticipation of her answer. He knew Ro was still awake but drifting rather fast, and he didn’t think he could go another night without facing this question.

“With me?” Halsin whispered, his voice a bit more withdrawn. But his lips were so close to her ear, that unless sleep had fully claimed her, there was no doubt she couldn’t hear. “Are you happy with me, I mean?”

There was a light chuckle that gently vibrated against his chest. Halsin leaned over and noticed Ro smiling, her eyes blissfully closed. His arm was draped around her waist, holding her close. She reached up and tapped her fingers over the back of his hand, snuggling closer to him.

“Don’t be silly, Halsin,” she hummed through a sleepy voice. She lowered her head and brushed a soft kiss on his fingers before submitting into the lull of sleep.

Her lips felt warm on his skin, a sweet gesture. But her words did little to reassure him. Instead, Halsin huffed a quiet, nervous laugh, contemplating his concerns. Perhaps he was being silly to wonder such a thing. Of course she was happy, why else would she still be there with him?

Two years after defeating the Absolute, Ro was still by his side. She still laughed at his jokes and timely bear puns. She still lingered by his side for at least half of the day before their duties pulled them elsewhere. She still moaned and whimpered his name with ease, each and every time he carried her body to new pleasurable heights. And still, he was not fully satisfied by her response. He couldn’t dismiss the enduring flame of doubt that hovered over his heart.

But as the sound of her breathing slowed, he knew he would be getting no further word tonight. So he put it from his mind for that night, hoping their lives would just continue on as normal together.

And things were normal, they were happy… until she began to change. Distancing herself, speaking to him like she had a personal vendetta, only to apologize when Halsin would give her enough space for a time. She’d remind him of how much she loved him, that she was sorry she was hard on him sometimes, and that he was still her favorite druid.

Halsin, so madly in love with the one who saved his life, was all too eager to pull her into his arms again. He’d kiss her temple and tell her he understood that everyone goes through inner challenges. But he would not leave her side, so long as she didn’t want him to.

But then she disappeared.

And during that first time, Halsin, going mad with worry finally shed his bear form and turned to magic. He called on Gale to help him with a searching spell; all it required was something of hers, Halsin’s close connection to her, and her desire to not be hidden. If Ro had conjured any sort of magic that kept her location a secret, the spell Gale acquired would be useless.

But by the Oak Father’s grace, it was a success, and Halsin found her location over a hundred miles away, deep inland. When he arrived at the populated town, heart thundering at her well-being, he used his might to break down the doors that held her inside. Immediately, all eyes darted to the towering elf. Cheers waned, chatter seized, and instruments halted.

His focused eyes found her swiftly, locking on her as she was coming out of a dancing twirl. Eyes widening, Ro stumbled, nearly losing her balance as their eyes met.

Halsin ignored the stares- and after a few large strides, he closed the distance between him and Ro, taking her face in his hands. With the gentleness of a doting mother, he scanned her face and front of her body for any harm done.

But a faint cloud of irritation twisted her face. “Halsin, what the hells are you—"

“My heart, are you hurt?”

“No, Halsin.” Ro sighed, bringing her hands over his, trying to urge him to release her.

His brows were furrowed, hazel eyes nearly glowing, laced with concern as he examined her. Murmured voices and frustrated mumbles dispersed around the tavern, and a sharp breeze blew in from the scattered doors.

“Oi! Elf! You canna’ just charge in here like you own the place! And what about ma door? Who the hells’ gonna—

Halsin snapped his head towards the halfling with a flare of gold in his eyes as his teeth began to descend, sharpening. A low growl rumbled from the furthest pit of his throat.

The halfling raised his hands, stepping backward. “E-easy, big man.”

“We’ll take care of it, I promise,” Ro’s voice passed between them, an underlying frustration that she was trying to conceal with peace.

Halsin felt Ro’s soft touch caressing his cheeks, guiding him back to look at her. When their eyes met again, the glimmer in his eyes dimmed, and he relaxed his angered glare into a somber frown.

“Let’s go outside,” she said, already sliding her hands down his chest, giving a soft nudge. Then she swept her gaze over the curious crowd, smiling wide. “Carry on all! My big man here just had a few too many of these.” She made a drinking motion with her hand and the patrons bellowed into a burst of genuine laughter, cheering and whistling.

As Ro guided Halsin towards the now broken exit, the jaunty tunes resumed, filling the tavern with a pleasant atmosphere once again. Once outside, she led Halsin a short distance down the road, tucking into a nearby alley to get away from prying eyes.

“My heart, what are you—”

Ro threw her hand up. “Halsin, what the hells was that? Why did you storm in there like you were on some path of vengeance?”

Halsin glanced away for a moment, a faint shadow of shame lingering in the back of his mind. “I thought something happened to you, I thought you were in danger.”

Ro pressed her lips together, bringing her hands to her head like she was suffering a headache. When she opened her eyes, she breathed lightly. “Well as you can see, I’m very much okay.”

Halsin looked down at her, scanning her face, her body. He closed his eyes and raised his hand, calling forth his magic. A warmth spread across his chest, down his arm, as a golden light hovered over Ro. Halsin searched for any sort of off feeling, any affliction that could be hurting the one he loved. When he sensed nothing amiss, he withdrew his call on the Weave and opened his eyes to find Ro's arms crossed, looking impatient.

“You must’ve risen before the sun,” he said, soft. “It is unlike you to stir before me. You gave no warning of your departure, you left no note. Can you fault me for worrying?” His brows pulled together, his tone almost dejected.

Ro regarded him closely, the frustration in her brows melting away the longer she took in the druid. She released a quiet sigh, lowering her arms. “Look, I was just taking a brief trip. I wasn’t aware I had to inform you of my every move. You never asked me to dedicate myself to you, remember?”

Halsin felt a sting in his heart, and his shoulders slumped. “Of course. You have always been free to roam. I just thought that we…” he exhaled a deep breath, considering, “I just thought we were still on the same path together. That we… only desired one another.”

“We are on that path, Halsin. I just took a little time for some fresh surroundings, and I doubted you would’ve wanted to join anyway.”

He couldn’t help the rise of offense at her words. “You presumed without inquiring me first?”

Ro crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Oh, like you once presumed that I wouldn’t want to join you after we saved Baldur’s Gate? You had secured an entire plan without consulting with me.”

Halsin sighed, leaning back on his feet as he mulled over the truth of her words. After they began their new life together, she later expressed a sense of hurt that she wasn’t considered when planning the next steps after saving the city. It troubled her that he never asked her to go with him, rather, she had to propose the idea herself. This pained Halsin to learn how that bothered her, to learn it was his own ill actions that made her feel unwanted. But at the time, he was more afraid of her rejection than he was to leave on cordial terms.

“I understand,” Halsin said, resigned. “Perhaps we have both made errors.”

She hummed, pondering. “Perhaps… But you don’t need to come running for me, I can take care of myself, Halsin.”

Halsin nodded, the sweet lines on his face deepening as he gradually frowned. “I have no doubt. I just simply wish to know of your well-being.”

Ro half smiled, reaching to trace over the seams on his vest. “Hmm, my big softy,” she hummed, teasing. “But I love that about you. And I love our home. I was going to come back, you know.”

Halsin emitted a soft exhale, already warming at the comfort of her words. He searched her gaze, noting the prior frustration all but gone as her expression melted into a tender smile while she slowly stepped towards him. She snaked her hand up his chest, roaming over his pecs, causing a flurry of tingles in the wake of her touch.

His heart quickened as she lessened the distance between them, gazing up at him with eyes of such innocence as her other hand came to roam over his abdomen. “I’m sorry for not saying anything, I’ll be better at communicating… Won’t you forgive me?” she whispered, pouting with a slight tilt in her head.

Halsin felt his heart thundering, ignited by her touch. The innocent spark in her eyes only further fueled the tenderness he felt for her. How could he stay mad? She was safe and she had no plans of permanently leaving him.

“I already have.” He didn’t wait another moment before dipping down to capture those tantalizing lips.

Using his mass, he pushed her back against the building’s wall with ease, quick to throw his hand up to stop her from hitting her head. Ro brought her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as his other arm curled snuggly around her waist. He leaned his whole body into her, securing her under his warmth. She moaned lightly, the sweet sound stoking a fire deep in his gut. Her nails found his hair, grasping and clawing at his scalp. He groaned, a deep noise rising from his throat.

In between their rising passion, Ro’s lips momentarily left him, their breaths quick and heavy. “Now that you’re here,” she gasped between kisses, “you may as well stay with me a while, before heading home.”

Halsin held her tighter, having no plans to return home without her by his side. “Of course, my heart.”

⋆

Eventually, the pair had returned to what once was Reithwin, continuing with their lives for several months, even through Ro’s occasional slips in mood. They were persevering.

But then she left again. Not a word. That time, however, Halsin resisted searching for her, trusting that she needed the time. But it still wounded his heart that she could so easily abandon him without notice. That her word on improving her communication was not honored by her. But after almost a tenday, when Halsin’s patience had expired, he had set out to find her only to halt once he noticed a weary, but happy-looking elf strolling across the bridge into their town.

He was both relieved and notably upset. But again, she apologized. And like clockwork, he embraced her once again, accepting her back into his home, into their home.

Then Ro left again, for a few months this time. But she had enough care to send a few messages to assure Halsin she was alright and just visiting some of their old friends. When she finally returned, she did not greet him right away, rather she went straight to their home to crawl into their soft bed. She was too exhausted to chat, assuring Halsin they’d catch up in the morning.

Their relationship was a series of unpredictable waves from then on; at times the waters were calm and ever-flowing – other times, they were chaotic, thrashing and unstable, crashing over rocky surfaces.

It baffled Halsin, how the woman he loved so dearly could sometimes be so different from the warmth that he’d grown accustomed to. She could be harsh, cold even, to speak to him in ways as if he mattered little. And it wasn’t always Halsin, even some members of the community were on the receiving end of her moody ire. But Halsin seemed to take the brunt of it.

So one day, after spending several hours meditating and preparing his nerve, heart battering, he told Ro that this was the end. He could no longer be her partner. He had suspected Ro to be angry, furious, unleashing the darker parts of her. Instead, she was full of sorrow, breaking down before him in a puddle of self-pity and guilt. He had watched the tears flow so effortlessly, the tremble in her voice as she pleaded and apologized, swearing she would do better. Halsin found himself on his knees beside her, pulling her into him as he once again accepted her admission of faults and her consistent ‘I’m sorrys’.

His mind shouted at him to not fall for the trap, that her words though slick and smooth, satisfying to the ears, were birthed from a hidden poison. But when he looked into Ro’s eyes, he saw the woman he so easily fell for long ago. The woman he laughed with, opened up to – who despite her smaller frame, made him feel safer than the strongest armor.

Peace embraced them for a while, each day they drifted further from their darkest moments. Then one day she was yelling. He was yelling, something he scarcely ever did, especially towards her. Halsin slept deep in the forest that night, and when he returned to their home the next morning, Ro was gone.

And so one year since she left. One year Halsin had spent swaying between grieving their bitter parting, and accepting that it was for the best.

⋆

Now, Halsin found himself sauntering through the woods, each step mighty and precise as his large paws moved over familiar ground. After a long day of tending to any community concerns, with the aid of the other adults, and patrolling the massive perimeter of their town, he was heading back home.

The moon was bright tonight, lighting the path as the large bear made his way through the lively woods. Golden light flickered along his path as small fireflies danced around the bear, as though they were assisting him on his way home. He started to see a glimmer of light in the distance, a golden glow emitting from a window. He was almost home as the large cabin became clearer the more the thicket of trees lessened.

Halsin emerged from the tree line, stepping into a wide yard that housed a massive, two-story cabin at the center. He had preferred something smaller and modest, but Ro insisted on the space for more creative freedom. But it was still charming, and it helped that the ceilings were more than high enough for his comfort.

He ambled through the garden, his massive shoulders heavy and tired. Sometimes, he still half-expected to see a shadow moving about the house, or to find her lying beneath the stars, waiting for him. He knew it was likely better this way, that nature was insisting their time together was at an end, their paths diverging. Still, it didn’t stop Halsin from subconsciously watching the horizon near the main entry to the town, wondering if a familiar face would emerge from the hill.

Eventually, Halsin accepted he was better off. His heart would be better appreciated elsewhere when nature afforded him the chance once more. Until then, he had grown accustomed to nights spent alone, her scent long faded from their bed. He even took all that was left from her wardrobe and relocated it to a private, locked-away storage. He had plans to sell her things but had not found the time nor courage to do so just yet. But that was a matter for another time. Right now his muscles were tired and he—

A bright flash of light and a torrent of wind suddenly materialized right before him, effectively cutting him off the rest of his path to the cabin. He growled, lifting his weight back on two feet as he roared at the violet mass of crackling energy that reached several feet from the ground. He bounced down on all fours, glaring at the near-blinding spherical portal, claws extending as a shadow rushed forth from the white center. He sneered as a person fell through, perfectly rolling over into a crouched position. The bear’s growl seized, and his heart hammered behind his large ribcage.

The person tossed their head back, meeting his eyes, and grinned, huffing out a winded breath. “Is that you, love?” Ro’s familiar voice rang through his ears as she raked her eyes over Halsin’s bear.

Halsin was stunned, and he could feel his mouth hanging open, unable to will it closed. Ro was about to rise to her feet but a vicious screech echoed from beyond the portal. Almost immediately, a large shape came bursting forth and Ro spun with uncanny speed, throwing her hands up just as a massive, lanky arm and webbed claw came crashing down towards her. It collided with a translucent bubble that shuddered on impact, shielding Ro entirely from the crucial blow.

The magical shield fizzled, and the towering, screeching monstrosity reeled back for another lash, its glowing green eyes burning into Ro. But the bear was faster, slamming into the creature’s side and ruthlessly slashing his massive claws into its damp skin. A burning rage boiled in Halsin’s blood, his roars loud and ferocious, teeth dripping with saliva for a taste of its blood.

How dare this monster invade his home? How dare it attack her. And right in front of him! A loud wail echoed from the creature's wide mouth, stumbled and surprised by the bear’s assault. Halsin ripped and slashed at its sides without mercy. The creature made a loud, wailing screech at Halsin’s face, blowing the most rancid, bone-chilling air over his eyes. Halsin matched its fury with a bellowing roar of his own, so loud it silenced the surrounding forest, all wildlife seeking safety.

