#please tell me others are non stop thinking about it too

[judesmoonbeauty]

A Day With Jude Jazza: Chapter Two "13:00 Working at Raven & Lunch"

TW: Weight discussion. Idk if this really needs it or not, but I added it just in case.

Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

I’m working hard at Raven today too —

(I’ve been working non-stop, but I wonder if I’ll be able to finish this….)

The moment I gulped at the mountain of documents in front of me…..

Jude: Do ‘em perfectly.

He showed up and said that, so I stopped what I was doing and puffed my cheeks.

Kate: Isn’t there some kind of reward for your girlfriend who works so hard?

Jude: What kinda reward?

Kate: Hmm, like taking me out for lunch…?

Jude: ….Tch.

Then his finger came up to my forehead,

Kate: Ouch!

I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut because of the force of the forehead flick —

(…..It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.)

Opening my eyes, he let out an annoyed sigh and turned around.

Jude: Let’s make tracks.

Kate: What?

Jude: Lunch, let’s go.

Kate: Coming!!

Kate: It’s my first time coming to this restaurant, but it’s super delicious.

Ellis: Good, I’m glad you’re happy Kate.

While eating a tasty meat-dish and chatting with Ellis,

Jude: ……

I heard the sound of a fork being put down next to me, and when I looked over he had stopped eating, leaving the fatty part untouched.

Kate: That’s such a waste.

The plate was silently brought to me, as if telling me to eat, so I ate the fatty portion.

After that, Jude made an exasperated look.

Jude: You’ll gain weight if ya eat like that each ‘n every time.

(Actually, I have been a bit worried about that recently….)

Kate: Isn’t it because you’re handing your plates over to me, Jude?

Jude: Didn’t say t’eat it.

Jude: Yer the one sayin’ it’s a waste not t’eat it.

(I can’t deny that…..)

Jude: ‘N ya eat more sweets than me’, innit?

Ever since we started dating, I felt like it was a waste to leave any of the fat and sweets on the plate,

So when I look over, the plate gets closer to me, and before I know it, I end up eating it.

Ellis: But I think it’s nice to see Kate eating it deliciously.

Kate: Ellis……

Ellis was sitting across from me and kindly smiles.

Feeling a bit happy, I brought the dessert to my lips without hesitation.

That’s when Jude’s fingers stroke my thigh under the table —

Kate: Urk!

Jude: Ya really have put on weight, haven’tcha?

His warped smile irritated me, so I lightly pinched his hand.

Kate: This is what I do to people who say such things.

Jude: Ha, don’t hurt none.

His hand let go of my thigh, and he took a bite of the dessert,

Jude: Work back the weight gain.

He didn’t seem to like the sugary taste, and immediately put down his fork.

Jude: Got the perfect job for ya.

Kate: What is it?

Jude: Deliver all o’ the finished documents to the department heads in the company.

Kate: That much?!

Thinking back to all the documents left on my desk, I felt overwhelmed.

Jude: Kate.

Kate: Yes, [MUMPH]

Bite by bite, he feeds me his dessert.

Kate: Wai-, Jude, Ju-

As soon as I gulped down the last mouthful, he flashed a wicked smile.

Jude: Ya ate desserts for two, so ya can work fer that much, yeah?

Kate: —You DEMON!

Jude: Ha!

As we glared at each other, I heard Ellis’ heartwarming voice,

Ellis: Hehe, Jude and Kate, you both look like you’re having fun today too.

Jude & Kate: Ain’t havin’ fun. • I’m not having fun.

And so, the lunch break ends.

[Event Master list] [Next - ⏱♡ 16:00 - Negotiations at Twilight]

I want to be spoiled and fed by Jude too.......

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

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[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 9

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8)

Yeah, I don't really have any introductory words to say on this one except... ENJOY <3

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume Fadel and Style use the rude pronouns guu/mueng with each other unless I specify otherwise.

To recap: On their road trip through the country, Fadel and Style ran into an interesting pair and got involved in their (pre-)marital dispute. Style finally figures out what exactly Fadel is mad about and makes him a promise.

No. 1: A Stylish Death

Once more, Style and Fadel are on the road. Fadel finally took Style's advice from the end of episode 7 to heart and is currently taking a nap on the backseat of the car instead of threatening Style non-stop. Style turns his head to check on him, then shakes his head and looks back to the road, his expression amused. It's my personal headcanon that he finds it just as funny and ridiculous (affectionate) how bad of a kidnapper Fadel is as we the fandom do. What kidnapper just sleeps peacefully while letting their victim drive them around in a car without supervision? Speaking of headcanons, you know how there's been talk about where exactly Style got the sunglasses from all of a sudden? My mom suggested that they could be Bison's and that they just happened to lie around in the car, but it's my headcanon that Style actually nicked them from Jimmy and Popcorn's house. He probably found the glasses somewhere around the house and charmed the two of them into giving them to him before he and Fadel left.

Anyway, the radio cuts out and Style ends up finding a photo of some mysterious guy in the glove compartment in search of CDs. To be honest, I don't think Style is all that jealous in this moment (I think he'd know if there was a love rival he needed to worry about, I think he can read Fadel well enough by now), but I do think he's very confused and intrigued. Because Fadel did tell him four episodes ago that he didn't have any past lovers. And only the night before (I assume) they had a chat in which Style mentions that he doesn't know Fadel's past. And I think Style wants to know. About Fadel's past and now about the guy in the photo specifically, because that guy is likely connected to Fadel's past, too. Which Style wants to know about.

But right in that moment, Fadel wakes up. Style quickly throws the photo back into the compartment, slams it shut and immediately ropes Fadel into a conversation so that Fadel doesn't even have the time to ask what Style was doing in case he saw anything. Fadel starts telling Style about Bison's parents' island and house and Style hopes his best friend is still alive. The only thing Fadel has to say about that is: "I can’t guarantee that. You’ll have to find out for yourself." That's not a very reassuring answer. "Can’t you at least lie to make me feel better?" Style asks. Language fun fact, Style's reply actually goes more like:

Can't you give me some hope, please? มึงให้ความหวังกูหน่อยก็ได้ป่ะ [mueng - hâi - kwaam wăng - guu - nòi - gôh dâai - bpà] you - give - hope - me - a little (please) - [particle] - ?

Then Style asks for a quick stop at a clothes store because "I’ve been wearing [your clothes] this whole time, and it’s getting disgusting" and I just love that @panncakes was spot on when they said:

im just saying style is obviously not wearing his own shirt in episode 8 and since fadel had time to prepare for this search mission he obviously brought essentials including spare sets of clothing and baggy black does scream fadel; so im just going to assume fadel has style Who He's Definitely Killing Soon running around in his own clothing because you can't have a dead man running around in day old dirty clothes obviously and not because sharing clothes is becoming their Thing

In a bit we will see that Style actually is wearing a shirt that we've seen Fadel wear before on the show.

They start bickering, because Fadel isn't in the mood to go shopping for clothes, but Style fights for his will by joking about Fadel killing him and going on a very Style-like monologue about wanting to be a good-looking corpse. When he's done monologuing, he turns his head and throws Fadel a side glance to check if it worked.

It did.

No. 2: You Better Run, Better Run, Faster Than His Bullet

It worked. Despite Fadel's reluctance they are now standing in a clothes store on Style's request and that makes 3/3 series that JoongDunk have gone to a clothes store in. I'm starting to wonder if looking at clothes together on camera is in their contracts. Maybe the real sunflowers were the clothes stores we made along the way. (Yes, I am still waiting for a JD sun flower Easter egg. Since sun flowers were such a big thing in both their previous works and their mascot is a sunflower too.) Anyway, so Fadel caved and let Style go shopping for clothes after all, because when does Fadel not give in to Style and Style is hyped. They bicker some more and Style finally calls Fadel out for being a bad kidnapper while at the same time using the opportunity to pointedly call himself Fadel's boyfriend and just as pointedly call Fadel his own boyfriend again as well. Just listen to how much he stresses the word "faen". Actually, let me just share a more literal translation again, because he doesn't just throw around the word "boyfriend" two but three whole times in Thai:

Right now I feel more like a boyfriend. ตอนเนี่ยรู้สึกเหมือน​แฟนมากกว่า [dton nîia - rúu-sèuk - mĕuuan - faen - mâak gwàa] (right) now - feel - like - boyfriend - more Official subs: I feel like a boyfriend. It's/You're like a boyfriend who accompanies his boyfriend while shopping. เหมือนแฟนมาเฝ้าแฟนช้อปปิ้งอ่ะ [mĕuuan - faen - maa - fâo - faen - chóp-bpîng - àh] like - boyfriend - come - watch over, care - boyfriend - shopping - [particle] Official subs: This feels like going shopping with my boyfriend.

(The italicized boyfriends indicate which boyfriends Style pointedly stresses.)

Last episode, Fadel claimed twice that he and Style weren't boyfriends/a couple after Style referred to them as such. Now Style is calling them boyfriends again, but the only thing that Fadel debunks this time around is the claim that Style is his hostage. Fadel doesn't say a single word about them not being boyfriends. He ends his defense by claiming that Style doesn't hold enough value to be exchanged for anything and Style throws him a little nod like Sure Jan whatever you say. 

Fadel continues to say "I'm just letting you find a little joy before I kill you" and that's interesting because:

I'm only letting you be a little happy before you die. กูแค่ให้มึงมีความสุขเล็กๆ น้อย​ๆ​ ก่อนตายเท่านั้นแหละ [guu - kâe - hâi - mueng - mii kwaam-sùk - lék lék nói nói - gòhn - dtaai - tâo nán - làe] I - just - let, give - you - be happy - little, small - before - die - only - [particle]

Let's compare with every other explicit death threat that Fadel has made to Style since he's kidnapped him:

Doesn't matter where [I'm taking you]. You'll be dead anyway. But before I kill you, I have to see my brother.

Once I find him, I'm going to kill you both.

One wrong move, I'm blowing your brain out.

If my car was stolen, not only would I kill you, I'd take a car from your garage.

Just because I let you do this doesn't mean I won't kill you, you know?

Do you see what's different all of a sudden? Yeah, that's right. Fadel threatened Style's life, but he did not say that he would be the one ending it. For once, Fadel did not say that he, Fadel, would be killing Style. The only other time he made a reference about Style being dead rather than him killing Style was the very first time he voiced an explicit death threat and that one was still followed by an "I kill you" in the very next sentence. Now, though? There is no "I (will) kill you" anywhere to be found. It's the same thing a few lines down: "You're going to die soon, what else do you want?" (Btw, I did check the Thai lines in the list above and in Thai he also says that he'll kill Style each time.)

I don't know if Style picks up on that subtle change in phrasing, but he certainly isn't as annoyed by and tired of the death threats anymore as he used to be. Instead, he now deals with them by making light of them, like earlier in the car when he insisted he wanted to be a good-looking corpse and now by asking Fadel to drop his dead body in a beautiful place so that at least his ghost could haunt nice places in nature. And what I love about this is that even though this is clearly meant more like a light-hearted joke, Style still sounds almost kind of genuine in his words. Because Fadel is "serious" about his death threats and so Style will also be serious about his dying wishes. And even though he doesn't believe that Fadel will actually kill him, Style still would rather haunt a beautiful place when he dies (even if it isn't at Fadel's hands). That part is genuine. However, Fadel ain't got no time for this particular wish. And so he threatens Style's life one more time by playing along with Style: "If you don't choose something right now, the only place you're haunting is this damn secondhand store."

Style stares at Fadel for a moment. Message received. It's time for Style to back down from being annoying or else Fadel will really lose his patience. And so Style turns his attention to the clothes rack, but not without showing Fadel how completely and utterly unimpressed he is by Fadel threatening death for the millionth time in the past 3-ish days. Style soon gets distracted from his performance when he notices a nice pair of shorts, which he grabs and then pointedly holds out to Fadel like There. I'm choosing something. Happy now? 

Style seriously starts looking for something to wear after that and he's so focused on the clothes that he misses the way Fadel watches him with the most adoring look in his eyes. Style finds a top he likes and walks off to try it on. When he comes back to ask for Fadel's opinion on his outfit, Fadel points out that Style never really wears stripes:

But I don't really see you wearing striped clothes. แต่กูไม่ค่อยเห็นมึงใส่เสื้อลายทางนะ [dtàe - guu - mâi kôi - hĕn - mueng - sài - sêuua laai taang - ná] but - I - not really - see - you - wear - striped clothes - [particle] Official subs: I never saw you in stripes before.

Just wanted to make a little clarification, because in the subs Fadel actually says "I never saw you in stripes before" when Fadel actually has, in fact, seen Style in stripes. But "not really" and "never" isn't quite the same. In Thai Fadel implies that Style rarely wears stripes, not that he never wears stripes, and I think Style wearing stripes in front of Fadel three times in eight episodes is rare enough to be considered "not really".

Fadel taking note of this fact has Style quite satisfied, because Fadel is clearly paying attention to him. Then Style firmly tells Fadel "You can't kill me. You love me." and this stand-off really reminds me of the one in the storage room in episode 3 when Style tells Fadel "You won't [punch me]. You like me." Except this time Style is even more confident in his words. In fact, he knows he's right, because Fadel has had many perfect opportunities to kill him in the last couple of days, was actually close to killing him a few times and yet Style is still alive and kicking and actively being an annoying little menace in Fadel's life. And he also knows for a fact that Fadel is in love with him. He tested him in the bathtub and got a satisfactory result. Instead of being punched in the gut like last time, Style suddenly finds himself whirled around and on the ground, everything accompanied by the sound of gunshots. 

From one second to the next, Style finds himself worrying about his his life again after he's finally managed to deal with his fear of death triggered by the pool incident. Somehow, Fadel and Style still have the time to bicker while Fadel fires off a few more gunshots and then they run to a different hiding spot. I do love how Style's first instinct the moment Fadel has dropped down on the ground next to him is to reach out to Fadel. And I love how Style doesn't even seem to be thinking about it, he just touches Fadel automatically, his hand seeks out Fadel almost out of reflex.

Fadel realizes he's out of bullets and blames Style who defends himself and then asks how they're gonna fight this guy. And once again we get to see how much of a helper Style is and how much of a need to fix things he has, because he immediately offers himself up as bait to distract the attacker. Fadel hates the idea, but Style insists. He's too helpful for his own good. Style gets in position to run, but turns back to Fadel for a moment when Fadel calls out Style's name a few times. Fadel tilts his head in disapproval like Are you fucking serious right now?! Style nods and blinks at him in a silent answer: Yeah. It'll be fine, don't worry. I got this. Then Style bravely runs off. His need to help overrides his fear of death. 

Turns out Style cannot, in fact, outrun bullets. A bullet grazes him and he goes down. And at this point, let me just leave @secriden's observation here, because it totally hadn't occurred to me and it hurts me, so obviously I need to make it everyone else's problem, too:

[I]it is just deliciously dramatic that Style gets injured precisely dressed in the clothes he'd picked out so he could "at least die in something that's actually my style" and in the place Fadel said Style would haunt only minutes prior.

Fadel finds Style a minute or two later, once he's dealt with the attacker and they're both safe. Style says "It’s just a graze" and "This is nothing" and I'm not sure if he's saying this more to reassure Fadel or to reassure himself. His mouth says one thing, but his face sure says another.

Whatever brave face Style was putting on a moment ago disappears once Fadel starts wrapping his own shirt around Style's injury. Style goes down, clearly in pain. And I'm left wondering... Is that it? Is this why we've been counting Style around guns? Was it foreshadowing to Style getting shot? Only time will tell.

No. 3: Treating the Wounded

Somehow Fadel gets Style onto Bison's island. I wonder how far away they were at the point of Style being shot and how long it took for them to arrive on the island. Style is weak and pale and yet the first and also only thing out of his mouth is "Kant… You're alive. I'm happy to see that". Kant's death is a worry that Style has carried around ever since that morning at the hospital right before Fadel ambushed him and now that I think about it, this worry must have also played a part in Style's fear of and about death last episode. But Kant is alive. His best friend is alive. And that's all that matters through the pain right now.

Kant wants to help but Fadel immediately yells at him to let go of Style the moment Kant grabs Style's arm. I'm sure Style would have been cool with Kant also helping him, but Style currently doesn't have the energy to talk back to Fadel. Fadel continues to lead him towards the house and at one point as they're walking we see Style shut his eyes for a moment in a way that has me wonder if for a second his vision went blurry and/or if he's feeling dizzy from the pain and the shock of the injury:

Once at the house, Bison stitches Style back up while Fadel helps and acts as Style's moral support. I'm not sure how many details of what is happening here will be retained in Style's memory as his brain is certainly too busy with keeping him alive through the pain.

No. 4: Bestie Talk

Style wakes up in a bed and Kant finds him only a minute later with painkillers. Style first voices his relief that he himself didn't die from the shock of the surgery, followed by his relief that Kant isn't a corpse either. Kant's potential death really is something that was weighing him down. But Kant's alive! And he even told Bison about everything! Style can't believe his ears. How in the world is Kant still alive, then? Kant says "He loves me" and Style goes "Ohhhhhhhhh" while I go "The power of love, huh?" and then Style goes "The power of love, alright" and I die of laughter at how predictable Style's words were. Style, believer in the power of love, is very happy that his prediction was right, is very happy for his friend and his happiness. Kant continues "I love him, too. I'll do anything to keep him alive" and Style asks "And how are you going to do that? This mess is getting out of hand. It's not just the cops who are after them, but someone else clearly wants them dead" and it's interesting, because so far in their 1:1 scenes it was always Style being the optimistic one, the hopeful one, the dreamer while Kant kept things realistic and had a more pessimistic outlook on life. This time, though, it's the other way around. This time Style hits Kant with the realism. And it makes sense, because it was also Style who got hit by a real bullet. Style has felt and is actually currently feeling the very real consequences of "I'll do anything to keep him alive". One moment you think you can outrun a bullet, the next you almost die on a make-shift surgery table.

Kant says he doesn't exactly know how he's going to go about it, but that his heart is already in it. Style looks away, clearly thinking about something, then raises his eyebrows and nods.

"My heart is already in this." Style knows. Oh, how well Style knows that feeling. The feeling of wanting to do something, anything in the world for the well-being and safety of your hitman boyfriend. He's been feeling like this for a long time now. If we're being honest, Style has felt like this since all the way back in episode 5 where he told Kant "How would I even get through this? I compromised my whole body, and if we're being honest, I've already compromised half of my heart, too. I'm worried about him now" in that locker room. But back then things were going great for Style. Fadel had finally given him a chance and was happily dating Style while Style was falling in love with him more and more despite knowing his true identity. Back then, things were great. Now, though? Not so much. One moment Fadel threatens him with death, the next moment Fadel saves him from death. Style is happy that everything worked out well for his beloved bestie and his hitman boyfriend, but he himself is quite confused at the mixed signals he's getting from his own hitman: "Meanwhile, my chances are 50-50. He's hot and then cold. He loves me and then he doesn't. I honestly can't keep up with him." And I don't think the 50-50 refers to there being a 50-50 chance on whether Fadel will kill him or not. I think by now everyone and their mother knows that Fadel absolutely cannot bring himself to take Style's life no matter how hard he tries (and how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise) and Style is very much aware of it. He even called Fadel out on it at the store. No, I think the 50-50 is out on whether Fadel will forgive him and whether Fadel is willing to give Style another chance. Style knows Fadel loves him, but is the love he has also enough to let Style in again? Is it enough to put his walls down for Style again? And besides, apart from saving Style's life a few times, ever since Fadel found out the truth Fadel hasn't exactly been treating Style in a way that makes Style feel loved and appreciated while Style has done nothing but show his love and appreciation for Fadel. Fadel hasn't exactly shown that he really cares about Style. Style made it very clear that despite Fadel nearly taking his life at the pool, he still loved Fadel and was even willing to sleep with him anyway and Fadel just handcuffed him to the bed in return and told Style he didn't trust him. Style cried from trauma and the only consolation Fadel gave him was "don't be dramatic" and "I don't wanna listen". Style voiced genuine concerns about being murdered and Fadel came back with approval of Style's murder. Style called them boyfriends and Fadel returns with yet another death threat. Those aren't exactly bright prospects for Style and no matter how much Style stays in good spirits, deep down it's gotta hurt, too. Fadel may love Style enough not to kill him, but does he even care about him at all as well?

