#was further behind than i thought lmao but heres some more

[reverie-starlight]

okay that kuroo piece is still coming but have this small sakusa x MSBY!manager blurb that I just thought up and got so excited about!! I’m marking this down as fem!reader just for this specific little ramble. it can be read separately from the series !!

warnings: none, but probably a bit of a disconnect from what really happens at charity galas lmao

sakusa kiyoomi has a certain reputation for being very stoic and stand-offish in public- always polite but rather blunt in interviews. he’s tall, intimidating and not very personable around those who don’t know him, so it’s not a surprise people perceive him this way. his preference for wearing his mask most of the time only adds to this reputation, and he couldn’t care less. in fact, you would argue that he finds comfort in being perceived as unapproachable by strangers.

but when MSBY fans realize how horrifically down bad their favourite wing spiker is for the team manager, they have a field day with this absolutely drastic personality shift.

it starts with little jokes made by fan accounts about how much nicer he is to you in comparison to his teammates. they latch onto passing comments made by bokuto or atsumu about how when you’re at practice they feel at ease because they’re less likely to get obliterated by his sarcastic remarks.

no one has clued into the fact that you’re together yet, just that there’s some serious chemistry between you two.

it doesn’t go much further than that until the night of some charity event a lot of different teams are attending. of course managers are there, as well as coaches and trainers and JVA employees.

you’re doing the press/carpet walk before entering the event and in between photos and walking between journalists, one of the straps of your heels has come undone.

you frown a little and inspect it before realizing your dress restricts your ability to fix it yourself, so you nudge your boyfriend and stick your foot out to draw his attention to your predicament.

you don’t think twice about how there are no words are spoken. just a simple action and understanding between two lovers.

so people watch on as sakusa kiyoomi drops to his knees right then and there without protest and fixes your shoe. you take the opportunity to adjust the neckline of your dress (a deep, silky forest green to match his tie) and look around while you wait for him to finish.

you don’t realize the uproar this is bound to create, and you definitely don’t think twice about the fact that your boyfriend isn’t wearing a mask to this event.

…which means everyone is able to see the blush on his face and the tiny yet extremely lovesick smile on his lips as he gets up. you grin and pat sakusa on the cheek in thanks before walking to the next reporter, him trailing behind you dutifully.

you check twitter the next morning and your timeline is flooded with videos of that moment, captions gushing about how sweet and happy he looks. some fans go as far as to say he looks like a lost puppy following you around.

he doesn’t regret it one bit, but you have to comfort him when he loses his stand-offish reputation after that because he dreads the idea of more people possibly coming up to him in public.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I literally sprinted here to write this lmao

not edited!!

tagging: @dira333 @emmyrosee

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hey!!

could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her

Baby, Please.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)

word count - 2.4k

authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.

As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.

And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.

You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.

You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.

“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”

“W-what?”

“Were you stress cleaning?”

He laughs, all full and warm.

“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”

He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.

“Carmen, what’s that smell?”

“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”

“Did you… cook for me?”

“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”

It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”

“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.

Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.

“Dinner first. That after.”

“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.

All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”

Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.

“I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.

“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”

“Yeah, but… not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.

“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”

He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.

“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.

When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”

“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”

You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You still want me though, huh?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.

“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?

Who is he to say no to an offer like that?

You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”

Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Being my bitch.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.

Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.

You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.

He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”

“You can do it here.”

He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”

Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.

You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.

“Wait, baby.”

You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”

You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.

“I am more than ready, Carmen.”

When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.

You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.

You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.

“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”

“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.

You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”

“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Talk like that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”

He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.

“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”

Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.

“Baby, please.”

“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”

You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.

“Shit, honey. Fuck. S’good, yeah? So good. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.

Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.

You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.

You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.

“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”

Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”

Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.

He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.

You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.

Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.

“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”

@jazminsjaz @buendiabebeta @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[brunchable]

FREAKY FRIDAY | Body Swapped Steve Rogers x f!reader.

Pairings: Johnny Storm Possessed Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Body Swap. Sexual Themes. Funny? Horndog Johnny, for an unknown reason, body-swapped with Steve. Summary: You woke up with Steve suddenly out of character and having an overflowing amount of rizz. A/N: It's comedy central in my blog this week. . . I can't help but insert one particular meme lmao

taggies: @mrsevans90

Like you did every morning, you woke up to the gentle warmth of Steve next to you, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you today. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

"Morning, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice smoother than usual. You blinked in surprise. Sure, Steve was affectionate, but this was... new. 

You smiled back, albeit a little wary. 

"Good morning?" Before you could say anything more, he captured your lips in a kiss that was how to describe it-more confident, more playful than his usual gentle morning kisses. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, someone's in a good mood today,” you said, trying to shake off the weird vibe. 

Steve just grinned and gave you a little wink. "What can I say? I'm just appreciating my girl." 

You squirmed under his intense gaze. You couldn't help but notice how his hand casually trailed down your arm, lingering a little longer than usual. You weren't sure if you should feel flattered or... flustered.

“Should we stay in bed a little while? You know…” he asked, his voice dropping suggestively as he wiggled his brows.

But this time, he didn’t stop there. As he leaned in closer, he slowly stuck out his tongue and wiggled it playfully, making his intentions blatantly clear.

Your face immediately turned bright red.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, quickly pressing your hand to his lips and pushed him away to stop him before he got any closer, utterly flustered by the suggestive gesture.

He chuckled against your hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. For a second, you felt him wiggle his tongue against your palm, teasing you further before you jerked your hand back with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Unbelievable!” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more.

He gave you a devilish grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you were.

“What? Just offering some ideas, sweetheart,” he teased, giving you a playful wink.

“No, Sam’s going to be here soon for your morning run, so go prepare.”

The excitement drained from his face, “I do?” 

“Yes!” 

Johnny—or rather, the man you thought was Steve—let out a low chuckle, clearly unfazed by your refusal. This wasn't like Steve at all. Steve was always respectful, sweet, and… well, a gentleman. But today? He seemed like a different man entirely.

“Guess I forgot,” he said with a smirk, sitting up slowly and stretching. His tone was casual, but the grin he gave you was anything but innocent.

As he shifted in bed, he leaned back casually and gave a quick, deliberate glance downwards before gesturing toward the noticeable outline in his sweatpants. The fabric clung snugly, revealing the distinct, firm shape of his dick pressing against the material, enough to leave little to the imagination.

“But if you change your mind about staying in bed…” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you know where to find me.”

You blinked in disbelief, your cheeks burning as he got out of bed and strolled toward the bathroom. He threw one last playful wink at you before disappearing behind the door, leaving you there in a state of complete confusion.

"What the hell is going on with him today?" you muttered to yourself.

You climbed out of bed and started to get ready for the day, you tried to shake off the feeling that something was… off. Maybe Steve was just in a playful mood? Maybe he was testing out some new approach to your relationship, though you couldn't help but wonder where it had come from all of a sudden.

But, soon enough, you heard the front door open and Sam's voice echoed through the apartment. "Yo, Rogers! Are you ready for our run?"

You peeked out from the bedroom just in time to see "Steve" step out of the bathroom, giving you another grin before heading out to meet Sam. He greeted him casually, as if everything was perfectly normal.

Sam looked over at you with a quick nod. “Hey, Y/N. Morning.”

“Morning,” you replied, though your voice sounded more distant than usual. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look directly at Sam, worried your face might give away just how weird the morning had been.

As they left for their run, you were left alone, still wondering why Steve was acting so differently. But then, you shook your head. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe he was just feeling particularly confident today. Either way, it was Steve, your Steve, and you trusted him.

Right?

× × × ×

You made breakfast while ‘Steve’ is out on a run. You tried to shake off your confusion by busying yourself with making coffee. It wasn't helping. The memory of Steve's unusually bold behaviour lingered in your mind. 

And just when you were about to pour yourself a cup, you felt a sudden smack on your ass. You yelped in surprise, nearly spilling the coffee. Whipping around, you saw Steve standing there with a smug grin on his face, looking very proud of himself. 

"Steve!" you gasped, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. "What are you—" 

"What?" he said with an innocent shrug, though his mischievous grin betrayed him. "Just saying hello." 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By smacking me on my ass?”

“Can't help it, you look too cute when you're all focused," he teased, stepping closer. 

His hands slid around your waist, and before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. Your breath hitched. This was not the Steve Rogers you knew. But as much as his behaviour was throwing you off, you couldn't deny the butterflies his actions stirred in your stomach. 

"Steve, what's gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Instead of answering, Steve leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, peppering kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, and your nose—until you were giggling uncontrollably.

“Steve, stop it!” you laughed, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your laughter was cut short as his lips trailed lower, brushing down to the side of your neck. The playful atmosphere shifted instantly, your breath hitching in your throat. His kisses became more deliberate, slow and teasing, sending sparks of heat through your skin.

“Steve…” you whispered, but your words melted into a quiet gasp as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear. He lingered there, pressing soft, lingering kisses, making your pulse race.

His warm breath fanned over your skin, and without warning, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking gently but with enough pressure that you knew he was leaving a mark. A deep, guttural hum escaped him as he continued, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled your body against him.

The sensation of his lips and the gentle tugging of his teeth made your head spin, and you instinctively tilted your head, giving him better access. 

“Steve,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into his.

“Can’t help it,” he muttered against your skin between kisses. “You drive me crazy.”

His voice was low and rough, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. He sucked on your neck again, his tongue flicking over the spot before he pulled back slightly to admire his work.

"You’re gonna have to explain this one," he murmured with a grin, his lips ghosting over your ear, still hovering close enough to keep you breathless.

× × × ×

For the next hour, you tried to regain some composure, but it was hard with the heat of Steve’s kisses still tingling on your neck. Every time you moved, you could feel the slight sting of the mark he’d left behind, a not-so-gentle reminder of how wild this morning had been.

After making the bed and tidying up, you decided to head to the living room to relax for a bit, hoping that "Steve" had calmed down from whatever flirty streak had taken over him. You still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little… off. He's been too quiet.

You stepped into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw practically hitting the floor.

There, casually sprawled on the couch, was Steve in his birthday suit. Stark naked. The only thing covering him was your guitar, strategically placed across his lap. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the couch, while his free hand strummed lazily at the strings.

He looked up as if nothing was out of the ordinary, a casual, half-lidded grin spreading across his face. 

“Hey,” he said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“Steve… what the hell are you doing?” you finally stammered, struggling to form coherent words as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

He shrugged nonchalantly, still strumming the guitar. 

“Just thought I’d serenade my girl.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head. “You know, I think I’m getting better at this guitar thing.”

Your cheeks flamed red as your gaze flickered between his shamelessly exposed body and the guitar that, frankly, wasn’t doing the best job at covering much.

“Put some clothes on!” you squeaked, your face burning from the sight in front of you. “What if someone walks in? Sam might—"

“Sam’s gone,” he cut in smoothly, winking. “It’s just you and me, babe.” He tilted his head, clearly amused by your reaction. “Besides, you weren’t complaining this morning.”

You could feel the heat rising to your face again, this time in full force. "That doesn't mean you get to... to do this!" 

He just smirked, lazily leaning back on the couch, the guitar still resting against him. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Steve, for the love of everything, PLEASE, just put some clothes on,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow erase the image from your brain.

Instead of listening, he suddenly stood up, the guitar still barely covering anything, and with the confidence of someone performing at a sold-out show, he started singing. Loudly. 

“And you're kissin' on my neck, I'm like, “Oh”, Got your hands up on my chest, I'm like, “Oh”” he belted out dramatically, grinning ear to ear as he took a step toward you, his voice echoing through the room. 

You panicked. 

"Oh my God, Steve! No!" you squealed, immediately clamping your hands over your ears, turning away from him as fast as possible

“Kiss me 'til there's nothin' left, Oh my god, oh my god!” he sang even louder, walking toward you like some rock star, his guitar still precariously covering him as he inched closer. 

You darted behind the coffee table, creating a barrier between the two of you, your face blazing red. 

“Lalalalalalalala!” You covered your ears tighter, trying to block out the sight and sound of your naked boyfriend serenading you. “Lalalalalalala! I can't hear you.”

But he wasn't stopping. If anything, your reaction only encouraged him further. 

“Why are you running, baby?”

He grinned wickedly, circling around the coffee table like a predator playing with his prey. "You could really tear me apart, but- I love you like that, Everything you do just turns me on, I love you like that, Body on my mind like all night long.” 

You squeaked and moved in the opposite direction, keeping the table between you, but Steve—guitar still precariously positioned—was unstoppable, matching your every move. It was ridiculous, like a slow-motion chase scene in a rom-com, but you couldn’t help but laugh through your embarrassment.

"Steve! Seriously, stop!" you cried out, ducking and weaving as he chased you around the table, his singing never faltering.

"I love you like that!" he belted, reaching out with one hand as if trying to grab you. You yelped, dodging him by moving to the other side.

"Lalalalalalalala!" you cried, your hands clamped tighter over your ears as you rushed toward the door, desperate to escape.

His laughter echoed in the living room, the sound of his voice-and that ridiculous guitar performance following you as you fled to the safety of the kitchen. Behind you, you could hear him laughing even harder. 

"Alright, alright, I'll stop!" he called after you, his voice still tinged with amusement. 

You leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your face still burning red. Today was officially out of control. 

And this wasn't the Steve Rogers you signed up for.

× × × × 

As the day finally wound down, you were still trying to recover from the whirlwind of events that had unfolded earlier. After a long, flirty, and borderline chaotic day with “Steve,” you were just glad it was almost bedtime.

You had managed to avoid another musical performance from him after the whole guitar incident, but the playful energy hadn’t completely faded. As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, you could feel his eyes on you from across the room, watching your every move.