A flickering blue light flashed by his left vision, and Ro shouted a quick incantation. The palm of her hands, brimming with lightning, slammed against the creature’s shoulders, and it shrieked in agony as her fingers dug into its flesh, forcing the electric sparks to grasp its body, empowered by its damp skin. Halsin took this paralytic moment to curve his paw and slash it deep and swiftly across the creature’s throat. Dark, green blood spluttered from its long neck, and it croaked a few chittering sounds before slumping lifelessly to the ground.

Ro’s voice touched his ears again. “Can you do the honors?” Her arms were slightly raised and she nodded towards the portal that the creature had fallen directly in front of.

Understanding, Halsin used his strong paws, each muscle flexing beneath thick fur, and heaved the creature through the glimmering portal. She clamped her hands together and the portal swallowed into itself, vanishing.

Panting heavily, Halsin stepped back to analyze her, his heart still thundering.

“Well then,” Ro exhaled, brushing off her pants, “pardon the blood and viscera.” She grinned, winking at Halsin, a grin that quickly merged into a lighthearted chortle. “Remember that?”

I do. The bear puffed out a breath through his nostrils, some version of agreement and a quick laugh. But he quickly repressed any rising banter.

“Speaking of blood,” Ro hissed, pressing a hand against the side of her rib where three slashes tore into light armor. “Care to lend a hand?”

Halsin immediately called unto his elven form, dismissing the bear as a golden light burst over him. “Can you walk?” he inquired, already at her side but not wanting to cause more pain by lifting her.

She nodded, clutching her side. But he looped his hand around her waist anyway, careful to avoid the wound. Donned in a tight, sleeveless vest, it was easier to feel the heat from her touch, the familiarity of her body flooding back into him. With his other hand, he grabbed what he believed to be her bag that had been tossed on the grass. With the cabin being mere feet away, they were inside in little time.

Halsin led her to the nearest seat, kneeling at her side, and took a deep breath. Drawing from his essence, a warmth spread throughout his chest as ethereal, blue light emanated from his hands as he pressed lightly over her ribs. She flinched, only for a moment, before sighing in relief.

“It’s stable,” Halsin said, eyeing her armor. “But you’ll need to—

“I know.” She unclasped the buckles around her waist and reached for the bottom of the leather armor. It moved slowly over her skin due to the creature’s dampness and her blood.

Halsin clenched his teeth, trying to will his heart to slow as she revealed inch by inch of skin. Once the top was up and over her head, leaving her in her bralette, she tossed it aside and Halsin reverted his attention to her ribs. The three gashes were closed but still looked tender and parched, like they had burned her. Without the armor in the way, Halsin could more easily work his magic over her skin, healing her entirely.

“Thank you, Halsin.”

The sound of his name falling from her lips, and her satisfied sigh sparked something inside Halsin. A flicker of an ember before the flame died back down. A feeling he ignored, mentally shaking it away.

When her skin was smooth and blemish-free, he withdrew his light and took a deep breath. He could feel her warmth in this proximity, could feel her staring at him though he averted his gaze, unsure where to look now that her healing was complete.

“Thanks for your help out there, you were marvelous,” she said, her familiar voice bouncing off the walls.

Halsin spared a glance. “I only did what anyone else would.”

“Maybe. But no one else would have done it like you. No one else is as amazing as you are.” She grinned, shifting her leg towards his knee.

But he rose from his kneeling position and took the neighboring seat. “What happened, Ro? That creature looked to be from the high seas, why was it after you?”

She released a long sigh, then leaned back into the seat, emphasizing her chest. Halsin gritted his teeth, willing himself to only hold her eyes.

“Right, well… I was conversing with a few pirates one day and they told me of the rarest, valuable treasures from the deepest underwater cities, lost to those civilizations.” Her eyes were wide with fascination, the excitement in her voice palpable. “Sometimes those treasures make their way to the surface if they aren’t hoarded by those monstrosities first because of their shiny glint.”

She rolled her eyes like she was discussing a minor pet peeve. The more she spoke, the more Halsin did his damndest to steel his emotions, his thoughts, and focus more on her explanation and less on the lips it spilled from.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I learned about that one’s lair where such wonders would be stored. Unfortunately, my stealth skills are not as polished as Astarion’s. I was made, it was angry, and rather than fight it solo head-on, I gave it a few bumps and fled. Had just the right scroll to open the portal and well, you know the rest.”

Halsin pressed his lips together, frowning. “So you risked your life for the chance of treasures at sea?”

“Not just treasures, but this…” She reached deep into her bag and pulled out a velvety black pouch.

Halsin watched her closely, noticing her fingers excitedly dipping inside the small bag. When her hand drew back, she revealed a deep blue, shimmering conch shell the size of his hand. Golden light emanated from inside the shell, as radiant as the Blood of Lathander. The outer layer looked almost metallic, but he could see the rough patterns from the shell. And though he wasn’t holding it, he could feel its energy, warm and powerful, something to bring the greatest comforts in the darkest waters.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Halsin found himself almost mesmerized by the intricate gem of the sea. And in her hands, the radiant light illuminated beautifully below her face. “It is beautiful, indeed,” he near-whispered.

“Yes. I haven’t learned much of it yet, as there’s little we know about the underwater worlds, but I think you’d discover more than me.” She extended it towards him, smiling. “It’s yours.”

Halsin eyed the glowing treasure he knew was laced with so much history. History of a world he knew less about as a being of the land. Magic lived in that shell, magic pulled from the Weave beneath the sand. But he knew what taking this gift might entail.

He looked at Ro, her eyes patient and waiting, smile never wavering. His heart staggered, she was beautiful. Still so beautiful. Halsin often led with heart, but he made a vow to himself to lead with his mind more often. His heart quivered at these thoughts, uncertain, but his mind was strong.

“Thank you, Ro. But I cannot accept this.” His voice nearly wavered, brows crinkling.

She half-laughed, nudging towards him. “Of course you can, love. And since when you do say my name this much?”

He sighed, cupping his much larger hand over hers and gently pushing it back towards her chest. “It is yours. I fear if I accept it, it might muddle our…situation.”

This time an exasperated breath left her lips but she quickly overpowered it with another sweet smile. “I’m not confused about anything. But you deserve nice things.” She tried to extend it back towards him, but his voice came out stern, halting her.

“One year,” he said, feeling his blood heating, his mind clearing. “One year since our most sour exchange, and you return intending to purchase me back?” He was half-sneering now, heart thundering, feeling the rising wave of a thousand words left unsaid. A thousand wounds left unhealed.

“Purchase? Gods, Halsin, sometimes when people are gone for a bit they return with gifts. Is this not a normal thing to do?”

“You left before we could officially settle things. So I had to take the step for us both. One year without your presence, without any word.” His lips began to quiver as he clenched his fists, feeling the grimace on his face.

Ro set the shell down and threw her hands up, simultaneously standing. “Ah yes, because one year is so dreadfully long for those of our lifespan. Hells, even for humans there’s nothing maddening about it.”

Halsin closed his eyes, sensing the boiling tension. His heart was beating so loudly in his ear, and he knew this night was heading down a path he all but wished to avoid. So he breathed, deep and sure, then opened his eyes to find Ro with her arms crossed, shaking her head. Halsin rose to his feet, towering over her before he strode towards the other end of the room.

“We are both weary,” his deep voice carried across the room as he faced away from her. “Let us seize this now before crossing harmful territory. You can take my bed for tonight, I will sleep down here or out in the garden.”

“For tonight? So it isn’t our bed anymore?”

He heard her soft footsteps moving towards him, but he threw his hand up to halt her. “Rest well, Ro.” He decided outside would be better, so he hurriedly retreated out the same door they came in, thanking Silvanus that she did not follow.

⋆

Rest did not come easy that night. Halsin’s mind raced, a million thoughts and images blinking in and out all at once. He was sitting on the soft bed of grass, resting on his knees and the length of his bottom legs. He desperately needed to meditate, to fall into a calmer trance and seek a brief reprieve from the havoc of emotions stirring his heart.

Inside, Ro must’ve been sleeping. She never came outside, and he never heard any main doors opening and shutting, she was still in there. And her scent, Halsin breathed deeply, remembering it fondly. When she had first arrived, beneath the musk of the sea and blood, her tantalizing spice lingered, calming and inviting.

And it would be all over his bed, his sheets, his room. It was their room once. The same scent he spent so long trying to forget, purge his home of. Try as he might, the druid’s arms flexed and bulged as his fists clenched, his mouth grimacing. Exhaustion tugged at him, the soreness from the day now doubled from the sudden battle with that monstrosity. There would be no trance tonight, but perhaps sleep would come easier. With a focused thought, Halsin shifted into his bear and nuzzled over the grass, curling into himself.

But it was worse. His senses heightened in this form, her scent suddenly so much stronger, wafting out of the cracked window from the bedroom. The bear stirred, a flash of heat searing across its bulky form. He wanted more of that sweet, alluring aroma, remembering it fondly. Halsin’s claws dug into the earth. No. He caged the bear’s desires, no matter how much it wanted to charge into the house and take back what was his. The bear cared little for petty differences; it only sought the deepest, primal bond. But Halsin was not just his bear.

He could sense her air of peace upstairs, could practically feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. She must’ve been deep in the world of dreams. He sneered at that thought, cut with resentment that she was blessed with the lull of sleep while he suffered for hours. So Halsin rose on all fours and turned away from the cabin, his massive paws prodding deeper and deeper into the forest. If he were to have any chance at getting even a sliver of rest tonight, he needed to get far enough away where he couldn’t hear nor smell her.

The next day, Halsin felt like he was swimming on the edge of a distant dream, stuck between plunging back into reality. He managed to get just a couple of hours before the sun illuminated the land once again, awakening the forest along with its light. He tried to sleep a little longer, to hold on to the warmth of his fur, but once he was pulled from the dream, it was fruitless. Halsin had trudged his way back home, the muscles in his shoulders and back still aching but bearable.

When he reached the edge of the trees that opened into his large yard, he paused as Ro’s familiar scent lingered in the air. There was a sudden realization that last night was not some wild dream. She had truly returned, and she had looked just as beautiful as the last he saw of her. Though she was upset, and he was upset, she was still a vision, eyes that he had so easily lost himself in over and over again. Then a knot formed in his belly, a flash of fear further increasing his heart.

What if she had left again? What if she took off into the night and abandoned him once more? It would be for the best. Their union was no more, and it would be for the better of them both if she did leave.

His fear thickened, clawing into his chest. But did he want her to leave?

Movement from the upper floor caught his attention, and the knot in his stomach unraveled, bursting with a surge of relief. There she stood, sweeping her gaze far into the distance, the sun glimmering down on her face. Halsin stood firm, caught in a mix of emotions – to turn back and flee into the forest, or to go back inside and saunter behind her as she stood waiting for him, yearning for him… He’d run his large hands over the front of her body, twitching at the sound of her gasp as he pulled her into him. He’d groan as he’d feel her strategically rubbing herself against his stiffening—

Ro locked eyes with him, severing his thoughts. He felt frozen, unable to decipher the kind of expression he wore as he held her stare from the edge of the tree line. He half-expected her to frown, to sneer and march away from the window, but instead, her lips curved into a warm smile.

His heart fluttered at the sight; a smile as bright as the sun itself. She lifted her hand, a small wave. Halsin’s fingers twitched, an uncertainty in returning the gesture. Instead, he swallowed and turned slowly, returning to the sanctuary of the woods. He could imagine the developing frown on her lovely face as he walked away from the cabin, away from her, a rejection. Good.

He would not fall for her honey-sweet facades once again, no matter what his primal instincts desired. No matter what his heart ached for. But he could not so easily suppress such thoughts while in her presence, he needed to be far away from her. So he trekked into the forest, towards a fresh body of water where he’d bathe for the morning.

Halsin spent the entirety of the day avoiding Ro like she was the embodiment of the shadow curse itself. He was constantly torn between facing her once and for all, reaffirming his boundaries, or staying in the comfort he made from the distant space. Whenever he’d sense her coming, smelling her first, he was eager to march in the opposite direction before she could get too close. He knew a part of him was acting far beneath his age, but it was the best course of action for the moment. She had returned so suddenly, without warning, and he needed time to figure things out again.

Eventually, it seemed that Ro had finally picked up on his desire to steer clear of her. She stopped trailing his route through the town and stopped trying to grab his attention from a distance. There was a moment during the day when he spotted her outside, chatting with a few merchants in front of their stand. They seemed to be engaged in friendly banter, many shared laughs here and there before she traded some coins for a variety of fresh fruits. His heart throbbed as he watched her, the smile on her face, so pure and delight. He wanted to be the cause of pulling such expressions from her.

There was an underlying air of guilt hovering in the back of his mind. Had he been too short with her yesterday? Perhaps he overstepped and should’ve given her more of a chance. She had been so kind to retrieve such a gift for him, more than kind, she had risked her very life for it. And he rejected it. He rejected her.

Halsin gripped the hilt of his whittling knife, anger and shame coursing through him. In his left hand, partially carved wood waited to be transformed, but in his right, he was still gripping the knife tighter than necessary.

The day would soon be ending in just a couple of hours, though daylight still clung to the skies. Halsin glanced up at the clouds in the distant east as thick, dark shadows loomed, floating closer. A storm was coming, less than half an hour away. He was sitting outside, just out back of Last Light Inn, finding a moment of rest among familiar spaces. Inside, overlapping voices of laughter and the sounds of glasses clashing bounced against the walls. Normally he’d join, but he couldn’t be sure Ro wouldn’t saunter in at any moment.

Maybe he should have given Ro a chance. Maybe they would’ve settled into an amicable connection. Maybe it needn’t be so sour between them…

Halsin huffed to himself, furrowing his brows as he proceeded to carve away at the wood. He did the right thing. There was no cordiality when it came to Ro, not for long anyway. With careful concentration, Halsin proceeded with his project, putting her from his mind. But fate seemed to have other plans.