But Kant has an outside perspective and sees things that Style doesn't see. And from that perspective it looks like Fadel absolutely does care: "But from what I saw, he had your hands clasped in his so tightly. And the way he looked at you was exactly how I looked at Bison at the hospital." Style looks away again, even more lost in thought this time around as he contemplates Kant's words and thinks about Fadel holding his hand through the surgery as well as his relationship with him. Kant's words should come as good news, but Style still looks rather downhearted.

It may seem a little odd that our usual confident, optimistic, hopeful boy is suddenly discouraged. However, I think it makes sense. Style knows that Fadel loves him, but he hasn't exactly been treating Style in a way that makes Style actually feel that love (not killing Style and saving his life is kind of the bare minimum at this point, let's be real). Not to mention, there are also many things that we, the viewers, see from an outside perspective, but Style himself doesn't see them, like when Fadel nearly reached out to Style when Style was crying, or the look of adoration Fadel was watching Style with at the clothes store, or the concern Fadel showed while Bison was stitching Style up. But for the last incident, there was someone there to witness the outside perspective and finally Style learns how Fadel looks when Style's not looking. And that makes Style think. Fadel does seem to care. And Kant's words also serve to reconfirm that Style is right about Fadel loving him, but is that love enough to make Fadel want to be with Style again? After all, Style still has to work for Fadel's forgiveness. And I think that's why Style ultimately isn't all that convinced by Kant's words, because what good does the knowledge that Fadel loves him do, when there's a chance Fadel still won't take him back? What good does the knowledge that Fadel does care do, when it only happens in moments where Style is missing out on it? When it only happens in moments where that care doesn't properly reach Style?

Kant can tell that his friend is still unhappy, so he changes the topic to something more cheerful: "Thanks, though, for risking your life looking for me." This has Style genuinely laughing again as he says "I don’t need your gratitude." Another interpretation of this line is actually:

No need to get so touching, dude. ไม่ต้องมาซึ้งเลยมึง [mâi dtông - maa - séung - loiie - mueng] no need - come - touching, deep - [particle] - you

I think this is a little more coherent with Kant teasing Style about saying "I love you" afterwards, but that might also just be me. Anyway, Style and Kant bicker a bit and Kant accidentally causes pain to Style's injured arm. When they stop bickering, Style, who is in a bit of a better mood again after feeling a down about Fadel only moments before, now really wants to know alllll the tea he's missed while he was busy surviving the pain of the surgery: "When [Fadel] had my hand in his, how did he look at me?"

Kant goes into a dramatic reenactment for Style until they both break away laughing about how weird the thought of the two of them (Kant and Style) to kiss is. Once they've calmed down, Kant repeats that Fadel is worried about Style. Style smiles to himself, getting lost in thought again. It's still not an entirely happy smile, because Style still has a way to go to earn Fadel's forgiveness and Fadel still needs to make it clear in return that he does care about Style and appreciates him in a way where Style can actually see or feel it, but Style is definitely more hopeful again compared to earlier in the conversation. Maybe there is a chance Fadel is willing to give Style another chance after all. Maybe there really is still hope that Style will get his boyfriend back and that said boyfriend will also start treating him accordingly again. Maybe things aren't so bleak after all.

No. 5: Over My Dead Body

However, things take a dark turn when Style walks in on the love of his life holding his best friend at gunpoint. Style missed the beginning of the confrontation, so technically he doesn't really have context, but he also doesn't really need it, because he knows exactly what grudge Fadel is holding. No need to ask. Besides, the day they were playing with the BB guns Fadel already told Style "Kant has to deal with me. He started all this, after all." And now Fadel is making good on that promise.

But Style has been so worried about Kant's safety for so many episodes already and especially ever since Kant got kidnapped and now that Style's finally got his best friend back, alive, and he is not going to watch his (not-)boyfriend kill him in front of his very own eyes and so he shouts at Fadel not to hurt Kant. However, Kant is ready to accept his fate. But before he dies, Fadel needs to know that Style is innocent: "But Style has nothing to do with this. I lied to get him roped into this." Remember the word หลอก [lòhk] from last episode? Yeah, it makes an appearance again. Just so you know:

I deceived my friend one more time. ผมหลอกเพื่อนผมมาอีกทีนึงอ่ะ [pŏm - lòhk - pêuuan pŏm - maa - ìik tii nueng - àh] I - trick, deceive - my friend - [past tense marker] - one more time again - [particle]

(If you didn't read my ep8 meta: this word means "to trick" or "to deceive" and it came up A LOT during ep8. Lots of tricking and deceiving happening on this show. Who would have thought.)

But Style is not cool with Kant's sacrifice. "Don't you dare take all the credits," Style scolds him. And here, have the Thai version too, because it made me laugh:

Don't be cool all by yourself. มึงอย่าเท่คนเดียวดิวะ [mueng - yàa - têh - kon diieow - dì - wá] you - don't - (be) cool - alone, by yourself - [particle] - [particle]

Style won't let Kant to this alone. If Kant has to die, so does Style. And he makes that very clear to Fadel: "If you're going to kill him, kill me, too." Style's voice sounds angry when he says this and this is interesting, because Style hasn't really been properly angry with Fadel ever since he found himself tied up at the pool. Sure, Style got annoyed and he was even really done with Fadel at some points, but Style was never angry with Fadel, he never held any of what Fadel said or did to him against Fadel. No, instead of getting angry, Style just went with it and often met Fadel with kindness and love instead. But now that his best friend's life is on the line, Style is finally truly angry at Fadel. Fadel can shoot Kant over Style's dead body. And with the many times Fadel has saved Style in the last couple of days, Style knows for a fact that his dead body is not something Fadel can bear to see. Even when Fadel himself is the one who wants Style dead.

Style continues: "Nobody forced me into this. I agreed to it willingly." Style could have gotten out of this mess at any point after he was informed of Fadel's real occupation and of what Kant's real mission was, but Style didn't. Style stayed. And he even stuck to Fadel's side all throughout episode 8 without running away which is something that he did willingly. Not because he was afraid of Fadel's gun. Fadel never really treated Style as an actual hostage apart from that one time he handcuffed Style to the bed and the few times he waved his gun in Style's face. Style had plenty of opportunities to make a run for it, especially when Fadel was napping in the car. But Style chose to stay. Nobody forced him to do anything, not Fadel during their road trip and also not Kant at any time before that. Style went along with everything by his own choice and of his own will. No one's made any decisions for Style. Style also has agency in this game.

Style underlines this point by dropping down on his knees and offering his life by his very own choice. "Don't you have a little sympathy? We've been through all these things together. Why did you bother stitching me up if you're going to end up killing me anyway? Why didn't you just let me die?" Style is still angry, but now his voice sounds more reproachful as well as desperate. Style's hurt is really starting to shine through. He has stuck to Fadel's side with unwavering loyalty these past few days, has shown over and over again that he's serious about Fadel and his feelings for Fadel, he's been nice to Fadel, has helped him, has followed his wishes, has even nearly given his life to protect Fadel in the store. And not a single time has Fadel shown any sign of appreciation or as much as acknowledgment. That hurts. Even more so, when Fadel then goes to murder Style's best friend as a thank you in return for all that Style has done for him. I think when Style asks "Don't you have a little sympathy?" the unspoken question is You don't care about me, despite all that I've willingly done for you? Style's next words are even more loaded: "Why did you bother stitching me up if you're going to end up killing me anyway? Why didn't you just let me die?" This is You do care about me, because if you really did hate me all that much you could have easily let me die back there and finally be rid of me, but you didn't. You couldn't bear to see me die. This is If you care about me and my life this much, then why do you keep treating me so coldly? This is You saved my life and now you're just gonna destroy it immediately after? Are you really this cruel?

As Style is kneeling there, I don't think he is scared for his own life, I don't think he expects Fadel to actually shoot him dead on the spot. I think Style feels fairly safe in this moment, but he is terrified for Kant's life. He knows that Fadel can't bring himself to kill Style, because he loves him too much, but Fadel doesn't feel the same way about Kant. In fact, Fadel feels quite the opposite about Kant. If Fadel kills Kant now, even if he spares Style, Style's life would still be ruined. No matter how much Style insists that he'll like Fadel no matter what, I think if Fadel kills his best friend (or any of Style's loved ones really, like his dad), I think that's the one exception to the rule. I do think they would not be able to come back from that.

This moment here is also the first time Style actually begs Fadel for mercy. Yes, back at the pool he also worked on Fadel not firing that life-ending shot, but back then Style was mostly angry and annoyed and only a little scared. Yes, he did ask Fadel not to kill him, but back then Style was begging for his life, not for mercy. Back then Style didn't ask Fadel to show compassion. But now Style is on his knees, desperately begging Fadel to be merciful, to show compassion, to really think things through. Fadel stares at him.

Fadel may not appreciate the loyalty Style has shown him over the last few days, but Kant very much does appreciate Style's loyalty and voices it, too: "I'm happy to have called you a friend." Style replies "Thank you for making my life such an adventure. It's been so goddamn fun, you know that?" and now tears start falling from his eyes as he's speaking. And what I love about this is despite how Style is crying and despite how upset he is in this moment and despite how terrified he is about their (Kant's) death, for Style his potential goodbye to Kant isn't a tragedy. No, it's a celebration. Style is upset and he is sad and he is desperate and afraid, but he smiles a genuine smile through his tears as he speaks his potential last words that Kant may get to hear from him. It's a celebration of their friendship. Style takes this tragic moment and turns it into a happy one. Because if death is inevitable, he at least wants to spend their (Kant's) dying moment in happiness and with good memories in mind. Kant acknowledges that celebration with a smile and a nod, which Style returns.

But Fadel stays stubborn. "How can we be sure you're not just fooling us again?" Style's smile and brief moment of happiness has disappeared when he replies to Fadel. "You think I'd risk my life for all this if I didn't really have feelings for you?" Style is still firm, but now all the anger from moments before is completely gone. Only hurt and despair is left. Style is asking Fadel All this time you never thought or cared to see my perspective, did you? He's telling Fadel I'm here before you, literally begging you on my knees and you are STILL not willing to believe a single word out of my mouth nor any of my actions. Style may always act like Fadel's continuous stabs at him just bounce right off, but at the end of the day it does hurt him that Fadel keeps pushing him away, keeps refusing to appreciate or at the very least acknowledge Style's genuine sincerity. Style's words are reproachful, like he's asking What else do I still need to do in order to prove to you that I'm being serious, no tricks? How much longer will you disregard my very real feelings? Are you really that stubborn? Is this really the hill you're going to die on?

Now Kant jumps in with a beg of his own to support Style: "People make mistakes. Won't you give me a chance? I really love your brother, and my friend really loves you. The two of us will do anything to make sure the two of you get the life you want." Fadel looks at Style after Kant says "The two of us will do anything to make sure the two of you get the life you want." Style has his eyes fixed on Fadel and despite Style still being tense and his breathing being shaky, the expression on Style's face is firm and determined. Style really meant every single thing he just said or did. And he is especially determined in his decision to die alongside Kant. Style is sending a couple of messages to Fadel here. He's saying Since you're always disregarding my own feelings on this matter anyway it really seems like you don't give a shit about me after all, so killing me in addition to Kant really shouldn't be a problem for you at all, so go on, do it. He's telling him If you kill him, you kill me too. If not physically, then at the very least emotionally. He's asking Won't you finally believe that I'm undoubtedly serious and honest about everything and especially about you?

Style is also observing Fadel, watching Fadel intently to see what he's doing, to see what his next move is going to be. Fadel, who was staring at Style, looks back to Kant, then throws Style another look.

And that's when he makes the decision to not to shoot. To put the gun away, instead. And that decision was without a doubt made for Style, not for Bison. I think Style's words (and especially also the unspoken ones) got to him and more importantly, he got to see Style's loyalty in full action. And that was crucial for Fadel to see, because if Style is this loyal to Kant, then if Style's love for Fadel is true, Fadel can expect the same loyalty from him down the line. In fact, Style actually has shown Fadel the same loyalty all along already, or else he wouldn't have followed Fadel to Bison's island, nor would he have thrown himself in the line of fire at the store to protect Fadel. Although I'm not sure Fadel is really ready to truly look at and acknowledge that in this moment.

Fadel puts the gun down and walks a few steps away. Both Bison and Style rush to Kant to check on him. Once Style has made sure Kant is alright, he looks to Fadel. Fadel is looking at him too.

Then Fadel looks at the rest and asks "Any of you allergic to seafood?" And yes, that comment is funny, but it's funny in a way that in German we call Situationskomik (= situational comedy, comedy of the situation). I really don't think Fadel is making a joke here (like. that is NOT the face of a man who is cracking a joke). No, I think this is a peace offering, actually. It's an unspoken peace offering, because cooking for someone else is a gesture of care. And instead of killing Kant, Fadel offers to cook for everyone which includes Kant.

No. 6: Encouragement

Style on the phone with his dad and I'm relieved, because I'd been worrying about his dad with Style suddenly disappearing just like that without a word. And I'm sooo so glad the series spent a moment on showing us the relationship between Style and his dad again. Like, of course Style is gonna call his dad so that his dad doesn't have to worry. Bison is concerned that Style's dad will be mad if Style shows up back home all banged up like that, but Style is confident he can come up with some superhero story and promises not to spill the beans on Fadel and Bison. Style and Bison have some friendly banter until Bison tells Style that Fadel wants to talk to him and said for Style to meet him at the beach. Style is suddenly worried that Fadel changed his mind and wants to shoot him after all, since Style had already offered as much when he was on his knees earlier that day.

I think we have well-established by now that there is no way Fadel is capable of killing Style, and as I mentioned, I think Style is confident in that, too. So I don't think Style thinks Fadel is actually planning to kill him for real, I think he's mostly just being overdramatic and exaggerating again. Bison then plays along and says "No way. The worst he'd do would be trying to drown you" and when Style blinks at Bison and stares at him in shock I think it's because Style doesn't immediately recognize that this is a joke. After all, he hasn't really spent all that much time with Bison, so he doesn't really know Bison and his humor all that well. So Style stares at Bison with big eyes, then tilts his head and squeezes his eyes a bit, trying to figure out whether Bison is being serious right now and if this is something Fadel would actually do (after all, Bison knows Fadel's killer side a hell of a lot better than Style does) or whether Bison is just joking. Bison notices Style's struggle and clears up that he's just kidding and that Fadel wouldn't do that. But it's already too late. Bison's got Style genuinely concerned now. Fadel has proven over and over again that he won't be shooting Style, but who said anything about drowning Style? It's a possibility that Style had not yet considered.

Bison laughs and asks if Style really does like Fadel. All the fear and worry from a second ago disappears instantly as Style firmly tells him "Whatever Kant feels about you, that's how I feel about your brother. If you understand him, you should be able to understand me." Style fell in love with Fadel in episode 5 and absolutely nothing that has happened since, and especially absolutely nothing that has happened since Fadel drugged him at the hospital has changed any about that. Style chose Fadel at the end of episode 5 and he is still very set on that decision.

Bison advises Style that Style needs to prove his feelings to Fadel and tells Style "He acts all tough and rough on the outside, but on the inside, he’s just a softie". Style laughs. He did get to see that for himself during that short time period where he and Fadel were actually happy in their relationship. Bison continues: "He never hesitates when he kills. So if you're still alive, that means he's got a soft spot for you." Again, I think this is something that Style has absolutely clocked already and even called out (both explicitly at the beginning of the episode when he said "You can't kill me. You love me" as well as implicitly whenever he was teasing Fadel, for example in his hitman-teerak monologue or when he quoted Popcorn's words and went "I deserve to die" and cockily leaned his head back to mimic giving his life over to Fadel), but I also think that it still hits kinda different to hear it from someone who first of all has an outside perspective on things and second of all who knows Fadel's killer side better than anyone, from someone who's seen over and over again what Fadel is like when he's murderous, from someone who can absolutely judge the difference. Which Style can't, because he's never seen Fadel actually kill anyone, even if he got close to witnessing it a few times.

Style had started to get discouraged, because Fadel just wouldn't budge and just wouldn't let Style back in and Style just kept hitting one wall after another. And we can't forget that Style spent a lot of time repeatedly hitting walls for the first four episodes already and even when Fadel let him in, Fadel never let him in 100% (only 80%) and so even then Style still came across walls. And I think on top of being discouraged, Style was also starting to get tired a bit. It must be quite exhausting to be this persistent, let's be real. There is only so much energy you can spend on running after someone who keeps pushing you away again and again and keeps being harsh to you. Fadel hasn't even talked to Style or checked on him since Style woke up after the surgery. As far as we're aware of, the only time they've talked since then was when Style was begging for mercy on his knees. So yeah. That sure is encouraging.

But first with Kant's optimism and now with Bison's support as well, Style is starting to feel like maybe not all is lost after all. Hesitantly, he asks Bison:

You think I still have hope? มึงว่ากูยังมีหวังอยู่ป่ะวะ [mueng - wâa - guu - yang - mii - wăng - yùu - bpà - wá] you - think - I - still - have - hope - [auxiliary verb] - ? - [particle] Official subs: You think… I have a chance?

Style is starting to get his hopes up a little bit again. Maybe Fadel will take him back and be nice to him again. Bison is absolutely convinced: "Go for it. After all you've risked your life for, what else do you even have to be scared of now?" Style looks towards the ground, uncertain. Yeah, what else could he be scared of?

Nothing, except Fadel potentially drowning him in the ocean instead of rejecting him like a normal person. Or, you know, just the rejection in general, even if it doesn't come with murder. Honestly, at this point I think Style is also lowkey nervous, because now he really does have (strong) feelings for Fadel and Fadel being willing to be his boyfriend (again. or still) matters more than anything this time around. What will Style do if Fadel rejects him again?

Bison taps his shoulder encouragingly and walks off. Style stays back, thinking everything over.

How is he going to proceed from here? Is he going to try yet again and risk running into another wall as always? Or is he just gonna let it go and finally leave Fadel alone?