“Don’t even think about it,” you mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

He was lounging on the bed, shirtless now, with that same mischievous grin you’d been seeing all day. 

“What?” he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

You rolled your eyes and spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your mouth. “You know exactly what.”

He laughed, the sound low and smooth as he got up and sauntered over to you, his bare feet padding quietly against the hardwood floor. Before you could react, he was behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring how cute you look in your pajamas,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You sighed, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to the heat of his skin against yours. 

“Steve, it’s been a long day,” you said, your voice weary but laced with affection. “Can we just... go to bed? Without any more surprises?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering for just a second before pulling away with a grin. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

You gave him a playful glare, narrowing your eyes as you turned to face him. “You said that earlier today, and then I walked into the living room and—”

“Okay, this time I’ll behave,” he interrupted with a laugh, holding his hands up defensively. “Promise.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but smile. He may have been driving you absolutely crazy today, but this version of Steve—or Johnny, whoever he really was—was still undeniably charming in his own chaotic way.

Once you finished up in the bathroom, you both crawled into bed, the covers cool against your skin. Steve—or, well, Johnny—rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he gazed at you with that playful smirk.

“You sure you don’t want a little bedtime serenade?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive.

You groaned and pulled the blanket up over your head, burying yourself beneath the covers. “No!” you said, your voice muffled. “We’re done with that for today!”

He laughed again, the sound warm and contagious as he settled down beside you. The teasing faded, replaced by a softer, more familiar warmth as his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentle now as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You peeked out from under the covers, smiling despite yourself. “Goodnight, Steve.”

As you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder how long this flirty version of Steve would last—and whether or not you were ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stirred awake, the early light filtering through the curtains, and you felt the familiar warmth of strong arms slipping around your waist. Instinctively, you leaned into the embrace at first—until the events of the previous day rushed back to you. Your eyes snapped open, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped slightly, pulling away from the arms that had suddenly felt different, your heart pounding.

“Whoa, hey—what’s wrong?” Steve's voice came out soft, laced with confusion and concern. You turned over to face him, and instantly, you could tell something had changed. His eyes weren’t twinkling mischievously, there was no sly grin or playful wink. Instead, his brow was furrowed in concern, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you again.

“Steve?” you whispered, your voice hesitant, scanning his face. He looked… like himself again. That quiet, gentle warmth was back, the one that had been missing yesterday.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, still looking concerned. “Are you okay? You jumped like I startled you.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch soft and careful, nothing like the bold, confident gestures from the day before.

You blinked at him, your mind racing. The contrast between today and yesterday was stark. Yesterday, he had been all cocky smirks and teasing touches, constantly riling you up. But now? Now, Steve seemed completely aware of what had happened, but wasn’t letting on.

“I—uh, I’m fine,” you stammered, still trying to process it all. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Steve frowned, clearly still confused by your reaction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your arm as he studied you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but your heart was still racing. "Yeah… you’re just… different from yesterday."

His brow furrowed further, but now there was something else behind his eyes. He looked like he was holding something back. “Different? What do you mean?” he asked, though you could sense he already knew.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Yesterday, you were just… more… flirty,” you said carefully, watching his reaction. “Like, a lot more. You were… singing to me. Naked. With my guitar.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, his face turning red almost instantly, but there was something else—recognition. “What? I—I did that?” He didn’t seem shocked by the words, more by the fact that you were telling him.

You nodded, your own face heating up at the memory. “Yeah. And you were… really, really bold. Smacking my butt, picking me up, kissing me all over…"

Steve's gaze drifted down, and before you could even say another word, his fingers gently brushed against your neck, right where Johnny had left that bold mark. His touch was tender at first, but the moment his thumb traced over the small bruise, his entire expression shifted. 

"That motherfucker! I'm going to kill him!”

[crescenthistory]

May I request C6 with Regulus? I’m in some desperate need of Reggie comforting reader 😭😭😭

there are sosososo many different ways to interpret this prompt, and somehow i chose? perhaps the darkest one? so sorry, you are really going to need that comforting now... thanks for requesting lmao xx

Prompt: C.6 "I don't know, it just happened"

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, blood racism, internalised blood racism, hate crime/minor assault, emotional breakdown, mutual self-hatred, regulus has not left the black family, alluded black brothers drama, undecided side regulus, perhaps a bit cliche/romanticising, established relationship, your dad is dead (long ago, mentioned), heavy hurt/comfort, happy ending

Notes: lol i am not okay

It was a rare occurrence that Regulus Black felt light these days, in any meaning of the word. 

His feet felt shackled as he trekked through the Hogwarts halls he felt were increasingly unwelcoming to him. His consciousness weighed him down like a thousand bricks as he knew he had to either take a stance against his parents or become complacent in a hope of survival. He knew he had to do the former; he had no idea how to stop himself from the latter. Trapped, cornered, cowardly – heavy.

Yet, when walking the final few metres to your dormitory that he knew housed your soft self now that you were done with tutoring first years, he felt undeservingly light. A sensation only you could inspire in him these days.

While conversations were growing tenser and tenser between you the more Regulus struggled with freeing himself from his family, your love for him had yet to falter. He knew he was only biding his time, but until then he could not help revelling in it, albeit guilt ridden. 

He does not knock before entering, just carefully pushes the ajar door further open. You had told him off for knocking so primly every time – “you’re always welcome here, Reggie” – and he wanted nothing more than to please you.

“Amour?” he called out as he closed the door softly behind him, looking around the dorm for a trace of you, or at least one of your dorm mates.

None to be found.

He dropped his bookbag by the end of your bed, reaching up to scratch the back of his head as he looked around. Some of that heaviness began returning to his limbs at your absence, his hope of slipping away from the world with you for the next few hours dissolving.

Then, he heard the water running from the adjunct bathroom. A sigh of relief escaped him, though his body remained tense, and he made his way over. He could hear the water splashing from the sink and he carefully knocked on the door with one knuckle.

“Amour?” he tried again.

This time he technically got a response of sorts, though nowhere near the one he had been hoping for. All movement behind the door stilled. The water was still running in a steady stream, but whatever you had been doing with it, you had stopped. Regulus could almost picture you standing like a deer in headlights – his brows furrowed unhappily at the thought.

“Are you alright, love?” 

Finally, your voice answered, but the fragility of it rattled him. “Oh, um, hi Reggie, I– I’m alright, be with you in a minute, yeah?”

You seemed distressed. Regulus did not care for it at all.

“Could I come in, amour?” He spoke to the door as if it was not there, as if he was looking you in the eyes, willing you to let him in.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmured, but he just barely caught it through the wood.

Regulus seemed to have met a divulge where he had to make a choice – a relatively minor one, but it felt important nonetheless.

A large, painful part of his mind was screaming at him to leave you alone. She doesn’t want you, she’s finally seen you for what you are. Scum staining the story of her life. It is this voice that rules most of his actions, the voice keeping him and Sirius apart, the voice tying him to something he does not feel comfortable with. 

Then there is another, burning hot part that aches to reach for you. The part that knows you better than the first thinks he deserves, the part that can tell by the tone of your voice, by a jerk of your finger, exactly how you are feeling and, hopefully, what you need. This part is one Regulus takes a great deal of pride in, this part feels good. Though it scares him and the first part tries to quell it, he holds it near his heart.

And it is this part that opens his mouth and says, “Could I come in anyway?”

A minute. A hesitation. A sigh.

“Yes,” you whispered.

His hand is tentative as it grips the doorhandle to the bathroom, as if it has become a part of your body from him talking to it, deserving of that same care he attempts to show you. He twists it and pushes it open.

The bathroom is swept in darkness – a conscious choice on your part, seeing as you would have to magically blow out the candles that lined the walls. He could still see you, leaning against the counter with the sink, face turned slightly away from him.

“Hi, my love,” you greeted, trying to seem casual as if he had just walked into your dorm under usual circumstances. With your hand awkwardly angled so that he only saw the inside of your palm, you adjusted the faucet. “How was practise?”

Regulus ignored your small-talk, walking up to stand beside you, body angled fully towards you as you began scrubbing at your hands once more. With the light trickling in through the open door, he swore the water looked pinkish. His breath hitched, eyes flickering all over you and the room to make sense of whatever was happening.

“Amour, what’s wrong?” His voice was rawer than he was comfortable with.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” You were getting a hang of the bright and airy tone of voice you were going for, but it was too late for that. “Just a long day, you know? Do you want to go get the bed ready so we can relax?”

The voices were warring in Regulus’ head at the rejection of his presence, but once more the part he could only describe as lovesick took a step closer to you, so your bodies were just barely touching. “Y/N,” was all he said.

Your ministrations grew more desperate, scrubbing water up and down your hands and forearms, breath laboured. He lifted a hand to brush against your face – when you flinched, his heart broke. 

She’s scared of you.

No, she’s just scared.

He let his hand ever so slowly land on the cheek furthest away from him, cradling your jaw with the kind of light touch reserved for baby birds and broken children. He found the skin there soft and wet, and he swore he could cut himself on the shards of his broken heart.

He guided your head to turn towards him, his grip loose so that you could stop him if you wanted. Once your face was opposite his, Regulus fought every instinct in his body that told him to study you, search your face for the spawn of your pain. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours. Giving you space, privacy even, giving you the moment you clearly needed – but sparing you from doing it alone

Your hands slowed down in their scrubbing, and with his free hand reaching out blindly, he turned off the faucet. Your breath stuttered where it spilled over his lips.

“Do you reckon you want to sit down? Talk about it?” Regulus whispered, eyes still closed.

He felt you nod against his skin, grabbing a hand towel as you walked backwards the few steps needed before you could sit down on the toilet lid. Regulus followed you, eyes opening and attempting to adjust to this darker corner of the bathroom. He sat down on his knees between your legs, painful tiles be damned, and looked up at you intently. 

In front of him sat the light of his life, visibly sullied. Your face was red and he could make out the tear tracks and smudged mascara underneath your eyes. You clutched the towel, hands buried within it and out of sight.

“Amour,” he whispered dumbly, unsure of what else to say, as he carefully brought his hands up to wipe at your tears. 

You mumbled his name and it almost sounded like a sob. 

Your hands were writhing in your lap around the towel, and he reached down to take it and help you dry yourself when you jerked your hands closer to you, towel still in grasp. “No,” you whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you lied through your teeth. “I’ve just had a bad day and– and felt anxious. Couldn't help but cry over it. I don’t know, it just happened.” 

Regulus gave you a sad smile, squeezing the still-wet skin on your forearms. “Uh-huh. And you felt like taking it out on your hands?”

A sob finally tore through your body properly and you brought your hands up – still in the towel – to cover your face. You leaned forward and cried into it, and Regulus immediately opened his arms to hold your shaking frame. Your towel and face were smushed into the crook of his neck and he drew big circles on your back with one hand, the other securely holding the back of your head. 

He was broken, at a loss for words, trying to recall any and every memory he could find of witnessing others comforting, not trusting his own instincts. Through them all, out flashed a memory of Sirius humming to him when he had nightmares as a child, how the vibrations soothed through him until he could finally fall asleep again, in his big brother’s bed this time. Without any distinct melody or song in mind, Regulus began to hum as he swayed you just ever so slightly back and forth, hoping to bring you some semblance of safety.

Your gasps lessened until the bathroom was near-quiet again, but he did not stop his movements with you or the humming. Your heart blossomed from his efforts and broke at what you knew was to come.

You lowered your hands from your face, letting them fall into your lap with their towel. Your face was now in direct contact with the soft skin of his neck and you took the opportunity to press a soft kiss there.

“Can I please do something to help you?” he whispered into your hair.

“You are.”

He breathed in slowly. He is. “With your hands, I mean. Are you hurt?”

Tears slipped quietly down the expanse of Regulus’ neck, trailing down underneath his shirt. You tried to nuzzle deeper into him.

“I–” you stop, seemingly changing your mind. “I’m alright, I just need to… to remove magical ink from them and I can’t get it off.”

Regulus fought back the that’s all? that was creeping up his throat. He knows at least two spells that work for most permanent inks and can brew a potion for it within the hour if those don't work. 

Your head squeezed against his shoulder as he nodded his head, still stroking your back. “No problem, beautiful, I can fix that.”

“No,” you whispered once more, seeming to shrink in his grasp. “I have to.”

He helped ease you out from his neck so that you were face to face once more, his hands coming up to brush over the sides of your arms. The look in your eyes was one he struggled to decipher, apart from the shine of anxiety. 

“Why do you have to? Let me help you, amour.”

You took another shuddering breath, brazing yourself for impact. “You can’t see,” you whispered finally, fighting the quiver of your lips.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You can’t see them, Reg, I’m sorry.”

“Did someone do something to you?” It was the only explanation he could conjure up for why any permanent ink would make you this distraught – and why you would hide from him like this.

You searched his face carefully, faintly nodding in a way that made him think it was a response to your own thoughts and not his question. Like you decided on something. 

“Someone wrote something. I just want it gone.”

Regulus’ stomach churned. He regretted the harsh tone of his voice as he demanded, “Who?”

“It’s not important.” 

“It is to me. Please. Who?”

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, gnawing at it as you realised he would find out. Someone would tell him, even if you refused to show him. He would know. You tasted blood in your mouth.

With his eyes adjusted to the dark, Regulus saw the faint red on your lips as well and immediately reached out to gently pull your lip free from its torment. His fingertips lingered on your lips until he replaced them with his own with a short, tentative kiss. If you were to have blood in your mouth, he would too.

Lips still against yours he whispered again, more pleadingly this time, “Who?”

You let your walls crumble. This sweet, caring boy was in your grasp for now and you could not help but let him care while he still wanted to. “Mulciber,” you whispered back.