The wind wafted in his direction, heavier from the impending storms and his heart lurched. With it came her scent, and his eyes darted toward the direction it flowed from. He froze, watching Ro some distance away as she sauntered down a dirt path. But she wasn’t heading towards him, she wasn’t even looking at him, her attention aimed at the forest. A long, deep violet cloak trailed behind her back, brushing against the ground.

He watched her intently, drawn to her graceful saunter, the way her hair gently bounced as she moved. Her steps were unhurried but still treading with purpose. Did she know he was there? She would have glanced this way by now, right? And where was she off to? The cabin was on the other side of the town.

“Your stare lingers like she will vanish in a moment’s notice.” A voice stirred him from his thoughts, his muscles briefly tensing. He huffed a breath, calming at the familiar presence of the High Harper.

“Given her track record, it would not surprise me.” Halsin only spared Jaheira a fleeting glance before returning to watch Ro, who was getting closer to the thicket of trees. “The night will be upon us soon.”

“Ah yes, the queen of fleeing.” Jaheira made herself comfortable in the empty chair beside him, resting her daggers on the small, wooden table. “But fear not, old druid, I see no bags in her hands and no boots on her feet. And she knows these woods just as well as you and I.”

Halsin narrowed his brow. “Old?”

“Ha! That is all you grasped from that?” She snickered, playfully slapping her knee. “Forgive me, but around you, I get to be the young one again.”

Halsin gave her a knowing smirk, signaling it was only a tease. When the moment of laughter faded, he watched Ro disappear beyond the trees, the brush swallowing her entirely.

“What are you making?” Jaheira asked.

“Oh, just another ornament for the children to choose from.” He observed his new project, suddenly finding himself losing the desire to focus on it. A heavy sigh dragged from his lips as he glanced up at the clouds again, feeling the change in the atmosphere, the tease of humidity.

“She should not be in this weather,” he said, frowning in concern.

Jaheria waved her hand in dismissal. “Bah, a little rain has never hurt anyone. But even if it did, would that be such a bad thing?”

Halsin glared at her, hands clenching.

“I see,” Jaheira breathed, raising her hands in surrender. “Too soon for such jests.”

Halsin rumbled a low sound in dismissal, glancing back at the last spot he watched Ro disappear. Though he did not like to hear it, he understood why the Harper would say such a thing. And as though she was reading his thoughts, she leaned in closer, her voice softening with the care a mother would have for a child.

“Listen, Halsin… it is no secret that things have been rather… turbulent with you and Ro for some time,” she paused, seemingly to gauge his reaction before continuing. When Halsin gave her no indication of arguing, she proceeded. “You and Ro are like opposing seas that meet at the center of the world; one with more salt than the other, warm and cold, two climates struggling to find balance. Sometimes it works, but sometimes the saltier sea gets bitter, sour, and rages without notice. I think the calmer sea should seek to thrive in its own waters. It deserves better but… well, I am no god of the seas so I cannot control them.”

Halsin remained still, taking a moment to let her words flow into him. His brain reached for her analogy, finding solace and recognition in the image. His mind understood the meaning well enough, better yet, it agreed. But his heart lapsed, turning away from the would-be truth. It cared little if there were any differences, those seas still had plenty of calm, peace, and passion between the temporary slips of conflict.

A thoughtful sigh left the Harper’s lips, and she rose to her feet. “Or perhaps the warmer sea takes pleasure in the cold the other brings, who am I to say?”

Jaheira picked up her daggers, sheathing them into their hilts along her waist. “This is the last night I’ll see you for a time. I leave for Baldur’s Gate in the morning, but I shall return.”

Halsin looked up at the graceful half-elf, regal and confident in her stance. He brought one arm across his chest. “Then may the Oak Father guide your journey.”

She nodded, a meek smile before placing her hand on his thick shoulder. “You deserve more, Halsin. But I am with you in whatever choice you make.” With a gentle squeeze, she didn’t linger long enough for the Archdruid to respond before walking around him towards the back entrance of Last Light.

For several minutes, Halsin’s mind wandered, his eyes still absentmindedly fixated on the same spot in the tree line. One year, he reminded himself. And every other time before that.

A light nick from his knife snapped him out of his thoughts. It was not enough to cut his skin, but upon observing the wooden piece, he realized he had whittled the would-be ornament into an indecipherable shape, far past the point he could save. Sighing, he set his tools down and rose on his boots, tall and sure. Eyeing where he saw Ro last, he began striding across the ground, his heart increasing with each step despite his mind telling him to turn around, to leave her be.

I just need to ensure she’s safe, he told himself, but even he was unconvinced of the reason being his sole objective. Still, he breached the tree line and vanished into the woods in pursuit of her.

Part 2!

[muttknot]

sisters chilling in a hot tub! five inches apart because they’re not- mmm nnhh please sis fuck ooh ngh~ fuck you’re so tight~ i love you~

[sidesteppostinghours]

ok. question.

ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?

[revehae]

we need to kill everyone at sm entertainment

[perenlop]

this is gonna sound so backhanded but after 3 letdowns in a row from pokemon (followed by a game which isnt terrible but i dislike because of how much it fucked up the plot of sm), then a game that i genuinely really love and want more in the style of and largely because of how it deviates from the main series, im genuinely so shocked that i love scarlet and violet as much as i do. like when i was going through that tutorial i was just cautious and waiting for the other show to drop and be bored at best, but like, graphic glitches aside, it never came. it stayed really fun and charming

[elegyofthemoon]

ok but do i want to actually sit and read through all the clockie animation stuff so i have better foundation for what i want to say? i guess

[accultant]

i don't want to talk to you. in fact, i don't want to talk to anyone. ( from @skaliikas )

"How convenient," Iago bites back, clipped. "I'm not feeling particularly chatty myself. Let's just brood here for all of eternity then, hm?"

The two of them - quite childishly - are stationed on either side of the chamber they've been trapped inside of. Some dusty old mausoleum that is - that was home to a relic. A family heirloom. A brilliant amulet hung on the wall. Rumors had been spreading about its dangerous curse - and its value. Iago had hoped to reach it before anyone else got around to scavenging. It seems Myk had a similar idea. It isn't the first time Iago has run into this one. They've been by his shop, even, to take a quick look around ( to spy ). In their hopes to reach the trinket before he could, they foolishly didn't think to check for traps ( rookie mistake! ) and when they both made a grab for it, a solid stone wall shut the two of them inside.

"Yes, let's mope. That'll fix this. Oh! Maybe if I pout extra hard, the door will take pity on us," they grumble, their discomfort in enclosed spaces doing little to help their cattiness. "What do you think? Oh! Right. We're brooding, sorry, I almost forgot."

[ddruxyart]

I get that theres a lot fun to be had, when designing dol characters, to really lean into the differences of a masc vs fem version.

But I generally prefer creating character designs that really cater to/capture the feel and personality of a character. So there wont be that many drastic differences between my versions, regardless of sex or gender

[transthatfag]

they set up the non negotiables right? and I thought. ok over the course of the season the chefs will evolve the non negotiables and in turn they'll learn what does and doesn't work and the environment would be more productive and positive and would be a reflection of carmys improvement or at least the start of it. oh man. I was... wrong.......... ._.

[pardonmydelays]

thinking about 15yo little me going back home from school and watching speak now tour movie at least once a week

[yiangchen]

why is it so fucking hard to get over the people that have hurt you the most??? how can you know how terrible they are for you and still want them???

[hardrockshrimp]

I am holding up. Well.

[seiwas]

omg i maxed the tags 😭

WHEN HE SAYS. sayin it is the hard but ive spent forever lovin ya—always been the easiest bit ☹️☹️☹️☹️ IM SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SAD BUT IN THE BEST WAY RN

&&&& when he asks u so directly too. when you say u love him but it��s not enough so he asks if ure IN love with him oh my guckdisn im such a sucker for that

AND HE ASKS PERMISSION TO TOUCH YA TOONAKANZJS OHHHH IM LOOOOOOSING IT

😭😭😭😭😭😭

WHEN HE HUGS YOU OHHHHH MY HEART. It reminds me so much of how he did when u fell of that tree 😭😭😭 and and and how despite not touching u for months he still knows u just the same aksndkjx

IF I KISS YA YA GNA CRY AGAIANKSNXKSNSKSJSJ STAWHP I AFNT TAKE THIS

MYYYYY GOOODOODKDKEJDJIEJD IM A BAWLING MESS

im sorry for this mess of a reaction op but. thank u for writing this 🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲 crying so hard rn but i loved this so much its so good 🥹 thank uou thsnk you thNk uou i cant see what im thping rn

leave the light on - miya osamu/f!reader (haikyuu!) part 10 in the bff!osamu series tags: childhood friends to lovers, tw instant coffee mention, miscommunication, confessions, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Onigiri Miya closes early on Sunday nights.

It’s not for lack of business—the shop would certainly take in enough revenue to justify staying open regular hours an extra day per week, especially on a weekend. But in the early days of Onigiri Miya, when it was just a one-man show, Osamu needed at least one night that he could count on having off. The workweek business—office workers and students going through their routine hustle and bustle—kept him going, enough so that Sunday nights weren’t a make or break for him, and he was able to start shuttering in the early afternoon once per week.

He remembers those early days. Sweet talking vendors to bring down the cost of produce and haggling with the grubby, bleary eyed men at fish market stalls at the crack of dawn for a deal on the catch of the day. Promising suppliers that he’d be able to get them their money in a couple of weeks if they’d just give him some more time. Standing on the road, because Onigiri Miya was just a street stall back then, trying to coax people in and try his food. To convince them to take a chance on him. He remembers burns on his hands and cuts on his fingers and an ache in his bones that ran so marrow-deep he forgot what it felt like to not be so sore. Sunday nights were the only night he had to relax. The only night he had to sit down, to take off his hat, and to have a beer—or, even more frequently, pass out on his couch in his uniform at 8pm and sleep right through to his alarm the next morning.

Closing early on Sundays had been your idea, way back when— suggested to him gently while he rested with his head in your lap in your tiny student apartment after another 16 hour workday. He still remembers the worry in your eyes as you brushed his hair back from his tired face.

Nowadays things aren’t so hectic. Osamu’s got a good team of people around him to help Onigiri Miya run smoothly—a team who he trusts and values. It doesn’t all fall onto his shoulders in the same way that it used to: he doesn’t have to be there for every open and every close, his bills are paid, he’s not fighting to lure people in off the street just in the hope that he can scrape by for another week.

Now when he closes early on Sunday, it’s more for the sake of his staff than anything else. Occasionally Osamu will take the night off, too; he’ll go home and catch up on housework, run an errand or two, or even grab dinner—usually with you, though evidently not so much lately. But most Sundays he stays behind after his last employee heads out for the night; locking up behind them, switching off the sign in the window to tell the world the shop is closed, and then holing himself up in his office to do some admin. He’ll grab a plate of whatever’s leftover from the day’s service and a cold can of beer from the fridge, put on a rerun of Atsumu’s game from the night before, and get to work shuffling through the paperwork that he’s left to pile up over the past seven days.

Osamu hates paperwork.

It’s not that it’s particularly challenging work—the really hard stuff is left to his bookkeeper after all. It’s just tedious, a mindless task in many ways, and he always finds his thoughts drifting as he sorts through invoices and inventory registers: catching himself being inattentive halfway through a spreadsheet, and having to force himself to go back to the beginning just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything in his carelessness. 

You used to help him with this kind of work, or at least keep him company while he got through it—sitting on the lumpy couch crammed into one corner of his little office and pretending like you weren’t asleep each time Osamu caught you with your eyes closed. More often than not, he’d throw his jacket over you to keep you warm while you napped and then rush through the last of his work so that he could wake you up and get you home. But just having you there on those late nights was enough for him; your presence was the thing that helped.

Coffee is his only saving grace, these days.

Samu shuffles out to the front of the shop on one such Sunday evening, taking off his baseball cap and ruffling the hair underneath tiredly. He’d finally gotten a trim, and he’s glad that things feel a bit more normal again as he rakes his fingers through it—his mother had been right when she remarked that it was getting too long the week before. He tosses his hat down on the front counter of Onigiri Miya, rounding the end to grab a sachet of instant coffee from behind the bar where he keeps his emergency stash.

The overhead lights in the shop are off, but there’s enough brightness filtering out from the still-lit kitchen that he doesn’t need to struggle to see as he prepares himself some hot water to add to the mug in front of him. He tips the granulated contents of his instant coffee sachet into the bottom after ripping it open with his teeth, tapping the empty plastic packaging against the edge of the cup to make sure it all comes out. The kettle behind him hums quietly as it heats to boiling, and Osamu sighs, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

He stares out at the restaurant—his restaurant, as hard as he still finds it to believe some days—his gaze sweeping over the tables with their corresponding chairs resting atop them. One of the staff had mopped the floors at the end of the night, which left them still slightly wet and glistening. There’s light filtering in through the front windows from the streetlights and the other shops that line the Osaka street outside, and their glow catches in the water that hasn’t yet dried from the tile.

Osamu’s eyes suddenly snap up to the glass that lines the front of the restaurant.

There’s a silhouetted figure—so familiar he could trace it even with his eyes closed, from memory alone—standing on the other side of the door.

Osamu blinks, thinking that the paperwork must have finally gotten the best of him, or maybe that the beer he’d had earlier is inexplicably hitting him too hard. But no matter how many times he squeezes his eyes shut, the familiar shape stays where it is on the other side of the glass each time he opens them again.

His heartbeat thumps, loud and wet, in his ears.

Like the shot of a gun, the man stumbles gracelessly into action: loping around the end of the bar and slipping slightly on the wet tile as he heads towards the door. He fiddles with the lock as he struggles to unlatch it, accidentally trying to force it the wrong way in his haste before eventually getting it right. When he finally throws open the door, a gust of cool night air flooding into the restaurant along with it, he takes in a deep, gasping breath.

“Hey.”

His voice is shaky when he greets you—mostly air and very little shape to the word.

You stare at him from a few paces away, your arms crossed firmly over your chest and a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth. Osamu thinks you look pretty when you’re mad. He always has. But it’s worse now because he knows all too well that he shouldn’t—because he knows you’re mad at him. 

You seem to have something to say, he can tell as much from the almost spiteful glint in your eyes, but you stay tightlipped as you simply stare at him.