No. 7: A Vow Fulfilled

Style does go to the beach. When he arrives, Fadel is already there which makes sense, since Bison did tell Style that Fadel wanted to talk to him at the beach. Except Fadel immediately snaps at Style about what Style is doing here and asks about Bison. Style informs him that Bison was actually the one who said Fadel wanted to talk to Style right here. I think based on Fadel's facial journey and the fact that he moves to walk right off, Style can tell that Bison lied, probably to get Fadel and Style to talk to each other. And now, with new found hope, Style does very much have something to talk to Fadel about. So he catches Fadel's arm and pulls him back, asking him to at least stay for a chat. Fadel isn't really convinced and Style hits him with a cheeky "I can't sleep unless I talk to you". He then hands Fadel a list of all the relatives he has in his life, because "I want you to be sure that I'm not lying to you again." And I'm just gonna drop the Thai line again, because – ding ding ding, you guessed it! Our favorite word หลอก [lòhk] from last episode makes an appearance again:

I want you to be confident that I won't deceive you again. กูอยากให้มึงมั่นใจว่ากูจะไม่หลอกมึงอีก [guu - yàak - hâi - mueng - mân-jai - wâa - guu - jà - mâi - lòhk - mueng - ìik] I - want - that - you - (be) certain, confident - that - I - will - not - trick, deceive - you - again

If you haven't read my ep8 meta, I would encourage you to go read at least sections 6, 9 and 10, so that you have context for its significance. Last episode Style figured out that having been tricked (especially into love) was the one big thing that Fadel was really mad about. Last episode Fadel asked Style "You think that you deceiving (tricking) me is no big deal?" when they were sitting on the couch, then later when they were dancing, Style acknowledged that it is in fact a big deal and tells Fadel "But I'm ready to do anything to make you forgive me." Later in the bathtub Style acknowledges again that he did a bad thing by tricking (deceiving) and betraying Fadel (again I refer you to section 10 of my ep8 meta). And now, as Style is actively doing something in the hopes that it will finally make Fadel forgive him, he once again repeats to him the exact thing that Fadel is mad about, promising he won't be tricking/deceiving Fadel ever again. And yeah, the official translation isn't exactly wrong, because lying is in fact a thing that comes with deceiving or tricking people and this word can be translated as "lying", but I just want some consistency in the word choice. Because I'm sure the consistency of the word choice หลอก [lòhk] in the original Thai was very much on purpose. Otherwise they could have just had the characters say โกหก [goh-hòk] (= to lie) or some other word at some point too. But no, they kept (and keep) saying หลอก [lòhk] while the subs are all over the place (from "made someone do something" to "lying" to "fooling someone" etc. etc. -> these are just the ones from the top of my head). The translation student in me wants to scream. I might turn this into my master's thesis.

Anyway, now that this rant is out of the way, let's continue: So Style explicitly tells Fadel he won't be หลอก [lòhk]-ing him anymore and if he does end up doing it again, then Fadel is free to kill him together with his entire family. Fadel is outraged: "You're selling your whole family out for this? And you said you're a family man." And here's the literal translation, for those who are interested (it doesn't really change much):

You're selling your relatives to me? นี่มึงขายญาติให้กูเลยนะ [nîi - mueng - kăai - yâat - hâi - guu - loiie - ná] [interjection] - you - sell - relatives - to - me - [particle] - [particle] But you said you love your family, didn't you? ไหนมึงบอกว่ามึงรักครอบครัวไม่ใช่หรอ [năi - mueng - bòhk wâa - mueng - rák - krôp-kruua - mâi châi - rŏh] but - you - said that - you - love - family - no - ?

Style doesn't see a problem: "Because I know for a fact that I won't ever lie to you again." And yes, he does repeat the word หลอก [lòhk], thanks for asking. In fact, his wording is actually almost the same as earlier:

Well, I'm confident that I definitely won't deceive you again. ก็กูมั่นใจไงว่ากูจะไม่หลอกมึงอีกแน่นอน [gôh - guu - mân-jai - ngai - wâa - guu - jà - mâi - lòhk - mueng - ìik - nâe-non] well - I - (be) certain, confident - [particle] - that - I - will - not - trick, deceive - you - again - definitely, for sure

But Fadel, on top of being hurt that he was หลอก [lòhk]-ed by Style, he is now also offended that he is worth only a car to Style and sasses Style about it: "From what you did to me, I just hope that car's a real beauty." And it's actually kinda funny, because Style agreed to make Fadel his boyfriend, but it's been how many episodes since they've started dating?? And we have yet to see Style with said car. In fact, the only time that he went to Kant to claim the car was when he happily bragged about Fadel being his boyfriend the moment he started dating him many episodes ago, but then Kant told him about Fadel's real occupation and Style was like fuck that, keep your car, I'm out. And even when he agreed to stay with Fadel anyway, Style still didn't leave with the car. In fact, as of episode 6 it was Kant who was still in possession of the car, despite Style and Fadel being head over heels in love by that point (I've reached image limit, but we see Kant and Bison arrive at the bowling alley in that car at the end of episode 6 part 1). Style may have gone into it for the car, but he never actually took the car and by now the car is long forgotten. I didn't go and check, but as far as I remember Style hasn't even brought the car up to Kant ever since that scene in episode 4 where he initially came to claim it. At this point, Style would much rather have Fadel than the car anyway.

Fadel doesn't know any of that, of course. He doesn't know that Style isn't even in possession of the car (for now). And so Fadel drops a bitchy comment about it. Style's eyes widen and he immediately knows that Kant must have told Fadel. Fadel confirms and yells at him: "How are you gonna defend yourself now?" Shit. Style hadn't prepared for that conversation before he made his way down to the beach. Style hesitates a bit as he searches for words and the best way to defend himself without pissing Fadel off even more and making him run away again. Style's voice sounds a little stressed when he tells Fadel that it was only in the beginning that he wasn't being sincere. Fadel stares at him wordlessly. When Style continues to say "But after spending time with you" the stress from just now is gone and when he says "I've changed" his voice is very sincere and there's also an urgency that comes with it. Style really means what he says and it's important to him that Fadel believes him, too. But Fadel just looks away. So Style continues: "I never let anyone get the better of me. But for you, I'd do it again and again. I think we get along well." Now let me just share the Thai wording again:

Usually, I never lose to anyone. ปกติกูไม่เคยแพ้ใครนะ [bpòk-gà-dtì - guu - mâi koiie - páe - krai - ná] usually - I - never - lose (to) - anyone - [particle] But I have a soft spot for you. แต่กูแพ้ทางมึงว่ะ [dtàe - guu - páe taang - mueng - wâ] but - I - have a soft/weak spot for - you - [particle] I think we can have a life together. กูว่าเราสองคนอยู่ด้วยกันได้ [guu - wâa - rao sŏng kon - yùu - dûuay gan - dâai] I - think - the two of us - be, live - together - can, be able to

(Side note: there's a word play in the first and second line: to lose = แพ้ [páe] vs. to have a soft/weak spot = แพ้ทาง [páe taang])

Style uses the word แพ้ [páe] here, which means "to lose" or "to be defeated". And where have we heard Style use that word before? In episode 4, when Fadel drags him out of the Rise Up meeting and into the hallway. Once in the hallway, Style says: "I don't take defeats." And then we actually heard something similar again in episode 5 when Fadel tells Style "A guy like me doesn't know how to accept defeat" during their go-kart date. And now here Style is, standing in front of Fadel, telling him Fine. You win. I lose. And gladly so, if it means I get to have you in my life. Because he thinks they can be together. Style wants that and he's serious about it. Fadel looks away and sighs. So Style continues talking. And I'm just gonna share the literal translation again, not because it really makes any difference in meaning, but because I think some of you might be curious:

The thing I can do now is to convince you that I will be by your side. สิ่งที่กูทำได้ตอนนี้อ่ะ ก็คือพูดให้มึงเชื่อมั่นว่ากูจะอยู่ข้างมึง [sìng - tîi - guu - tam dâai - dton-níi - àh • gôh keu - pûut hâi mueng chêuua-mân - wâa - guu - jà - yùu - kâang mueng] thing - that - I - can do - now - [particle] • is - convince you - that - I - will - be - your side Official subs: The only thing I can do right now is promise you that I'll be by your side. But if you give me a chance แต่ถ้ามึงให้โอกาสกูอ่ะ [dtàe - tâa - mueng - hâi - oh-gàat - guu - àh] but - if - you - give - chance - me - [particle] Official subs: But if you give me a chance I will show you that I'm serious. กูจะทำให้มึงเห็นว่ากูเอาจริง [guu - jà - tam hâi - mueng - hĕn - wâa - guu - ao jing] I - will - make that - you - see - that - I - serious Official subs: I can show you I mean every word.

Fadel, who looked back at Style when he talked about being at Fadel's side, now looks away again and sighs for a second time. He remains stubborn. But Style won't be discouraged. He's made the decision to try getting through to Fadel once more and so he's on a mission now. "You don't believe me? Fine." Stupidly stubborn guys require stupidly silly methods. And at this point I really wanna share @ginnymoonbeam's words on this post:

You know when you've been fighting about something for a long time and eventually you get to a point where you know the other person has won, but you're too stubborn to just give up your position? That's Fadel. Everyone knows he isn't going to kill Style, that he loves Style, that he dragged him on this road trip because he wants to be with Style. He knows it too, but he's climbed on this hill-to-die-on and can't see his way down. Style's dramatic little stunt gives him a way to climb down. He has to get in the water because Style is the one being stubborn and unreasonable. It's gotta be a scene with a sense of urgency to break through that last resistance, but it also has to be something deeply stupid, because a genuine dangerous crisis takes his focus elsewhere. Fortunately manufacturing a deeply stupid emergency situation is right in Style's lane.

If Fadel wants to remain on that hill, then Style will just have to walk straight into the ocean. And he'll just keep walking until Fadel climbs down from that hill and gives him a chance after all. Even if Fadel's mirror last episode said that bad people don't deserve chances. And Style clearly is bad people for tricking Fadel into loving him and being crazy about him and then betraying him. And according to Fadel's mirror people who trick others into loving them all deserve to die. So instead of having Fadel drown him, Style will just willingly go drown himself in the ocean. He deserves to die for tricking Fadel after all. And so Style walks on. But suddenly Fadel starts getting stressed. He shouts after Style that his wound is going to get infected and but Style is determined to show just how serious he is: "And I will die of that, too!" Style is bad people and Style deserves to die for his sins and so Style will drown himself in the ocean and let the infected wound kill him on top of that. For love. Style walks and walks and makes a big show out of it and his injury gets closer and closer to the water and Fadel gets more and more stressed until he breaks after all: "Fine! I'll give you a chance." Style smiles for a moment, before he raises his eyebrows like Oh, is that so? and questions Fadel: "Really?"

Style knows he's won now, but the thing is that Fadel was reeeally stubborn for a reeeally long time and Style reeeally had to work for Fadel to utter the words "I'll give you a chance". And so Style decides drag it out a little longer. I think he partly does it to to playfully mess with Fadel a bit, partly simply just to be a little shit and give Fadel a bit of a taste of his own medicine, and also partly because just as much as Fadel needed to see proof of Style's sincerity, Style also wants to see some proof that Fadel really means it when he says he'll give Style a chance. After all, Style's heart is on the line here, too. And there's only so much rejection a man in love can take. Style doesn't want that chance if Fadel is just gonna turn around and go back to making death threats again as soon as Style is back out of the water. And so instead of walking back to land, Style calls out "Nah, I’m gone. There’s no way you mean it." And let me just–

You're tricking me for sure. มึงหลอกกูแน่ [mueng - lòhk - guu - nâe] you - trick, deceive - me - for sure Official subs: There's no way you mean it.

Yup. Our favorite word is back. Fadel has repeatedly thrown it into Style's face that Style tricked him and now Style is turning Fadel's words back around on him. And it's not in a malicious way, no, Style is affectionately teasing Fadel with it and also being a bit of a little shit and also, as I just said, I do think Style is also lowkey worried that Fadel is in fact just tricking him. And I do think Style wants to confirm that this is not the case. By the way, I'm not sure Style's tease even registered in Fadel's brain, because he's so stressed and he's already moving to walk into the water the moment the words "I'm gone" are out of Style's mouth. As Fadel walks up to him in the water, Style watches him with a happy, expectant expression on his face. That expression turns serious as Fadel approaches him.

Style's behavior just now as he was walking into the ocean was very playful, very silly in order to get Fadel to loosen up and to lose his grumpiness a bit and to get Fadel to climb down from his hill of stubbornness. But what he has to say Fadel is actually very serious: "I promise you that, from now on, you'll only see the 100% real me." I think this is a big relief for Style, because we saw how much he was longing to be able to talk freely about everything with Fadel as far back as episodes 5 and 6. Fadel says "Besides work, I've been real to you from day one" and Style just looks at him without replying, because Fadel is kind of right. Although, it's not like Style could just say it, because apart from the deal with the car, the whole being a police snitch was Kant's thing, not Style's and so it was Kant's secret to spill. And it's not like Style could have just told Fadel Kant's secret, because Kant would have been a dead man right there and then. Style got as close as he could to spilling the secret without actually spilling it and I think especially that night at the rock concert Style would have like nothing more than to come clean and to stop Fadel from going on that mission, but it would have been at the cost of Kant's life and only two scenes ago we saw that Style will not have that.

As much as Style was Style for walking into the ocean just like that, Fadel is also Fadel and of course can't let this go without making another threat: "If you don't stay true to me after this, you'll find out how I deal with liars."

If you aren't real with me after this, you better watch out. หลังจากเนี้ยถ้ามึงไม่เรียลกับกู มึงเจอดีแน่ [lăng jàak - níia - tâa - mueng - mâi - riial - gàp - guu • mueng - jer - dii - nâe] after - this - if - you - not - real - with - me • you - meet - good - for sure

Bye the way, I'm not sure how obvious it is to non-Thai speakers, but whenever they talk about "being real" they actually use the English word "real". And I just wanted to put the Thai wording here, because Fadel also uses the anglicism "real" here when the subs talk about "staying true". Also, his threat is way less elaborate. Literally, the threat translates to something like "to meet good" (like, you'll meet something good as in something bad will happen to you).

Style doesn't talk back. He stays quiet. And I think it's because at this point there isn't really a lot he can say. It's true that he hadn't been real with Fadel and so he quietly accepts his fate. Style then also huffs a little and looks at Fadel fondly. Because even if Fadel just threatened him again, it still implied that they really will have a "from now on" together. And that makes Style happy. That's exactly what he just walked into the ocean for. After a moment, Fadel prompts Style to get out of the water before his wound gets infected. And now Style starts talking back again and teases Fadel: "Even when you're threatening me, you're worried about me."

And here I wanna share the literal wording again, because it reminds me of some other scenes. And let me just explain this one word before I do... So where the subs say "threatening", Style uses the word โหด [hòht] which is a word I actually discussed with my Thai friend after episode 7 and he explained that it can be translated in a few different ways depending on context, but usually it means "cruel" or "aggressive" or "brutal". I'm gonna go with "harsh" as a translation to have some consistency, because I feel like this word could work for all the lines that I'm about to drop.

In episode 4, when Style showed up in the kitchen he told Fadel:

No matter how harsh you are, I'm still hooked on you. มึงโหดแค่ไหนอ่ะ กูก็ยังติดใจมึงอยู่ดี [mueng - hòht - kâe năi - àh • guu - gôh - yang - dtìt-jai - mueng - yùu dee] you - harsh - how much - [particle] • I - [sentence link] - still - hooked - you - anyway Official subs: It doesn't matter how scary you are, I'm still hooked.

Then, in episode 7 when Fadel surprise attacked Style with a shower of kisses at the garage, Fadel had following complaint to Style:

When I'm sweet, you don't like it. ตอนกูหวานมึงก็ไม่ชอบ [dton - guu - wăan - mueng - gôr - mâi - chôp] when - I - sweet - you - [sentence link] - not - like Official subs: You don't like me being nice. When I'm harsh, you still scold me. ตอนกูโหดมึงก็ด่ากู [dton - guu - hòht - mueng - gôr - dàa - guu] when - I - harsh - you - [sentence link] - scold - me Official subs: You complain when I'm cold.

Now in episode 9, Style's words are very reminiscent of that complaint:

Even when you're this harsh, you're still sweet with me. นี่ขนาดโหดนะเนี่ย ยังหวานกับกูเลย [nîi - kà-nàat hòht - ná - nîia • yang - wăan - gàp - guu - loiie] [interjection] - this harsh - [particle] - [particle] • still - sweet - with - me - [particle] Official subs: Even when you're threatening me, you're worried about me.

When Style comments "How adorable", he's still teasing Fadel, but you can also clearly see just how delighted and happy he is that Fadel really seems to mean it when he says he'll give Style a chance after all. He looks at Fadel with the brightest smile. But Fadel has spent a lot of time being angry and hurt and grumpy and stubborn and so he isn't gonna be cheesy from one second to the next. And so he speaks out another (very empty, almost joking) threat as he warns Style he can be worse. "You want that?" Style says no. But if Fadel is already letting him put in requests, then Style wants Fadel to use only his sweet side.

From now on I want you to use only your sweet side. ต่อไปนี้กูอยากให้มึงใช้แต่ด้านหวาน [dtòh bpai níi - guu - yàak - hâi - mueng - chái - dtàe - dâan wăan] from now on - I - want - that - you - use - only - sweet side Official subs: From now on, I just want to see you being lovey-dovey.

This actually makes Fadel laugh a bit and ask for clarification and when he looks at Style after that, his face is suddenly so much softer. Style explains: "In a situation like this, if we weren't fighting, what would you like to do to me?" He smiles at Fadel, his face expectant and mixed with almost a sort of innocence like Oh, this is totally not an implicit request for you to kiss me and it also has a bit of a challenging flair like Do you dare to kiss me? The message reaches Fadel loud and clear. He dares. As long as Style is alive he'd make Fadel kiss him again. And Style did. Fadel is kissing him. By Fadel's own choice. Style left it entirely up to him, didn't force Fadel to kiss him, didn't get physically close to him, didn't try to seduce him in any way, didn't even explicitly say the words "kiss me" out loud. In fact, Style asked "What would you like to do to me?" and Fadel could really have chosen to do anything, but what Fadel wanted to do was to kiss Style. Style may have said earlier that he'd lose to Fadel, but is Style really losing here with Fadel back at his side?

Now. The eyes. Let me address the eyes, because I've seen talk about it. Honestly, the way Style's eye keep fluttering open kinda reminds me of what I wrote about the ep6 rock concert kiss and forehead touch in my ep6 meta:

They seal that promise with a kiss. And it's interesting, because Style doesn't immediately close his eyes when Fadel goes to kiss him but instead looks at him for a moment longer. And then his eyes keep fluttering open for a moment. It's almost as if he can't tear his eyes away from Fadel, as if he can't help but use every opportunity to look at Fadel, to catch every last glimpse of Fadel while he still has the opportunity to do so. They break apart and Fadel tells Style that he's (also) very happy tonight and Style (re)confirms his own happiness. They lean their foreheads against each other. And again, Style can't really close his eyes and fully sink into the moment the way Fadel can. It's like he tries to close his eyes but they keep fluttering open a second later because he just can't keep his eyes away from Fadel, is compelled to keep looking at him while he still can, while Fadel is still right there with him. And even when they break away from each other and turn to look out of the window towards the stage, it takes Style a couple of seconds to tear his eyes away from Fadel, who is already looking elsewhere.

Except now it's the polar opposite energy. Back at the concert, it was the end for Style. Now in the water it's a (new) beginning. Back at the concert it was like Style had to savor every last look at Fadel that he could get before it was too late. Now in the water it again feels like Style just can't stop looking at Fadel, but for a different reason. I think it's undeniable that Style is deeply in love with Fadel. But Fadel started pushing him away from the moment Bison was stabbed and at first Style didn't even know what the fuck was happening, especially with how weirdly affectionate Fadel had been the day before. And from then on Fadel has just kept pushing Style away again and again, outright tried to murder him even, and then just kept refusing Style, kept refusing to believe Style no matter how much Style tried to show him just how serious he was about his feelings for Fadel and how serious he was about their relationship. Fadel was pushing Style away so much that even Style, our beacon of optimism and hope, believer in the power of love, even he was starting to get discouraged that Fadel would ever take him back. But now Fadel is here, kissing him again. Style can't believe his eyes and it's like he has to keep looking at Fadel to check that he's really not dreaming, that Fadel really is here, standing in front of him, kissing him. It's the relief that he is finally getting his Fadel back which makes him unable to stop looking at Fadel to make sure it's real.