Regulus pulled back enough to meet your gaze, confusion filling his. “Why Mulciber? What would he have to write on you?” 

Up until now he had half-thought that some of your first year tutees had pranked you in some ungraceful manner. He was certain he had never seen you and Mulciber even talk before, let alone have an altercation that could involve magical ink. He was one of the more brutal Slytherins, but he had never had any reason to talk to you, and he knew that you were someone Regulus cared for. What he had hoped would let him in on your pain only confused him further away from any answer.

“Regulus, please,” you begged, ignorant to his confusion. Tears were once more filling your eyes and he wished for nothing but to stop them.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered, hoping to convince your tears to stay where they are. “You– you don’t have to explain it, love. I can just remove it for you.”

“Could you teach me instead?” Your lip was back between your teeth, lightening in colour underneath the force it was exerted to.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to remove something from your hands yourself, you need them for the spell.” Regulus hoped his gaze seemed sympathetic.

You squeezed your eyes shut, moving your head slightly to your side. Regulus recognised your breathing pattern to follow a technique you had taught him to calm down the first time he had a panic attack around you. Afterwards, you didn't mention it, only giving him space to talk about what he was comfortable with, comfort at the ready.

His own breath was bated as he watched you make your decision. A definite tear slid down the cheek closest to him, in a hauntingly cinematic manner. At last, your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked back into his eyes with the most devastating expression. Slipping a hand slowly out from your towel – out of Regulus’ line of sight – you brought it up to his cheek to bring his face closer to yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with a love and devotion he was not prepared for in a situation like this. He was enveloped by the smell of you, and though you still tasted of copper, your lips were painfully soft and he let himself fall deeper into you. When you pulled away, you pressed a lingering kiss to the side of his mouth.

“I love you,” you whispered. Regulus hated how it sounded like you were saying goodbye. 

His brows were furrowed as he looked at you, and he hoped it looked like confusion and nothing more sinister. “I love you too, amour. You know.”

“I’ll let you remove it, if you want.”

“Please.”

Your gaze fell to your lap and remained there as you let both hands out of the towel, placing them palm-down on your thighs. Regulus had begun reaching for his wand in a holster on his belt, ready to rid you of the source of your discontent, but he was frozen still when his own eyes finally took in your hands and the two bold, dark words written on each one.

MUD on the left. BLOOD on the right.

Mudblood. 

Regulus’ blood had run cold in his veins and he found himself having to adopt your breathing technique. His vision blurred as the two words seemed to grow larger, which seemed impossible considering they were written to take up as much space as possible. The handwriting was shaky, as if there had been a struggle when they were written. There were some light bruises already forming around your wrists and upper arms that further proved his fear. Mudblood. With red streaks over both works, likely from how hard you had been trying to wash them, all but scraping them off. Mudblood. The word was choking him. His hand that had remained still midair by his belt began to tremble.

He was knocked out of his trance as he saw a single tear splatter across the lettering on your right hand. 

Regulus moved his gaze back up to yours to find it was still trained on your hands, eyes glossy and unseeing.

“I–” he tried, but his voice broke off. “I don't understand. Y/N, I don’t understand.”

You seemed to flinch a little at the sound of your name, but other than that you made no sign that you heard him.

“Amour,” he rectified. “Why would… what is this?”

You moved your right hand over your left, starting to scratch at the word scribbled there, nails digging deep. Regulus’ hands flew up to stop your ministrations at the sight of the worsening redness, but your whole body physically flinched away from him in a way he was sure must hurt.

Regulus was lost.

“I don’t understand. Why would Mulciber write that? You’re not a–” He cut himself off, scared of what word would slip off his tongue. “You’re not muggleborn.”

Finally, you looked up and met his eyes. Your fearful, heartbroken expression seemed to soften at the sight of him and you gave him the saddest smile that did not reach your eyes. “I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper.

Realisation dawned on him. 

“Your father…?” 

His half-blood best friend turned lover, who he already had not dared tell his parents about, living with her muggle mother after her wizard father passed away. It was a convenient story in times of tension and division. Death is an easy excuse, hard to verify.

Although, clearly, someone had now, and the truth had come out.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered once more through a sob. Your shoulders were hunched and knees drawn close to your body. You looked like you wanted to disappear. 

It took him a greater amount of strength than he was proud of to push the shock and confusion from the forefront of his mind and pull back up the memories of how to comfort. To focus on those and not the million of questions running through his head.

What does this mean? Why didn't you tell him? Have you been hiding from everyone, or just him? How have you been carrying something so scary and he was none the wiser? Is there an award for shittest boyfriend at Hogwarts that he can be looking forward to?

Regulus reached out for you and pulled you slowly into another hug, arms circling securely around your back. Your body stilled in his grasp, apart from the small heaves for air in between your sobs.

“What are you doing?” Your whisper was muffled into his shirt. Your frail voice and tense limbs cut him deeper than any spell could.

“I'm comforting you, sweet girl,” he mumbled into your hair. “Or at least trying to.”

“Why?” you asked miserably. 

Regulus pulled back just far enough to see your face, making sure his arms were still holding you with love, drawing patterns across your back.

"Because I love you," he whispered intently. His eyes tried his hardest to lock on yours, but you still would not meet his gaze. "Because there is nothing to be sorry for."

Your expression grew incredulous, bordering on angry – if it was with him, yourself or the world he was uncertain. "I've lied to you. I've deceived you into a relationship you wouldn’t have agreed to had you known, I– I’ve put you in an impossible position–” You had to cut yourself off as another sob tore through your body. “I’m so sorry.”

Regulus shuffled impossibly closer to you and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, thumbs stroking slowly across your cheekbones. He felt his own eyes fill with tears at the sight in front of him, anxiety rising at his chest as he struggled to find the words he knew the situation called for.

This was all unknown territory for Regulus. The two of you had had as few conversations about blood status as possible, both weary about the growing tension at school and in the wider wizarding society. You had held him the one time he dared cry in front of you over a particularly harsh letter from his mother. You had whispered sweet nothings about you're not them and I will always love you, but he thought they were just that – nothings. In turn, you had mentioned your parents and cried over your father a handful of times, but never divulged too much. He had weaved his way through comments from other pureblood students at school regarding his relationship with a half-blood, but most pureblood families have lapses with a half-blood here or there that he could usually throw back in their faces to silence them. No one dared push it further than that. When Andromeda left the family for Ted, he almost had to confront it all, confront what he now knew to be lies that had been spewed to him all his life, but even then, he managed to avoid it as he instead received the beating of his life for not alerting the family about the signs he must have seen at school. He let himself simmer with that pain instead of looking inwards, instead of seeking help. He figured he didn’t have to, not just yet.

That time had evidently passed, as he now held a sobbing and defiled sun in his hands.

No, this was uncharted territory for him entirely – but he could not afford to let it stay like that.

“My love, Y/N,” he said with a surprisingly steady voice, never letting his gaze stray from you. “Please, please listen to me. Please hear me. You are everything; it is you, you are everything. You could be muggleborn, muggle, werewolf, siren or fae. It would not change anything.”

Your eyes met his, red rimmed and glossy, confused and bewildered. This time it was your turn to whisper, “I don’t understand.”

“It is difficult–” Regulus’ voice broke as the first few tears slipped down his face. “It is all so difficult right now, I feel lost and… scared and I don’t know what to do.” The words almost clogged in his throat, like barbed wire to admit, but he knew he had to. “I should have told you all of that already, I should have shared with you so you could feel safe to share with me. I haven’t known what to do, how to do it. The one thing I do know is that I love you and I need you to be safe and I need you to be here with me. I have not been deceived, for I would always choose you.”

Your eyes were wide, but you were not crying at the moment, gaze flitting all across his face, as if to ensure he wasn’t lying, hanging onto his every word. It was the motivation he needed to continue.

“You are not allowed to be sorry, amour, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” A small sob escaped him and his heart flipped when your right hand came forth to just barely touch his shoulder. “I should have been here for you, you shouldn’t have to hide. You should never have had to question my love for you, my loyalty. It will always lay with you, I swear it. Gods–” a heaved breath “– I’m terrible at this, you know I’m terrible, but I’ve been trying so hard for you and I will continue to. Just please let me. Let me and I will try.”

“Regulus…” you whispered, hand creeping from the brush against his shoulder to settle on the side of his neck. 

He looked at you, ready to take any reaction you would give him, to tell him off for his horrible apology, for making things about him, for not being enough. Your mouth opened and closed as if you couldn’t settle on the words. Instead you let out a small breath and pulled him back into you in a tight embrace.

It took him not even a second to hold you in return with passion, hands appraising as they swept up into your hair and around your waist. 

“Do you mean it?” you whimpered into him and he let his forehead fall to your shoulder as he cried.

“Of course, I mean it. Of course, of course.” He kept muttering it into you as he held you tighter and tighter.

His body was filled with an entirely new set of fear. A warm one that spread through his blood at the thought of what you had to face. Mulciber already knew and had taken action on that knowledge seemingly without hesitation. Regulus had heard what was being said amongst the Sacred 28, he knew to what degrees the hatred was building. His entire body was built on fear as he held what he now realised could be disturbingly fragile.

That is, until you whimpered another question into his hold and his body ached with a love so deep he had never thought it possible.

“Do you still love me?”

He had already said so, but he would happily say it again, over and over, damning himself for allowing you to wonder. “Yes, amour, always. Always.” 

Regulus took your face in one of his hands again, cradling you as he brought his forehead back to yours. Angling his face forward, he pressed what he hoped was a sweet kiss to your lips. It was wet, metallic and everything he needed. 

“I’m sorry for lying,” you whispered. He shook his head against yours.

“No, I’m sorry for stalling.”

A beat of silence. “Stalling what?” He thought you knew, but he tried to have no qualms about being explicit about it.

“Leaving.” He said it simply, hoping it would will it to be.

This time it was your turn to shake your head. “Can you leave, though? Safely? They’re becoming more and more fanatical, Reg, what if they hurt you? I’ve seen the letters.”

The fact that you have experienced what can only be classified as a hate crime, yet you have the goodness in your heart to worry about him in this way only makes him more certain of his choice.

“I have to, my love. I have to. It’s time.” He took a deep breath. “I will… I will ask Sirius for help.” 

You looked into his eyes, vision blurry from your proximity. “I’m scared for you, but I’m so proud of you at the same time.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual.” Regulus tried to huff out a small laugh, but it just came out teary. “Will you please come with me?”

“To Sirius?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

His hand on your squeeze pressed further into you, reverent. “We can ask for help for us both. They practically wanted Ted dead when they disowned Andromeda, and she was not even the sole heir. I’m so sorry for putting you in that situation, I–”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you assured, voice more stable and beautifully soft. “You are everything to me too, you know.”

“I’m scared,” Regulus whimpered. It’s the first time he can remember saying that out loud to someone since he was 6.

“I’m scared, too. But less so, now that I know I still have you. I couldn’t handle losing you, Reg.” Your eyes teared up again and he leaned up to kiss the corners of your eyes sweetly, collecting the tears before they had a chance to spill.

“You have me, you have me,” he whispered almost feverishly against your skin. “And I’ve got you.”

You sighed, the closest to contently you think you can get at this moment. “Will you please help me?” you whispered as you looked down at your hands.

Regulus shook himself out of his mini spiral, shook off that first voice in his head that reared its head once more and over and over, shook off anything that was not you. He mumbled an of course against your cheek before he kissed it, taking your hands in one of his. 

Unsheathing his wand he never managed to retrieve the first time around, he took one last look at the ugly markings on your hands – the hate was precisely that, ugly, and it had no place on your skin. Starting with the left – MUD – he tried the first spell he knew, and it did nothing. The bile rose in his throat as he went to try the next, fearing the worst, but by the grace of a nonexistent god, the letters finally melted away. He repeated the process on the other one.

You tried to pull your hands out of his grasp at that, but his hold tightened. He healed the viscous red streaks and peeling skin from where you had scratched at them, a cold sensation soothing over your skin as he moved his wand. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the gentleness, but you found yourself beginning to become completely dehydrated.

Regulus brought your hands up to his lips while he put his wand away to grasp at them with both hands. He kissed the spots he had just cleared up. Long, lingering kisses in the middle of your hand, followed by soft butterfly kisses all over it. His fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing tightly, giving the flesh new sensations to remember instead.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered, almost like a revelation. You had loved him and you had trusted him, you had just not trusted that it would be forever, that it would be more than any loyalty to his family. You were ashamed at the thought now, as you looked at the boy on his knees in front of you, crying from loving you, kissing away your pain. It filled you with something you had not believed this day would hold for you – hope.

“I’m not,” he whispered, letting your hands settle together in your lap. “But I hope to be. I want to be. I will be.”

You smiled wetly at him and leaned forward to kiss him once more. Originally intended as a peck, the kiss grew deeper, a slow passion as you held his lips between yours, feeling the love seep through the thin skin. He continued pressing kisses all over your face, much like your hands. Any teary or red skin had his lips faintly brushing over it, taking his time to dote on you. You let your breath calm down in the meantime, panic and tension slipping away from you to be replaced by a deep exhaustion as you leaned into him.

He noticed – he had to notice, swore he always would from now on.

“Are you ready to lay down in bed, amour. Face the light?” He smiled sheepishly at the poor attempt at a joke. You seemed surprised as you looked around, almost like you had forgotten you were in a shadowy dorm bathroom.

“Only if you will lay with me.” Your tone was nearing teasing, though not quite there. He was determined to achieve it within the hour.

“I promise,” he whispered, kissing you one last time before helping you up.

And he would go on to help you to bed and hold you tight for as long as you would let him. He would listen to you cry and laugh and worry without a second thought. He would take you with him to ask Sirius for help on escaping and keeping you safe and he would devote himself to being better. He would do anything for you – because you were, after all, everything.