“D’ya… wanna come in?” Osamu asks, still holding the door open. He nods his head back into the shop. “Still got some stuff prepped, I could make ya—“

“You’re a jerk.”

Osamu blinks, taken aback.

“Yeah,” he agrees plainly after a moment, thinking it’s only fair of you to say given then circumstances. 

His concurrence only seems to upset you more.

“Like, you’re a real asshole, y’know that?” You’re nearly spitting you’re so angry, your features twisted up in contempt. Your arms uncross and drop down to your sides, and Osamu watches as your hands ball into fists. He’s the one who taught you how to throw a punch, years and years ago now, and he’s wondering if he’s about to experience a practical demonstration of his teaching abilities firsthand.

“I don’t necessarily disagree.” He nods, agreeing with you once more, though this time his response is slower, more hesitant—not because he doesn’t mean it, but because he’s not sure that it’s what you want to hear.

“Ugh!” Your following exclamation is loud, and palpably frustrated, all but confirming his suspicions. “You…!”

Your tone is climbing with every passing second, and Osamu looks furtively up and down the road around the two of you. It’s late in the evening but there are still a few people out, and he sees heads turning in your direction at the commotion.

“Hey,” he says, his own voice dropping in volume but still pleading all the same. “My name’s on the door and we’re gettin’ some weird looks. I wanna hear everythin’ you have to say, but could you please just say it to me inside?”

You look at him blankly, your lips puckering into a petulant, unhappy pout. You seem like you want to say no, to keep causing a scene, and for a second Osamu really thinks you’re about to round in on him again. Instead you trudge forward, stomping past him over the threshold of Onigiri Miya.

Osamu hesitates for a moment after you pass, half in shock and half in relief, and then he lets the door swing closed and locks it behind him for good measure—he’s not sure he wants any unsuspecting people coming in search of onigiri and stumbling upon a brawl.

It’s dim in the restaurant when he turns to face you, but he can still see your fury burning in the dark.

Neither of you say anything.

“You can keep goin’ if you want,” Osamu is eventually the first to speak, and he means what he says. This is the least of the punishment he deserves, after all. And hearing you yell at him is markedly better than the silence.

“Martyrdom doesn’t suit you at all,” you mutter sullenly.

Osamu sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I just wantcha to say whatcha came here to say.”

You begin to pace as you work through your thoughts, slowly walking back and forth in front of the counter, picking at your cuticles. You’d put a fair amount of distance between the two of you, and he’s sure it was intentional. Osamu keeps himself confined to the entryway near the door, while you walk a path back and forth along the length of the service counter. His eyes follow every step you take, like a captivated child watching fish at the aquarium.

“I had a terrible dream last night,—” you finally force the words out, your feet stilling against the shiny tile as your pacing comes to a sudden halt.

Osamu decides to just do the right thing and shut the hell up for once, giving you the floor.

“—I was going to buy 30 kilos of rice from Kita-san’s farm—”

That’s a lot of rice, Osamu wants to note, but his lips part to let the words through and then he decides better of it.

“—and I was there, at the farm, and then Kita-san started telling me that you got married and had a baby. A baby, Samu! Kita-san standing there telling me all these terrible things with that big bag of rice in my hands, and I couldn’t even get mad at him because he’s Kita! So I just had to listen to him go on and on and on about the venue and the flowers and the baby name that you picked out. And the more he’d tell me the worse it was, and the bag of rice just kept getting heavier.” Your teeth bite down so hard into your lip as you suck in a breath that Osamu's amazed he doesn’t see blood. “I was hearing all of these things—terrible things—and all I could think was that I should have been there to see all of that for myself. I shouldn’t have been hearing about it from someone else. And I realized that you were living a whole life apart from me, a life that I didn’t know about or get to be a part of, and it just kept getting worse and worse and I woke up and I felt like I was going to scream.”

You’re out of breath by the time you finish your rambling thought, your chest heaving and your eyes wild and your mouth faintly wet. You look to him, and Osamu doesn’t see that same indignation in your eyes anymore, only hurt. He watches as the expression hardens again, whets itself like a blade—sharpened not in anger, but rather in resolve. In resignation.

“That day. I looked for you first.”

Osamu feels lost now. Are you still talking about that dream?

You understand without him saying it, and explain yourself further. “In high school. The day that I kissed Suna.”

Osamu’s stomach drops, all of the blood rushing to his head so quickly that the shop begins to spin a little around him. He can hear his pulse in his ears. He can feel it in his throat. He can’t help the twist of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, writhing and ugly though it may be, at the mere mention of his friend’s name. He doesn’t have the right to feel the way he feels, but it happens all the same.

“I looked for you,” you keep going, like you’ve broken a seal and have to let it all out. Osamu doesn’t dare try to stop you. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He watches on like it’s a conversation that’s happening not with him but rather to him. “You were eating lunch with Tsumu in your classroom. I realized he would have had a fit if he knew that I was asking you and not him. I thought about asking him but…”

Osamu can’t feel his fingers from how tightly his hands are balled into fists at his side. His lungs burn in his chest—the breath he’s holding having long since lost the oxygen his body needs, though he can’t seem to draw in another.

“If it wasn’t you, I didn’t care who it was. So I asked Suna.”

The young man processes your words slowly. Incompletely. Like only every third word seems to register.

“Ya wanted me to be yer first kiss?” It’s not the question he ought to ask you but it’s the one his brain chooses to spit out.

Your reply is frustrated, but with an unmistakably melancholic rasp running through it. “Yeah. I did.”

Somewhere distantly, Osamu recognizes a sharp, stinging pain. An ache as part of him realizes that it could have been him. All along. All this time. Him. But the pain is muted, because part of him—most of him—still doesn’t quite understand.

“I think that was the first time I realized it.” 

Osamu watches your face, maps the achingly familiar lines and dips and curves of your features as he tries to read meaning in the space between your words. But he still finds nothing.

“I liked you, Samu. More than I should have. Differently than I liked Tsumu, or Suna, or any other guy.” You laugh, but it’s a hollow, watery sound. “I realized it and it was awful.”

You’re waiting for him to say something, but Osamu is at a loss for words. No, that’s not quite it either. It’s not that he has nothing to say, but that he has everything he wants to say to you. To ask you. But he doesn’t know where to start, or how to sort through them, or even how to will his lips, teeth, and tongue to shape any of them.

“You… Y’know ya don’t have to say this,” his voice is tight, like a rope drawn to secure a knot not unlike the one in his throat, when he finally manages to speak. “Ya don’t have to pretend or convince yourself that you… felt the same as me. I care about ya too much to ever ask that.”

You laugh—a single, sharp, distinctly mirthless ha!—as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “There you go again not letting me have any say, Samu!” You punctuate your exclamation with a frustrated little sound. “Stop deciding things all on your own and just listen to me.”

That shuts him up again.

“I thought I was over it,”—you begin to pace once more, your steps slow and measured—“I really did. I told myself it would never happen and moved on because I never ever wanted to fuck things up between us. Between any of us.

“You told me that you’ve loved me your whole life, but you don’t know if or when something changed. I do. I had a singular moment that I could point to where I realized that if I did or said the wrong thing after that, I could fuck up something that meant more to me than anything else in the world. Even if you felt the same way I did, there’s no guarantee that something like that would work out. But if we tried and it didn’t work, we wouldn’t be able to just go back to how things were. So I told myself that no matter what I wouldn’t. No matter how hard it was or how awful it felt. I could get over it if it meant I never had to lose you. And it was fine. For years it was fine. We were fine. Everything was fine. And then I lost you anyway.”

You suddenly stop pacing and crouch down, your arms winding themselves around your knees as if to comfort yourself. 

“That night, when you…” You swallow, and risk a glance up at him. “I don’t think I’m over it.”

Osamu feels like he might die. Maybe he did already. Maybe this is his life passing before his eyes, because it’s always been you anyway.

“But it’s scary, Samu,” your voice is so small, so vulnerable, when you speak to him again. You’re trembling as you hold yourself. “Aren’t you scared?”

Osamu is suddenly reminded of that fall day in the woods, so many years ago now. Reminded of two kids who didn’t know what they were doing. Who didn’t know anything. But who knew each other.

Slowly, Osamu crouches too—his joints cracking in protestation as he drops his body down to your level. Your eyes never leave his.

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. Soft but sure. “‘Course I am.”

You let out a soggy, incredulous laugh, but it somehow doesn’t feel out of place. He watches as you reach up and scrub at your eyes.

“I love you,” Osamu says, because it’s true. Because there’s no other words he can possibly think to say in this situation. Because it’s the only thing that he has in his mind.

You look over at him, sniffling a little, wiping at your running nose with the back of your hand in a way that Osamu absolutely should not find as endearing as he does. “How can you just say it like that? Like it’s so easy?”

Osamu wants to laugh too, like you did earlier, but he worries that the sound might come off as almost hysterical thanks to the misplaced hope he can feel simmering in the pit of his stomach. “Sayin’ it’s the hard part, that’s why it took me so long. But I’ve spent forever lovin’ ya. S’always been the easiest bit.”

You choke back a sob, your head hanging defeatedly as your body slackens. You’re a ghost of the angry little thing that was outside of his door only a few minutes earlier, but more yourself now than Osamu has seen you in weeks.

“What about you?” he poses the question so quietly he might worry you didn’t hear him if not for how silent the dark shop is around you both.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. You’re stalling, trying to buy yourself time that’s run out now.

“Do you love me?” he asks, praying to anyone who’s listening that he’s been a good enough man up until this point to deserve the answer that he wants to hear more than anything else in the world.

“Of course I do,” you say evasively, refusing to meet his gaze. But it’s not the same. It’s not enough.

“But are you in love with me?” Osamu finally dares to ask.

There’s a stretch of the most painful, profound silence that either of you have ever experienced. It goes on for an eternity, though the clock hands in the corner say differently.

You still refuse to look at him, your gaze fixed instead to a point on the wall on the other side of the restaurant. Osamu watches how the light from the windows catches in the tears that cling to your bottom lashes.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, barely a whisper. You speak the confession like it’s the most terrifying thing imaginable. Like it's wretched.

And it is maybe, but Osamu’s never felt happier to hear anything in all his life—he feels a rush of something so visceral and elated flowing through him, he thinks he might pass out.

“Can I touch ya?” he asks hesitantly, his voice thick and unlike its normal tone. He hardly recognizes it as his own.

You peek over at him for the first time, and Osamu revels in the feeling of having your eyes on him. Delights in watching you watch him and knowing that behind the gaze is the same feeling as the one he holds inside of himself. You consider it for a moment, and he doesn’t dare rush you, but eventually—mercifully—you nod. 

Osamu inches forward slowly and wraps you in his arms. Your body relaxes into his hold instantly, and he pulls you into his lap on the tiled floor. He holds you so tightly that he’s scared he might break you, but he still can’t find it in himself to be more delicate. You cling to him anyway.

It’s the first time he’s touched you in months, but every inch of you is still known to him. Still familiar in every way that matters. You smell the same. You feel the same. You’re soft and warm just like always. Osamu buries his face into the crook of your neck, and your fingers eventually lift to play with the hair at his nape. He holds you, and holds you, and holds you more—sating a thirst that’s been building for longer than the time the two of you have been apart.

And you let him.

You hold him too, in the same way.

“If I kiss ya, you gonna cry again?” Osamu asks you quietly after a while, his lips brushing against your throat as he murmurs the words.

You snort, your fingers twisting into the material of his t-shirt at his shoulders. Osamu peels himself away from you and looks up, and finds that your faces are so close. Too close, in any other circumstance.

His palm lifts, cupping your cheek in his hand, running his thumb against the smooth skin underneath.

“Shut up, Samu,” you say, a little smile twisting up the corner of your mouth.

And Osamu happily obliges by pressing his lips to yours.

[notlongtolove]

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet. 

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that. 

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving. 

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?" 

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment. 

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight. 

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad. 

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience. 

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing. 

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you. 

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw. 

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

​​You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor. 

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold. 

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead." 

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in. 

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?" 

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared." 

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do. 

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it." 

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give. 

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles. 

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter. 

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something. 

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

​​"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek. 

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again. 

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it." 

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking. 

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me." 

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry." 

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind. 

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly." 

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his. 

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him. 

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting." 

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I love you, you know that?" 

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection. 

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest. 

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself. 

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last. 

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

[enhas-pov]

enemies by blood pt.2

summary: after sunghoon failed to kill reader, you’d think they both left it behind them, but no. they both seem to force themselves to do what their dads ordered, but why do they keep on holding back? they’re enemies after all.. right?

warnings: guns, yelling, cursing, near death experience, kissing, smut, fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, r4pe(not sure?) reader is against it at first but enjoys it later on.. backshots, creampie, pet names

word count: 7.7k

pt.1

════════════════════════

i was sat up with my back against the wall, still in pain after my "fight to the death" with sunghoon. yes, im still alive, surprisingly. it surely wasnt supposed to end like this, especially not with the both of us still alive breathing. one of us were supposed to go down, and he had the chance to end it all for me, but he chose not to, and i have no idea why.

"kiss me goodbye?" i said, almost sounding like a whisper. he froze like he couldnt believe what had just come out of my mouth. his grip on the gun loosened, just for a second as if he was questioning whether to kill me or not. he stared at me with his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, unsure if i was joking or not. with the way i was looking into his eyes he could tell i was being serious when a tear rolled down my cheek. i leaned forward, my bloodied lips parting before they touched his. the kiss was soft as our lips moved together. i felt him deepening the kiss, parting his mouth as well. and with his lips still on mine, he pulled the trigger.

the gun fired, but not through my head. he fired the gun into the wall right beside us instead of at me. confused, i pulled away from the kiss to look at him, but he only lowered his head and buried his face in the crook of my neck. i let out an unexpected sob, reality hitting me that i was afraid of losing my life. "sunghoon..?" i whispered. he didnt answer me, only i could feel his heavy breath against my neck. the two of us—laying on the floor in complete silence with our bodies pressed together, a weird feeling of comfort filling the air.