And another aspect my mom actually mentioned when I was talking to her about this scene was that Style is also checking on Fadel. I don't remember her reasoning, but for me personally it's that Fadel has been very hot-and-cold lately, jumping from saving Style's life to pushing him away again and threatening him in the very next moment. And as I mentioned above, Fadel is not the only one with a heart that can get hurt. Style is also human, Style also has a heart, Style can also get hurt. Even if it may not seem like it through his easy-going, unserious, always optimistic personality. Style is human and Style isn't the only one here between the two of them who did something hurtful to the other. And so I think part of the reason why Style's eyes keep fluttering open is to check Fadel's reactions. Because just because Fadel is in hot-mode right now, doesn't mean he won't jump right back into cold-mode from one second to the next. And so Style has to keep checking so that he's prepared for it if it happens again, because I'm not sure Style's heart could handle it if Fadel suddenly pushed him away again now without a warning. It would be like that time Fadel dumped him in the kitchen back in episode 4, except this time Style would probably be even more hurt than back then, because now he is undeniably irrevocably deeply in love with Fadel. If Fadel pushed him away again now I think that would actually break Style for real.

But Fadel doesn't. They break apart and Fadel nuzzles his face into Style's neck for a moment (definitely kissing it) and then they lean their foreheads against each other for a while. Together again at last.

No. 8: Lore

They're back in the room and Fadel is about to finish renewing Style's bandages after their little swim in the ocean. Fadel tells Style not to do something like this again. Style smiles and says "But I gotta pull some dramatic stunt for someone like you." Fadel huffs in response but is otherwise very focused on the bandages and doesn't reply. Now that they're finally one on one again and Style is also no longer dying of pain, he uses the chance to finally, albeit hesitantly, ask about the guy on the photo in the car. One could think that Style asks out of jealousy, but to be honest, I don't think so. As I mentioned in the beginning of this meta, I think he'd have a gut feeling if that guy was someone who could actually be a potential rival. Also, there's a chance that the person on the photo was also just a family member or something, not necessarily someone Fadel was romantically involved with. Besides, Fadel did tell him that he didn't have any past lovers and that he didn't want a lover in the first place to avoid getting anyone in trouble. So I think rather than out of jealousy, Style asks out of curiosity and genuine care. Fadel has shared next to nothing about his past, but Style wants to know. His voice is full of concern, but not because he feels threatened by the guy in the photo. Instead it's genuine worry for Fadel. Style hesitates to ask and seems almost a little nervous, as if he's scared that this question will cause Fadel to shut him out again.

Fadel stares at Style for quite a long moment, then goes back to the bandage without answering Style's question. Style immediately says "I'm sorry for prying. If you don't want to tell me, I understand" and that cements it even more for me that Style isn't asking out of jealousy. Because I think if he was jealous, he'd try to find out more. I don't think he'd be all that chill with Fadel not answering his question. No, I think Style's question is him cautiously trying to learn more about Fadel's past, but Style will also respect Fadel's boundaries if Fadel isn't ready to talk about it. Especially since last time Style insisted on Fadel opening up about his past, Fadel dropped that his parents were shot dead. So when Fadel doesn't answer, Style is quick to let him know that he won't be prying this time and that Fadel doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to. And it's only then that Fadel makes the decision to open up after all. That guy is his ex. This new information has Style a little speechless as it dawns on him that Fadel lied about not having had a boyfriend before.

Once Style has processed this, he continues to ask how long Fadel had been dating this guy for and the reason why they broke up. And again, I don't think Style is bothered by the fact that Fadel does have an ex. There is so much worry and care in his voice as well as on his face while he talks and listens to Fadel. He genuinely cares to know about Fadel's past. And Fadel shares willingly and without any more hesitation: They were gonna start a life together but then the guy disappeared from one day to the other. Fadel jokes "Maybe he was scared of me, thinking I'd kill him if he broke up with me" and Style huffs and smiles a little, but that smile doesn't really reach his eyes.

Style doesn't think the joke is all that funny. He looks at Fadel fondly, but I think he also really feels for him. He feels bad for him for getting dumped like that and feels sad that Fadel thinks his past lover might have been scared of him, so terrified even that he didn't even want to confront him. And we know the latter part specifically really gets to Style, because the next thing he does is that he grabs Fadel's hand and tells him "I'm not scared of you". And Style is about to continue that sentence, but for a moment he just lets this part stand on its own, lets Fadel process that first before he goes on. Style isn't afraid of Fadel and it's important to him that Fadel knows that. Style continues to say that he hasn't been scared of Fadel since he saved the woman at the bowling alley and I call bullshit on that. I think Style stopped being afraid of Fadel by the end of episode 5 and I wrote 12k words about it. However, I do think the bowling alley incident cemented what Style was saying about Fadel being a good person last episode in the bathtub. Style ends with "You risked your life for a total stranger. I know I'm in love with the right man." And let me just...

A person who risks their own life for someone they don't even know. คนที่เอาชีวิตตัวเองไปเสี่ยงเพื่อคนที่ไม่รู้จักด้วยซ้ำ​ [kon - tîi - ao - chee-wít dtuua eng - bpai - sìiang - pêuua - kon - tîi - mâi - rúu-jàk - dûuay sám] person - that - take - one's own life - go - risk - for - person - that - not - know - even I love the right person. กูรักถูกคนแล้วละ [guu - rák - tùuk - kon - láew - lá] I - love - right - person - already - [particle]

I do much prefer the phrasing of "I love the right person", because it's not just a state of being, but it's something that Style actively does, is actively doing, has actively been doing, actively chooses to do over and over again.

Style's words really hit Fadel. And I think this time, he finally fully believes them, finally lets himself fully believe them. Fadel goes through quite the emotional journey, then grabs Style's arm and puts it over him as he lays his head in Style's lap. Fadel finally gets to be a child seeking comfort. Style's free hand immediately finds Fadel's head to stroke him. At one point Style smiles a little and shakes his head, looking a bit amused.

It's my personal headcanon that in this moment Style is remembering Bison's words about Fadel being all rough on the outside, but actually being a huge softie inside and is laughing to himself about how it's true. He currently has a very soft (and vulnerable) Fadel in his lap after all he roughness that Fadel put him through. They continue to stay like this until the end of the scene.

No. 9: Peace, Joy, Egg Cake

Allow me to bulk the last few scenes into one last section and allow me to mostly just skip over them a bit, since there isn't all that much plot happening here and it's more about the characters getting to be a little happy again at the end of this story arc before we go into the last bit (can you tell I'm just trying to get this meta done asap so I can hopefully drop it before ep10 lmao).

We got our OT4 happily playing frisbee in the water and it makes me laugh how Style's wound getting infected apparently isn't the same big problem anymore as it was the night before. It also makes me laugh how Style is apparently also perfectly capable of lifting an entire human man with that injured arm of his. I remember this one time a couple of years ago where I scraped open my entire leg and I couldn't walk on it for at least a week without being in pain, so like. Good on your pain tolerance @ Style, I guess. Same thing with Bison and his stab wound. And Fadel's sprained arm has magically healed as well, apparently. Not to mention Kant with his ocean trauma having absolutely no problem letting loose in the ocean water. This show is so unserious, I love it.

After they're done playing in the water, they sit on the shore and have a conversation about staying on the island, except Fadel reminds Bison that they still have one last job to do. Although Fadel then also says "Once we wrap up the last mission, we can go anywhere and do anything. Not sure if they'd come with us, though." For the last sentence, Fadel turns his head and says it directly into Style's face. This statement was 100000% directed at Style and Style alone, not Kant. Style stares at Fadel for a moment and then makes a face like My love, do you really even need to ask after I've followed you all the way here?

Then he says "Just tell me where, and I'll go with you." and I shake my hands at the writers in disappointment, because this would have been THE opportunity to bring back "hitman teerak". Especially because the wording is also kind of similar.

Episode 7: Tell me where you wanna go na krub, hitman-teerak. มึงอยากไปไหนอ่ะ บอกกูมาเลยนะครับนักฆ่าที่รัก [mueng - yàak - bpai - năi - àh • bòhk guu maa - loiie - ná - kráp - nák-kâa - tîi-rák] you - want - go - where - [particle] • tell me - [particle] na - krub - hitman - teerak Official subs: I'll drive you where you want me to go, my dear hitman. Episode 9: Tell me where you're going. I'm all ready to go. จะไปที่ไหนก็บอก กูพร้อมไปอยู่ละ [jà - bpai - tîi năi - gôh - bòhk • guu - próm - bpai - yùu - lá] will - go - where - [sentence link] - tell • I - ready- go - [auxillary verb] - [particle] Official subs: Just tell me where, and I'll go with you.

Please tell me, does the episode 9 sentence not scream for a "hitman teerak" drop? Does it not look a little incomplete?

Anyway, Style continues to say a very Style thing and Fadel laughs. This has Kant quite impressed. I have not gone back and checked if Kant is right about never having seen Fadel laugh, but I'm just gonna assume it's true. The only scene that I can think of where Kant may have seen Fadel laugh is at the bowling alley in episode 5, but Kant would have had to be looking at Fadel to see actually see that. Also let me just...

Please, the way Style is smiling so brightly at Fadel. He's so over the moon to have his Fadel back. With everyone being so happy and cute it just has me very worried about what next episode might have in store for them, especially considering the preview (we're not gonna have any more injuries on this show, are we? 🥺🙏).

As for Style's mood in the scene with everyone on the boat on the way back to land, I'm just gonna leave Joong's tweet here...

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 | Ep8)

[manjusaka]

There's not nearly enough activity in The Sign's tag.

I'm seated here, waiting for posts to make me go ooooh, aaaah, hmmm, because this show is serving, and I'm eating it up, but a week is too long to go without nourishment and I need some of that good discussion juice to hold me over.

[unnerving-presence]

actually so tired of people saying wesker is a creep holy shit

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ BABY MOMMA. featuring k. nanami.

↻ there’s nothing nanami wants more in the world than to make you a mommy, and give you his beautiful kids.

tags : breeding kink, creampie, mommy kink (if you squint), messy sex, pet names, feral nanami, marathon sex, lactation + pregnancy (fantasized), ovulation cycle // wc. 0.9k

author’s note : sorry this one’s a lil late, i’ve been busy with theme changes and real life is throwing a million and one hurdles at me and i just can’t keep up 😞 you can't tell me that nanami wouldn't be a massive family man, so here i have him completely desperate to start a family with you and give you his babies. notes and reblogs are always appreciated, and check out my masterlist for non-event based works <3 !!

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

it’s been hours. hours since nanami even proposed the idea of trying for kids, and now, it’s all he can fucking think about. 

it’s all you can think about too, given the fact that he’s fucked you out of your mind, legs numb from being in missionary for as long as you remember with nanami plunging in and out of you, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix with every single thrust. 

it’s repetitive. it’s addicting. 

“hah- kento, can’t take no more…” your voice is a sheepish babble, nails digging into his back as tears stream down your face. “ ‘s too much, ken, please–“

nanami grunts in your ear, hips never ceasing movement as he ruts into you. “g’na have to, sweetheart. this one’s gotta take.”

he said that about the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that… and fuck, you can’t keep up with how many times he’s said it because he’s been going at it for so long with only one goal in mind. 

he’s gonna give you kids. he’s gonna make you a mommy, and you’re gonna raise his kids with him as his wife. 

it’s all he’s ever wanted. it’s all he’s ever dreamed of, and when he watches you lounge around the house wearing nothing but a bra and his oversized dress shirt and a wedding ring fit snugly on your finger, he really can’t stop himself from imagining what you would look like with a swollen tummy, breasts spilling out of that same bra. 

“g’na give you my kids baby…” he’s rambling half out of his ass, his brain scrambled by pure need. “gonna make my girl a mommy. you’re gonna be a great mommy, aren't you?”

he’s brought up the topic before. it was never anything serious, just asking you what you would prefer and never really thinking of his own volition. you had always agreed with him wholeheartedly, and it would somehow lead to the two of you cooing over baby clothes and strollers but never anything more. 

nanami is fucking sick of it. he’s sick of fawning over the idea and not doing anything about it. sure, you’ve made love a couple of times, but it never held any true intent, focusing on the pure need to give each other pleasure. 

well, now, nanami needs more than pleasure. he needs to see you with that swollen tummy and those massive leaky tits, and there’s only one way to do that; fucking you within an inch of your life and cumming in your cunt until it finally takes. 

“kento–“ you seemingly haven’t gotten bored of it yet, despite having been at it for over two hours. your back still arches with every bump to your cervix, nails still raking down his back as his sweaty chest squashes your own. “this one’s gonna take, promise.”

“i can’t be sure of that,” he states matter-of-factly. “although your tracker says you’re ovulating, we can’t just trust that once or twice will be enough.” is he sure of this fact? no, but he is sure that you feel too damn good to stop, even though he’s already finished inside of you enough times to guarantee your pregnancy ten times over. 

you just look so beautiful beneath him. you wear the radiance of sex extremely well, eyes fogged over and mouth hanging open as your steamy pants echo in his ear. you’re borderline intoxicating, and that’s why nanami can’t stop, even though he knows you need him to before you pass out. 

“look at me, angel. i wanna see you.” you weakly turn your cheek away from the pillow and look up at him, lips stained a gorgeous red and swollen from his kisses. “you’re gonna be such a pretty momma.”

your eyelids flutter and your back arches weakly as you cum again for the final time, garbled moans of nanami’s name flooding from your throat. despite the longevity of your session, your cunt still manages to squeeze around him impossibly, and nanami groans deeply, arms sliding around your hips as you pulls you forward to meet his thrusts. 

“kentooo…”

“i know, baby, i know.” the sheets are soiled with your sweat and his, and the tight clampdown of your walls propels him to cum one final time, hips flush against your twitching clit as he pumps you full. 

you both stay like that for a beat, nanami folded over your twitching body before he finally pulls out slowly, and when he does, the sight he’s met with is so incredibly dirty that he can barely believe he was the one to reduce you to such a mess. “oh, angel…”

copious amounts of his release flood from your cunt, leaving a translucent pool on your sheets. whilst he absolutely loves the sight and wishes to brand it on the forefront of his brain, nanami’s goal is still clear as day. 

he leans down and kisses your overstimulated clit, fingers dancing around your twitchy hole and gathering up his release before pushing it back inside with a curl of his fingers that makes you want to scream. 

“can’t waste any, my dear, or it might not take, remember?” when he looks up at you from in between your trembling thighs, the look on his face is nothing short of depraved, blonde strands of hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks stained red with excitement. 

“can’t wait to see my girl become a mommy.”

PREVIOUS : THE COLOUR RED ft. yae miko NEXT : BLACKOUT ft. tartaglia

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© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

Whenever the BAU has a case based in the D.C. area, it’s always a little easier on the team. Familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. The hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

Spencer and Callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. The unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. Spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what Garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. Morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. He felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by Hotch and Garcia entering the bullpen.

“Police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. She was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. I think it sounds like our unsub. Morgan and Reid, I need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” Hotch explained.

Morgan and Reid nodded as Garcia spoke up, “I just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on Hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

Spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say Hillcrest, “Did you say Hillcrest?”

“Yeah, Hillcrest Drive. It’s like, a 15 minute drive, not that far.”

He felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. That was the street you lived on. He tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“Garcia, what’s the house number?”

“Reid, I already sent it to your pho-“

“Garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say-

“1159.”

Fuck. The color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. Spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you. Last night? This morning? He doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“Reid,” Hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “What is it? What do you know?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

Morgan, Garcia, and Hotch all looked at each other in concern, before Morgan spoke up, “I’ll see what’s up.” The latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

Morgan walked up to the car to find Spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

Spencer was alerted by Morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. Morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“Okay Reid, spill it. It’s obvious you know who lives here.” Morgan speaks up.

“Just drive, please.”

“Because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“Morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

He raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “Listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. I can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

Spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. He’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. After what happened with Maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

Some job he did of that.

The one thing he regrets about how he handled the Maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. For not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. He’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

He loved you so much. You were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. A breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. You were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. He still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“Any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

Tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. If you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

He cleared his throat, and Morgan’s ears perked up, “My uh, my girlfriend lives there. Where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

Morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, Spencer missing the way his face dropped. He tightened his hands on the wheels, and without hesitation he turned the lights and siren on and shifted gears to speed up.

__

The car pulled onto your street and the first thing Spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. Morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before Spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

He’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know. The tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

He whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. You watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. He’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. He’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“Hi,” you choke out muffled, “Funny seeing you here.”

He pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. His heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“Hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not. But what did the paramedics say? Did they give you anything? Are you sure they checked all your injuries? You know what, let me go call the guy over. I’ll be two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

Upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

You were okay, but at what cost.

The EMT leaves you two and Spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. It’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

Spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. The slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“It’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

You sniffle, “I know, I just can’t believe this happened. To me. To us. It’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“To me? Wh- what do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t mean to bring it up again, I just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and I hoped that I wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. I don’t know why this happened, I'm sorry.”

He looked down at you incredulously, genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. It was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“Oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “What happened is not your fault, do you understand me? My job is to always worry about you and your safety. When Garcia said the address I…I couldn’t even process it, I don’t even know how I got to the car,” he shook his head, “But I am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. I will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“Okay,” you take a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“I love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be SSA Derek Morgan. You knew Spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

Spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “It’s okay, he knows.” You look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“Reid, I already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “Hi sweetheart, I’m Derek Morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “Hi Derek, I’ve heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you too.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “Listen, I know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “Absolutely not. We can do it later, it’s fine.”

“Reid-“

You look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “Spence, It’s okay. I want to help, please.”

He rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “Okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“I didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“Alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” Derek teases.

Spencer groans, “See, this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“You think I’m bad? Wait till Penelope meets her.”

__

The three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to Spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. You end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. Spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“She’s cute,” Derek starts, “Can I ask how long?”

“Nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“Pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? Maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“Imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “Look.”

Spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and Spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. You’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. The first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. The second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. The last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

The edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. It was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“You look really happy, kid.” Derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. His heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“I am.”

[dollracha]

𐙚 i want it ⋆  h.js  x fem! reader

part one ⋆ part two

pairing: han jisung x inexperienced virgin! reader genre: smut warnings: swearing ⋆ slight corruption kink ⋆ needy han ⋆ slight perv!han ⋆ sorta dubcon ⋆ reader is called “baby” (several times) & “my girl” (once) ⋆ spit kink ⋆ non penetrative sex ⋆ munch jisung ⋆ dialogue heavy wc: 707 synopsis: you both promised to take it slow, but jisung struggles to keep his word, and you certainly don't mind. author's note: been thinking about this for days this is so incredibly self indulgent its not funny. this is not beta read. this is barely proofread. i'm just a whore. the first 870 or so of yall saw a slightly different version than everyone else onward. i made some slight changes that needed to be reworked for clarity. and for those of you interested, part 2 is linked above!

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

“fuck, ‘m sorry, baby.” jisung whines into your neck as he ruts his cock against your wet panties. he’s got one hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. you’ve both soaked your panties, his precum and the wetness from your pussy make it almost uncomfortably sticky.

“god, ‘m so fuckin’... gross.” he rambles, pulling himself up to spit on his cock. he watches it slide off the side of his tip and down your ass. “making a mess of your poor pussy just to get myself off.”