[space-cowgirllll]

Tolerate It

pls enjoy this kinda angsty little thing I wrote a couple of months ago when I was really going through it in a relationship and have been too shy to post anywhere until today. I miiiiight have the second part to this halfway done. If this sucks I'm so sorry lmao it’s very lightly proofread and I have not written anything that hasn't had to be turned in for a grade in years.

Part Two

You sit alone at the table wondering how you ended up here. The dinner you'd spent the better part of the evening preparing grows cold as you sip on what has to be your third glass of wine. From your spot you can see Abby standing at the counter, speaking softly into the phone while she reads through the mail that had piled up over the last week. You pick at your food, hoping she'll join you eventually, but when fifteen minutes turns into twenty and then thirty five, you realize you're wasting your time. The laughter from the other room tells you the work part of the call ended long ago. Pushing your chair back, not caring when the loud noise earns you a glare from Abby, you gather your plate and blow out the candles at the center of the table.

Abby moves to sit on the loveseat in the living room after her call. It doesn't take long for her to get lost in the new book she had just brought home. Your eyes shift to the untouched plate of food still waiting for her in the dining room and then to the apple in her hand. The sound of  your throat clearing catches her attention.

"Your plate is still at the table if you want it, babe." You gesture to the lone plate at her usual spot.

There's a pang in your chest at the sight of the floral arrangement you'd chosen for the week. Behind that, strong wind pelts rain at the window. The gloomy weather a perfect representation of the storm brewing inside you.

"I thought I told you I had an early dinner with a couple of colleagues."

"Oh."

It comes out as a whisper. Not bothering to tell her she hadn't called you back after her lunch break. Again. You make a mental note to put the plate away before bed, knowing she'll pack it for tomorrow.

Your arms are elbow deep in soapy water, trying to rush through the last couple of dishes before she retreats to her study. The clanking of pots and pans fills the quiet space. You scrub at a particularly stubborn spot, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding too obvious.

"How was work today?"

"Fine." Your wife replies, not elaborating further.

"It's the twenty first, right?" There's some hesitation in the question.

"Yup."

Okay.

She doesn't look up from her book when you shuffle past her a little while later, placing a steaming mug on the coffee table. Her hand caresses the soft skin of your thigh and you perk up when she mumbles a soft thanks, placing a quick kiss on her temple. The sleeping cat on her lap stirs when you give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

You settle into the sofa across from her and watch her read. She's in the cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks you'd laid out in the closet for her. It makes you feel ridiculously overdressed. Your hands fist the skirt of your dress, feeling foolish. There's a dark spot on the satin material from leaning over the wet counter.

The record player in the far corner of the room catches your attention. You miss the nights where she'd play you one of her favorites and dance with you around the living room before letting you sit on her lap as she read out loud to you. You never thought you would miss those boring medical journals. These days you're lucky if you get more than an hour with her before she locks herself in her study.

It hadn't always been like this. The two of you have been together longer than you've been apart. Visions of eleven year old Abby teaching you how to braid her hair for soccer practice flash in your head. Crawling into her bed in the middle of the night after another nasty fight between your parents. Summer vacations to her family's lake house. Her and her parents at every dance recital and play you'd ever been part of in high school. Realizing at sixteen that your feelings for the girl weren't so platonic. Then moving into the spare bedroom down the hall from her a year later after coming out to your family. Prom dress shopping with her and her mother, sneaking kisses in the tiny fitting rooms. The Anderson's were the family you never had.

Navigating young adulthood with Abby had been fun. You'd rented a tiny apartment in Seattle and paid way too much for it while attending university. It wasn't much, but it was home. You remember the dance parties in the tiny living room. The time the blonde begged you to let her keep the tiny cat she'd found in an alley on the way home one random afternoon. Going on dates and exploring the city. Staying up late and fantasizing about what life would look like in ten years. The look on her face as her thumb rubbed small circles on the exposed skin of your belly after you'd shown her your list of baby names. Getting married just after graduation.

Abby had never been too busy to show you how much she loved you, no matter how busy she got with school. Packing your meals for work, making sure your car had enough gas in it, organizing stay at home date nights whenever your schedules aligned. And you doing the same for her when she was up to her eyebrows in work for school.

The notes were your favorite. They had started appearing randomly after you'd been unexpectedly laid off. You'd been moping around the house for weeks, losing hope after not hearing back from any of the companies you'd applied to. Always in your favorite color, the purple post it notes could be found stuck to the wherever you'd see them first thing in the morning. The silly declarations of love and the affirmations always made you smile.

Those days were long gone. You were slowly going from high school sweethearts to two people who simply co-existed. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, it was getting harder to deny the lack of warmth in her eyes when she looked at you sometimes. Today proved what you had been too afraid to admit to yourself. The only person who had ever felt like home has slowly started becoming a stranger that slipped into your bed later and later each night.

Your eyes start stinging and you bite down on your lower lip. There's no way you're breaking down in front of her, not tonight. The warmth radiating from the fireplace does little to keep away the chill running through your body. Shaky hands bring the mug to your lips, hoping some tea would calm the nausea swirling in your stomach. You're not surprised to find yourself unable to keep drinking after a few tiny sips. Abby's favorite mug grows cold on the coffee table and you're positive she doesn't even remember it's there.

The sound of her phone ringing startles you both. Abby snatches the phone off the counter, a tired sigh leaves her parted lips when she sees who's calling. She jogs up the steps, intently listening to whoever is on the other end of the phone. You pick at the chipping nail polish on your left hand, watching the way your engagement ring glints in the dim light of the fire. Your stomach dips as you slip the stack off your finger, placing them in the small bowl on the coffee table.

"Are you going somewhere?" Your head shoots up to where she's standing in the threshold. The sight of her in a fresh pair of navy blue scrubs doesn't surprise you. Her loose bun traded for a tight braid that hangs over her shoulder.

"No. Why would I be?"

She gestures at your dress. Eyes roaming over your face, finally noticing the makeup you'd carefully applied hours before. You see her lock in on your empty hand, her sculpted brows furrow in confusion. Please say something. You beg, just wanting to understand why this is happening. Was she so busy she couldn't even bother to ask what's wrong? Did she even care anymore?

The constant buzzing of the phone in her tote bag answers your question for you. She shakes her head and turns to the door, stopping to slip her feet into her sneakers. You follow silently behind her, wondering if you should say something.

"Abigail?"

She hums in acknowledgment, not bothering to look up from her phone. Her fingers move at lightning speed across the touchscreen. Your nails dig into the palm of your hand, fighting the urge to snatch her phone and chuck it against the wall.

"What?" She asks again when you don't speak up. The look of annoyance on her face has you taking a step back.

"Nevermind," you turn towards the coat closet, pulling out her winter jacket. "It doesn't matter." You don't have to look back to know she's rolling her eyes.

"I should be back before you leave for work." You busy yourself with the already organized closet, pretending to move things around while she gathers the rest of her things.

"Be careful." You mumble, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from flowing. Not trusting yourself to say much more without your throat closing.

"Always am." She plants a kiss on the back of your head and heads out the door. It's only when you hear the sound of her car pulling away that you let yourself cry. No longer caring about the mascara that is certainly smearing.

Unsteady legs carry to the foot of the stairs where you collapse into a pathetic heap. Tears freely flowing down your cheeks, further staining the material of your dress. Your hands harshly pull at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. The pins in your hair clatter loudly on the floor as you harshly pull them out.

Your sobs echo throughout the empty house. Pain radiates through your body, from somewhere in your chest to the tips of your fingers. The nausea has increased tenfold. You inhale sharply, resting your head on your knees. Watery eyes fixed on the front door your wife had just walked out of, this gut wrenching feeling of loneliness overwhelms you.

"Happy anniversary Abby."

[mypoisonedvine]

"I think we're on a first name basis by now." with tommy shelby

kinda went crazy with this one idk what happened lmao

warnings: dubcon smut (18+ only), dark!tommy, innocent/virgin reader, very rough sex, implied age gap, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, touch of misogyny kink, degradation, a little spanking

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

You only waited tables a few nights a week, just to make ends meet. You spent more time in the kitchen, actually, than you did in the part of the pub where the rowdy men would gather and drink and start trouble.

So, it was probably just your luck that whenever you were out there among them, Thomas Shelby was, too.

His eyes were always on you-- or it felt like that, sometimes. You looked at him, too: you couldn't help it, after all you'd heard. You couldn't really believe those things were true, that he was really that dangerous... he had kind eyes, you thought, and a nice smile. He looked strong, you couldn't deny that, nor could you deny the strange feelings you felt when his eyes drifted over your body while you wiped down tables and chairs. Your thighs seemed to press together each time he did that...

You almost hoped he wouldn't come tonight. As much as you had a growing interest in him, you always had this guilty feeling inside you after you got home on the nights you saw him. Maybe because, on some level, you knew what it was you felt when he looked at you.

No, he wasn't there when you arrived to the pub-- and you sighed with relief-- but your boss appeared rather suddenly when you stepped inside.

"Need you to go to the back room tonight," he told you firmly.

"Huh? Why?" you wondered.

"Just wait back there," he said simply, giving you no explanation, before walking away to deal with something else. Unsure what he could mean but not wanting to question it further, you went back through the kitchen to the back room of the pub.

It was small, and dark-- you flipped on the lamp, but it wasn't much to look at. A small couch, and a chair and desk, with various papers and letters strewn about. This was where the owner kept track of his records, managed shipments and costs-- probably where he kept track of your hours and compensation as well. You rocked back on your heels for a second before deciding to sit in the chair as you waited.

You couldn't say how long it was, probably only a few minutes, before the door opened and you stood up instinctively; you eyes widened when you saw who was stepping in with you.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby," you greeted nervously, "er-- what are you doing here?"

"I called ahead," he explained simply, shutting the door behind himself, "I told the owner that I wanted to see you."

You chewed your lip nervously. "Oh?"

"Yes," he nodded, approaching you but staying a healthy distance-- for now.

"Well... you can see me almost any night," you noticed.

"But I wanted to see you alone," he clarified.

"Does the boss mind? He must be working all the tables by himself," you wondered aloud.

"He'll be just fine," Tommy assured, "he's being compensated for his time."

Your stomach turned a bit when you realized Tommy had paid your boss to keep you back here for him. You knew then what he wanted, but you were still in denial about what was going to happen here.

He stepped up to you, almost too close, but you didn't have the bravery to take a step back.

He kissed you. It was far too sudden, far too forward-- but his hand slipped around the back of your neck and you felt entirely trapped. You did your best to kiss him back, but you weren't entirely sure how to do it well; you got the sense that things wouldn't turn out well for you if you disappointed him somehow. As he kissed you harder, his tongue slipping into your mouth, you whimpered and pushed him back by his shoulders.

It was an automatic response, but your heart pounded with nervousness as you looked up at him for his reaction: but he seemed oddly calm, not offended by your hesitance. "I-I'm sorry," you mumbled, "you just surprised me..."

"Didn't you want me to kiss you?" he asked.

And, well, that was sort of a complicated question. You had to admit, you'd imagined it before. But something about this felt wrong, even if you found yourself craving more. You'd never felt a heat between your legs quite like this one...

"You thought about more than that, didn't you?" he presumed with a raised brow, and you bit your lip and looked away.

"E-erm, well, I--" you stammered, but that was apparently answer enough for him.

He laughed a little, moving in even closer to you. "You're such a sweet girl," he cooed gently, running his hand along your waist as you shivered. "And pretty, too-- I know all the boys are lookin' at you. But you don't look at the boys, do you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but failed completely when his fingers nimbly began to untie your apron.

"You just look at me," he continued, his voice getting a bit deeper as he finished.

"M-Mr. Shelby, I--" you started to weakly protest.

"I think we're on a first name basis by now," he said through a smirk.

"Tommy..." you mumbled shakily. "I've... I've never, erm, known a man before..."

He smiled even wider, the sharpness of his teeth seeming predatory. "Would you like to?" he asked, making your throat a little dry.

"W-well, I always thought I'd... I'd wait until I was married."

"Not all of us have that sort of patience," he explained, suddenly pulling your body flush against his and latching his lips onto your neck. You shuddered and whined, wrapping your arms around his neck since you weren't sure what else to do with them; whenever his tongue danced along your pulse, it sent a shock through your whole body and you whimpered with need.

You barely noticed he was guiding you back, not until he broke away and tossed you down onto the sofa suddenly, making you gasp.

You thought he would lay down on top of you, set himself between your legs-- but instead he roughly turned you around, shoving your face down into the old sofa at the same time that his other hand forced your hips up towards his.

You hadn't even had a chance to think-- he was already shoving your skirts up, yanking your undergarments out of the way, leaving you bare to the drafty air of the room. "T-Tommy, wait," you mumbled weakly, but he either didn't hear you or didn't care. He only growled lowly as he examined you; you both knew, then, how wet you'd become.

"Fuckin' dripping," he observed, seemingly to himself, though you heard him loud and clear as you shut your eyes tight.

He let go of your hips a second later and you heard him taking off his suspenders, but you couldn't look back at him with that other hand still tangled in your hair.

You heard him pushing his trousers down; you heard him spit into his hand and rub it over himself. You still couldn't quite process that this was all happening to you. What happened to that kind-looking man in the pub who would make your heart flutter by brushing his hand over yours? He didn't seem to have that sense of discretion now...

You gasped just from him pressing the tip up to your opening-- you couldn't even describe how you reacted when he actually shoved it in. (Yes, it took a real shove, because you were anything but prepared to take something inside you, let alone something like that.)

"O-oh, no-- oh, it hurts," you whimpered, wincing at the burning sting, holding on tighter to the cushion under you. "Tommy! Y-you're hurting me!"