“i was supposed to kill you.” sunghoon said, looking down at my weak body still sat up against the wall. he kept on walking back in forth due to how stressed he was, meanwhile i couldn’t be bothered to stress about this. “you’re supposed to be dead!” he shouted at me before he pointed the gun at me once again. “then shoot me” i simply said. his eyebrows furrowed, gripping the gun in his hand—knuckles white from the pressure. the gun trembled lightly as he clenched his jaw, he couldn’t do it. “fuck this..” he mumbled before he started walking towards me. he threw the gun on the ground, gripping both of my arms as he forced me to stand up. his touch was rough, but the look in his eyes were the complete opposite.

“can’t do it?” i asked him. he didn’t answer right away, he just looked me dead in the eye like he could see right through me. for a moment, i thought maybe he’d kill me right here with his bare hands.. but to my surprise he didn’t. “you’re not worth it” he spat, shaking his head. “i don’t give a damn anymore” he said. i swallowed hard, trying to keep myself cool and not show my weak side, “then go. leave me here”. his grip on my arms only tightened, but then just as quickly, he let go. he turned his back on me and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. his fists clenched as if he was fighting back, “get out of here” he said, his voice low. i looked at him confused, “what?”. his head suddenly snapped back around, eyes darker than they were before. “get out of here.” he repeated.

“i don’t want to see you again, understand? just fucking go” he lifted his hand up, using his index finger to point to the exit. “but-“, “go!” he yelled at me. it was like he was trying to make me believe he actually didn’t care about saving my life, or maybe he was trying to convince himself he didn’t care. i hesitated for a second, not knowing if i should listen to him or not. if i didn’t listen to him there’s a chance i could end up dead, so i had no choice but to do what he told me to do. i turned towards the exit, slowly walking away before i heard his voice again, “don’t make me regret this” he mumbled. “don’t come back, you hear me?” i froze, and i couldn’t help but to smile a little at him. “you know i will. only one of us is supposed to make it out alive after all” i said before simply turning away and walking out, leaving him all alone with the decision he made—to keep me alive.

i felt a stinging pain when the hot water came in contact with my wounds. i closed my eyes and let the water run down my face, and down to my body. sunghoon. park sunghoon. he was all i could think about. why didn’t he kill me? it was stuck on my mind.. i mean, he hated me didn’t he? is hate even the right word? that man despises me. if the roles were switched and i had the gun in my hands, i’d kill him in a heartbeat since my dad told me to do so. im not weak—i can actually do what im told unlike someone.. right? i mean, his blood on my hands? that wouldn’t bother me.. shit, i can’t keep lying to myself. i let out a big sigh, turning the water off before i wrapped the towel around my body.

i looked at myself in the mirror after my shower. you couldn’t see my wounds, thank god, they were covered by my pajamas. i couldn’t have my dad asking any questions- i quickly turned my head around at the sound of a door creaking, it was the front door. my dad wasn’t supposed to be home yet, so who was in my house? i slowly made my way out of the bathroom before walking down the stairs—keeping an eye out on anything that might seem off. “___” the sound of my name made me jump. i turned around just to see my dad stood behind me. “dad? you’re home early..” i let out a sigh of relief. “yes i am, and do you know why?” he raised his eyebrows at me and crossed his arms. was i supposed to guess why?, “no..” i mumbled.

“i stopped by the den. figured i’d help train my daughter, and you know what i see?” shit. “my men. dead. care to explain?” my dad wasn’t completely shocked, he’s had a lot of his men die before so that’s why he’s not bawling his eyes out like a baby. “i left early.. are they all dead?” i tried to lie my way out of this, i couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth about sunghoon. “all of them” he said. sunghoon must’ve gotten rid of his own men’s bodies before my dad arrived, or else this would’ve been a whole different conversation. “i really don’t know what happened” i lied with a straight look on my face. he nodded slightly, “i’m gonna guess it was park. probably sending us a warning..” he muttered. i only nodded in agreement, not sure of what to say.

“as my daughter, i expect him to be dead by the end of this week.” he said in a serious voice. “by the end of this week?” i almost stuttered, caught off guard by how little time i had left. “yes. will that be a problem?” he questioned me. “no dad” i said, straightening my back to prove my worth. he nodded, “i trust you won’t disappoint me. you’re my only daughter after all, it would be a shame if you did” he smiled, placing his hand on my shoulder before he walked away. jesus christ dad.. always putting so much weight on my shoulders. i’m not sure how i was gonna be able to kill sunghoon by the end of this week, but i was going to get it done. i can’t disappoint my own dad, im his only daughter after all.

i was parked on the side of the road in the city of seoul, waiting impatiently for sunghoon. my dad got one of his men, jiho to find out exactly where sunghoon would be so i could be there to kill him. it kinda sucked that he happened to be in the city since there are people everywhere, so i would have to somehow get him to a non-crowded place. chewing my gum, i blew a bubble before catching a sight of sunghoon *pop* "got you.." i reached into the glove box, taking out my glock and hiding it inside the waistband of my jeans. i got out of the car and shut the door behind me before i slowly started walking towards him.

i stopped right next to him where he was buying food on the side of the street, and he didnt notice me until i spoke up. "beautiful day, no?" i said, my eyes scanning around for something delicious to get for myself. "uh, yeah-" he turned to me and froze, the small smile on his lips fading quicker than ever. "shit.." he cursed under his breath. "look- this isnt a good time for you to be here." his voice was serious and direct. i hummed in response--not taking him serious at all, "well.. its a good time for you to come with me" i said, keeping my gaze fixed on the food instead of him. he let out an exaggerated sigh, "i cant-"

"sunghoon. i will blow your brains out right here--right now, ill get out of here way before the cops-"

"sunghoon!!" a sweet and excited voice cut me off.

sunghoon and i both turned around at the same time, revealing a happy and young girl stood behind us. "who is she?" she asked him, the happy look on her face turning into confusion. i turned to sunghoon just to see that he himself had no idea what to say. "im a friend of his" i lied, answering the question he couldnt. the girl still looked confused, squinting her eyes as she looked in between the two of us. "ohhh, i get it! shes that kind of friend" the girl smiled, covering her mouth with her hands. sunghoon and i both furrowed our eyebrows in confusion, having no idea to what she was talking about. "youre dating!" she exclaimed all of a sudden.

"no-" sunghoon and i jinxed. "shes really pretty tho" she nudged sunghoon, trying to keep her voice down when saying so, but i heard it clearer than ever. she turned to me with a smile, "im yeji! sunghoons younger sister" she said. i let out a nervous chuckle, "im ___-" sunghoon suddenly grabbed me by my arm, "dont you have somewhere to be? babe.." he glared at me, the pet name making him physically cringe. i looked at his sister and then back at him, putting on a fake smile before i brought my hand to his bicep. i stood on my tiptoes, leaning in closer to sunghoon and placing a kiss on his cheek. sunghoon was taken aback, meanwhile his sister let out a giggle. "ill see you later hoon!" i waved goodbye to his sister before i walked away.

i brought my phone out and dialed jihos number, putting the phone up to my ear after. "hello?" i heard his voice from the other line say. "move it." i ordered him as i walked back to my car. "yes maam, when would you like me to move it to?" he asked me. "tomorrow" i said as i walked back to my car, "im gonna kill him tomorrow" i hung up the phone and opened the door to my car before getting in. i couldnt kill sunghoon in front of his own sister. i might not have any siblings of my own, but i couldnt imagine having someone that i love watch me die right in front of their eyes, im not that evil after all.

i walked into the entrance of a tall building along with 5 men of my dads. "here you go" jiho said, handing me a heavy sniper that i would be using on sunghoon. "youll be going to the rooftop while were on ground. give us the signal if something goes wrong, and we`ll help you right away" i nodded at him, watching as the 5 men walked out into the dark late at night. i made my way up the stairs of the building while i carried my sniper, a million thoughts filling my mind. what i was thinking about the most was his little sister, i could imagine having one and her finding out i was shot and killed. im not completely heartless? of course im gonna feel some sort of guilt.

i made my way to the top of the stairs before reaching for the heavy door and opening it. a loud thud of the door shutting behind me when i walked out on the rooftop. it was a bit difficult to see, but my sniper had a night vision mode. i leaned over the edge of the roof, watching the view of the whole city. it was pretty, but parts of it would be covered in blood pretty soon. i placed my sniper in a comfortable position before leaning in, watching the dark turn into a green-tinted glowing hue. "i dont see him.." i spoke into my earpiece with a low voice, my fingers slightly adjusting the sniper as i looked around for him. "hes supposed to be leaving his dads office in a few minutes. theres no sign of a car to pick him up, so he`ll be standing outside long enough for you to get your shot"

i hummed, catching a sight of mr. parks office. i waited for what felt like forever until jiho spoke, "he should be leaving about... now". i watched the big doors to mr. parks office open, and there was sunghoon. he was wearing a black suit with his hair slick-back, he looked good not gonna lie. he was all alone, stood outside with his hands in his pockets. "whenever youre ready" jiho said. i aimed for his chest, not feeling evil enough to ruin his pretty face. i took a deep breath, my finger hovering just above the trigger. suddenly, my hand froze with the sniper still in my grip. *ring ring* the silence broke when my phone started ringing, "what the fuck.." i mumbled, taking my eyes off sunghoon and the sniper. "is everything okay?" jiho asked me, his voice filled with concern. "everything is fine. its probably dad" i reached into my pocket just to see "uknown caller" on my screen.

my eyebrows furrowed. confused and annoyed, i placed my phone back in my pocket and turned back to the sniper. i leaned in, ready to take out sunghoon for real this time, but that was until he was no longer there. my eyes widened, "where is he?!" i shouted in irritation as i looked around for him in panic. "shit.. we lost him" jiho cursed to himself before i heard him telling everyone to spread out and look for him. i rolled my eyes and leaned away from the sniper, "where the fuck did he go.." i mumbled to myself, but then i froze. my heart pounding in my chest when i felt a cold, hard metal press against the back of my head. fucking hell sunghoon..

"tell them you found me" sunghoon whispered, his voice so quiet that jiho and the others couldnt hear. i let out a shaky breath, "i found him" i said while i looked straight ahead. "we havent been able to locate him. where is he at?" jihos voice said from the other line as i fought every bone in my body not to tell him that sunghoon was stood right behind me. "call it off. tell them you want to do it on your own" he said, his voice sharp and cold as his hands gripped the gun pointed at my head even tighter. i let out a chuckle and shook my head, no way i was going to listen to him. sunghoon wasnt having it tho. he tightly wrapped his other hand around my waist and yanked me backwards against his chest, his fingers digging into my skin with a painful force.

he moved the gun towards my temple and pressed it into my skin, threatening to blow my brains out. i took a deep breath, "call it off" i said, only receiving confused voices from the other end of the ear piece. "maam, this would be the second time youre calling it off. your dad wouldnt be happy about this" jiho said, sunghoon listening in. "and?" sunghoon whispered. "i want to do it on my own.. for dad.." my voice came out barely above a whisper, "louder." sunghoon ordered. i let out a sigh before speaking up again, "i want to do it on my own. for dad". jiho understood and agreed, him and the others packing up and getting ready to leave.

sunghoon roughly ripped my ear piece out, throwing it on the ground before he stepped on it. he suddenly pushed me away from his grip, causing me to stumble forwards. i turned around annoyed, watching him adjust his tie. i was desperate to know how sunghoon knew i was on the rooftop, and how he planned all of this? "how did you..?" i asked in disbelief, not being able to finish my question before he cut me off. "doesnt matter." he said sharply, his voice tense and direct. "dont you owe me one?" i asked him, his eyebrows raising in question. "for not blowing your brains out in front of your little sister" i said, trying to sound casual as if the situation i was in wasnt as tense as it was. "ill admit it was generous of you. but unfortunately, i dont owe you anything--though i cant say i havent thought about it" he smirked at his own last words, gross.

i watched him intensely as i waited for him to make a move, he didnt even have the gun pointed at me anymore so i was really confused. without saying a word, he started walking towards me which only caused me to back away until i felt my body come in touch with the edge of the rooftop. sunghoon only got closer, placing each one of his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the edge. he leaned in with his face close against mine, "how many times do you think we`ll find ourselves like this, hm? because ill have to admit, im really starting to enjoy this" he mumbled, tilting his head at me slightly. "cut the crap, sunghoon. what are you planning on doing this time? since.. you couldnt kill me last time" i grabbed a hold of his tie, pulling him even closer to me.

he let out a chuckle before he grabbed my hand that was playing with his tie, "maybe ill just have to get creative this time." a cocky smile curling at the corner of his lips before he looked to the side, where my sniper still was stood. i followed his eyes and let out a chuckle when i noticed what he was looking at, "you call shooting me with a sniper creative?-" he brought his hand out, shoving the sniper off the edge of the rooftop, and for a brief moment, there was only silence. a sudden woosh of air, followed by a sharp crack as the sniper collided with the ground, sunghoon turning to me with the same cocky smile that was just on his lips.

i froze for a split second, my eyes flickering from the edge of the rooftop and back to him. inside i was trembling, terrified for heights but i wasnt going to let him notice my slight fear. "is that supposed to scare me?" i said, my tone sounding a little too forced as i tried to keep it cool.. which i hope he didnt notice. "no. but i can tell it did" his hand brushed against my arm, causing me to shiver just a bit. i shook my head as i avoided eye contact, looking around for a way to get out of the current situation im in. sunghoon could push me right now and id fall off the rooftop just like that, i needed a distraction or something.. "distracted?" sunghoon asked me as if he could read my thoughts.

i looked back at him, a sudden thought coming to my mind right away. he was a man after all, distracting him would be the easiest thing to do. i looked up at him with pleading eyes, "are you gonna kiss me goodbye again?" i asked, tilting my head at him slightly. he bit down on his lower lip, "i might.." he said. "but youre not gonna like how it ends this time" his voice low and threatening as he leaned away slightly, but i only pulled him back by his tie before crashing my lips onto his--giving him no time to process it. i brought my hands up to the back of his head and tugged at his hair to which he put his hands on my waist and pulled me in closer. i opened my mouth slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue past my lips and deepening the kiss even more. while he was earning himself a boner, i was ready to end it for him once and for all.

my hand slid up his chest, and in a swift and effortless motion, i took control. i used all my strength and flipped us both around. before sunghoon could react, i shoved him--his body falling over the edge. i let out a shaky breath and turned around, not feeling like watching him fall all the way down and have his body smashed against the concrete, gross.. that was it, easier than i thought.. i just killed him, sunghoon is dead and my dad is gonna be so proud of me. my chest was rising and falling slowly as the wind was the only thing to be heard. on the outside, i looked calm and fine, but on the inside my mind was racing. i held it all in, clenching my fists before turning around to walk away.