“hannie…” your moan has him rolling his eyes back. you can’t remember how you ended up beneath him, just that you didn’t want it to stop yet. It wasn’t enough. and yet you were trying to find it in you to tell him to slow down, it’s what you wanted after all. to take it slow, wait until ‘the right time’ for your first time with jisung. that went out the window the moment he started feeling you up today.

“i know… said i'd keep my pretty girl all pure for a little longer.”

but jisung’s cock throbs at the sight of you all defiled. your hair is a mess from when he shoved you down on the bed and had his hands all up in it when he kissed you earlier. your makeup is smudged, mascara messy from the way tears well up in your eyes and spill when his cockhead rubs against your clit just right. your lipstick blurs around your lips from the sloppy kisses you shared. he begged you not to wear a bra this morning when you got dressed, it made your tits even easier for him to access. all he had to do was pull down your little tank top and they were all his. your skirt is pushed up, soft tummy peeking out. and your pussy, so wet for him already and he’s still one layer away. 

“look at you… so nasty f’me.”

“can i take off your panties? please, baby?” jisung stops rutting against your clothed pussy and gives a couple hard taps against your clit. “know it’s dirty, baby. but it’ll feel good, okay?”

all you want at this point is to feel good–screw everything else–so you nod and lift your hips so he can slide your panties off your legs.

You try to shut your legs but jisung is quicker. both of his hands keep your thighs open. “let me see that pretty pussy, don’t hide it from me.” he’s quick to spit on it again, and this time you can’t help the high pitched moan that escapes your lips. 

“did your exes ever spit on it, baby?”

you shake your head, hands coming to cover your flushed face. nobody’s ever touched you like jisung has. you've kissed your exes, dry humped, even came from it too. but jisung's the only one who's touched you so intimately, and a part of him hopes it stays that way.

“like it?” he asks and you don’t respond. is it wrong to say you liked it? it’s gross, you think. it’s so so gross… but is it wrong?

warm saliva hits your pussy again, this time you can feel jisung’s breath on you. 

“do you like it when i spit on your pussy, baby?”

“... yes…” you respond, and finally pry your arms away from your face. jisung’s laying down on the bed, hands pressed against your thighs to keep them open. he can’t decide what's a sweeter sight, your glistening pussy or your wide eyes. for now, his eyes lock with yours.

“fuck…” jisung whispers. his eyes fall back to your pussy with a smile. he licks his lips and lets his head fall against the blankets.

“ji?” you reach for his hand, and as soon as he feels your hand on his he’s grasping it, and raising his head up to kiss your knuckles. 

“i know you wanna take it slow… but please, please can i eat you out, baby? ‘s all i want.”

jisung agreed to take it slow, but he's got you half dressed and soaking your bed. maybe you should be mad, but god, the pleasure jisung was giving you was addicting. you weren’t afraid to give yourself away to him at this point.

“i want it.” you nod, and jisung kisses your hand again.

“gotta give my girl what she wants then, yeah?”

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[pierregazly]

but mama, i love him ꨄ oscar piastri smau

oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

the one where oscar's girlfriend has been soft launching their relationship for ages. and he's okay with it, especially if it means he can keep hiding in plain sight from her three overprotective brothers.

ynleclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and others

ynleclerc omg omg omg... charles leclerc signed my hat? should i add it to the shrine? give them something to sacrifice?

view all comments

username any non-f1 fan would automatically assume ynleclerc is a crazy fan page for charles

username or a charles leclerc hate page... all she does it make fun of her brothers here

username she's offering her signed hat for the tifosi to sacrifice for a CL16 win??? that seems like pure love all around

arthur_leclerc i also signed your hat?

ynleclerc i also do not care? will a hat signed by you get me millions if i sell it for sacrificial purposes?

charles_leclerc what's next? my personal belongings?

ynleclerc is that an offer? if so, oui. i will take what i think will make me the most money next time i'm there, merci <3

scuderiaferrari if it gets us a 1-2 finish, sacrifice everything ynleclerc... please 🙏

username being a Ferrari fan is so satisfying when you remember ynleclerc is an automatic inclusion in everything and anything charles does

username the things i would do to have her as a McLaren fan... she's too beautiful for Ferrari 😭

oscarpiastri a piastri hat will get you good money in straya btw

username oscar??

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, mclaren, and others

oscarpiastri 'stop hitting me with the ball on purpose you jerk' was said more times than it should've been, by someone who really just sucks at tennis. had an awesome week back home, time to get back to it 💪

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logansargeant no wonder you're so worried about getting run over

username the coordinating outfits?? i'm gonna scream, who is she!!!

username what does logan know, tell us your secrets girl logansargeant

username oscar is gonna soft launch this relationship until the end of time. show us her face, you coward!!

ynleclerc did you pay her for all the bruises that tennis ball left?? poor girl

oscarpiastri it's not my fault she's a terrible tennis player, we all know i've offered to pay for a trainer

landonorris so this is why you couldn't come to bali with me 🤨

username lando really said i'm the third wheel??

username to be fair i'd probably pick oscar's girlfriend over lando for a week away too

username girly you don't even know who she is!!! she could be the devil

username i wanna be included in oscar's post week home photo dump :(

ynleclerc has posted a story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, pascale.leclerc.355, and others

replies

oscarpiastri you can call me pookie whenever you want if you're gonna post things like this

ynleclerc i'd call you pookie with or without your permission, mon amour

charles_leclerc who is this

charles_leclerc why won't you tell us who you're dating

charles_leclerc we won't hurt him

charles_leclerc answer my texts

ynleclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, pascale.leclerc.355, arthur_leclerc, and others

ynleclerc get you a man who can do both, luckiest woman in the world whenever you're around. mon amour ��

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username people involved in formula 1 and their obsession with soft launching everything NEEDS to be studied

username at least she posts her boyfriend and he isn't just a small figure in the background of every post (charles this is a direct hate comment)

arthur_leclerc this would have been very lovely if it weren't for the last photo

liked by charles_leclerc and lorenzotl

ynleclerc suppose it's a good thing you could easily ignore it. cheers :)

pascale.leclerc.355 trés belle, ma fille 💗

charles_leclerc maman?

username could you IMAGINE if ynleclerc told pascale but obviously hasn't told her brothers? i can FEEL the outrage

username starting to think this may be a driver, ynleclerc is at every race weekend and ALWAYS makes a post with her mystery man at some point during the week after...

username okay ms sleuth (i think it's lando)

username i'm like 65% sure it's oscar, and 35% positive it's someone that looks a lot like oscar

ynleclerc

tagged oscarpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris, and others

ynleclerc someone exposed us on twitter, so i had to expose us on instagram 😮‍💨

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri love you <3

oscarpiastri i will love you even when a ferrari has run me over, of course.

arthur_leclerc is this your way of telling me i was right, without texting me back?

charles_leclerc this must be a joke, non?

pascale.leclerc.355 so very excited to finally be able to invite the both of you for dinner. trés belle 🤍

charles_leclerc maman, you knew?

ynleclerc oscar and i will see you for sunday dinner, maman! <3

tresbelleleclercspam

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

ynleclerc live feed of oscar running away from charles in the paddock when he said he 'just wanted to talk, mate'

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charles_leclerc i truly just wanted to talk about the race

charles_leclerc i did not have a speech planned, non

arthur_leclerc i did have a speech planned

lorenzotl i just wanted to welcome him to the family, as a good big brother should

oscarpiastri my apple watch warned me of an overactive heart rate 5 times today. why did you do this to me. why couldn't you have three sisters???

ynleclerc so very sorry, in our next life i'll try to make sure you only have to worry about sisters and not three overprotective brothers

oscarpiastri as long as i get to spend every lifetime with you <3

i actually got a request for something like this ages ago, and finally got around to finishing it. i so hope you all loved it as much as i loved writing it. thank you for all the support!!

i'm not currently taking requests, but if anyone has lil suggestions or prompts please feel free to send them.

[pathologicalreid]

come a little closer | s.r.

in which you and Spencer have sex for the first time since his release from prison, and more importantly, since Cat told him what happened in Mexico

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: mentions sexual assault, spoilers for season 12 of cm, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, crying during sex, cockwarming, explicit consent, not really softdom but reader has spencer take the lead, read with care word count: 2.65k a/n: this bad boy has been in the works for MONTHS. please tell me if you like it i'm so desperate for affirmation. (also this is the last kinktober post of margotober)

His hands on your waist were becoming firmer in their placement as Spencer continued pressing his lips to yours, expertly slipping his tongue into your mouth as he managed to take your breath away.

This could be as far as you went, and you would be content with that. After prison, after Mexico, you were grateful that he let you in at all. You were sleeping in the same bed at night, he was home for the month, teaching forensic psychology at a private university in the district. “Are you okay?” You whispered against his lips.

You were sat on the edge of the bed, and he was standing between your legs. “Yes,” he responded, continuing his motions.

In the past few weeks, you have found yourself in this situation three times. The first two times he had called it off, being too overwhelmed by fractured memories of his time in Mexico. The last time, you asked him to stop when you got stuck in your head, too anxious to remember that you were supposed to be enjoying it.

Today, you were tired. Too tired to think about anything other than the feeling of his lips on yours. You couldn’t control the whimper that escaped your throat as he gently tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth.

He pulled away slightly, eyes studying your face quickly before he asked, “That was good right? The noise?”

Your chest ached at the recognition that he had been left with so much self-doubt that he didn’t even know if what he was doing was right. Nodding confidently, you peered up at him through your eyelashes, “Yeah, that was good. I liked that,” you assured him.

It felt like the first time. As if you hadn’t had sex together multiple times and spent the past several years learning what the other liked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Take the lead,” you implored, looking at him. You couldn’t tell him what to do, at the very core of your actions, this was about him. This was about what he needed to do. You could always tell him to stop, but if he asked you to change something, you’d move heaven and earth to make him comfortable.

You just wanted to make him feel comfortable. The way you could feel his heart pounding in his chest, made you wonder if he was going to call it off. You had to bite your tongue from asking if he was alright, you needed to trust that he would tell you if anything was wrong.

Surprising you, he deftly slipped his hands beneath your t-shirt, pulling the soft fabric off of your torso in one quick movement. He used the pads of his fingers to lightly skim your bare body, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You kept yourself quiet, looking up at him as he studied you with wonder in his gaze, “You’re so pretty.”

If you hadn’t been hyper-aware of your surroundings, you might’ve missed the compliment. “I love you,” you breathed, chest tightening in a nauseating mixture of adoration and nervousness.

“I love you too,” he responded easily to you, his large hand placed firmly on your ribcage while his other planted itself on the mattress, maintaining his balance as his head craned forward to kiss you.

Your hand shook as you thumbed the hem of his shirt, moving your lips against his as you waited for him to cue you. The catch there was Spencer could spend hours kissing you without needing anything more. Your other hand rested softly on his collarbone, a non-sensual location where you were still touching him, but it wasn’t an intimate touch, at least, not in a sexual sense. It was an intimate touch in the sense that you were using the soft pressure of your palm to reassure him that you were here.

Spencer’s hand on your side gently pushed your back down to the mattress, once the fabric of the sheets was touching your skin, you eyed him curiously as he took his shirt off of his own volition. Better food and a considerably less stressful living situation had brought him back to life, and the haunted look that he came home to you with had faded over the months.

He stepped back from the mattress, and before you could figure out what he was doing, he took your thighs in his hands and moved you so your body was entirely on the bed, and you thought that the laugh that came from you as he moved you would be the end. Clamping your hand over your mouth, you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, mortified.

Shaking his head, Spencer smiled and climbed up on the bed with you, “No,” he breathed, hovering over you, “Do it again.”

This time a nervous laugh bubbled through your throat, “What?”

He dropped a soft kiss to your lips before pushing himself back up on his arms, “I just want this to feel normal. It’s sex, there’s no need to be so procedural about it.”

You stared up at him while nodding, “Okay,” you affirmed, reaching a hand up and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. There was no procedure available to you. There was no pamphlet that could readily guide you on being intimate with your formerly imprisoned boyfriend after a serial killer let him know that she had arranged his sexual assault in a foreign country.

The best thing you could think to do was let him take the lead. He was the one who had initiated this, and you were more than willing to follow.

Spencer deftly pulled your underwear and shorts down together, guiding your legs out of the extraneous fabric before he paused. His arm looped around your leg, effectively hugging your calf as he rested his chin on your knee, heady eyes looking at you before he spoke, “Oh, angel,” he murmured, “My memory never does you justice.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, your hips adjusting on the sheets as he detached himself from your leg and returned to his station above you, this time with you fully nude beneath him. “Then it’s a good thing I’m right here,” you murmured, giving him a slice of comfort with a double meaning.

His hand skimmed down your chest, resting his palm on your lower belly before he looked back up at you, brown eyes meeting yours, “May I touch you?”

Breathlessly, you nodded, “Yes,” you told him, verbalizing your answer. Reinforcing your response as his hand slid further down, cupping your heat with his hand, his index finger slipping between your folds.

He didn’t break eye contact with you as he gently rubbed you, his unpracticed hand quickly gaining confidence as your lips parted and your breath quickened. You hadn’t considered how quickly your orgasm would build up, but for as long as it’s been for him, it’s also been for you.

His finger slid into you slowly, his eyes watching you carefully with every slight movement, and a soft moan escaped from your throat at the sensation of his finger knuckle deep in you, feeling miles further than your own fingers could ever reach. Lifting your head up, you brought your mouth to his, moving your lips slowly against his, moaning into his mouth as he withdrew his finger, slipping it back in with ease. There were no words that you could find that would accurately explain the amalgamation of emotions that were rushing through you right now, but the way you were kissing Spencer portrayed them perfectly.

Spencer hummed against your lips, delicately adding a second finger to his ministrations, the stretch of your pussy around his hand causing your back to lift off the bed. He started thrusting his fingers in and out of you, a gentle but firm pace that took away your ability to focus on kissing him, letting your head drop to the pillows.

“Oh, Spencer,” you breathed, the knot building in your lower belly causing your head to spin. “Spence,” you panted his name, “You’re gonna— ah.” You screwed your eyes shut for just a moment before opening them again, meeting his as you whispered, “Please, please, please.”

Your incessant begging only came to an end when your orgasm finally took you under the influence of dopamine, walls clenching around his fingers as he worked you through the waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re so pretty,” Spencer mused, his words taking you slightly by surprise as his hand withdrew from your cunt.

You sighed dazedly up at him, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “I love you,” you whispered, looking up at him with wonder in your eyes.

The lopsided smile he gave you was all you needed to know that all was well, and the kiss that he dropped on your lips elicited the same feeling. “I love you too,” he muttered against your lips, keeping himself propped above you.

Parting your lips with curiosity, you struggled to find the words to ask him. “I want… Can we…” you tried, but everything fell short as your eyes searched his desperately.

Spencer took his lower lip between his teeth, and you knew that if he called it off, you would be more than happy with the progress that you’d made. You’re surprised when he responds, “I need you to say it. I need you to ask.”

“Would you like to have sex with me?” You asked him, there was a tentative note in your voice that seemed to bring him comfort. A sort of cumulative blanket of uncertainty over the moment that you were sharing.

Spencer nodded in response “Yes,” he said, giving you a verbal answer.” He didn’t take another moment to think about it before he moved off of the bed, your eyes followed him curiously as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and underwear, dropping them both to the floor in one fell swoop. “Yes,” he repeated.

With every ounce of self-control in you failing, you eyed his cock. Standing at attention, the tip was leaking pre-cum and he looked almost painfully hard, your lips gaped at the sight, “Oh.”

Finding his way back to the bed, he held himself above you, not touching you at all as his head tilted to the side, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yeah, I am,” you looked up at him. “It’s just been a while,” you breathed, letting your nerves show through in the hopes that it would ease both of your minds.

He smiled softly at you, understanding clear in his expression, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

His use of the word we made your chest tighten, a recognition of your nerves as much as his. “Okay,” you breathed, opening your legs slightly wider for him and placing your hands on either one of his shoulders.

Biting on your lower lip, your eyes flittered down to where his hand was positioning his cock at your entrance, the soft skin of his tip swiping over your clit as he found his mark, pushing just the tip inside, and giving the both of you the time you needed to adjust. You moved your gaze back up to his face, studying him intently as you did so. As sure as he seemed, you wouldn’t put it past him to push through something if that’s what he thought you wanted.

“Take your time,” you whispered, trying to reassure him without it being overbearing, your breathing hitched when he pushed in more. Somehow, at only about half of his length, he felt impossibly deep in you.

Making eye contact again, Spencer watched your expression, “I’ve got you,” he said, dropping soft kisses to your lips, one after the other.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on his to the best of your ability, “I’m okay, we’re okay.”

Your words gave him the confidence to push into you, fully sheathing himself inside of you, and breaking eye contact. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, groaning against the soft skin as you tried to adjust yourself with the sheer amount of pressure between your legs.

Taking a deep breath, you froze at the realization that tears were falling onto your skin, the nearly inaudible drip of them on your neck and the pillow behind you spreading an icy feeling through your veins. “Spence,” you whispered, combing your fingers through his hair while you felt his dick twitch inside of you.

He didn’t respond, not verbally at least, producing a low hum.

“How are you doing?” You asked him softly, trying to stop your walls from clenching around him while he was clearly having a moment. “We can stop if you need to,” you murmured, continuing to play with his hair.

Slowly, he pushed himself up on shaky arms and kissed you, tasting of salty tears and bitter coffee. As his lips coaxed yours open, he moved his hips, gently filling you as he did so.

Tears pricked at your own eyes as you realized that he was being as gentle with you as you were with him. It had been six months since you last opened up to each other like this.

“I missed you,” he muttered, pulling his head back so that he could watch where your bodies were joined, his shaft covered in your slick as he thrust in and out.

You already knew that he’d missed you while he was away, but he specifically missed this. The feeling of baring your soul to another person, and this time around it all felt that much rawer. It broke your heart while simultaneously putting it back together. “I missed you too,” you whimpered, forcing the words out while he found a steady rhythm.

His thrusts were still slow, but they were hard, pushing himself as deeply into your cunt as he could go. “You’re so good for me,” he said, grunting as he kept moving, “Fuck it’s— Can I cum in you?”

Nodding frantically, you met his eyes again. “Yeah,” you breathed, a sharp moan torn from your throat as he moved up, changing the angle ever so slightly as he continued fucking into you. “Oh,” you gasped, as your eyes rolled back at the sensation of him spilling himself into you, his sloppy thrusts sending you over that same edge.

You couldn’t make sense of whatever he was mumbling while his hips stuttered to a stop, leaving himself firmly planted inside of you. He rested his head on your shoulder, his body lying on top of yours.

Once you remembered how to breathe, your hands made their way back to his head, fingers combing through his hair. “Are you alright?” You asked him, seeking out a final confirmation that he was, in fact, okay.

He hummed in response, “I’m great,” he said, “I’m really really… in love with you.”

Startled, a light giggle escaped your lips, “I’m really really in love with you too,” you responded, mimicking his intonation.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmured, coveting you in a way that made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. As far as you were concerned, you were the luckiest girl in the world.

Sighing, one of your hands fell to his arm and you closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep like this, with him still tucked into you.

Your other hand remained up, playing with his hair, “You’re gonna make me sleep,” he said, a half-complaint, really.

“That’s okay,” you whispered, knowing that eventually someone would get up and turn off the lights, but right now, you’d rather stay with him. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered to you.

[littledoot]

I think about fox and the corries a lot. Something that always strikes me as strange is when people hate him and want him dead.

We see fox for around 4 minutes 30 TOTAL in the show but there are a few things that really stand out to me and something that happens in the comics.