"Shh, shh," he soothed sharply, groaning as he went deeper inside you, holding on tight to your waist again-- conveniently keeping your back from arching up the wrong way.

You let out a shuddering sigh and tried to relax when he slowed down. "I-is it done?" you asked nervously.

He laughed darkly. "No, sweetie, it's not even halfway in you."

He went a bit deeper again and you choked on a sob. "P-please, don't put in anymore," you begged.

"It only hurts at first," he assured, "then it feels good. It's what it's made for, love. What'd you think was supposed to go up there?"

He was joking, but it still made you feel dumb and shy, and your face heated up even more.

"I'll put the rest in now-- no cryin' this time, be good," he warned. Sliding deeper with one long stroke, until the tip of him reached so deep your stomach started to hurt, he let out a long sigh of satisfaction. "Fuck, nice and warm."

You were thankful he didn't start to move right away, because you were breathing heavy and fast like it was the greatest physical challenge of your life... it probably was, honestly. How could anything like that fit inside you? It felt like he was creating something entirely new inside you-- he certainly made you feel things you'd never felt before.

He started to move, slow and methodical at first, sighing as he savored the feeling of you. You shivered, toes curling in your shoes, trying to stay still and not tense up inside. It was hard to relax, though, in a situation like this... with a man like him.

Each thrust was a little faster than the last; he never quite set a reliable pace, just getting used to the feeling of you.

"So fuckin' tight," he praised deeply, digging his fingers harder into your skin. "The way this cunt grips me... she never wants me to leave, I bet."

He guided you to stay partially upright again, and you put your arms out under yourself to try to stay on your hands and knees. His fingers traced up your back through the dress, before holding onto your shoulder for leverage as he began to really fuck you. Hard. Still slow, but it seemed like he was only going that slow so he could put all his energy into each deep thrust.

You yelped with every slam forward, legs shaking constantly, the sound of his skin hitting yours making you feel a bit... filthy. All of this felt filthy. You felt cheap and disgusting and used. So why in God's name was it beginning to feel good?

He noticed the change right away; he couldn't have felt the difference that you did, the way the sharp pain melted into a pleasant, numbing stretch-- but he could hear it, your moans getting deeper and more confident and needier.

"See? Fuck, knew you were just a little whore," he growled in your ear as he leaned down over you, making you shut your eyes and moan lowly. "Knew you were a cockhungry little cunt like the rest of 'em. You can act innocent all you want, sweetie, but you wanted me to ruin you so badly..."

He was fucking you faster, a little more eagerly, trying to see how hard he could push you. You dropped your head limply but he put a hand on your forehead and pulled it back up, keeping you against his shoulder as he fucked you senseless.

"It's so fuckin' deep in you now, love," he growled. "Can't believe you made it this long without somebody breakin' in this cunt. And now it's mine, huh? Property of Tommy fuckin' Shelby."

You whined, losing the last bit of strength in your arms as your face fell down into the sofa's cushions again. He didn't seem to mind this time, taking a hold of your hips and staying upright as he set a brutal place of slamming thrusts into you. You cried some, but you weren't sure if it was from the pain or pleasure or shame or joy of it all.

"Nobody else s'gonna ever touch you," he promised roughly, delivering a harsh smack to your ass for no good reason except to make you jump. "Nobody else will ever get inside this pretty cunt but me."

You whined, but the way you clenched around him gave away how you really felt about the idea.

"You want me to own you, huh?" he noticed with a dark laugh. "You want to belong to me. Be my little whore, my dumb fucktoy--"

"Oh, Tommy," you whimpered, not sure if you loved or hated him talking like that. It made you feel a little awful, but you were so wet that it was running down your thighs now...

"You'll let me come and fuck you whenever I like," he decided-- or maybe he was explaining it all to you, the new rules of your life as his belonging. "You'll give me whatever I want. And you'll fuckin' thank me when I'm done."

You whined loudly.

"Yes?"

You tried to nod, but he grabbed your hair.

"Say it, whore," he demanded.

"Yes! Yes," you sobbed, "I'll be yours, Tommy."

"Good," he purred. "Hold on tighter to the cushion now, love-- I'm not gonna be gentle with ya anymore."

You hadn't realized that everything up until now was what he considered gentle... and your heart twisted with a sickly pleasurable fear of what was in store for you from now on.

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick

i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!

WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,

Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.

Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.

You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.

This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?

“Do you want my help or not?”

So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.

And now he didn’t know how to go forward.

He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?

He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“

the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.

“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.

“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”

He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.

…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.

But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.

So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.

He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.

No.

NO!

“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.

“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.

“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.

“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.

“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”

“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.

sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”

He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“

“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“

“Y/n.”

You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’

the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.

“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.

“Now.”

...

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.

You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.

"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?

"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...

"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.

they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."

"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.

you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.

when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.

God.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.

"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.

"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."

"they were shot?."

"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.

"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.

the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.

he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.

"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"

you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?

you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.

he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.

"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.

it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.

"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.

"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."

"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"

"they're a friend."

Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)

"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)

"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)

aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.

"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.

[aerynwrites]

Longing Pt. 2

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: it’s FINALLY here - sorry for taking so long with it lmao. NSFW stuff, while I love it is so hard for me to write. But here you go! I hope you all enjoy this spicy conclusion to this story!

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY || smut, virgin!Reader, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Halsin being a total sweetheart by duh, fluff so much fluff and soft, aftercare (kinda?), outdoor sex, kissing, more fluff.

Part 1 || Masterlist

The early evening air is warm as it kisses your skin through the forest canopy. It’s the one thing you notice most besides the soft cloth covering your eyes, a familiar warm hand in your own being your guide through the foliage. 

“Halsin, why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?” you ask, laughing through the question. 

“Because, my heart, if I told you what was in store, it would no longer be a surprise,” he rebuffs, and you can practically hear the smile in his words. 

You let out a little huff, but don’t argue further, letting the druid lead you through the forest by hand. 

The journey is slow, with Halsin careful to guide you around any roots or rocks so you don’t stumble over the terrain, and you use the time to try and figure out where he’s taking you.

The smells of the forest fill your nose, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet, and you can even feel the last rays of the day’s light on your skin through the branches of the trees. But what gives you the most information is the sound of water roaring in the distance. 

The waterfall. 

Halsin had shown it to you just a few days prior, having found it on one of his outings in wild shape form. You remember vividly his barely contained excitement as he tugged you through the woods to show you, the blindfold withstanding. 

You start to wonder why he would bring you back here so soon, and you cheeks heat at the first thought that comes to mind. When you had both arrived at the destination last time, you’d wasted little time stripping from your armor down to your underclothes and jumping in - Halsin not far behind you. 

The druid had pulled you into his arms then, lips claiming your own as he maneuvered you both behind the waterfall’s curtain. You had almost jumped the proverbial cliff then, finally feeling comfortable enough to take that final step with him.

But he had pulled away, smiling down at you before tugging you back out into the water and recalling a story from his childhood. 

As the sound of the waterfall grows ever louder, you silently hope for a repeat of those events. 

However, the true intent of this trip is revealed when Halsin finally brings you to a stop, hands sitting comfortingly on your shoulders. 

“We’re here,” he says, gently tugging at the knot holding your blindfold together. 

The cloth falls away from your eyes and you blink to adjust to the light. Your surroundings come into focus slowly and you realize that you are near the same waterfall, but instead of by the river below it, you’re in a small clearing above it. You see the small river that feeds it running steadily by before moving to rush down the cliff side. And the view…it takes your breath away. 

The clearing sits above the valley that holds your camp, letting you see for miles, the slowly descending sun casting an ethereal orange glow over the landscape. 

Finally, your eyes land on what you assume is the last part of the surprise Halsin has planned. 

In the middle of the clearing, just a few yards from the river’s edge, is an arrangement of dozens of furs laid out on the grass. You see a small burlap sack which you assume holds an assortment of food and drinks. And there’s even…candles. Some short, some tall - all of them spread around the space and lit, giving the moment a more… intimate feel than is already present. 

Soft lips press against your temple before trailing down to brush your jaw. 

“What do you think, my love?” 

His words are soft, and you detect a hint of hesitance in them, as if he is worried you would reject this thoughtful presentation. 

You turn around in his arms, lips spreading into a wide smile, your arms slipping around his waist as his do the same. 

“You did all this? Is this where you were all day?” you ask, remembering his absence from your side this morning when you woke. 

The druid nods. “When I found this place the idea immediately came to mind and I…I wanted to surprise you.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words, his thoughtfulness nearly knocking you off your feet. 

You love this man. 

“Well,” you finally say, leaning back to look up at him. “Consider me surprised. But…” you trail off, brows furrowing in question. “Is there an occasion for all this?” 

Halsin pauses then, seemingly considering his words. You wait patiently as he does so, relishing in his embrace, his thumbs brushing over your hips slowly. 

“I will not lie and say I have no goals in mind for this night but…” He pauses, eyes trailing over your face, hands tightening on your hips. “I just want to show you my love. In all the ways nature intended. If you will have me.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, picking up on their meaning as all the warmth in your chest shifts down to pool in your belly instead. 

You smile up at him again before leaning in to hug him, cheek pressed against his chest as he returns the affection. 

“I’d love nothing more.” 

Halsin leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away quicker than you like, eyes shining with happiness as he leads you towards the furs. 

“Let us eat first, while the sun still graces us with her presence. I gathered some of your favorites.” 

The fur is soft beneath your feet as you remove your boots and move to settle onto the large makeshift blanket, Halsin right behind you. Idle talk fills the air as he begins pulling items from the bag, and you can’t stop the way your mouth waters at the presentation before you. 

Various meats and cheeses, fresh fruit, wine, and even freshly baked items. Blueberry tarts. Sweet buns. This has obviously been in the works for a good while for him to find time to locate these items - a realization that makes your heart swell with adoration. 

Quickly, before Halsin has finished unpacking, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips, cheeks warm. 

“Thank you. For all of this, for everything.” 

Pausing his work, Halsin smiles, leaning over on one hand before reaching up to cup the back of your neck with the other. He brings his lips back to yours, and this kiss lasts a little longer before he pulls away to gaze at you. 

“You deserve all nature has to provide, my heart. I’m simply showing you its bounty,” he tells you, leaning back to pick up one of the blueberry pastries. 

He tears off a small piece before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling. 

You raise a brow, unable to stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Feeding me by hand now, too?” you ask, scooting forward to close in on the treat. “Careful, you might just spoil me.” 

You take the offered bite between your teeth, lips brushing the tips of his fingers before he pulls back. The pastry practically melts on your tongue, the crust buttery and flaky - a direct contrast to the tart sweetness of the blueberry mixture. 

You can’t stop the moan of appreciation that comes from you as you savor the treat, already wanting more. 

Halsin smiles, tearing off another bite and offering to you again. “I would give you the moon and stars in the sky if it is what you wished,” he says, eyes crinkling happily when you take the offering again.

You let out a contented hum, scooting until you’re finally side by side with your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. 

“As nice as that sounds…I’m perfectly content with blueberry tarts and sweet buns.” You reach up to toy with one of the braid in his hair. “And you, of course.” 

Halsin laughs at your addition, the sound loud and joyous as it echoes through the trees. “I am honored to be listed among the sweetest of treats. Although, I must disappoint you and say that honey might always be my first love.” 

You scoff, feigning hurt as you lean away from him, a hand over your heart. “I’m wounded. I thought what we had was special.” 

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his lap effortlessly as he attacks your neck and shoulders with kisses, making giggles erupt from your lips. 

“You know I only jest,” he tells you as he finally pulls away, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You are the only thing my heart desires. The moon to my night sky and the soil to my earth. Nothing could ever compare.” 

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you have to blink to keep them back, his words making your heart so full you feel it might burst. 

Cupping his face gently, you take a moment to let your eyes roam, taking in everything about the man beneath you. His scars that some might be frightened by, but you think makes him more handsome. The curving crimson tattoo that adorns his skin. His strong brow that complements his soft hazel eyes. And his lips…lips that smile down at you so often you sometimes worry they might get stuck that way. The smile that makes crow's feet appear at his eyes and show years of laughter he’s shared. 

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to each cheek before finally meeting his lips, holding him to you until the need for air arises. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, meaning every word. 

————

The evening continues much like this. Eating and drinking and sharing kisses between, until you’re too full to continue. By then, night has fallen and has you both on your backs next to one another, eyes turned towards the stars as you each point out constellations and the stories behind them. 

Halsin shows you the one representing Silvanus and goes on to tell you about his god and the stories behind his origin. You show him a constellation of the goddess your parents worshiped, recalling fond memories of your childhood. 

A gasp falls from your lips in the middle of the story, eyes widening as you point up to the sky. 

“Halsin, look, a shooting star!” 

The little white light streaks across the sky, and you reach over to grab his hand in yours. “Close your eyes and make a wish!” you demand, eyes scrunching closed childishly. 

You open your eyes once more only to see dozens of other stars following the first. Flashes of light igniting the sky before fading away. 

You’ve never seen anything like it. 

“Wow, it’s…beautiful,” you whisper. 

You hear Halsin him in agreement. “It is…Nature has once again outdone itself.” 

You turn to look at him, only to see his eyes aren’t on the sky at all. 

They’re on you.  

“You’re not even looking,” you chastise quietly. 

Halsin smiles. “I’m looking at something more beautiful than even the stars.” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks once more. “Halsin…”

Before your protest can continue, Halsin is moving. He rolls deftly towards you, hand never leaving yours until he pins it beneath his own beside your head, hovering over you. Your heart leaps in your chest, legs moving instinctively to cradle his hips as he settles above you. 