"you bitch.." i heard a mumble. no fucking way.. i turned back around, my eyes widening when i watched sunghoon swing his leg up, pulling himself back up before his feet came in touch with the rooftop floor again. i looked at him in horror. meanwhile, sunghoon adjusted his tie calmly and clenched his jaw. "youre insane.." i gasped, slowly backing up as i knew what was coming for me. "says the girl who just pushed me off the roof." his voice was unsettling and cold, sending shivers down my spine. "dont act like you werent about to do the same" i barked back at him. and with no warning, he launched himself at me. he aimed a kick in my stomach that caught me off guard, causing me to stumble backwards.

"what the fuck?!-" he charged at me again--a swift punch aimed at my jaw. i stumbled back once again, struggling to keep my balance as i swear my vision was about to go black. he suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me closer to him, twisting my wrist in doing so. "a-ah!" i yelped, pain taking over my whole body. i twisted myself out of his grip, turning on my heel to deliver a swift kick to the side of his knee. he groaned as he fell to one knee, slowly turning up to look at me with a glare. "is that all you got baby?" he taunted before getting back up on his feet. and with no warning once again his fist landed on my cheek, sending me almost flying backwards as my body hit the ground.

i started backing up when sunghoon was walking towards me, and i didnt notice how i was getting closer and closer to the edge of the roof. he got on top of me and threw another punch across my face, my eyes shutting close when my head threw back. my head pounding and every bone in my body hurting, i desperately tried grabbing onto something to stabilize myself--only to realize there was nothing to grab onto. i opened my eyes, my vision blurry but still able to see sunghoon hovering over me. he let out a chuckle, and as confused as i was i looked to the side--my eyes widening when i found myself hanging off the side of the roof, half of my body dangling over literally just air.

sunghoon leaned over me, a sick and twisted expression on his face. "this is it princess, already got your goodbye kiss." he growled, his breath hot against my face. he could see the panic in my eyes, it made him smirk while i was terrified for my life. without thinking, i drew back my arm and swung it with all my strength, my fist connecting with his stomach. the unexpected force of my punch took him by surpise, and he lost his grip--stumbling backwards as his back crashed hard onto the rooftop, the wind knocking the air out of him. i quickly lifted myself up and got back on solid ground. i glanced at the edge where the terrifying drop had been moments ago, returning back to reality right away.

i got up on my feet, my legs shaking with fear while my heart pounded faster than usual. my eyes caught onto the rooftop door, and with one last look at sunghoons body laying on the ground in pain--i made a quick run for it. running towards the door, i could hear sunghoon slowly getting back up on his feet which only made me panic even more. i barged right through the door and slammed it shut behind me, trying to lock it when i suddenly realized it didnt have a lock. "fuck- no.." i cursed to myself. i turned around and started running down the stairs, and i had no idea where i was going because the second i get out of the building i would be running straight into the dark.

my body suddenly froze, flinching at the sound of the door being slammed open. i watched sunghoon walk through the door, his tall and dark figure looking down at me right away. "im not done with you yet.." he said, his voice low and chilling--sending a chill down my spine. "fuck you sunghoon!" i yelled at him, furrowing my eyebrows in anger right before i started running down the stairs again, sunghoon following from behind me. i quickly glanced behind me--eyes widening with fear when i saw him close behind, closer than i thought he would be. my heart only raced faster, and without thinking i stopped by a random door near the end of the stairs and flung it open. it was an office. there was a couch, a small table, a desk with a chair, and the only light coming from a desk lamp.

i also happened to notice a drawer right next to the door, perfect. after locking the door i got behind the drawer, using all of my strength to push the heavy drawer across the floor. my hands trembled as i struggled to shove it in front of the door. it scraped against the hard wooden floor with a loud and unsettling sound, and right as i managed to push it in front of the door--the door handle started rattling. i let out a sigh of relief as i watched sunghoon struggling to open the door, meanwhile i started looking around for a way out. i walked over to the window and looked down, it wasnt any different from when i was hanging off the roof just a second ago. "come on baby.. open the door!" i heard sunghoon shout from the other side of the door, while still trying to break through.

"fuck off park!" i snapped at him, sick off all the disgusting pet names he keeps on calling me. i ran my hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh as i tried to figure out how i could possibly get out of the current situation im in. i started pacing back and forth, not realizing that the sound of sunghoon trying to break through the door had stopped. i paused and turned to look at the door, did he give up? i slowly started making my way towards the door, leaning over the drawer to place my ear against the hard wood. i cant hear anything- "a-agh! f-fuck..!" i let out possibly the loudest scream ever when a sharp metal object slammed into the door with a loud *crack*, punching a hole straight through the door and right into my ear.

"youre the one to blame for that." sunghoon growled at me, his voice thick with rage. i could hear him throw away the object he basically just stabbed me with, right before his fist started punching holes right through the door like it was nothing. meanwhile i was dealing with unbearable pain. the pain had hit me instantly, like a sharp pain bursting right through my skull. it blurred everything around me for just a second as i struggled to keep my balance. "a-ah.." i whimpered in pain as blood started running down my ear. i glanced at the door, panic not being able to take over me when i saw sunghoon glaring at me through the big hole he punched in the door. i watched both of his hands fit through the door, finding the edge of the drawer before he shoved it to the side with a forceful push.

i started looking around for something to defend myself with, sunghoons fingers brushing against the door knob from the inside before twisting it with a *click* sound. i was stood frozen in the middle of the office with my heart pounding painfully in my chest, trying to steady myself but every inch of me felt too weak. the door creaks open slowly--seconds before sungoons tall figure stepped into the office. "you look.." he stepped closer to me, a smirk forming on his lips, "like you`ve given up." he said. his gaze ran over me slowly like he was savoring every second of my weakness. i shook my head and kept my chin lifted, acting like i wasnt literally about to fall to my knees and actually give up.. but i could feel the tension creeping up my neck.

with his hands in his pockets, he started walking towards me slowly. backing away would only make me look scared, and even tho i was i wasnt going to give him the satisfaction. i straightened my shoulders when he approached me, his dark eyes looking down at me while mine looked up at his.

"i can tell when youre pretending.." he said.

"what-"

"a-ah!" i let out a scream when sunghoon suddenly slammed his foot into the side of my knee, the force twisting my leg in a way its not meant to go.. i immediately fell to both my knees right in front of him, the sharp pain pulsing through it as i struggled to catch my breath. sunghoon didnt leave me be for a second before he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head backwards. i let out another painful scream, tears forming in my eyes when he kept on tightening his grip by each second that passed. "s-stop..!" i yelped, looking up at him with my teary eyes--only to see that he was smiling down at me. hes a sick fuck for enjoying this.. "wont stop until youre dead.." he mumbled, his eyes locked on me intensely.

i couldnt even process his words before my head was slammed into the wall with a sickening loud thud. the impact rattled through my skull, sharp and dizzying. before i could try and somehow defend myself, he slammed my head into the wall once again.. and again, and again. my vision went completely blurry, my head pounding in the worst way possible and i was suddenly aware of nothing.. i felt numb. before my body could crash onto the floor, sunghoon let go of my hair and caught my almost-lifeless body. i was awake, but i wasnt really there. the room felt like it was tilting--my vision coming and going and i was painfully aware of every moment. with my limp body in his arms, he threw me onto the couch with a quick and careless motion.

my body flopped awkwardly when i landed on my stomach. my face was pressed into the cushions, and i could feel sunghoons eyes looking down at me from above. i opened my mouth slighlty, trying to beg for my life.. but i couldnt say much. "hoon.." i mumbled quietly, but he still managed to hear me. he didnt answer, only i felt his hands caressing my hips. i knew what was coming.. he was probably gonna stab me in the back or something (literally). i let out a shaky breath, preparing myself for the pain of death, but to my surpise i felt him grip my hips before lifting me up. i was extremely confused to why the fuck he positioned my ass in the air, "ill make sure your last moments are filled with pleasure.. not pain." he uttered coldy, leaning down with his front against my back. "its the least i can do for you angel.." he taunted into my ear before he let out a dark chuckle.

"w-what..?" i murmured under my breath, trying to turn my head to get a glimpse of what he was doing--but he only buried my face deep into the cushions causing me to let out a whimper. "shh.." he cooed me, stroking my hair before i felt his hands tugging down my black shorts. no fucking way. my eyes widened when i realized what this horny, disgusting, sick fuck was about to do to me. i started wiggling my hips around to get away from his grip, but he held me still with one hand while the other successfully pulled my shorts down, and i let out a gasp when he did. "p-please stop.." i sobbed, trying to lift myself up--but my body gave in and i plopped back onto the couch. sunghoon let out a laugh at my struggle before he brought his hand to my ass cheek, stroking it lightly before leaving a harsh slap on my skin.

i let out a yelp when my body jolted. i thought the stinging pain would go away by itself, but it didnt when sunghoon kept on leaving harsh and painful slaps on my ass cheek, my skin turning redder and redder each time he did. "shit- sorry princess. i was supposed to give you pleasure right? not more pain.. my poor baby." he spoke gently. his hand caressed my red ass cheek--nothing but a whimper coming out of my mouth due to the fact that it was still stinging. "s-sunghoon.." i hiccuped, "you dont- you dont have to do t-this.." i begged him to let me go, or at least just kill me right away. i didnt want to die like this. he hummed, "now, why would i do that? hm?" he brought his fingers to my panty-covered clit before he began moving his fingers in a circular motion. i let out an unexpected moan, not on purpose..

"see. you like it dont you? fucking slut.. acting as if you werent the one making out with me on the rooftop." he growled at me. i felt his fingers leave my clit, and i was relieved for a second--until he tried moving my panties to the side. i hurriedly closed my legs, stopping him from going any further, but that was the wrong move of me to make. he gripped both of my thighs, forcefully spreading them apart, "keep these open" he tapped my thigh, "wouldnt want to hurt you even more." he said as if he cared if i got hurt or not. "just kill me.." i finally said, which felt ironic because i never imagined id say those words. especially to sunghoon himself.. "just kill you?" he repeated while teasing my entrance with his finger. i let out a mumble, "i dont wanna.." i shook my head.

he hummed as if he was actually considering my words, and then i felt him insert a finger deep into my tight hole. i let out a loud moan, not being able to control my reaction to the pleasure i was feeling. even tho i couldnt see sunghoons face, i just knew he had that evil smirk on his lips.. i bit down on my lip when he started finger-fucking me. he curled his fingers inside my walls, and i couldnt help but to lean into his touch. "knew it.. you fucking whore." he spat (literally). he leaned down with his face dangerously close to my pussy, right before spitting directly at my clit. my whole body jolted when he attatched his mouth to my clit and sucked on it aggressively, "m-mmh! n-not there..!" i yelped as i squirmed around uncomfortably. he ignored my words as he continued sucking on my clit and finger-fucking me at the same time.

when the tip of his long and thick finger pushed against my sweet spot, i let out a loud cry at the overstimulation. a silent scream left my throat, "i-its too much!!" i squeaked. sunghoon pulled his mouth off my clit, placing a small kiss on it before he leaned back. "so pretty.." he mumbled. "makes me want to keep you alive just so i can use your pretty little pussy whenever i want to." i cringed at his words. i then felt him pull out his finger and a sigh left my lips at the loss of it. my eyes darted around the room before taking a deep breath--a breath that got caught in my throat when i heard the sound of sunghoon unbuckling his belt. "g-go jerk off or something..!" i yelled at him, but my words were quickly muffled when he shoved my face into the cushions.

"mmm!" i tried to scream, "i will. just inside you.." sunghoon pulled down his pants along with his boxers, his cock jumping out with pre-cum leaking from his tip. he wrapped his hand around his length and started jerking himself off, groaning at the pleasure he was feeling. i suddenly let out a soft moan when he ran his tip through my slit, hating the fact that he was actually making me feel good. he lined up with my entrance--both my fists clenching as i was pressed hard into the cushions, my palms sweaty and shaking slightly. i let out a gasp when he pushed himself into my entrance, the burning sensation making me eyes water. "so fucking tight.." sunghoon groaned, forcing his cock deeper into my walls. "i-it hurts!!" i yelped but sunghoon didnt seem to care when he continued pushing in deeper.

"it`ll feel better soon. i promise baby" he mumbled, his hand moving to the side of my face before he stroked my cheek. i let out a whimper when his tip suddenly touched my cervix, his full length inside of me--pressed so tightly that i could feel every inch of him, as if i were about to burst free from the pressure. "sunghoon- y-youre too big.." i moaned, all though it wasnt supposed to come out as one.. "ill make it work- fuck.. just relax for me." his hands sneaked their way to my hips where he gripped tightly at my skin, preparing himself to start pounding into me. i let out a whine when he slowly pulled out of me until his tip was the only thing inside, and with one very harsh thrust.. he slammed his way all the way back in.

"a-ah!" i let out a silent scream when his tip came in touch with my cervix again, but this time it felt like a stab. sunghoon bit down on his lip, throwing his head back in pleasure when he started pounding into me from the back at a slow pace. maybe he really was trying to pleasure me..? "mmh.." i moaned, craving more but at the same time i hated it. it made me feel disgusted by myself, torn between what my body was reacting to and what my mind was screaming. i couldnt let him know that despite everything, a part of me was actually enjoying this. i tried to push myself backwards on his dick unnoticed, but oh did he notice.. "look at you wanting more.." he laughed at me, "you want more baby?" he tilted his head to the side. i shook my head, telling him no but him and i both knew that was a lie.

"no? alright-" he stopped his movements, ready to pull out of me before i stopped him. "no!- wait.." i blurted out, lifting my head up and slightly turning to the side to look at him. "hm?" he hummed, "tell me what you want." he demanded, his hands caressing my hips while he waited. "m-more.." i mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. "cant hear you" he taunted me. bitch.. "i-i want more" i repeated myself, making it clear to him that i did want more and i hated myself for it. "fucking whore" he degraded me which only made me clench around his dick, "you like that?" he let out a dark chuckle before he started pounding into me again, this time faster and exactly how my body was craving it. "mhm..!" i moaned, my mouth falling open slightly while my eyebrows furrowed.