Fox doesn't bend to Anakin at the start until Anakin straight up pulls rank. Should Anakin have gotten in? No. Was he angry and an active threat to Fox's men? Probably. So Fox folds there and lets him in.

When Ahsoka "breaks out" Fox goes for the non-lethal option until she "kills" some clones at which point Anakin has to command Fox and his men not to use lethal force.

It's completely reactionary and with the speed and minimal protest Fox gives it's almost strange. Fox is scared of something but he cares greatly for his brothers.

So the question becomes: what is Fox so scared of?

He was willing to stand up to Anakin as a random commander but not as a Jedi. Does Fox know what damage can be dealt by a lightsaber? Does he think that all force users will kill as they please?

With that fear and that care in mind I ask you to take a look at Fives' death. Fox and company got there when Fives was begging. The were too late to hear the explanation but they heard him plead to be understood.

And what does Fox do?

He stops behind crates for a second when Fives doesn't even know he's there, he asks Fives to not fight back, he does not fire the first shot. He asks Fives more than once to surrender. Fives knew he was dead either way but there was no way for Fox to know that.

Or maybe he did and had a plan.

In the comic we can see the Corries march on the temple and some of them shoot at Vader thinking him to be a Jedi.

Fox pleads their ignorance, Fox pleads for them not to be punished for a mistake they did not make, Fox dies asking leniency for his men.

These are not the actions of a proud man who believes in his cause.

These are the actions of a man who has nothing left and no other actions he can take trying to keep his family alive at any cost but knowing he will never manage it anyway.

So, yeah. I don't understand the hatred for Fox but if you want to tell my your view I will listen anyway

[cloudzoro]

Non-sexual turn ons | One Piece ♡

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small, innocent things you do that turns them on

masterlist

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characters: law, nami, robin, zoro

genre: smut (minors dni)

cw: fem!reader, hair pulling for nami's, semi public making out/heavy petting

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Law - wearing glasses

You had hid your glasses from Law at first, worried that he would find you less attractive, but when he sees the glasses case in your room, he begs you to put them on.

You two have been relaxing in bed together, and innocent kisses quickly escalate to heavy petting. You're straddling him, rocking your hips against his. You start to think you might cum without even taking your clothes off, but Law's firm grip on your hips stops your movement.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks, leaning over to rummage in the bedside table drawer. When he pulls out your glasses case, you go to protest but he speaks before you can open your mouth

“Babe just put them on for me. I want to see them on,” he says. You haven't noticed yet, but he's already hard thinking about what you'd look like. You groan and take them from his hand.

“I don't get why you want me to put them on. It's not like I'm any hotter with them,” you say as you push them onto your face. Law goes to respond, but after seeing you in glasses he freezes. You begin to feel self-conscious because of Law's lack of response. However, you're shocked when you reach your hand up to take off your glasses, and Law shouts out ‘no’.

You're initially confused about his outburst but Law is quick to recover and pulls you in a kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth against yours and his hands begin to wander your body. When he pulls back for air, he explains himself.

“you look so fucking sexy in those. Please let me fuck you. Can you feel how hard I am?”

Nami - red lipstick

Date night between you and Nami was always special, but this time you've decided to get ready together. The silence had been tension-filled, With both of you keeping an eye on each other as you went about your beauty routine.

You're putting your makeup on, and you've got it down to a science and move freely, stealing glances at the woman sitting next to you. You turn back to add the final touch: a red lipstick. You're so focused on getting the application right that you don't notice Nami is watching you.

As the stick glides over your lips, Nami can't take her eyes off it. The movement is simple, but it has her stomach fluttering. As soon as you finish and turn to her for approval, she pulls you into an open-mouthed kiss. The kiss smudges the lipstick and transfers onto her skin. She sees you with smudged lipstick around your perfect pout and feels her soaked panties clinging to her pussy. She has lipstick smudged on her face too, and it gives her an idea.

“Can you put some more on, baby?” she asks, handing you the lipstick tube. You nod and obey her. She watches intently, running her fingers through your hair as you put on another layer of red lipstick. Once you finish, Nami switches from playing with your hair to gripping it and pulling you towards her bare shoulder.

“wanna leave some other pretty messes on me?” she asks. You don't give a verbal response, instead deciding to attach your mouth to your lover's neck as she lets out a gasp.

Robin - standing up for yourself

Robin's favourite thing to do is observe the always loud, busy environment of the ship and her favourite subject to study is you. She keeps her eye on you as you spend some alone time on the deck, soaking in the sun.

Sanji comes out to talk to you, and your mood plummets. You and Sanji generally got along, but his comments and behaviour had been getting too much to handle recently. You try to let him down nicely, tell him to behave, but when he doesn't - and Nami's not around to smack him - you finally snap.

Robin is intrigued; she's never seen you give anyone this level of attitude. She finds herself excited by the aggressive tone of your voice, which she doesn't get to hear very often. The sharp glare you're giving Sanji as you talk him down is so sexy that Robin almost wishes it was directed at her. Sanji gets himself together and apologises when he realises that he's genuinely upset. You, still angry, just nod and storm off.

Robin follows you into the girls’ room. Nami is busy with Usopp, so the chances of being interrupted are low. When she catches up to you, she checks that you're ok before leaning down to kiss you.

“I like seeing you stand up for yourself. You're so confident. it's so hot”, she says as she pulls you towards her bed. “it makes me want to let you take charge”, she says, and it makes your skin tingle. She's usually more of a service top, but the opportunity to see your aggressive side is too good to pass up. She lies down on the bed, beckoning you to take a seat on her tongue.

“come ride my face.”

Zoro - training together

Zoro reluctantly agreed to train you after you followed him around the Sunny all day, begging him for help. You felt you needed the extra training - and being pinned down by Zoro doesn't sound like a bad use of an evening. He's the only person aboard the ship who doesn't know you like him and you want to use that fact to your advantage sometimes.

You already have the basics of fighting down due to strawhat experience so Zoro suggests going straight to sparring. Zoro is much stronger than you, and he refuses to go easy on someone he has genuine respect for. He knew that he would be pinning you down pretty frequently at first but what he didn't anticipate is how that would make feelings stir inside him that he hadn't felt towards you before.

By the fourth round, you were starting to pick up on Zoro's techniques, and Zoro was feeling relieved about that fact hoping that now he could stop adjusting his hip placement so you wouldn't feel hard cock against you when he pinned you. However, when you do finally get one over on him, you land straddling him with your ass resting just above his bulge.

You freeze above him, and he knows you've felt it. He panics at first, and he accidentally shifts his hips. The friction causes you both to moan slightly. He wants to apologise, but then notices how you're looking at him. You look desperate, like you might cry if he doesn't touch you soon.

“Do you want some help?” you ask, hovering above him. He doesn't know what to say. Are you asking if he needs help getting up or if he needs help with his erection? Zoro breathes out your name and a yes. You grind down against his crotch and bend down to kiss him.

Zoro lifts his hips to help you both and growls against your lips.

“We should go somewhere more private. Anyone could walk in on us here.”

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thank you for reading! any comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated!!! ♡♡

[fangdokja]

🔞He says it’s love, but the scars on your skin tell a different story.

❤︎ Synopsis. Trapped in his obsession, your brother’s love is a cage—burning, possessive, and unyielding. Every kiss is a claim, every touch a warning. You’re his, and he’ll make sure the world knows it.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Older Brother x Fem. Reader

♡ Novelette. Sins of the Silent Heart - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 8,010

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, incest, non-con, rape, overstimulation, isolation, kidnapping, confinement, forced marking, dacryphilia, bondage, sexual punishments, BDSM, sadism, unhealthy power dynamics, loss of virginity, toxic relationship, spanking, emotional and psychological manipulation, social isolation, physical assault and abuse, sexual violence, knife play, blood play, permanent injury, choking / breath play

The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly to keep the prying eyes of the world at bay. You struggle against his ironclad grasp, but he's too strong.

He shoves you onto the bed with a force that steals your breath, pinning your arms above your head with one hand while the other clamps over your mouth, muffling your screams. "Shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"You're only making this harder for yourself. You need to understand." His eyes bore into yours, searching for something—fear, submission, perhaps even love. But all you feel is a cold dread unfurling in your stomach, a horror that threatens to consume you whole.

Your brother's grip on your face tightens, his thumb digging into your cheek as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

"You're mine," he repeats, the words a chant that seems to fuel his rage. His other hand begins to roam, skimming over your body in a way that makes you feel violated and disgusting. You try to kick, to fight, but he's everywhere, his weight pressing down on you like a mountain.

"You think you can just go out there and give yourself to someone else?" he snarls, his eyes wild with jealousy. "You're too good for them. You're too good for anyone but me."

His hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. Panic sets in as you realize the full extent of his intentions, your eyes widening in horror.

You manage to break free from his hand over your mouth, gasping for air. "No, please, stop," you plead, your voice shaky with fear and desperation.

"I'm your sister! Please don't do this!" But your words only seem to fuel his rage further, his grip on your wrists tightening until you think your bones might snap.

"Your mouth will be the only thing that's used for speaking my language tonight," he sneers, his free hand ripping at the fabric of your shirt, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. The sound of buttons popping off and fabric tearing fills the room, echoing your own silent screams.

You feel a warm wetness between your legs, not from desire but from fear and the humiliation of knowing what's about to happen. "You're going to learn your place," he murmurs, his voice low and menacing as he straddles you, his weight pinning you to the bed.

You writhe beneath him, trying to find an inch of space, any way to escape, but his body is like a vice, trapping you in this twisted nightmare. He reaches for your pants, his hand fumbling with the button before he yanks them down with a rough jerk, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

"You're going to love me," he says, his voice a twisted mix of anger and lust.

"You're going to forget all about those other boys. They're nothing compared to me." His words are a knife to your heart, each syllable twisting the blade deeper.

Tears stream down your face as he pulls his own pants down, his erection straining against his boxers. You can feel his breath on your neck, his chest pressing against yours, his arousal against your thigh.

The room feels like it's spinning, the walls closing in around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of the monster above you, but his touch is everywhere, invasive and repulsive.

He pulls your panties to the side with a cruel efficiency, and you can't help but sob out loud. "Please, brother, no," you whimper, but your words fall on deaf ears.

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name. You're going to beg for more."

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pushing your head down into the pillow, the fabric smothering your cries. You feel his hand move away from your face and grip the base of his cock, guiding it towards your entrance.

The feeling of his bare skin against yours is a violation so profound, it feels like your soul is being torn apart. The tip of his cock nudges against your folds, and you tense up, trying to resist, but your body is too overwhelmed with fear to do much more than shiver.

With a grunt of effort, he pushes inside you, the pain tearing through you like a bolt of lightning.

You scream into the pillow, your nails digging into the mattress as he starts to thrust, each movement a brutal reminder of his dominance.

You can feel the fabric of your ruined panties wedged between your thighs, a sadistic reminder of your innocence lost. His rhythm is punishing, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that sends shockwaves through your body. You try to hold back the tears, to hide your pain, but they come anyway, soaking the pillow beneath your face.

He drives through your hymen without mercy, the fabric of your innocence ripping away as he claims you as his own. The pain is unlike anything you've ever felt before—sharp, searing, and unrelenting.

Your eyes fly open, and you scream into the pillow, your body arching off the bed as he buries himself deep within you. The sensation is a mix of agony and unwanted fullness, a violation that sets every nerve ending on fire.

His grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel his cock pulsing inside you, thick and demanding. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a harsh whisper.

You force your eyes to meet his, and what you see there is a twisted mix of satisfaction and rage. He watches you, his pupils dilated with lust, as he continues to fuck you without care for your pain.

"Say it," he hisses, his hips grinding against yours in a punishing rhythm. "Say you're mine."

Your throat is raw from screaming, but you manage to croak out the words he wants to hear. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice a broken echo of the defiance that once burned within you.

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you know it's what he needs to hear.

His eyes flash with triumph, and he releases your neck, allowing you to gulp in a desperate breath. "That's my girl," he says, his voice a sick parody of affection as he starts to move faster.

You feel his hand snake around your throat again, squeezing gently before sliding up to cradle your face. "I'll always take care of you," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he pushes deeper into you, each stroke a declaration of his ownership.

You whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus on anything but the pain. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your muffled cries and his grunts of pleasure.

He's so deep inside you that it feels like he's touching your very soul, and you can't help but wonder if there's any part of you that will ever be yours again. You want to fight, to scream, to push him away, but your body feels like it's made of lead, heavy and unresponsive to your will.

He leans down, his mouth crushing against yours in a kiss that's more claim than affection. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, and you taste the salt of your own tears.

You try to pull away, to bite him, to do anything that will make him stop, but he only grinds against you harder, his hand on the back of your head keeping you in place. "You're mine," he says against your lips, the words a dark benediction that sends a shiver of revulsion through your body.

Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the dresser. Your face is a mascara-stained mess, your hair a tangled halo around your head, and your body is a canvas of bruises already beginning to blossom.

The sight only seems to excite him more, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he watches your reflection, his eyes glinting with a malicious pleasure. You feel yourself start to detach, floating above the scene like a ghost, watching as your body is used and discarded by the person who's supposed to love you the most.

"Please," you manage to gasp out, the word a pathetic plea that hangs in the air, unheeded. "It hurts."

But he either doesn't hear you or doesn't care, his hips pumping faster, his breathing growing ragged.

The pain becomes a living entity, a monster that consumes you from the inside out, reducing you to a trembling wreck beneath him.

He shifts his weight, his hand moving from your face to your hip, his fingers digging in as he pulls you closer to him. "You're so damn tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You were made for me."

His thumb slides between your thighs, finding the bundle of nerves that had once brought you pleasure, and you feel a spark of hope—maybe if you can just make him finish, it will all be over.

But his touch is rough, almost punishing, and any hint of pleasure is drowned out by the agony of his invasion.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he continues to thrust, his movements becoming more frenzied with each passing moment. "You're going to come for me," he says, his voice a mix of demand and question.

"You're going to come and show me how much you want this." You feel his thumb circle your clit, pressing down hard as he continues to fuck you, his other hand squeezing your hip so tightly that it feels like he's trying to leave a permanent imprint of his fingers on your skin.

The pain and the pleasure meld together into something twisted and unrecognizable, and you can't help but whimper as your body starts to respond despite your mind's screaming protests.

His eyes never leave yours, watching your every reaction, feeding off your fear and pain like it's his lifeblood. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Show me how much you need me."

And you do—your body betrays you, arching up to meet his touch, your walls tightening around his cock as the beginnings of an orgasm build against your will.

You want to hate him for reducing you to this, for making you feel like a whore, but the pleasure is too intense to fight.

With a final, brutal thrust, he releases your hip, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand, his other hand still working you into a frenzy. "You're mine," he says again, his voice a hoarse growl.

"Say it. Scream it." And as if on cue, your body shatters, your orgasm ripping through you like a tempest, stealing your voice along with your dignity. The only sound that escapes you is a strangled cry, a sound that's half-pain, half-pleasure.

His eyes widen with triumph as he feels your body clench around him, his grip on your wrists tightening as he starts to come, filling you with his seed. The feeling of his release only adds to the horror, his hot cum a declaration of his claim on your body.

You lay there, trembling and sobbing, as he collapses on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion. For a moment, the room is silent except for your ragged breaths and his own, his weight a suffocating presence that makes it difficult to draw in air.

As the fog of pleasure fades, the reality of what's happened crashes down on you like a tidal wave of despair. You feel soiled, used, and utterly broken. Your eyes fill with fresh tears, and you struggle to find the strength to push him off.

But he's still inside you, his cock now limp but still a violation of the most intimate kind. "Don't," he says, his voice suddenly gentle as he rolls off you and pulls you into his arms.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore." His touch is tender, almost loving, but it's tainted by the knowledge of what he's just done.

You can't bring yourself to look at him, your face buried in his chest, your body shaking with sobs. He strokes your hair, whispering sweet nothings that only serve to make you feel more disgusted.

"It's okay," he says, his voice soothing despite the horror of his actions. "You're safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again."

His words are a mockery of comfort, a twisted parody of the brotherly love you once knew.

You want to scream, to push him away, but all you can do is cry.

He gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he says, his voice a soft command.

"I'm not going to let anyone else have you. You're mine. You always have been." His eyes searched yours, looking for some sign of understanding, some spark of the love he believed you owed him.

But all you see is the monster he's become, the predator that's stolen your childhood trust in him.

"I know you didn't mean to," he continues, his tone earnest. "But you can't leave me. You can't love anyone else. Do you understand?"

You nod, the tears still streaming down your face, the taste of defeat coating your mouth like bile. "Y-yes," you manage to whisper, the words barely audible. "I understand."

It's not what he wants to hear, not the declaration of love he craves, but it's all you can give.

For now.

────────────

The weekend stretches before you, a prison of his twisted love and dominance. Each moment is a silent scream of agony and degradation, as your brother takes you again and again.

The bedroom, the kitchen table, the living room couch—every corner of your shared home becomes a battleground for his obsession.

He fucks you in every position imaginable, his hunger insatiable, his need to claim you complete.

You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, used and abused at his whim, your body a canvas for his depravity.

────────────

On the first night, he ties your wrists to the bedposts with the usual belt he uses to punish you, spreading your legs wide as he looms above you. "You're going to take it all," he says, his voice a dark promise.

"Every inch of me, until you're screaming my name." He pushes into you, his cock thick and unforgiving, and you bite back a whimper, your eyes squeezed shut.

He's gentle at first, almost loving, but as the night wears on, his strokes become more forceful, his grip on your hips tightening.

You're too tired to fight, too broken to resist. When he finally releases you from your bonds, you collapse onto the bed, your limbs trembling from the exertion.

────────────

The next day, he takes you into the shower, the water a scalding caress against your bruised skin. He soaps you up with a tenderness that feels like a slap in the face after what he's done. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low growl.

You do, unable to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the water cascading down your breasts. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Say you love me."

The words stick in your throat, a lie that feels like acid. But you whisper them anyway, because it's what he needs to hear, because you're too scared not to.

────────────

In the kitchen, he bends you over the counter, your hands gripping the edge to keep from collapsing. You can hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the jingle of his belt loops echoing through the room. "You're going to learn to crave this," he says, his voice a harsh promise.

You feel the head of his cock against you, and your body tenses, bracing for the pain. "You're going to want me more than anyone else."

His hands are everywhere, pushing into your hips, squeezing your breasts, his thumb circling your clit.

You hate the way your body responds, the way your pussy clenches around him, begging for more even as you silently pray for it to end.

He enters you from behind, his hands on your hips as he pulls you back onto him. You grit your teeth against the pain, your knuckles turning white as you hold onto the counter for dear life.

He's deep inside you, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan despite the fear choking you.

"That's it," he says, his voice thick with pleasure. "You like it, don't you?" You bite your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, your eyes squeezed shut as you focus on the kitchen tiles beneath your feet.

But the orgasm builds, unwanted and unstoppable, stealing your voice as it rips through you, leaving you trembling and sobbing.

────────────

Later, in the living room, you're forced to straddle him on the couch, his cock buried inside you as he watches TV. His hands are on your hips, guiding your movements, his eyes flicking from the screen to your face, watching you with a perverse fascination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a stark contrast to the horror of his actions.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but the words won't come. Instead, you stare blankly at the TV, trying to lose yourself in the flickering images, trying to forget the reality of your situation.

────────────

On the second night, he takes you to the floor in the hallway, pushing you onto your knees. "You're going to suck me off," he says, his voice cold and demanding. "And you're going to swallow every drop."

You hesitate, your throat tight with fear, but his hand wraps around the back of your head, pushing you closer to his erection.