His hair falls over his shoulders, the small braids swaying slightly in the soft breeze that whispers through the forest. His hand squeezes your own before his other comes up to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. 

“I do not speak words without them being truthful - false niceties are an affront to those we care about, and I do not say these things insincerely,” he tells you, voice unusually quiet. “My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. Allow me to show you the pleasures of the heart, my love.”

Excitement stirs in your chest before settling lower, warming your belly and making arousal thrum through your veins. You nod, reaching up to card your fingers through soft honey colored hair, before settling at the back of his neck. 

He responds swiftly to your silent approval, his lips coming down to capture yours in a kiss so unlike the others you’ve shared tonight. They were soft and gentle and chaste, but this…

This is all consuming. 

It’s heated, but not rushed. Firm, but not uncaring. His lips move against yours as if he’s pouring all his devotion into you, tongue teasing your lips until you grant him entrance. 

Sighs and groans leave you both, swallowed by the other or lost to the night air as hands and lips start to roam. 

Halsin shifts above you, moving to straddle your hips as his lips travel from yours to leave suckling kisses at your jaw, his hands moving to settle on your waist. 

Your own hands fumble, not sure where to go when they want to touch him everywhere. They flit from his hips to his waist down to his thighs before running back up to tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers twitching as they itch to slip beneath the fabric. 

Gods… you’ve never done this before. Is it too forward? Should you wait? Will he want to undress you first? What if-

Halsin’s soft chuckle rips you from your racing thoughts as he presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, nipping lightly. 

“You are free to touch, my love,” he says, as if reading your unsure thoughts. “I know I plan to. So, I believe it’s only fair of you to do the same.” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, his promise to touch you as you want to touch him. But his encouragement works, and before you let your insecurity take over once more, you slide your hands under his shirt. 

You sigh as your hands meet his skin, instantly relishing in the heat radiating from him. The fabric rides up around your wrists as you reach higher, fingers tracing each and every muscle and divot in his skin. You think you can faintly feel scars marring his flesh, some large, some small as they stretch across his skin. 

You aren’t left to wonder for long though, as Halsin pulls himself from you only long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it to the side before leaning forward once more, covering you with his body. 

You almost let out a whine, wanting more than just a second to take him in, but the thought is quickly forgotten as his lips return to you once more, this time relentless against the sensitive skin of your neck. 

His teeth gently nip at you before his tongue comes behind to soothe the mark he’s no doubt left behind. 

Your hands trail up from where they rest at his sides, coming to run over his chest, the dark hair tickling your palms until they eventually flit upwards to rest against his shoulders. 

Expert fingers tug at the laces of your top, and your eyes fall to meet those of the man above you. He’s pulled away from you now, eyes searching your face as he continues to toy with the front of your shirt. 

Your chest is heaving, and it’s only in this moment of silence do you realize the heat running through you. The way your toes curl into the furs beneath you, the tingling and pleasure settling low in your belly. 

Gods, you want him.  

You arch up into his hands ever so slightly. “You don’t have to ask,” you say, tone impatient, a surprise even to you. 

Halsin’s brows furrow, lips turning down ever so slightly. “Of course I do.” He leans down to place a kiss to the corner of your lips before trailing a path down your jaw to just below your ear. “Your comfort is my utmost priority, so I will ask each and every time.” 

His over abundance of care makes warmth bloom in your chest, disposing what little nerves may have been lingering in the back of your mind. 

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips with yours as you give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. 

“I can assure you,” you tell him, pulling away from the kiss just enough to raise your arms above your head. “I’ll be most comfortable when we’re both rid of all our clothing.” 

Halsin smiles, eyes twinkling with amusement. “As nature intended.” 

You can’t stop the giggle that slips past your lips as Halsin lifts your shirt over your arms. You’re used to his druidic nature quips, but they still always manage to bring a smile to your face. 

Halsin is quick to oblige your request, and soon you’re both bare against the furs, and that tiny tinge of uncertainty is back as Halsin’s eyes roam over you. 

Without thought, your arms come up to cover yourself, but Halsin is quick to stop you in your tracks. He takes your hands in his, threading your fingers together before pressing them into the ground beside your head. 

“Do not hide from me,” he whispers, leaning down to brush gentle lips over your collarbone and down lower. “You are beautiful - more radiant than the sun on a clear day and more ethereal than the moon at its fullest.” 

He nips at the swell of your breast before kissing the soft skin and traveling lower, pausing between the valley of your chest to shower kisses over the softness of your stomach. 

Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding, arousal shooting to your core as you realize the path he’s taking and his most likely destination. 

“Halsin…” His name leaves your lips in a gasp as his hands leave yours to follow the path his lips took just moments before.

You can feel the roughness of his palms in stark contrast to the softness of your skin, arching up into them as he reaches your breasts, kneading them in his hands. 

His thumbs brush over stiffened peaks, teasing as his lips move lower, nose nudging at your navel. 

“I wish to know all of you, my heart - body and soul.” His lips move against the delicate skin of your hip, breath fanning over your most intimate parts. “I have longed to taste you, to have you come undone on my tongue before I show you the other pleasures nature has to offer.” 

You’ve honestly never really thought about this before, your mind always jumping to the ‘ main act,’ if you will. But now, with Halsin’s hands on you and his lips so close to where you ache for him to touch you…You find you’ve never wanted anything more. 

Your hips lift from the furs involuntarily, and Halsin’s hands are quick to slide down to your hips, holding you in place gently as a chuckle leaves his lips, ghosting against the crux of you once more. 

“Yes - please …” The words fall from your lips in hushed whispers, the breath having long since left you. 

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. It’s not like Halsin was asking, but he must find your quiet words pleasing as another amused rumble comes from him. 

He’s down lower now, his lips brushing teasingly against the inside of your knee, placing feather light kisses up along your inner thigh. 

“I’ll have you begging for much more than this before the night is done.”

A shudder runs through you at his words and before a retort can even come to your mind, his mouth is on you, stealing all thoughts away. A gasp falls from your lips as your fingers move to tangle in his hair, wanting to keep him close and push him away all at once. 

His tongue parts you eagerly, his nose bumping against your clit as he teases your entrance. 

Arousal is hot and piercing in your core, making you even wetter than you were before, Halsin’s ministrations spurring your pleasure higher and higher with each expert stroke. 

The sensation is so… foreign. Something you’ve never experienced before that has you craving more and wanting to run away at the same time. Inexperience and utter pleasure push and shove at one another, until the latter wins out as Halsin presses one finger against you, sinking in ever so slowly. 

His tongue, his lips, and now his finger sinking into you makes that feeling in your belly crescendo, a feeling new to you. You don’t know whether to urge him on or tell him to stop. 

As if sensing your dilemma, Halsin adds another finger, making your jaw drop open as he crooks them inside of you, brushing up against a spot that makes you see stars. 

He pulls away from you then, pressing a hurried kiss to your hip, nipping at the skin there. 

“ Let go for me, little one. ” 

His words are the last thing you need to catapult you over the ledge you’ve never jumped before. The tension in your core bursts, the taut pressure snapping in two as your body arches into Halsin’s. 

Utter euphoria rushes through your veins in a burning tidal wave, toes curling, fingers tingling from where they still clutch at his hair. You can’t even find it in you to think about loosening your grip, the pleasure coursing through you like an electric current and locking you in place. 

You have nearly no idea how much time has passed before your mind comes back to you, your chest heaving with tired pants as Halsin kisses his way back up to you, nuzzling your jaw before peppering kisses to your cheeks as his hands rub soothing patterns against your sides.

“That was…” You trail off, both lost for words and still trying to get your breath back. “A lot.” 

Halsin chuckles again, making you warm inside for a completely different reason as he presses his lips to yours in a slow kiss before pulling away to press another one to your temple, lips tugged up in a grin. 

“Well…I did promise to overwhelm you,” he says, calling back to your conversation all those weeks ago. 

You huff out a short laugh of your own, arms coming up to wrap under his own so your hands rest against the back of his shoulders. 

“Consider me overwhelmed.” 

That smile still on his lips, Halsin comes back down to nuzzle at your jaw again, hands trailing down your sides to rest on your thighs, guiding them to cradle his hips as he press his body more fully into yours. 

A short gasp slips past your lips as you feel him against you, hot and heavy against your inner thigh. You can’t help the way your eyes glance downwards, widening at the sight of him. You hadn’t really thought to look earlier, everything else holding your attention instead, but…

Good gods above- 

“ Will it fit?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think better of it, the hot swell of embarrassment creeping up your neck as Halsin laughs again, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet forest. 

He pulls you closer to him, your chest brushing his own as he captures your lips again. One hand reaching up to cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly against the skin there. 

When he pulls away, it’s just far enough for his forehead to rest gently against yours. 

“I will go slow,” he assures you, pressing soft kisses to our brow, “but you must be my guide, tell me what pleasures you most or what causes you discomfort and I will adjust accordingly.” 

Once again, despite this intimate moment, Halsin is ever the considerate, giving partner. Never putting his pleasure above yours. 

You smile up at him, fingers pressing into his back slightly. 

“Thank you.” You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “But I…I want you to enjoy this, too. It doesn’t have to be about just me.” 

Halsin eyes twinkle in delight, one corner of his lips tugging upwards in that rare but beguiling smirk. 

“Trust me, my heart - I am enjoying myself more than you can imagine. You are giving me a most precious gift, your trust - it is more than this old druid could ever ask for.” 

His words once again, strike deep, your arousal and happiness all swirling into one big ball in your chest about to burst. You tug him down on top of you, relishing in the closeness of his chest against yours, his hands on your skin, his lips on your cheek. 

“You have it,” you tell him, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you, Halsin. Please… I trust you.”  

“I love you too, my heart.”

Halsin’s words are but a whisper against your lips before he claims them again, mounding you to him as he positions himself to press at your entrance. 

He enters slowly, never breaking your kiss, swallowing the sharp gasp that leaves you. Your fingers dig into his back at the intrusion - while not painful, it is foreign; a pleasurable pressure within you that expands more and more the deeper into you he goes. 

Your earlier orgasm makes his movements easier, but he still pauses when he meets resistance, a sharp intake of breath from you all he needs as an indicator. 

He breaks his lips from yours, reaching up to brush a stray hair from your forehead now dewy with perspiration. His brow furrows in concern. 

“Are you alright?”

You nod. It’s the truth - you are fine, there is no pain, but, gods, you already feel full and you haven’t even taken him fully yet. 

“I-I’m fine, just-“ Another breathless gasp as he twitches inside you. “Go s - slow.”

Halsin obliges, working into you in slow, measured thrusts, pulling back before sinking a little deeper each time. Each movement, no matter how small - how tempered - sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the flame that never really seemed to go out. 

It’s like everything is amplified by a thousand with him moving against you. The way the hair on his chest brushes against your skin sends tingles down your spine. The blood rushing in your ears, the soft pants he exhales - breath warm against your cheek from where his forehead nuzzles your own. His hand feels like a branding iron against your skin where he pulls your leg up over his hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks behind. 

You can tell he’s holding back, using every ounce of control he has to please you - to not rush this. 

Your heart aches in the best way when he finally - finally - bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. His head falls to your shoulder, and the groan he lets out is sinful enough to match the moan that falls from your own lips - his name a whispered prayer in the night air. 

You’re so full it feels like you can’t take a full breath without feeling him everywhere. Inside you, on top of you, his lips against your skin and his hands holding you in just the right way. You feel…made for him. Him made for you. Like pieces of a puzzle finally joining together. 

You relish in the feeling of him like this. But more than that, you desperately want him to move, your hips twitching against his in silent request. Only, when he doesn’t respond do you speak up.

“I think…I’m alright, you can move,” you tell him, voice breathy. 

You feel him nod against your shoulder, hair tickling the sensitive skin there as he speaks. “Yes I, ah - just need a moment.”

One of your hands runs down his back and then up again, your legs squeezing his hips gently. “Are you okay?”

Halsin laughs quietly, breath hot against your skin before pulling away, lifting one hand up to cradle your cheek as he gazes down at you in utter adoration.

“Yes, just…admiring all of nature's creations, and…considering how very lucky I am.”

You smile up at him, eyes starting to feel watery at the sincerity behind his words. “Halsin, I…I’m lucky too.”

His lips turn upwards before he leans down to place a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips before pulling away. “I care about you a great deal. More than…more than I can express. So, I will do my best to show you.”

His meaningful words end just as he decides to move, pulling out before sliding back in with one smooth thrust. The movement makes stars erupt before you as your eyes clamp shut, pleasure singing through you. 

Halsin picks up his speed when you offer no complaint, skin slapping against skin as he finds a steady rhythm. His lips press haphazardly against you, moving from your neck to your collarbone, down and then back up again, as if he wants to worship all of you but doesn’t know where to start. 

One of his hands plants itself in the furs beside your head, fingers digging into the soft fabric for purchase while the other falls down to grip your leg again, tugging it ever higher on his hip, allowing him to press deeper into you.

A high-pitched cry escapes your lips at the movement, the new angle letting him hit something devastating inside of you with each thrust. 

Your fingers dig into his back, nails no doubt leaving behind marks as they score down his shoulder blades, desperate to pull him closer. He drops down to bear his weight on his forearm, pushing himself closer to you, pressing you into the furs beneath you as if he too can’t get close enough.

“ Oak Father preserve me,” Halsin practically growls, burying his face into your shoulder, blunt teeth digging into your skin before he speaks again. “You are so… perfect. Like you were created by the gods themselves just for me,” he groans as his hips stutter momentarily, grinding up into you. “I love you, my heart, more than words or any actions can describe.”

His words, the way he feels inside you, the way his lips smooth the dull ache his teeth left behind, it’s all too much. It’s overwhelming in the best way as that coil in your belly pulls taut again, ready to snap at a moment's notice. 

Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, one of your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, holding him to you as your legs finally move to wrap around his waist, heels digging into him, urging him on - silently begging him to bring you both to release. 

“I love you too.” The words come out hoarse and broken.“ Fuck, Halsin I - I’m close, please… ”

He responds to your plea, his hips stuttering as he nears his own end. He turns his head ever so slightly, lips brushing your ear before placing a gentle kiss just below, whispering sweet nothings against your skin. 

He reaches his end just before you do, and it brings about your own euphoria. The cord snaps just as his hips do against yours, warmth flooding you inside and out as you topple over the edge. His name falls from your lips over and over, a provocative incantation for only the night and the man above you to hear. 

He works you through your release, only stilling when you’re both spent, chests rising and falling against one another, skin damp with sweat as you pull each other closer still. 

Halsin tucks both arms beneath you as you slowly come down, pulling you tight against him as he rolls you both onto your sides. 

Neither of you speak for several moments, instead choosing to bask in the afterglow, relishing the cool night air against your heated skin. Only when Halsin’s hand starts to trail random patterns against your back does he finally speak. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice gentle with just a touch of concern lacing his words. 

You look up at him, brows furrowed. “Did I do something to suggest otherwise?” 

Halsin shakes his head, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back from your face. “No, but I…I know I am…more than most. I just wanted to ensure there were no…lingering discomforts.”

You shake your head. Other than the dull ache between your thighs, which you do not regret…there’s not a scratch on you. And you couldn’t feel better.

“No discomforts here,” you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “None that I’m going to complain about, anyway.”

Halsin lets out an amused huff before rolling once more so you rest on top of him, ignoring your gasp of surprise. “Good,” he says, reaching up to run warm hands down your sides before resting on your hips, eyes meeting yours once more. “I truly meant it when I said this was a gift. You are a gift, the greatest treasure Silvanus could have ever bestowed upon me.”

Halsin reaches up to take one of your hands that rests on his chest, bringing it up to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “You honor me by choosing to be by my side.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and words fail you at first. So, you lean forward to hide your face against him, nose brushing just below his ear as you nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder. 

“I’ve never…” You trail off before finally finding your words. “I’ve never trusted someone enough to…take this step with,” you admit, arms moving to wrap around him, hands tucking between his back and the furs beneath him. “Thank you for loving me enough to show me what it's like.”

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you to him as his lips brush your temple. 

“The pleasure was all mine, my heart. I love you more than the moon loves the stars and the sun loves the earth.” 

You smile against him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness. “That’s a lot of love…might take a while to get it all out.”

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “That just means more nights with you in my arms.”

You hum in agreement, finally letting your eyes fall shut. And, as Halsin’s arms hold you tight, you both fall asleep under the stars, nature surrounding you.

[snailpebbles]

teach me kisses? - OP81

summary: oscar teaches you to kiss ig. gone right.

wc: 2k

tags: fluff, tooth rotting, maybe suggestive, uhh kinda sad but not for them lmao, not proofread

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It was safe to say Oscar was a little more than concerned to receive a text from you in the middle of a relatively chill day, asking for him to come over. Of course he does seeing as it's impossible to deny you, his best friend of six years. He rushed around his flat unsure of what to grab, so he settles on a multitude of items: Advil, Tylenol (for variety, you tend to get picky), a hoodie with his cologne, and another hoodie (once again, variety).

While making the drive to your flat, he stops by a corner store to grab a few more items on the rare chance you might be upset with him. The bell dings as he steps into the family-owned shop, most definitely older than him if the kind old lady behind the counter was anything to go by. It's mostly empty, the short aisles containing various items, but he knows what he wants. Settling on a nice bouquet of pink tulips alongside your favorite soda, Oscar makes his way to the counter.

The cashier smiles at his items and makes idle conversation with the young man, feeling some sort of interest within him.

"She the lucky girl, or are you a lucky man?" She asks, chuckling softly as she fixes up the flowers to look more presentable. Oscar's face tints pink, an awkward side smile pulling on his lips.

"Oh shes- well-" He stumbles for his words, suddenly seeing you in a new light he'd previously pushed down in the fear of losing you. "lucky man." Is the answer he settles on, giving a slight huff of laughter to ease his own nerves that the old woman doesn't share. She hands him the flowers and soda, patting his left hand as she does.

"My Willis and I have been together since the fifties, so listen to me when I tell you...cherish each other." A nostalgic smile lights up her face, previous youth shining through. Pictures hang on the corkboard behind her, all featuring that youth beside a young man.

"He was lost in the war, but those few years were the best of my life." She sighs softly, a shaking hand tracing along a picture of Willis. "You keep that girl close, or my umbrella and I just might have to find you." Oscar nods at her comment, taking it to heart.

"I'd never hurt her, Gods help me if I did." He mutters, placing his credit card back in his wallet, a picture of you beaming at the camera greeting him momentarily further softening his heart.

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Your doorbell startles you even through you'd been pacing in front of it for the past ten minutes, debating every choice that has led you here. Trembling hands brush invisible dust off your pajamas and regret fills you for not looking more presentable. Peering through the peephole, you are greeted by Oscar rocking on his heels in the hall, your favorite flowers in hand.

The door flinging open surprises him, as does your hand tugging him inside. Within a flurry of motion the tulips are put in a vase, the soda is already half chugged, and multiple thank yous meet his ears. You're a tornado of movement and he has to catch you by the shoulders, stilling you in front of him with a worried gaze.

"Did something happen? Are you alright?" He asks, eyes scanning you and definitely not lingering.

Definitely.

"No I'm fine Osc, no need to act like a worried mother." You wave his concerns off, moving to set on your comfy sofa, soda still in hand. He settles down beside you, placing his stuffed to the brim backpack by his feet. He unzips it and a hoodie half falls out, one that he places in your lap. "Why..are you cold?" He smiles awkwardly at your question, now feeling like an idiot.

"No uhm, well I was worried so I might have...over prepared." Before he can hide his backpack you're already rifling through it, awing at each thoughtful item.

"You brought me drugs! How kind." You snicker, holding up the Advil and Tylenol. Oscars already red face only turns a darker shade and he snatches them away from you.

"I didn't bring you drugs- well technically I did- but I thought you were sick or something!" He defends, placing the bottles back in his bag. An apologetic smile forms on your face and your hand falls to his shoulder, appreciation only rising for the sweet man before you. What country did you save in a past life to warrant such blessing?

"Not sick, but I do have a bit of a request for you." Your hands twist nervously in your lap, the inside of your bottom lip chewed raw at this point. Oscar dips his head to meet your gaze, making you feel warm all over from his attentiveness. "You need to promise me that you won't laugh, okay?" Oscar nods, shifting closer to you.

"I promise I won't laugh." He murmurs, worry internally taking him over as thoughts rush through his mind. Did you take your ex back? Are you sick and lying to him? Oh God do you have a new boyfriend?? This one truly makes him sick, but he refuses to dwell on his reaction.

Inhaling deeply, exhaling through your mouth, you blurt out what you want with your eyes squeezed shut.

"I need you to kiss me."

Oscars heart stops briefly, then kicks back up into overdrive. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Kiss you? You? His lips on yours? Oh God.

His silence makes you nervous so you peek, and the air is punched out of your lungs as a result.

His face is red and he's stone-still, lips parted and eyes ever so slightly widened. Is it bad to say you enjoy seeing him like this?

"Okay." The words finally leave his lips in the form of a breathless whisper, tongue darting out to wet them subconsciously. Surprise smacks you in the face, never once having anticipated a yes so simply. An urge to explain fills you; to justify such a request.

"See I just- well I have a date tomorrow and it's been a long time since I've ever kissed someone, so I figured you could help me relearn." You explain, hands waving around in the air to further your point. As you speak, you don't notice the way Oscar steels back up, shutting back down. How could he ever think you'd be into him when you're so amazing? All of those emotions are forced back into an old box, edges worn out from his mind picking at it on late nights.

"Right. Yeah." He nods, swallowing the bile wanting to rise. He should be happy for you, for taking such a step after the shit-storm of your last relationship. Jealousy edges into his mind, seeping into the cracks and his ego, protectiveness shifting into possessiveness for a split second. You're his, not some random guy who can't even qualify as a man. He's always been there, not this- this idiot.

"So uh, do we just..?" You bring your legs up onto the sofa, sitting criss cross and shifting to face him. The nerves teeter on uncomfortable, but excitement balances it all out for you. His lips are so kissable, it has honestly pained you for years that you may never feel them against your own. Oscar takes the lead of course and his slender yet strong hands cup your jaw, pointer finger drawing circles just in front of your ear. You feel frozen in time, hands useless in your lap as you can't seem to draw your attention anywhere but those lips and the light stubble surrounding the area.

"..You need to close your eyes." He reminds you, his voice sounding a whole lot more gravelly, if not hoarse. Why would it be? What would cause such a-

Warmth. His lips, a delicacy you knew internally you craved, bring a warmth you'd forgotten the embrace of long ago. Oscar sharply inhales at the first contact and struggles to restrain himself, your hesitancy in the kiss the only reminder that you need slow and gentle. He abides by this and tries to stay focused while you lose any thought except the need to keep him as close as possible, right on you where he belongs.

Your eyes had fallen shut awhile ago, but who can say? Time feels meaningless when Oscars hands are trailing down to your hips, the kiss at some point having deepened into an intimacy you weren't sure even existed. He lifts you into his lap with an ease that sets you on fire, scorching a path up to your heart and burning up the oxygen in your lungs. Not that you mind. You'd happily give him your air if it'll make him stay attached like this. Oscar memorizes all of you as you do him, burning your skin with his touch and peeling away layers of lies you'd both put up for a false pretense of simple friendship.

Maybe you've fallen into wonderland because you certainly feel mad. He's tearing out your soul with how gentle yet compassionate his kisses are, soft gasps and sighs filling the otherwise quiet flat, only to mingle with birdsong outside the window. Would you let him kiss you on that balcony for everyone to see? A Juliet he'd most certainly keep. He tugs you closer, chest to chest and heart to heart, both fluttering wildly as if in a cage. Every touch he gets is full of you, any late night dream far surpassed as you give up any control to him, bending under gentle actions like putty. God and your taste, one in the same as it is for you. Closer and closer you become, the outside world ceasing to exist just like any false boundaries you'd both foolishly believed like it'd save you from the damnation of love.

"Osc.. Oscar.." You mumble breathlessly as you part, both panting for air and refusing to give the other space with the way your foreheads stay pressed together. "I lied. There's no date." The white lie is finally revealed, one you'd said out of fear for rejection.

"...Thank fuck." He mutters, laughing under his breath as his lips meet yours once more. He can barely kiss you though, not when he's smiling so widely. You giggle, so he does too and suddenly you're both laughing heavily, falling into one another.

"Be mine?" The question leaves you without consequence, your heart and head airy with love. Oscar nods into your collarbone, still placing kisses there with reverence.

"I've always been yours." He says simply.

"Me too."

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"C'mon! We're gonna get soaked!" Your laugh fills up the corner store, rain hammering down on the two of you. Oscar trails in behind you, hand tightly linked with yours as a bright smile stays firm on his face.

"Thought you liked when we were-" He starts but you slap his shoulder, covering your grin with your free hand as you scoff. He grins back, leading you through the short aisles to wait out the storm and maybe get a few (a lot) of cheat snacks. Oscar grabs Snickers, you grab Hersheys. He takes a Sprite, you take a Dr. Pepper. (You'll later end up forgetting that chocolate melts and get a whole pizza instead, walking in the park while eating out of the waterlogged box.)

"That everything?" The old lady behind the counter asks as Oscar goes to pay, just barely beating you to it while ignoring your protests. He thinks for a moment and then grabs a bouquet of pink tulips, grinning like he'd just won a race. Your heart warms and you peck his cheek as thanks, his pale skin going an identical shade of pink to the petals. Maybe one day he'll realize that that's why pink tulips are your favorite.

She checks you out and waves goodbye since the rain has since cleared up, watching as you walk out swinging each other's hand. Her gaze falls to the corkboard behind her, a small smile on her lips as she traces her lost loves face.

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊🍊˚ 🧡୨♡୧ ⋅🔸˚₊‧꒰ა🟠໒꒱ 🍊‧₊˚

hello I haven't written in forever and I also don't know why I gave the old lady a backstory ????

[diremoone]

“how i wonder” | r. sukuna

it’s been ages since he’s celebrated any sort of birthday or holiday. but here he is, with the girl that’s best friends with his little brother, at her apartment with Chinese takeout and watching a Halloween movie on Christmas. and it’s nice, until the power goes out and he’s left with his own thoughts.

part one | part two | part three

w — modern! au, fluff, age gap, older man/younger woman, Sukuna is 36 & Reader is 22/23, slowburn, pining (on Sukuna’s end), Sukuna thinks too damn much in this one but he’s so intrigued by reader he can’t help it haha, celebrating Christmas solely to feel happy and not lonely (sorta; on both ends), this was originally named “snow sparrow” but then was unhappy with it lmao, and many other tags I may have forgotten lmao

[ divider credit @/inklore ]

A man as wealthy as him shouldn’t be seen outside of the fancy home and set of cars he owns. His bank account is big, too big to be standing in the elevator of a simple apartment complex. Although the place is nice, he thinks. It’s not older than him and dilapidated and run down like some awful things he’s seen, nor was it built fresh and fancy and made to be super expensive. It was simple, and a despite liking the finer things in life, he found the simplicity rather… nice for a change.

This was only half-scheduled: meeting you at your place for the holiday. You’d been with Yuuji for a final essay assignment before the school break. Nothing major, just helping him edit grammatical errors and fix his repetitive word usage. That was two weeks ago; two weeks have passed since you made an offhand comment about “two bored people being bored together” for the the holiday.