"shit-" sunghoon groaned, the sound of skin slapping filling the room every time his hips came in touch with my bare ass. he slipped one of his hands down to my lower stomach, pressing down against his bulge that was very much visible through my skin. "feel how big i am for you?" his other hand squeezed my hip as he started pounding into me even faster. i let out a cry at the feeling of it while already being a whimpering and moaning mess for his dick. when i felt myself getting closer to my high, i opened my mouth slightly, "hoon-" i tried to speak, but i only ended up choking on an unexpected moan. "youre close- i know, fuck. can feel it with how youre clenching around my dick like crazy.." his hand that was pressing onto his own bulge on my lower stomach travelled its way down to my clit, his fingers starting to move in a circular motion.

i yelped when my whole body jolted, feeling myself about to burst at any moment. "me too baby. go on, milk my cock.." he said, his dark voice making it clear that hes not asking me to--but telling. a loud and pornographic moan escaped my lips when i felt the wave of pleasure crashing over me, my back arching and my toes curling when i came all over his cock. "f-fuck..!" i yelped, my legs starting to shake at the feeling of sunghoon still pounding into me. sunghoon moved his hands to my ass cheeks, squeezing and slapping them afterwards when he got closer to his high. "shit shit shit..!" he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure when his thick cum spurted deep inside of me. i whimpered when i felt him painting my walls white, a mix of his cum and mine leaking out of my tight hole.

sunghoons thrusts slowed down as he came down from his high, the both of us panting and trying to catch our breaths. sunghoon pulled out of me slowly, looking down at my cum-leaking hole clenching around nothing. i let out a sigh at the loss of him, burying my face into the cushions with a soft moan. sunghoons hands reached for my body, his hands gripping at my waist before gently flipping me over. he guided me onto my back, my hair falling over my face when i rolled onto my back. i looked at sunghoon sat on his knees in front of me, his eyes looking down at my body resting on the couch with my legs slightly spread open for him. he leaned down against me until his chest was pressed against mine, his hands placed on each side of my head as his eyes looked into mine.

he brought one of his hands to my face, moving away the hair that was in the way. "how are you gonna do it?" i asked him, my voice coming out as a soft whisper. he looked at me for a second, and without saying a word he buried his face in the crook of my neck, and it only reminded me of last time he failed to kill me. i felt him leave a trail of small and soft kisses down my neck before he looked back up at me again, "my dad will have to kill you himself." he mumbled, leaning in and brushing his lips against mine. "i wont let him get near you.." i froze for just a second, caught off guard by his words. my eyes blinked up at him, my hand moving up to his face before i cupped his cheek. "if my dad comes after you.." i whispered, "ill kill him myself" i said, sunghoon raising his eyebrows at my sudden words, a smile tugging on his lips.

"i know you will" he said before he pressed his lips against mine.

[taintedcigs]

— cowboy hat rule.

pairing: cowboy!steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising, kinda degrading but not really, a lil argument, dom!steve, rivals to fcking, swearing, good old bj for our good boy stevie! reader has a nickname 'sunshine' bc i didn't wanna do y/n sorry:(

summary: helping out mr. harrington in his ranch was supposed to be fun, but steve harrington was an asshole. an absolute pain in your ass that teased you, and you gave him the same energy back, always. so when you unknowingly wear his cowboy hat, he decides to teach you what exactly the cowboy hat rule is. (wc: 5k+)

author's note: this is just horny babbling. i have no idea how cowboy lore works so if im wrong pls just close ur eyes i tried to research but i couldnt find shit just pls i just want cowboy steve dick. and ofc no proof-reading bc im lazy as hell. no dividers ugly aesthetic bc of tumblrs f ass not showing my shit in tags SIGH.

also PLSSS LIKE + REBLOG + COMMENT TO SUPPORT ME MWAH ILY

When you told Mr. Harrington you’d be more than happy to help around his Ranch during the summer, you didn’t expect Steve to become a problem, but you were wrong, so fucking wrong. 

A cocky cowboy who’s way too into partying and into his looks and his fluffy hair than you could ever imagine. That’s exactly how you’d describe Steve Harrington. Even though you so badly wanted to believe otherwise, wanted to disregard the rumors and the reputation that came with him. But, he made it so goddamn hard. 

All he fucking did was tease you, complain. Order you around and act like you didn’t know how to do shit. And, you didn’t, but he was supposed to be your guidance, teach you. But all he did was grumble and give you that goddamned smirk. 

Yet, you couldn’t fully hate him, there was a side of him he rarely showed you, one that cared, one that offered you rides—it was more of a mumble each night but you accepted nonetheless, one that ended up at your side whenever an asswipe bothered you at the bar, one that offered you a hand on your back when you were crying, he didn’t ask what happened, didn’t speak, just stood there, letting you spill out your guts. The two of you never spoke about these incidents, ever, because he acted like they didn’t exist, like he couldn’t bear the thought of being nice to you. 

You were so fascinated by him, even though you’d never admit it out loud. He was charismatic, outright funny, and had a heart of gold that you only peered one layer of. 

And fuck it, he was fine, annoyingly good-looking that he was a distraction to be around when you were supposed to be working, him with those sturdy denim jeans that cupped his ass perfectly, wide-brimmed cowboy hat with a creased crown, put perfectly on his head. Even though you’d much rather see his pretty hair falling on his face, run your hands through his smooth layers.

Usually, when it got as hot as it did today, he’d even take off that stupid shirt, feast your eyes with his glimmering chest, all hairy and glistening with sweat, broad shoulders as he ordered everyone around made you gulp. Like he is doing with you, right fucking now. 

“Sunshine, get back to work.” Heat travels to your cheeks quickly, and that stupid nickname rolls off his lips so bitterly, the one he always called you just because you were all nice and smiley—even when he was being an asshole to you, something that grinded his gears, you guessed it was a foreign concept to him, being nice. 

You were quick to shake off the hold he had on you, getting back on your feet as you stood your ground. “I am working! Just needed a second to breathe!” The lies rolled off your lips so simply that you wondered if he caught you staring. When he turned around to leave, you guessed he hadn’t. 

“Asshole.” The insult leaves you before you can register how close Steve still was to you. 

Turning head-spinningly fast. “What did ya say?” He spits, making you gulp physically. 

He looks out of the world stunning when he’s mad, maybe it’s a toxic trait of yours but, fuck, the way his chocolate hues turn unrecognizable, that slight quirk of his brows, and the way his muscles flex in pure anger made you rub your thighs together. 

Jesus Christ. He is getting into your head, and you hate that you think of him this way when he is so mean. 

“Nothing! I’m just saying it’s really hot out today,” you hum, the sun rays hitting your face not making it easier on the heat that flame your cheeks. 

He gives you a snort, all mocking once he takes a step closer, making you feel hotter if that is possible. “Well that’s what happens in the summer, darlin’”

Hand on the wall he tilts his head slightly, all with sass that has you rolling your eyes. “Or did you expect the weather to give Miss Sunshine some sorta special treatment?”

You roll your eyes, an act you always did that makes Steve’s jaw clench. “Oh, come on Steve! It’s really, really, hot, and the sun is all on my face!”

“Boo-hoo, princess,” he mocks, tipping his hat, almost as if to tease you further.

You scoff, getting closer to him. “Easy for you to just stand around in that big hat!” With a narrowed gaze, you cross your arms against your chest, like a brat, another trait that annoyed Steve even further.

Then, you beam again, and Steve knows no matter how much you hate it, Sunshine is absolutely the nickname you deserve, eyes glistening with happiness that it annoyingly even brings a glint to his pretty amber hues. His gaze unintentionally droops down to tour lips, so plushy and soft looking when it curls into that pretty smile that Steve wants to kiss you all over. 

“Oh! Do you mind if I?” You ask all giggly, pointing toward his wide-brimmed hat, hand teasingly standing above his head. 

He scoffs as if you had just asked him the most insulting question ever. “Not a chance,” he spits, now he crosses his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you with a dark glint in his eyes, one you couldn’t decide was full of annoyance or just pure desire. 

“Mhmmm… okay,” you hum, feigning innocence for a second, before snatching it off his head with another hearty giggle.

Oh, what he would do to hear that on a loop, admire the way your lips stretched into the prettiest grin, brows quirked.

“Sunshine!” He chides, much rougher than he intends to, but you don’t pay attention to him when you place the hat carefully on your head, smoothing your hair.

You shrug, looking up at him with those doe eyes that have him melting, everytime, without fail. “Admit it, looks better on me.” You shrug, expecting him to agree.

Instead, he just offers you a deep sigh of breath, eyes almost widening when he realises what you just did. “Do you even—”

He huffs, hiding the obvious pink shade thats starting to color his cheeks, you really had no idea the hold you had on him, did you? “God, you city girls have no idea about anything, huh?”

Your brows furrow. “What?” 

“Cowboy hat rule?” He asks with a tilt of his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.

A teasing smile curves on your plushy lips as you push for more information. “What’s that?”

“Just give me the hat back,” he insists, attempting to mask the warmth that crept into his tone.

With a shake of your head, your defiance only grows, a glint of mischief dancing in your gaze. “Not until you tell me the rules.” 

“Sunshine,” he warns, voice so grumbly that heat travels all over your body quicker than the sun burning you. 

“Steve?” You hum with a flirty gaze, so teasing that Steve wants to fuck you right then and there, until he teaches you proper manners, until he shows you not to be a total fucking brat and not to roll your eyes at him, until he shows you that you’re his. 

But, of course, he settles on a low grumble of, “You’re annoying.”

“You used to be more creative with the insults, Harrington.” Another teasing remark, and Steve rolls his tongue inside of his mouth. 

With a smirk, he takes another step toward you, when your back hit the walls of the barn, only then you realise, he has you cornered. “You wanna know the cowboy hat rule, princess?” He asks all smugly.

Gaze meaner than he is, chest almost pressed against yours, voice so low that all you can do is slightly nod. 

Your breath gets hitched in your throat when his face is mere inches away from yours, hot breath fanning against your cheeks, skin heating on the impact, that brattiness you wear as a mask quick to slip off when he’s all demanding. “You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” His tone is almost a growl, pupils blown wide, making you gulp, physically.

“What?” You blink, unsure of what he’s actually asking. Excitement jumping around in your tummy. 

“You heard me. Wanna take me for a ride, Sunshine?” He is so goddamn close that you are sure he can hear the annoying tumble your heart does at the weight of what his words hold. 

It makes you pause, gaze sticking on his, sometimes slipping away to his soft lips, almost to signal him of something, but all you can do is try to hide the embarrassment that burns your cheeks. 

“Didn’t think so,” he scoffs, backing away just slightly. 

His cowboy hat is too big on your head, tipping low over your eyes, possibly hiding your nervousness as you mutter, “What if I do?”

With a smooth motion, he flips it off from your head, holding it with his palm, away from you. “Get back to work, Sunshine.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I, those horses ain’t gonna straddle their strap themselves, off. to. work,” he hisses, turning to leave.

You huff, heat still burning off your cheeks, more embarrassed than annoyed, yet you still don’t have it in yourself to let it go, you can’t let him have this. Win this.

Quick to snatch the hat back, “So the hat rule is, wear the cowboy hat, ride the cowboy, huh?” You mumble behind him, your voice failing you, yet you appear to be giggly, and Steve heaves a deep sigh of breath, before fully turning to you.

He halts a bit when he sees you once again, in his hat, tipped low, that stupidly addicting smirk gracing your slightly-open lips, hand on your hips, and all he wants to do is fuck you till you lose that attitude of yours. 

“Stop,” he warns, taking a step closer to you but with a shake of your head you back away, and he sighs, loud and annoyed. 

“Gimme that, sunshine!”

“Nuh-uh.” All teasing and bratty, and grating on Steve’s last nerve. You know this, yet you wanna keep pushing him, further and further, until he snaps, until he can’t take it anymore. You have no reason to do this, you’re supposed to hate him, think of him as an annoying asshole.

But the two of you are finally tethering on that line, the line between purely teasing each other out of spite, to teasing each other out of flirting, you know that, and you don’t wanna take a step back. “Prove it.”

You are all up in his face, and all he can do his roll his eyes, cheeks beetle red, frustration worn on his face. “Knock it off.”

You tut gently, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Not until you—” Your words are interrupted quickly when he snatches up the hat from your head in annoyance, making you gasp when he discarded it easily.

“Get back to work!” His voice raises, and it makes you take a deep breath.

Shit, did you fuck this up?

“What?” You question, entire body feeling dizzy. He takes a step closer.

“You heard me.”

Another step closer, his breaths come out in short gasps, frustration taking over him. “Get back to fuckin’ work, before I can’t stop myself.”

He is close. Too fucking close, and you can’t help the way your gaze droops down to his soft lips, slightly parted open, downturned from frustration. God, you realize how hot he is when he is angry, once again. “F—from what?”

He hesitates, before licking his lips. This is it. He wants, no, he desperately needs you. Needs to put you to your place. Teach you what happens to bratty girls like you. Show you what exactly the stupid rule is. “From fucking you in this goddamn barn.”

You release the breath you’ve been holding back, feeling small, so small under his gaze. Mouth hanging open, and all you want is him to pin you against the wall, have you screaming out his name. “From making sure I show you how the goddamn cowboy hat rule works.”

Your back is plastered against the wall, his hands are by your side, you are caged beneath him, chest rising in anticipation. “Is that what you want, honey, think you can handle all of that?” He’s so smug, and you don’t know what overtakes you when he’s all in control like this, you wanna obey him, make him happy, proud, so you bite back on your insults.

His smirk is dangerously alluring, and you’re under his spell. 

“Please,” you beg, heat finds your cheeks again, you hate the hold he has on you.

He barks out a chuckle, so mean, yet as equally hot. “Please, what? Speak up,” he spits, rolling his tongue inside of the roof of his mouth, lips wearing a smirk.

“Ruin me,” your voice is small, meek, yet it makes him groan. 