"Do it," he growls, and you have no choice but to comply, your mouth opening to take him in.

You can taste the salt and the bitterness of his lust, and you want to gag, but you force yourself to swallow, to keep going until he's satisfied.

When he finally comes, you feel his hot cum spurt down your throat, and you have to fight not to throw up.

He pulls out, his hand releasing your head as he watches you, his eyes filled with a perverse satisfaction. "Good girl," he says, his voice a taunting whisper.

You crawl away from him, your body trembling, your dignity shattered beyond repair. You can't believe this is your life now, that you're nothing more than a toy for his sick games.

────────────

On the final day of the weekend, you're lying on the floor of his room, your body bruised and sore from his relentless attention. He's sitting on the bed, watching you with a strange mix of love and possession.

"Look at you," he says, his voice almost gentle. "So beautiful, even when you're broken."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, searching for any hint of remorse, any shred of the brother you once knew. But all you find is a monster, a creature consumed by his own desires.

He stands up, walking over to you with a predatory grace that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's time to go back to your room," he says, his voice a command.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, as he helps you to your feet. The room spins around you, the pain making it difficult to stand.

"You're mine," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "Always remember that." He gives you a final, bruising kiss before releasing you, his eyes never leaving your face.

You stumble back to your room, feeling his gaze on your back like a physical weight.

The door closes behind you, the soft click echoing in your ears. You collapse onto the bed, your body a mass of pain and despair.

You can't believe what's happening, can't believe that the person you trusted the most has become your worst nightmare.

But even as you cry into your pillow, a part of you knows that this is only the beginning.

────────────

Days turn into weeks, and the abuse continues. You try to find ways to resist, to fight back, but his control over you is absolute.

He's always watching, always waiting for the slightest sign of disobedience. You start to feel like you're going mad, trapped in a cycle of fear and pain that never ends.

But you keep the secret, hiding your bruises beneath layers of clothing, smiling when you know he's watching.

────────────

One evening, as you're serving dinner, a knock at the door pierces the tension that's become a constant in your home.

It's a friend from school, someone who's been worried about you since you stopped hanging out. You can see the concern in his eyes as he asks about your well-being.

Your brother's grip on your wrist tightens, a silent warning not to say a word. "She's just been busy," he says, his voice too cheerful. "Aren't you, little sister?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've had a lot of... stuff to do."

The friend's gaze lingers on you, searching for the truth behind the forced smile. "Well, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me," he says, before finally turning to leave. The door closes, and the room feels smaller, suffocating.

He pulls you closer, his grip painfully tight. "You're mine," he says, his voice a low growl. "You don't need anyone else."

His eyes bore into yours, demanding assurance, and you nod, the lie rolling off your tongue like a well-rehearsed script.

"Yes," you murmur, "I know."

────────────

As the days go by, the lines between fear and obedience blur. You learn to anticipate his moods, his needs, his desires.

You become an expert at hiding your own emotions, burying your pain beneath a mask of submission. You go through the motions, cooking, cleaning, smiling when he enters the room.

But inside, you're screaming, a caged animal waiting for an escape that never comes.

One day, you're in the kitchen, your hands shaking as you prep dinner. The knife slips, slicing your finger, and blood wells up, a stark crimson against the pale flesh.

He's there in an instant, his eyes flickering with concern before they darken. "Careful," he says, his voice a low warning.

"You're too clumsy for your own good." He takes your hand, leading you to the sink to clean the wound.

But instead of the gentleness you expect, his grip turns cruel, his fingers pressing into your palm until you wince.

"You're going to be more careful," he says, his voice cold. "You're too precious to be ruined by something as stupid as an accident."

You nod, your heart racing as you watch the blood swirl down the drain. "I'll be more careful," you whisper, the words feeling like a noose around your neck.

He releases your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Good," he says, his voice softening slightly. "I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

But the way he says it, you know he's not just talking about accidents.

He's talking about you leaving, about you telling someone. The fear is a living thing inside you, a creature that feeds on your hope.

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want me to kiss it better?" You can feel his arousal pressing against your side, his desire for you a constant, unyielding force.

You nod again, because what else can you do? He takes your injured finger into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the cut, the sensation surprisingly gentle.

The room spins around you, the line between love and hate blurring until you can't tell the difference.

His eyes never leave yours, his gaze holding you captive as his mouth works its magic. When he pulls away, you're left gasping for air, your body a battleground of emotions.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask, your voice shaking. "Why are you doing this?"

He looks at you, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "Because I love you," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you're mine, and no one else can have you."

You pull away, your heart racing. "But we're siblings," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't right."

He sighs, his grip on your hand tightening. "Don't say that," he says, his voice a low warning. "You're the only one who makes me feel alive, the only one who truly understands me. I'm going to marry you, make it official. No one can ever take that away from us."

His eyes are wild, desperate, and for a moment, you see the little boy who protected you from the monsters under the bed.

But the monster is him now, and there's no escape.

You nod, your voice trembling. "Okay," you say, the word sticking in your throat. "I'll be yours."

It's a hollow promise, but it's what he needs to hear.

His smile is like the sun coming out from behind a storm cloud, lighting up the room and your heart despite the fear.

That night, he takes you gently, as if you're made of glass. His touches are softer, his kisses more tender.

But the pain is still there, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. You lay there, your body bruised and used, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, of telling someone.

But every time you open your mouth to speak, the fear clamps down, silencing you.

────────────

As the weeks turn into months, the abuse becomes a twisted routine.

You find yourself craving the moments of tenderness he offers, the fleeting moments when he's not a monster, but the brother you once knew.

His love feels like a drug, an addiction that you can't shake, no matter how hard you try.

And he's always there, watching, waiting, making sure you know you're his.

One evening, as you lay in his arms, the room lit by the flickering TV, you feel something shift inside you. You've been playing along, pretending to be the obedient little sister and wife he wants, but the weight of the lie is crushing you.

You look up at him, his eyes closed in contentment, and for the first time, you feel something other than fear.

It's anger, burning hot and pure, a fire that's been smoldering deep within you. "I can't do this anymore," you say, your voice shaking with the force of your emotions.

He opens his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "What do you mean?" he asks, his hand stroking your hair.

You sit up, pulling away from him. The words come out in a rush, the dam of your fear and anger finally breaking. "This isn't love, it's not normal. You can't just take what you want from me."

You can see the hurt in his eyes, but it's mixed with something else—a hint of anger.

"What do you know about love?" he snaps, his grip on your arm tightening.

"You're just a kid, playing games you don't understand." His voice is low, dangerous.

"You're mine, and you always will be. You don't get to decide who loves you, or how."

You try to pull away, but his hand is a vice, his nails digging into your skin. "Let go of me," you say, your voice trembling.

But he doesn't.

He pulls you closer, his eyes searching yours, looking for the submission he craves.

"You don't get it," he says, his voice a harsh whisper. "You're all I've ever had. You're all I've ever needed. And now that I have you, I won't let anyone else touch you."

His grip tightens, and you know he's not just talking about love anymore. He's talking about possession, about control.

You try to fight back, to push him away, but he's too strong. "Please," you whimper, the word a pitiful sound in the quiet room.

But it's not enough.

He's already decided what you are to him, and he won't be swayed.

He yanks you closer, his breath hot and sour in your face. "You're going to learn," he says, his voice a snarl. "You're going to learn to love me, to want this."

His hand moves down your body, cupping your breast roughly, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You flinch, the pain mixing with the fear and anger. "Look at me," he demands, his eyes boring into yours.

"Tell me you want it."

You can't find the words. You can't bring yourself to lie to him, not when you're so close to breaking free of this psychological cage of hoping he'd change.

Instead, you look away, your eyes filling with tears. "I can't," you murmur, your voice barely audible.

The anger in his eyes flickers, and for a moment, you think he might hit you again. But instead, he sighs, his expression softening slightly.

"You will," he says, his voice a promise and a threat. "You just need time." He releases your arm, his hand moving to gently wipe the tears from your cheek.

"But for now, you're mine. You're going to stay here, with me."

────────────

But, that doesn't mean he's not vengeful.

Your older brother drags you down the stairs to the basement, his grip unyielding. The cold concrete floor hits your bare feet, sending shivers up your spine. You struggle, your body protesting, but his strength is too much.

He throws you into a dank, dimly lit corner, the scent of mold and dust thick in the air.

Ropes coil around your wrists and ankles, securing you to a rusty pipe that runs along the wall. You whimper as the metal digs into your skin, leaving a trail of cold, metallic pain.

"Why are you doing this?" you manage to ask through clenched teeth, the reality of your new prison setting in.

He paces the floor, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and disappointment. "Because you need to learn," he says, his voice echoing in the confined space.

"You need to understand that you can't just decide to stop loving me."

You stare at him in disbelief, the ropes biting into your skin as you try to pull away from the pipe. "This isn't love," you spit out, your voice raw with emotion. "What you're doing to me is sick."

He stops pacing, his gaze meeting yours with a cold intensity. "You think I don't know that?" he snaps.

"But it's all I know. It's all we have." He strides over to you, crouching down so he's level with your bound form.

"You're going to stay here, and think about what you've done." His hand comes up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

"And when you're ready to tell me the truth, when you're ready to love me the way you should, I'll be upstairs."

You feel bile rise in your throat at his touch, his words a twisted echo of the love you once knew. "I can't," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Please, just let me go."

He sighs, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something that looks almost like regret.

"You don't get it," he murmurs, his hand dropping away. "This is for your own good." He stands, walking towards the stairs.

"You're going to thank me one day, when you realize what I've saved you from."

You watch as he ascends, the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut with a finality that makes your heart sink. The darkness of the basement envelops you, the silence deafening.

You try to scream, to call for help, but your voice is hoarse from the weekend's screams. You're alone, trapped in the cold embrace of the concrete walls.

────────────

Days crawl by, each one a blur of pain and despair. He comes down to check on you, bringing you water and the bare minimum of food to keep you alive.

He doesn't touch you, doesn't speak of love. His eyes are hard, his expression unreadable.

But the silence is worse than the abuse—it's a constant reminder of the distance he's put between you. You beg, you plead, you scream, but he just watches with a detached air, as if you're nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum.

On the third day, he finally speaks. "You've had your time to think," he says, his voice cold and unyielding.

"Now it's time for your next lesson." He crosses the room, his boots echoing on the hard floor.

You shrink back against the wall, your heart racing.

You're not ready for this, not ready to face the monster again.

But there's no escape, not here in the dark.

He unbinds one of your wrists, pulling you to your feet. You stumble, your legs wobbly from days of disuse. He leads you over to a dusty old chair in the center of the room, the legs scraping against the floor with an eerie sound.

"Sit," he commands, his voice devoid of warmth.

You do as you're told, the chair creaking beneath your weight, as he restrains your arms and ankles to the chair. He then stands in front of you, his eyes raking over your body with a hunger that makes your skin crawl.

"You're going to tell me you love me," he says, his voice low and menacing. "You're going to mean it, or you're going to regret it."

You shake your head, the words caught in your throat. "I can't," you choke out. "I'll never love you like that."

His expression darkens, and for a moment, you think he's going to hit you again. But instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife, the silver glinting in the dim light.

"You will," he says, his voice a promise. "I'll make sure of it." He flicks open the blade with a metallic snap, the sound echoing in the basement.

You try to jerk away, but the ropes around your ankles keep you in place, the chair digging into your back. "What are you going to do?" you ask, the fear in your voice clear.

He steps closer, the knife glinting in his hand. "I'm going to show you what happens when you deny me," he says, his voice a low growl.

"You're mine, and you will say it." His hand moves to your chest, pressing the cold steel against your skin just above your heart.

The threat is unmistakable.

You swallow hard, the fear thick in your throat. "I can't," you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. "Please, don't make me."

He sighs, his expression shifting from anger to something almost pitying. "You're so damn stubborn," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the blade's path along your collarbone.

"But I'll break you. I'll make you love me." He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck, just below your ear.

You shiver, trying to keep your revulsion from showing. "I'm sorry," you whisper, the words feeling like acid on your tongue.

"I love you." It's the first time you've said it, and you hate the way it feels—like a betrayal to every part of yourself that's been violated by his hands.

He pulls away, his eyes searching yours, looking for the truth he so desperately needs to see. You force a smile, hoping it's convincing enough. "I love you," you repeat, the words a little easier this time.

For a moment, you see a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but it's quickly replaced with satisfaction. "Good," he says, his voice soothing now.

"Very good." He reaches down, his hand brushing against the ropes that bind you to the chair.

"Now, let's see how much you mean it." He traces the knife along the fabric of your shirt, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine.

With one swift motion, he slices through the material, exposing your bra. The knife lingers for a moment before he cuts the clasp, the cups falling away to reveal your breasts. He cups one in his hand, his thumb circling your nipple.

You can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as he pinches it, the pain mixing with a twisted form of arousal that makes you feel dirty and disgusted with yourself.

"Look at how beautiful you are," he says, his voice a hypnotic purr. "So perfect for me." His other hand moves to the fly of his pants, the knife still in his grip. He opens them, freeing his erection, which stands tall and demanding.

You feel a fresh wave of dread as he steps closer, the knife still hovering near your skin.

"Now, tell me you want me," he commands, his eyes dark with lust. The blade presses harder against your flesh, the sting of it making you flinch.

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. "I want you," you murmur, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. You feel his hand tighten around your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple until it's hard and sensitive.

"Please," you add, hoping it's enough to satisfy his twisted desires.

He seems to consider your words, the knife pressing into your skin just enough to make you whimper. Then, with a smirk, he pulls away.

"Good girl," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, let's make it official." He grabs the knife again, this time bringing it to the waistband of your pants. With a quick jerk, he slices through the fabric, exposing you completely.

You struggle, trying to pull away from his touch, but he's too strong. He forces you to remain still, his hand moving down to cup your sex, his thumb stroking your clit with a brutal gentleness that makes you squirm.

"You're going to tell me you're mine," he says, his eyes boring into yours. "You're going to scream it."

You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm yours," you murmur, the words a defeated whisper.

He smiles, his grip on the knife loosening slightly. "That's my girl," he says, his voice a sickening blend of affection and triumph. He steps closer, the knife now tracing patterns on your exposed thigh, sending shivers of fear and anticipation through your body. You can feel his erection pressing against your leg, hot and insistent.

Without warning, he slams the knife into the chair, the blade sinking deep into the wooden frame. You flinch, your heart racing as you realize how close you just came to being sliced open. He grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Now, tell me," he says, his voice a demand.

"Tell me you're mine, and mean it." He repeats.

You stare into his eyes, the fear and disgust warring within you. But the knife, still lodged in the chair so close to your body, is a stark reminder of his power. "I'm yours," you murmur, the words barely audible.

His smile widens, and he leans in to kiss you, his breath hot and sour. You force yourself to remain still, to accept it, to survive. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his other hand still playing with your body.

You can feel the wetness between your legs, and you hate yourself for it—hate that your body can betray you like this.

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes gleaming with triumph. You're panting, your heart racing from fear and the unwanted arousal his touch brings.

He takes the knife from the chair, the wood protesting as it's yanked free, and you can't help but feel a pang of relief that it's no longer a threat to your skin. But his gaze is on your thighs now, and you know that relief is short-lived.

"Look at me," he says, his voice low and commanding. You meet his eyes, trying to keep the fear and disgust from showing. "You're going to carry my mark," he continues, his tone matter-of-fact. "So you never forget who you belong to."

He grabs your chin, tilting your head back so you're forced to watch as he brings the knife closer to your skin. You flinch as the cold metal touches you, the tip hovering just above the delicate flesh of your inner thigh.

His hand is steady, his eyes never leaving yours as he traces the first letter of his name—a deep, painful groove that makes you try biting your lip to keep from screaming. The blood wells up, a crimson line against your pale skin.

But, it doesn't work.

The second you feel the searing pain of the knife digging deeply, your scream rips through the basement, echoing off the cold concrete walls.

He tightens his grip on your chin, forcing you to keep watching as he carves the next letter into your skin, the blood running down your thigh in a warm trickle. Your eyes are wide with shock and horror, your body sweating and shaking with pain and fear. He's methodical, taking his time with each stroke, his gaze never leaving yours.

The sound of your own cries is the only thing that breaks the silence, mixing with the wet, sickening sounds of the knife cutting into your flesh.

When he's done with the last letter, he pulls back, admiring his work with a twisted smile. "There," he says, his voice smug. "Now you're truly mine."

He reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his thumb coming away smeared with your blood. "You're beautiful, even when you're crying," he murmurs, his tone almost tender.

You can't help but flinch at his touch, the pain from the fresh wound making your stomach churn.

You look down, the sight of your own blood and his initials etched into your flesh making you feel like a piece of meat, marked and claimed. The pain is unbearable, and you can't stop the tears that stream down your face. "Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't do this to me. No more, please, I beg you."

He frowns, his expression one of disappointment. "You're supposed to be happy," he says, his voice tight.

"This is a declaration of love, not something to be feared." He grabs a rag from the floor, pressing it against the wound to stem the flow of blood.

"You need to learn to appreciate this, to cherish the bond we have." His tone is firm, brooking no argument.

You can't find the words to respond, your teeth chattering from the pain and the cold. You watch as he dresses himself, his movements deliberate and controlled.

He picks up the knife, wiping the blood off on the rag before slipping it back into his pocket. "I'll be back with something to clean you up," he says, his voice gentle, as if he's just finished giving you a present instead of violating you in the most horrific way.

He leaves you alone again, the door slamming shut like a tomb. The pain in your thigh is a constant reminder of his ownership, a brand that feels like it's burning into your soul.

You slump forward in the chair, the ropes digging into your skin, and sob into your knees. The basement is cold, the only warmth coming from the throbbing in your leg and the hot tears that fall onto the concrete floor.

────────────

When he returns, you're too tired to even look up. You feel him approach, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. He's carrying something, a first-aid kit maybe, but you don't care.

You're beyond caring.

He kneels in front of you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he takes the rag and replaces it with something cool and clean.

"Shh," he whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheeks. "It's okay, it's okay."

The pain is overwhelming as he cleans the wound, the sting of antiseptic making you whimper.

You try to jerk away, but he holds you firm, his grip unyielding. "You have to let me take care of you," he says, his voice soft but firm.

"You're all mine, and I'll always take care of what's mine." He applies a bandage, his movements careful and precise, his eyes never leaving yours.

"It'll heal," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the bandage.

"But you'll always remember."

He stands up, his gaze lingering on your naked form. "I'll leave these off," he says, nodding to the ropes around your ankles. "But don't try to run. You're not going anywhere."

The door opens, and he steps back, giving you a view of the stairs leading up to freedom.

The temptation is almost too much to bear, but you know better than to try.

You nod, the reality of your situation sinking in deeper with every second.

He walks over to the stairs, his back to you. "You're going to stay here," he says without looking back.

"Think about what you've done to deserve this. Think about how much I love you."

The door closes again, and you're left alone with the echoes of his footsteps.

The ropes around your wrists cut into your skin, a constant reminder of his control. You try to tug them loose, but they're tight—too tight.

Your eyes drift to the bandages. Hiding the deep, scarring marks just right above your pussy, his initials branded onto you like your mere cattle.

You can't believe it—you can't believe he's done this to you.

But the pain in your thigh is all too real, a pulsing, raw ache that throbs with every beat of your heart.

You can feel the sticky warmth of blood seeping through the bandage, a grim reminder that you're not just his sister anymore.

────────────

List of Fandoms and Characters

Ace Attorney: N/A

Blue Lock: Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: N/A

Demon Slayer: Rui, Sanemi Shinazugawa

Dishonored Series: Kirin Jindosh

Genshin Impact: Ayato Kamisato, Childe / Tartaglia, Scaramouche

Haikyuu!!: Atsumu Miya, Hajime Iwaizumi, Kenjiro Shirabu, Suna Rintarou, Tobio Kageyama, Yūji Terushima, Ushijima Wakatoshi

Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Boothill

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Chrollo Lucilfer

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: Demon Aru

Jujutsu Kaisen: Naoya Zenin, Suguru Geto

Kill The Hero: Se Jun-Lee

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Xavier

Naruto Shippuden: Kabuto Yakushi, Tobirama Senju

One Punch Man: Amai Mask

Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan

TOUCHSTARVED: Ais

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Dust! Sans / Murder! Sans

Wuthering Waves: Geshu Lin, Scar

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk-blog1

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, SITTING ON THEIR LAP

✩ summary: different scenarios where you find yourself sitting on them

✩ warnings: nsfw, 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of self-doubt, kissing, begging, gossiping, fluff, smut, crack, fun times and soft Eris😭💗

✩ amara’s note: the original cassian hc was so long that i had to stop myself bc i was thirsting and it turned into a regular oneshot lmaooo😭 anyways enjoy babes!!!!💗💗💗

reblogs are really appreciated! :D

RHYSAND

No matter how angry you and Rhys get or how petty the fight is, you two always end up holding hands, even while yelling at each other.

Sitting in his lap while you two argue about random, non important stuff is a standard

You guys just don’t do the whole “no touching” thing

Today, the argument was over who cooks better, both of you bickering pettily.

“Listen, I love you a lot, but the kitchen isn’t your best friend. It's crazy how you can burn an empty pot.”

“Maybe you’re crazy,” you retort, arms crossed over your chest as you step closer to him, leaning against his desk in his office.

He keeps arguing with you, going back and forth, while pushing his chair back from the desk to make room for you.

“Whatever, Rhys. I don’t even need to cook when I can summon anything. It’s stupid, and you’re being unfair,” you mutter as you put your hands on his shoulders and plop down in his lap, subconsciously warming at the way he holds your waist and places one hand on your back to keep you steady.

He suppresses a smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks up at your pouting self. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you’re an amazing chef,” he concedes, his tone laced with affection.

“Awww, come with me while I make you something,” you say, flashing him an oblivious smile.

“Oh! Um, you sure we shouldn't order something or..?” he asks nervously, his voice getting higher as he kisses you.

You slip out of his lap and hurry downstairs to plan his meal, assuring him not to worry about ordering anything and to just come down for his favorite meal.

“Dear Gods,” he whispers as he gets up, a mix of worry and fear in his voice.

ERIS

Eris had been stressed out for a few weeks now. Nothing you said seemed to make a difference.

He was dealing with his father’s death, ruling a new court as the heir, and inheriting the High Lord powers. Your heart ached for him. You wanted to be there for him, giving him hugs and words of encouragement, but you were not on that level yet

Today had been the most stressful day yet, resulting in him shutting down and locking himself up in his bedroom.

“Eris, are you okay? Can I please come in?” you knock gently on the wooden door, voice hushed and gentle.

After a few moments of silence, you hear him shuffling behind the door until he opens it very slightly.

He is shirtless, only in a pair of pants. You manage to catch a glimpse of his tired, amber eyes before he turns around to lie in his bed.

The room looks clinically clean, the only disturbance being Eris’s rugged appearance.

Without saying a word, you walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s a long, warm hug that tells him everything he doesn’t allow himself to hear: you’re there for him.

It takes a few moments for him to hug you back, but when he does, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his lap.

Only after an hour of silence does he speak

“I feel like i’m stuck. These powers are killing me, the board is fucking annoying, the folk believe i’m wicked and cruel and i have no idea what to do about anything.”

He looks up at you with desperate eyes, “Do you believe I’m truly wicked?”

You shake your head in honesty. “No, honey. I have not met anyone as smart, kindhearted and brave as you. Others do not know you like I do but they should,” you whisper, hands going through his tussled hair. “You’ve been hiding behind your mask for too long, Eris. Let people see the real you.”

The room goes quiet, the only sound being the beating of your hearts.

Slowly his lips meet yours in a new and experimental kiss. He stares up at you with his pupils blown but before you can apologize and get off his lap, he kisses you again and locks his arm around you

“Thank you,” he whispers between heating kisses, “Thank you, beautiful.”

CASSIAN

“Hi there sugar, what can I do for you?” Cassian asks sweetly as he flicks your nose with his finger, happy that you ran into his office and immediately plopped down on his lap

“Can you fuck me?” you ask, frustrated with the lack of dick lately.

His eyes widen slightly at your words, then he slowly cracks a handsome smile. “Gods. How inappropriate of you,” he teases, the amusement clear in his voice.

His teasing almost makes you sob. This was totally NOT the time. You almost roll your eyes before realizing he will so not give in if you give him that

“Cassian, i’m begging you. I want, no- need to be fucked. Please, i’m losing hearing in my left ear,” you beg as you get closer and sit in his lap, rubbing your hands all over his chest

He looked incredibly good, almost unfairly so. Cassian’s jaw and chin had grown scruffy in a ruggedly masculine way that made him look older and even more attractive.

A week without seeing him had only heightened your weakness for his body, making you throb.

“Losing hearing? You must be really dying for me, huh? Alright then. I’ll let you ride,” he smirks at you while unbuckling his belt.

He finally fucking let’s you fuck, hitting spots that makes you go fuzzy brained.

You make him promise to never be gone again before going for another ride, satisfied when he breathlessly promises.

LUCIEN

There is not a bigger shit-talking couple in Prythian than you two

One look between you two is enough.

Someone’s being annoying? You share an annoyed glance. Someone’s being rude? You share a baffled glance. Something’s juicy’s happening? You share a glance that says you will so talk about it when you get home.

“— and he has the audacity to two-time her? He’s lucky to find even one person willing to date him,” you gossip, lounging in Lucien’s lap, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this isn’t his first time. He did that to Tamlin’s cousin too,” Lucien adds, his tone filled with incredulity.

“No way,” you gasp in disbelief, shaking your head as the gossip sinks in.

“Yeah, apparently this guy fucks around in all courts and cheats on anyone willing to stomach. What a fucking loser, honestly,” Lucien nods in agreement, disdain evident in his voice. “The sick bastard gets off on it.”

“That reminds me, guess what I heard about Rhys in Rita’s yeaterday,” Lucien prompts, leaning in with a sly grin, clearly ready to share some gossip.

“Some males and females were talking about Rhys, saying he's replaced Feyre with a clone,” Lucien whispers, his tone laced with disdain. “And get this— they think her transformation from human to fae is fake and that there is no way she could possibly be the mother of Nyx.”

“A clone? They’ll say anything these days,” you exclaim, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! They're probably just making shit up out of thin air,” Lucien replies, nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn't put it past them,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for a biscuit, happy to be sitting and gossiping with your love.

AZRIEL

Azriel loves when you sit on his lap.

It makes him feel safe and relaxed knowing you're close to him.

It's something he does every day when he comes home - having you in his lap. Sometimes you both sit quietly, other times you talk or fuck or cuddle, depending on how you’re feeling.

Azriel especially likes the fuck part.

He loves the part where you sit on his lap while he works. If you’re good, he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you. If not, he still fucks you but he does it with no mercy

He makes you sit on his dick and tells you not to move and inch or you will be edged for hours, not being allowed to cum once

Fucking torture is what it is honestly

“Stop moving around so much, i can’t focus.”

“Do you blame me? You’ve buried your dick in me, of course i’m moving. Maybe do something about that.”

He raises his eyebrows at your snarky comment. If it’s something he didn’t need today it was sass.

His day was quite shitty and all he needed was his sweet mate who would kiss away his problems and take his dick perfectly

Azriel smiled slightly as he put his pen down. He would take out his frustrations on you today.

“You want to be fucked? Let’s fuck,” he says in a low tone

In the end, all his papers are scattered, all pens on the floor.

He is relaxed and all smiley while you’re on death’s door💗

[kpopppopsmuts]

After The Shoot

NewJeans Hanni x M reader

Warnings: creampie, facial

Words: 1.6k+

"Aaaaaaand pose!" You scream as you do your job as NewJeans' newest photographer.

Hanni poses with such grace, staring into the camera with her eyes ever so shining. She tries to look as hot as she can but it always comes out cuter than she wants it. And yet you can't help but stare at her body, as she flaunts her butt towards the camera while looking at you.

You took more photos of her before wrapping things up.

As the crew sets down, and the other members of New Jeans leaving, Hanni approaches you. "You were great, Y/N! Thank you for today. I love how beautiful the photos turned out," she tells you shyly.

"My job was made easier because of you, Miss Pham."

"Please, just call me Hanni! I think after all the staring you did, we got a lot closer than you think," she giggles as she teased you but her eyes were glued on yours like it was with a hint of seriousness.

"Oh-- Uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare a lot," you defended yourself. "I couldn't help it when someone like you is in front of me."

"You're so sweet, Y/N." Hanni stood there, twirling her body while looking at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

"Don't you have to go?" You ask her, with an answer you're already wishing for in your head.

"As a matter of fact, I don't! I actually have the rest of the day off. The girls went ahead 'cause they wanted to rest."

"Oh, then would you want to grab coffee after I pack things up? Would your manager allow that?"

"You know what, Y/N, how about we meet up at this place instead," she shows you an address on her phone and you took note of it. "This is my friend's private cafe. Meant for idols to unwind in. Non-idols aren't allowed but I'll tell her you're with me."

"Alright then. I'll see you there in about 2 hours?"

"Make it 1, Y/N. I want to talk with you more!" She smiled at you and hopped away, but looked back as if she knew you'd stare.

---

You make your way to the address she gave. "Only idols allowed inside," the big tattooed bouncer stopped you.

"He's with me!" Hanni shouted from inside, letting you enter.

"Hi, Hanni. You look great."

"Thank you, Y/N! You're very sweet. Let's take a seat! Order what you like. They have coffee but they also serve alcohol," she winks at you as she said it.

You and Hanni talked for about 2 hours without noticing the time, laughing and smiling the whole time. The cafe was closing and so you both had to leave.

"This was fun, Hanni. Thanks for inviting me here!" you say as you stood up from the table to go.

"Wait, Y/N," she said with hesitation. "Actually, nevermind."

"What is it, Hanni?"

"You know, my place is right around the corner. Manager's asleep and the girls are probably in their rooms by now. Do you want to come over and chat a little bit more?"

"I'd love that!"

"Okay, come on! Here, this is my room number, and go there in about 5 minutes so no one sees we're together!"

You sat there, waiting for 5 minutes before heading to her place.

---

Knock knock knock.

Hanni opens the door.

"Hi Y/N! come in, hurry!" She pulls you in, and closes the door immediately. "Sorry, idol things, teehee," she said with a hint of playfulness.

She grabbed your hand and led you to your room quietly. "Again, I'm sorry. None of my members can see you in here. I need you for myself."

"Wh- What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Y/N," she grabs your arm while looking at you with eyes filled with lust, much different from the eyes she had back in the cafe -- more like the eyes she gave you during the shoot.

"You felt it too right, Y/N? The tension?"

"I did but I didn't want to assume anything. You're an idol after a-" she cut you off with her finger to your lips to shush you.

"I'm just like you, Y/N. We all are. Except we have to be hiding when we're doing things like this." She leans forward but before she could do anything, you grabbed her by the hips and leaned your face towards her to kiss her.

She said no more words. Her hands are now wrapped around the back of your neck. Your tongues intertwined. You hold the back of her head to kiss her harder.

Hanni moans while you kiss her. Your hands travel the small of her back slowly, sending jolts down her spine. You feel her get goosebumps as you run your fingers down, before reaching and grabbing her shapely ass with your whole hand.

"Mmmm, that feels good, Y/N. You like my butt? I tried to show it off to you earlier tee hee!"

"I knew you were doing that on purpose. I fucking love your ass, Hanni."

The two of you continue kissing while slowly moving towards the bed. Hanni's expressions now are that of pure lust. None of the cutesy image she portrays online. Both of you fall onto the bed, with you going on top of her. You kiss her lips, her cheeks, you go towards her ear and whisper "Do you like this?" Hanni can only nod. You nibble on her ear, tickling her, causing her to arch her back on the bed. You make your way down her neck before taking her shirt off. Hanni wasn't wearing a bra any longer.

"Damn, you must have been waiting for this."

"You don't understand, Y/N. I've been so horny the whole shoot for you."

You play with her nipples with your tongue, occasionally with light nibbles and bites. The room, now filled with nothing but your moans.

Hanni takes your shirt off and marvels at your body. She grabs your crotch, "You're so hard, Y/N." "I'm all yours tonight, Hanni."

You continue kissing her while Hanni takes your fat cock off your pants. Her soft hands felt good on your hard cock.

"Y/N, stand up."

You could only follow what she says now.

"I want to suck your cock, Y/N."

"Every inch is yours to take, dear."

She kneels below you, tying her hair up into a bun, before giving your tip a kiss. She licks your dick from top to bottom before slowly, but aggressively, sucking your cock head, inching her way down your whole length.

Hanni would glance up every chance she gets and you appreciate just how this cute, innocent idol is now the total opposite. Her eyes would smile when she sees you enjoying.

"Fuck, that feels so good Hanni."

"Mmmm." The sound of her sucking intensifies, with your cock now coated with her saliva. She finally stops and takes it off her mouth. Her lips are connected to your tip with a string of pre-cum.

"Y/N, please fuck me," and before you could say anything, she was lying down, removing her shorts by herself. You see her pussy completely hairless, wet, wanting cock inside it.

"I want to eat you out Han-" "Please fuck me NOW Y/N," she begs of you.

You nod your head and position yourself on top of her. You line your tip to her slick and slowly, inch by inch putting it in her tight pussy.

"Oh fuck, you're so tight Hanni!"

"You're just so big, Y/N"

You kept going until you were fully inside of her. Now you start moving, slowly and gently, before picking up the pace and fucking her with deep strokes.

"That's it, Y/N! Pound me!"

The sound of your skins hitting each other and your cock messing up her insides almost musically harmonizes with the sound of each of your moans.

"Turn around Hanni. I want to see that ass you've been flaunting."

She gave out a horny giggle while panting, turning around. Hanni knew how to position herself. She planted her head down, raised her ass up, arching her back.

You could see clearly the ass that she bragged about. She was right to be proud of it. It felt very smooth on your hands. You reached for her hips and pounded her from behind.

"Spank me, Y/N!"

The spanks would make her shriek in joy.

"I'm close Y/N, harder, harder, harder, aaaaHHHH"

Hanni tightened around your cock, pulsating as she came hard.

You leaned in forward towards her ear, "Do you want me to keep going?" "Yes, please, Y/N!"

You fucked her harder than before and felt yourself close. "Where do you want my cum?"

"I want it on my pretty face please"

You pulled out and Hanni kneeled in front of you, tongue out, mouth open, eyes closed. You painted her face with your thick cum. "Fuck, Hanni. That was amazing" She told you where to get tissues and wiped her face.

"You were great Y/N. You know what would be better?"

"Yeah?"

"Me immortalizing this with a photo."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll take a selfie right now. Just after you've cummed on my face. They won't even know I just had my photographer fuck me hard, I'll be glowing. It'll be between you and I."

"There, posted," said Hanni.

"Wow, you're a horny gal, huh."

"And you're a horny guy."

"Only for you."

"We should do this again next time, Y/N. But for now, you have to go before any of the members see you. Haerin in particular was thirsty for you earlier too. teehee!"

Hanni sent you off with the memory of the best sex ever.

As soon as you got home, you receive a text.

"I'll hit ya up when I want to be fucked like that again. Or when another member wants to ;)"

You just know there's more to come.

-----

A/N: That's it for my first NJ smut! Sad about their label news which triggered this story. Hope you all enjoyed it!!

[cybrasigilism]

girl, hear me out... jun-ho & the reader doin it in a police car... IF NOT, I COULD TAKE FLUFF IDRC OR MIND 🤷‍♀️

girl when i tell you a giggled with GLEE at this request..

Wheels (Hwang Jun-ho X Reader Drabble)

warnings: smut (no shit sherlock) | non proofread | lowercase intended | car sex (so ig public sex too in a way?) | unprotected sex | oral (f + m receiving) | PiV | overstimulation (f) | praise kink | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: hwang jun-ho (the police officer)

A/N: yk a jun-ho request absolutely hates to see me coming 😈 needed to make this a drabble or i’d go certifiably insane (go listen to VCR/Wheels by Tyler RIGHT NEAOW)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

fucking in the cop car? while being something you yourself have considered a few times since the beginning of your relationship with jun-ho, you always assumed it was something entirely out of the question, especially considering how seriously he took his job. so to say you were shocked when jun-ho was the one to suggest it was an understatement, but you certainly weren’t going to complain.

there were definitely no complaints when you two actually got around to it. now a car definitely isn’t the most romantic of all places to have sex, but you guys for sure made it work. of course, you were going to be on the receiving end of oral first, you knew that jun-ho wouldn’t have it any other way. for some reason, sitting on his face in the fully reclined passenger seat was just ten times hotter. maybe it was the challenge of it all, maybe it was how quickly the windows steamed up, allowing you to leave handprints while you steadied yourself as he ate you out, nevertheless you certainly didn’t want him to stop.

it must have been a special occasion, because this was one of the only instances where jun-ho allowed you to suck his dick. he said preferred to focus on pleasing you, but something inside you figured he was somehow embarrassed of the sounds he made when you let his cock separate your lips. for the first bit, he’d probably try to bite his lip or cover his mouth, anything to hold back his voice. but, if you persist and deepthroat him? yeah he won’t be able to contain himself. now it’s jun-ho who’s steadying himself against the fogged up window, simultaneously grabbing your hair lightly as you try your damnedest to make him feel as good as he makes you feel. he’ll go on about how “i should let you do this more often if you’re gonna suck me this good, fuck” and his moans will be unlike you’ve ever heard them before; lighter, more sporadic, you could definitely get used to this.

you best believe the only way this man is fucking you in the car is if you ride him. the two of you concluded that your go-to position (missionary) would be uncomfortable and impractical if either of you had to lay down in the backseat. even though jun-ho much rathers being on top (in the literal sense), he does get quite touchy while you’re bouncing on his dick. he’ll grab just about anything he can, his main mission is to draw those angelic sounds from your mouth after all. he lets you do most of the work but will occasionally buck his hips up into you if he feels you start to lose your pace, he could very easily just sit back and watch you ride his cock though.

jun-ho will totally praise you throughout the experience, after all why wouldn’t he encourage his pretty girl to continue to fuck him good?

“that’s it, ride me just like that gorgeous”

“don’t stop now, you’re doing so well”

“fuck, if you keep going like this… i don’t think i ever want you to stop”

you guys are both getting overstimulated inside that car, and that is a guarantee. how can you not? when the pleasure is too good, it would be foolish for either one of you to ever want it to come to an end. the more times either of you cum, your rhythm begins to falter, your bodies become shakier and you guys become much more vocal. all of this adds up to making the final climax feel so much better, the last release becomes that much more rewarding.

if this is how car sex with jun-ho looks, then it’s about high time you consider making it a more frequent occurrence.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ・ ⟢ ──

full disclosure, i was totally zoinked writing this so i’m sorry if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. i fear this has been sitting in my drafts for an embarrassing amount of time but here it is!! i apologize for the delay and thank you for reading :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💋

tags: @gongyoosgf @marymustdie @putrescentpoet