You’re such a good girl for him, and he wants nothing more than to ruin you. Fully. Completely. Ruin you for every other man. 

His head ducks down to your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss before leaning into your ear, his breath hot on your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Goddamit darlin’, you gonna be the death of me, huh?”

You don’t—you can’t answer, you’re speechless, rubbing your thighs together desperately, seeking some friction, a touch, anything. 

He levels with you again, dangerous gaze on your lips, fingertips brushing against your cheeks teasingly “You know what I always wanted to do, sunshine?” He coarses lowly. 

“W—what?” You ask with a gulp, lips twitching with need. 

He gives you another grin, that asshole. The pad of his thumb slowly caressing your lips now, making you shiver with hunger. “Always wanted to put you to your place, you and that damn smart mouth, always runnin’ it for no good reason. I’d give you a good reason for those pretty lips, huh? Use it the way I wanna use it, fill it the way I wanna feel it,” he grunts like he said the most normal thing, yet you’re already squirming, wanting to open your lips, take his fingers in your mouth and suck on them, show him how much of a good girl you can be for him.

He has you on such a hold already, and you can’t complain. For someone who seemed to be annoyed—hell, even hated him a few minutes ago, you feel crazy, batshit insane, all you want is him.  

His fingertips play with your lips all teasingly, pupils blown wide, the other hand caresses your hair so possessively that you melt into his touch. “You gonna be good for me sweet thing?”

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. “Y—yes, sir.”

Sir. 

Godfuckingdammit. You don’t know the hold you have on him, do you?

He bites back on the moan that rumbles in his throat, instead settling on a, “Good girl.” Your puppy dog eyes glint at the praise, and he makes a mental note of it. . 

“Get on your knees f’me, darlin’,” he grumbles, and you’re quick to obey, not minding the uncomfortable feeling of the wooden floors scraping your knees, or the fact that anyone might’ve walked in, the door was locked, and there was probably no one around yet Mr. Harrington might’ve returned to the ranch at any moment. But he made you feel safe, somehow. 

You look up at him with those doe-eyes again, making him suck in a breath before he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them off his hips, boxers so tight around his hard cock that he grunts involuntarily.  

Your eyes go wide the second his erection springs free, almost hitting the tip of your nose, red, angry and leaking with pre-cum, he lets out a chuckle at your expression before grabbing the base of his cock. 

Same eyes, looking up at him all hungrily, Steve feels the way blood rushes quickly to his cock, making him harder if that's even possible, with a groan he runs the leaking tip across your lips. “Open up.”

Your hand replaces his quickly, and he runs his fingers through several strands of your hair, teaching you how exactly he wants you. 

You open your mouth wide, just like he likes it, tongue giving his slit kitten licks, moaning at the taste of his salty pre-cum, wrapping your plushy lips around his thick head, and sucking the life out of him, determined, and feigning innocence with the soft gaze you held. 

Head thrown back, heavy boots planted on the harsh ground, he lets out a low groan, stroking your hair all softly. “Look at you s’pretty like this for me.”

His hand wraps tighter around your hair, pushing you onto him, making sure you gag a little and that only spurs you on, making you whine around his cock, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Cat got your tongue, darlin’?” He chuckles all meanly. 

“God, do you have any idea how many times I wanted to shut up that bratty mouth like this?” He asks with grunts leaving his open mouth, hand working harshly around your head, mouth feeling like heaven the more you bob around his thick length, struggling to take all of him. 

“Those pretty lips are—mmpf, shit—better stuffed with my cock than being a spoiled lil’ city girl runnin’ her mouth, ain’t that right, baby?” You nod meekly, angelic eyes seeking for his validation before you flatten your tongue around the sensitive part of his tip, struggling to take all of him in your mouth. Earning guttural moans, eyes squeezed shut as he feels your soft lips wrapped around him again.

“Fuck, sweet thing.” You can feel his filthy grunts straight in your core, all low and lewd that you almost moan around him again, he puts one hand on the wall, helping himself to better move in and out of your throat. 

He knows if you keep this up, he’ll cum right and there, and fuck, he needs that. But he needs to be inside of you more. 

You keep up your stroking, now adjusting yourself properly to start licking and sucking on his balls. “Sunshine, you need to s—stop,” the words barely leave his lips, he so doesn’t want you to stop. But, he needs to cum inside of you. 

Yet, you don’t listen to him as your movement speeds up, determined to feel his load warming your throat, make him proud, and your mouth bobs harder around his length, making him growl at you harshly. “Sunshine,” he warns, pulling you by your hair. 

You’re quick to take a deep breath of air once he pulls you off, looking up at him with the perfect innocent eyes, your lips wearing the prettiest pout. “Was that not good for you, Stevie?” 

Stevie. That nickname makes his head spin faster, all he wants to do is fuck you against those stupid rustic walls, have you screaming out for him, the whole ranch filled with your filthy noises, no one was around anyway.

“You kiddin’, sweetheart?” He gives you a chuckle, wrapping his hands around your jaw, pulling you off the floor. 

“You were fuckin’ amazing,” he hums, leaning down to kiss you, tasing the salty semen on your tongue. 

His hands are quick to travel along to your waist, fingertips finding their way onto your panties rather quickly, earning a gasp out of you. “Need to be in here first, honey.”

You nod, so quickly that you can feel him grinning into the kiss, his hands are everywhere, yours are more or less the same, quick to get rid of his top, to feel his toned chest in your soft hands, your top is sprawled right next to his, revealing your pink and gold bra at him, breasts peeking out just enough to have him groan, big hands quick to get rid of them. 

He has you caged against the amber walls, back hitting the rough material, making you hiss. Your skin heats at the impact, it’s filthy, lewd, and so public, but none of you even care enough to break the kiss. He settles between your thighs, his pants drooped to his ankles, hands rubbing across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The sight of you so easily submitting to him, makes his cock grow harder than he thought was possible, looking so ethereal that Steve forgets all about everything else. “Sunshine,” he breathes, hands fiddling with the hem of your panties. 

“Mhmm,” is all you can muster, legs slightly open for him, and he almost feels possessive over you, it’s entirely stupid, but he looks so fucking alluring with those dark chestnut eyes, layered hair a mess, and cock weeping entirely with the thought of you. 

His thumb runs over the seam of your pussy, just a glimpse of how his fingers are going to ruin you, and you pulse and clench against him already. Wet. Drenched. And all ready to take him. “You’re soaked,” he groans.

Leaning further into your ear, “is that all for me, honey?” he rasps, desperate, needing your confirmation. 

Heat grows in your cheeks faster than a scorching day in July, and he grins, again, all cocky and proud. “Yes,” you admit meekly, and Steve’s quick to kiss your worries away. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growls, swirling your wetness up and around your slit, almost toying with you, having you desperately mewl for him. 

He can’t put his finger on it, what it is that draws him this much into you, but he’s hooked, so goddamn obsessed that he feels like an idiot, for being this much of an asshole, for acting like a grade school boy who’s pulling the pigtails of his crush. Like a stupid cliche. 

“Stevie.” That nickname, again. Godfuckingdammit, Steve thinks. You have him so wrapped around your finger, it’s like a prayer, and he’s sure you’re not aware of it. And it drives him even crazier. “Please.”

“Talk to me.” His voice is low, lips now nipping at your neck, suckling, giving you all the marks you need. 

“I need you,” you hum, eyes squeezed shut, desperate. His finger discard your panties and slide easily inside of you, your back is fully dipped into the well-worn walls with how good he feels, his thick fingers making their way in and out of your soppy cunt, whines leave your lips faster than you can comprehend. 

“Ruin me, Steve, fully, completely.” You don’t know how those words leave past your lush lips, but your thighs ache with need, cunt throbbing for him and him only. 

His eyes widen quickly, pure hunger quick to fill his veins, mouth hanging open, curses leaving his lips at how forward you are being. “Show me the cowboy hat rule, sir.” 

Steve all but groans, mouth harshly on yours again, chests pressed together and you can feel how hard he truly is, rock stiff, and aching to be inside of you. The sheer size of how he feels against your thighs almost makes your eyes bulge again. 

His fingers stop moving in and out of you, before you can whine, he spins you around so fast that you gasp loudly, hands immediately plastered on the wall, pleasure and excitement fills your tummy, but the fact that he’s seeing you all vulnerable like this is embarrassing enough that you try to close your legs. 

He’s quick to stop you with a grin, rough hands landing on the back of your thighs, spreading them open while tutting you. “Nuh-uh. Don’t get all shy now, princess. Spread them open f’me.” You spread them a little, cunt throbbing with how close his fingers are. 

He groans again once he fully gets a view of you like this, face down, ass up, your pussy slicked with your juices, at his mercy. “‘M gonna ruin you, honey, don’t you worry.” A dark chuckle barks out from his chest, sending chills down your spine, almost making you whine. 

Fuck. 

His hands are rough when he has you by your waist, bruising almost. Lining his cock in front of your slick core, he swipes the head of his reddened tip inside of you with one forceful thrust. Your plushy lips open slightly, stealing your breath away as you try to adjust to his size.

Shit, shit, shit, he feels even better than you fucking expected.

His cock splits you open, filling every goddamn inch of you. You don’t know how many times you thought this, but, shit, he’s as big as the gossip in this small town says he is. 

His thrusts are slow, grunts so loud and heavenly that it spurs you on more and more. His weight on you, the bruising hold. You feel him everywhere. On your back, hips, and fucking inside of you.

“F-fucking, fuck!” he growls, leaving nibbles all over your shoulder and back, even with the fact that this was Steve, and he was rough and filthy, it was wildly intimate, so wildly intimate that you could feel your heart pounding inside of your chest. 

“How are you this fuckin’ tight, s-sweetheart?” One of his hands travel up to your neck, roughly holding you down, hips slamming into you with such force that you cry out.

He watches the way his girthy cock disappears in and out of you, wetting himself with your juices, filling every inch of you. “Doin’ s’good for me, princess.” His praises are heavenly, making your chest swell with pride.

He moves inside of your soppy cunt with short thrusts. Completely bottomed out, thrusting against the same sensitive spot every time as his balls, heavy with cum grind against your clit, with each movement, making you cry out his name, babbles leaving your mouth. “Yeah, you like this don’t ya? Want me to ruin this slutty pussy, huh? Ruin it for every other men?”

You nod all dumbly, yet, it isn’t enough for him. He wants to hear you, have you scream it out. “Say it, sweet thing, fuckin’ say it,” he groans, coarse voice making tingles appear everywhere on your skin. 

“I-I love it, Stevie, want you to ruin me for everyone else, mmpf,” you moan all fucked out, eyes rolled all the way back to your head, hips desperately grinding against him for some more friction. 

He picks up his pace, fucking into you with reckless abandon.“F-fuck doll, won’t last if you keep runnin’ that dirty mouth.” 

But his words just encourage you to keep going, gasps coming out in short breaths as you manage to drive him crazier. “All yours, sir, all yours.” 

He grunts at that, one of his arms snaking around and under your hips to find a better angle, lifting you up so that he can fuck his cock deeper into you, make you feel how fucking big he really is. “That’s right, baby, it’s all fuckin’ mine.”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks, entire body burning with it. The slick sounds of his hips driving into you, your moans, his low groans are all that fill the room. So fucking filthy, and you can feel yourself clenching around him. 

It’s all too much; his hands everywhere, the lewd noises he makes, how deep his girthy cock is bottomed out inside of you, making you feel every ridge. It’s fucking perfect, and you desperately need to cum. 

And of fucking course, Steve can feel your pussy gripping him, so tight that he knows he’s gonna cum right after you do. “Gonna cum f’me, huh? Such a good girl,” he praises, again, knowing the effect it has on you and all you can do is gasp and weakly nod. 

One of his thumbs quickly finds your clit, making your pussy throb around him in pure ecstasy, all the overstimulation enough to have you crying like a bitch in heat. “Give it to me, angel,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere on your skin.   

His movements pick up, padded thumb rubbing circles around your clit, the other hand landing on your nipples, twisting them while pumping into you, it’s all too much that it makes you sob and beg for him. 

“Cream my cock, let me ruin you completely, darlin’” It’s all the confirmation you need as your orgasm builds and washes through you, body exploding with pleasure, spreading through your skin as you scream out his name. 

Your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, and he fucking knows, he won’t last, not in the slightest. “S-shit, sweet thing, gonna make me cum with all those filthy noises.” 

“Want that, honey, hmm? Wanna be filled with my cum? Show everybody in this town who owns ya? Owns this tight lil’ cunt?” He feels it, that pure hunger for you over taking him, coarse voice, dark eyes, like a man possessed. His fingers dig further into your skin as he desperately chases his orgasm, enjoying the sloppy sounds your pussy makes as he drives into you.

“P-please, Stevie, n-need your cum,” you weakly hum. And it fucking breaks him. Hips losing all rhythm when he spills his warm load into you, twitching inside of you once he pumps you full of his cum. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sunshine,” he breathes, collapsing on your back, both of you trying to come down from the high. He slips free of you slowly, his cum dripping down your thighs, making him grin proudly. 

“S-steve,” you weakly murmur, collapsing in his arms. He holds you down, slight kisses left on your back, delicate in a way you have never seen him before. Yet, the two of you don’t mention it, “let me take you home,” he mutters, a gentle hold on you that makes you feel warm.

“N-no.”

“No?” Intrigued, his breath gets caught in his throat, the look you give him is so sultry that the blood rushes to his cock in an instant again. Fucking fuck, what have you done to him.

“We still haven’t followed the rules,” you purr sweetly, causing him to raise his brows in excitement, tempting him further and further. 

“The rule was wear the hat, ride the cowboy, wasn’t it?” You question with a slight grin, eyes lulled, still fucked out. 

Your fingertips gently grazed against his chest, hairy and slicked with sweat, his sudden dominance fading when you were so quick to switch from begging to cum underneath him to gaining that flirty, giddy personality again. Already leaving him a mess. “Y-yeah,” he murmured, watching you hungrily, his cock already weeping again. 

“Then, sit down and lemme take care of you, cowboy,” you ordered again, shuddering breaths leaving him in an instant.   

Now you were going to ruin him.

Fully.

Completely.

And Steve couldn’t be more infatuated. You were truly his demise.