Sukuna would never deny he wouldn’t outright admit it either that his little brother living with him brought something great into his life: a woman that he enjoyed challenging him, bringing him a new sense of vigor for life beyond the seven sins he was accustomed to.

His hands seem to be sweaty, though he’d like to think it was because of the several bags of Chinese takeout in his large hand. His left? Probably from having his phone in his hand too much. Yeah, that sounded right. He has no reason to be nervous. Why should he be? No need to dwell on it any further.

He passes by only maybe four or five people on his way up to your apartment that’s on the top floor. The few people he does encounter don’t meet his gaze; instead either intimidated or dumbstruck by his monstrous height and imposing aura and can only make a quick glance at him, probably wondering what such a person like him, especially as big as him, was doing in such a simplistic, plain apartment complex.

Sukuna eyeballs the door numbers, even on the left and odd on the right. Yours is four doors down on the right, 407 if he remembers correctly.

No, he remembers perfectly. Why wouldn’t he?

Sukuna knocks twice and readjusts the bags of warm food in his other hand. He catches himself shifting his feet underneath him like a nervous schoolgirl and almost cusses at himself, had it not been for the tiny metallic click of a lock.

You seem surprised, bewildered slightly that he’s really standing in front of your apartment door. Like you hadn’t actually expected him to take you up on the half-joking offer of spending the holidays together as two “lonely people.” You’re essentially a deer in headlights.

But a beautiful deer in headlights.

He can smell the subtle scent of lavender from you, a smell he hadn’t expected, but was certainty… entranced by it, and with a hint of something fruity mixed in there as well. The soft, navy blue sweater leans slightly more off of your left shoulder, revealing the black bra strap underneath. The black leggings you’re wearing make images go through his head that he’s tried to keep in behind the doors of his office and bedroom. You don’t even have to wear makeup, even try in the slightest to look as beautiful as you do. You’re natural, and you’re not afraid of it. You’re already confident in your own skin, even at your younger age. And heavens, does he love it.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Just like he thought. “But come on in. That’s smells good.”

Sukuna doesn’t get to see the cartoon cow slippers you’re wearing until he’s taking off his own shoes at your front door. His mouth quirks up in a small grin.

Adorable.

“Food can go on the table,” you say, gesturing to the low, long and flat coffee table in front of the couch. “I’ll get drinks. Sorry if you don’t like tea, but that’s all I got.”

“That’s fine.” His voice sounds almost foreign to himself as he stands in an unfamiliar place. But at the same time, he thinks it fits. Like he belongs here in this simplistic but nice apartment of yours, here with you having dinner and spending- You know what, he can stop thinking for a moment and focus on the present.

He’s in deep thought as he takes in the expanse and decor of your home further. It’s nice, definitely nicer than what he expected. His eyes take it all in, but finishes when his eyes land on the cute little Christmas tree tucked away in the corner beside the door to the patio, with tiny, glittery ornaments twinkling as the interwoven, multicolored lights shine against them.

God, you’re almost too cute.

But he couldn’t help but wonder for a small moment how you were faring expenses for this place, alongside groceries and going to school most of the time.

“You must manage your finances well to live here,” he hums.

“I’m not as dirt poor as I used to be, I’ll say that,” you reply. “But even then, being stingy will always be ingrained into my DNA.”

“Even if you have the world at your feet?”

You point to him with the index finger wrapped around your cup of tea, smiling. “Keyword: always~ World or not, the bare necessities are fine for me.”

He swallows down what your words do to him and tries to keep a straight face. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the way you inadvertently say you’ll always feel like you’ll never have anything to desire or genuinely want outside of pure necessity. Sukuna doesn’t like how natural it sounds, how uncaring you are towards wanting more than what you have now. He knew you were like this somewhat, but not to this extent. It makes him… a little angry.

So, now he knows the diamond necklace he bought you won’t be received like he wants it to be.

Guess I’ll have to save it for another time, he notes tactfully, watching you settle the food on the table and hop onto the couch and get comfortable.

The ambience of your home is a change of pace Sukuna didn’t know he needed. Until now.

He’s a giant, giant man, so he takes up most of the couch, even with it being relatively large in itself. You don’t seem to mind however, with the way your feet are barely a centimeter away from touching his leg.

“Any movie or show preferences?”

“Anything but Yellowstone.”

You snort. “What do you have against Yellowstone?”

“Dialogue’s too goddamn fake.”

You toss your head back and let out a boisterous laugh, giggling like a madwoman.

“So, the Powerpuff Girls then?”

“You’re not five.”

“Everyone has an inner child.”

Sukuna grumbles. “Just put it on fuckin’ Yellowstone.”

You throw your hands up in mock surrender, right hand only a few fingers lifted from holding the remote. “How about… Squid Game?”

“For a Christmas show? You’re weird as hell.”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

Sukuna chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll let you decide.”

The spooky movie is ultimately what you choose, and Sukuna finds it nothing short of amusing. He’s not fully interested in the movie, mostly interested in you and the quirkiness that made you choose such a movie on a day like this. His eyes flicker between you and the movie, watching you munch down on the lo mein.

It’s been ages since Sukuna has allowed himself to indulge in relaxation, allowed his mind to think of absolutely nothing but the childish movie in front of him that was picked out for him.

One would think a man like him would let his attorneys and the supervisors directly underneath him do all of the thinking for him while he bathed in his own riches. Sukuna did, yes; he used to. But he knows that one step too far into indulgence could mean the end of everything he put all of his blood and sweat into. And that was why he was so involved in his business, rather than let someone else handle it.

But here he was: indulging himself. (But it wasn’t the same as being on a yacht with women somewhere in the Caribbean.) Perhaps the difference was it wasn’t indulgence of sin, but rather the indulgence of peace and quiet; the desire for more than the company of a one-night stand.

You certainly deserved better than any sort of degrading, essentially whore-like treatment the women he used to be around were given and treated themselves as. You were nothing like them, not even slightly; you would never willingly to jeopardize your morals and dignity, not even for a chance to be with someone like him, as wealthy as him. That kind of interest was on the back-burner. As much as he hated it, he respected it just as much.

Sukuna half-watches the movie as he eats the takeout, not having seen it since one of his first girlfriends as a teenager introduced him to it. It was never important, never intriguing enough for him — nothing but a waste. But now, since you chose it, now it was enough for him to watch it. He finds he enjoys Jack Skellington, amused by his desire to take over Christmas Town. He also feels some sort of similar between him and Jack, regarding Jack’s interest in Sally and him… with you.

“You want a refill?” you ask suddenly, drawing the man from his thoughts. Sukuna looks down, seeing that he was almost out of the tea. Had he been so deep in his own thoughts he didn’t know he’d been sipping away at the drink? He almost scoffs in disbelief.

“If you don’t mind,” he replies. But he figures he’s going to need to use the restroom soon.

“Bathroom’s first door on the left,” you say, getting up after pausing the movie. He’s dumbstruck for a moment. Were you a mind reader?

Sukuna watches you in the reflection of the television. Even just refilling the drinks, you manage to enamor him. You seem so poised, yet so uncaring that someone of his status was sitting in your living room, watching a corny Halloween movie for Christmas. Perhaps being so uncaring went hand-in-hand with how poised and calm you were? There shouldn’t be any other explanation than that.

But why? He wondered what made you unlike the other women, even ones at your age that were nothing but a flustered mess at the mere sight of him. Why weren’t you the same?

He excuses himself to the bathroom and makes it quick. He sees the bottle of lavender body wash, then notices the shampoo, conditioner — the fruity smell he inhaled earlier. With a quick glance, Sukuna sees no perfume either, which perplexes him.

There’s no way she could possibly… Sukuna ponders, but doesn’t finish the thought. And all of a sudden, the lights flicker, hard. It’s something that’s been happening for the last hour or so, but it’s been something he’s ignored until now.

Sukuna ambles back into the living room, seeing the lights dim just as hard as a few seconds ago. Your still in the kitchen, but narrow your eyes slightly at the darkened lights.

“I didn’t see this place as having bad electricity,” he hums, sitting to face the TV, continuing to watch you in the reflection.

“It doesn’t,” you reply. “I suspect the snowstorm’s fixing to get bad enough to knock the power out soon. Now would probably be a good time to leave. I can still see a few snow plows out.”

“I’ll pass,” he replies coolly. “Besides, two cold and lonely souls are better than one.”

He doesn’t know why you let out a tiny snort and giggle, but you do. (A little flower of pride wants to bloom in his chest.)

You lift the lid to the slow cooker and stir. The smell of chocolate reaches his nose after you seal it.

“It’s almost done,” you suddenly speak, “if you’re done watching my reflection in the TV, would you like some hot chocolate?”

Busted. Sukuna knows that he’s now the deer in headlights; his heart thumps harder in embarrassment like a schoolgirl’s would.

“How sweet is it?”

“I’ve no idea. I fucked around with the recipe, so we’ll just have to find out.”

A sudden click is heard, and all the lights fade instantly. It’s completely dark, pitch black almost that neither you nor Sukuna can see in front of yourselves. He moves to stand, but you interject. “Sit, please. I don’t need your big ass knocking my shit over. Nor you getting a concussion.”

Sukuna laughs. “You have it covered then?”

“Could walk this place if I was blind,” you joke with a small snicker.

He watches you find four different candles to light up your apartment, one each for the kitchen and bathroom, and two for the living room. You disappear into your bedroom down the hall for a few moments, then you come back with a surprising, heaping mess of blankets hiding your form from nearly head-to-toe.

“Help me, please? Don’t let it fall on the food.”

Sukuna stands and his big arms wrap around the bundle of blankets, lifting them from you with ease. You pluck one from his grasp and quickly put it over the couch for extra warmth. You’re not about to freeze your ass off with him here.

You get under the blankets fairly quick. It takes nearly two king-sized ones you’ve had tucked away to cover the colossal man that is Ryomen Sukuna.

“Think the food is still warm?”

“Barely.”

“Are you gonna finish the lo mein then?” you ask.

“You can have it.” He half wishes he hadn’t eaten before he came so he didn’t seem so… uninterested in the food.

You have absolutely no shame devouring the remaining food as much as you possibly can in front of him. You eat as much as you can, but there’s still enough of the food left for him if he wants it. It just a matter of it getting cold, you think.

The temperature drops faster than you anticipate though. When you chuck the empty box of noodles into the trash from the living room (you made it, huh, that’s weird) a gust of wind rattles the patio doors, seemingly almost shaking the foundation of the complex. You hear a hum of surprise from the older man next to you as you huddle under the covers more. You shudder from the onslaught of the cold.

Sukuna sighs heavily. He pulls his arm from the blankets “Come ‘ere.”

He almost laughs at the blanched expression on your face. But after a few moments, you cave, scooting yourself closer to him until you two were practically touching thighs.

You squeak as he lifts one of the blankets with one hand and you with the other, trapping you under the second layer.

You shake your head and snort. “God, you’re shameless.”

Sukuna belts out a boisterous laugh. “Shame has never come easy for me.”

You scoff playfully. “I’m sure it hasn’t.”

“Nor does it for you,” he retorts.

And then you admit something that’s going to be on his mind for the rest of his time here. And perhaps for days after this, too: “Mine is more of a learned habit.”

Another gust of bitter cold shakes the patio doors again. You shiver. “Jesus, I didn’t expect it to get this cold.”

“Or for the power to go out.” He huffs. Like second nature, for both of you, he pulls you closer, and you lean into his massive body, taking in the heat his body.

Goodness, you think, closing your eyes, he’s a furnace…

Today certainly hadn’t gone as he expected. The last thing he was anticipating was a snowstorm blowing out the electrical system for several cities, snow falling several good feet and keeping him in the apartment of the woman he’s fallen for.

But you’re what is consuming his mind.

You’re on his lap, eyes closed and resting your head on his chest. You’re so small. Regardless of height, virtually anyone would be smaller than him; he’s a behemoth of a man, yes he knows it.

You, compared to him, are simply tiny, like a bird in the hands of a giant. So delicate, so small and cute. But as delicate as you are, you’re not glass. You’re small like a sparrow, but at the same time you desire freedom, using your wings to fly wherever and do whatever, regardless of how hard life would make your wings have to flap. Your soul isn’t easy to chain down… It’s beautiful.

“Does your brain always run a billion miles a minute this late?”

He grumbles. “Sleep, would you?”

“Your brain has no depth, does it?” you say. Then you ask, “Are you even okay with me sleeping on you?”

“If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be in this position, would we?”

You yawn in reply, nestling your head comfortably on his torso. A small “okay” leaves your lips, and you seemingly have no problem steadying your breath and falling asleep against his chest. It’s nice, being that way for a good few minutes. Well, until you prove you’re not asleep like he thought.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Sukuna almost jumps and cusses, “Goddamn it.” You seem to know that you’ve startled him and laugh in return.

You keep conversation easy; although the two of you talk anything but what is on his mind. That’s not something he’s ready for. He’s still sorting out his own feelings, seeing if they’re beyond just being enthralled with you and your personality. Seeing if what he’s feeling is just high intrigue for you as a person, or whether what he’s feeling is going to lead to something more, beyond intrigue and fascination.

Because he knows that you won’t be able to stay forever. He knows that you, your soul, isn’t going to be easily bound by just anyone. He knows that you want to be unbound, he sees it in your eyes and hears it in your voice; he sees the desire to live freely in the way you carry yourself, the way you act and behave. But holy shit; does he want to be the one to change that.

You carry conversation easy, but eventually you fall asleep on him. The hot chocolate in the slow cooker is forgotten, but he’s sure it’ll be just as good in morning.

Sukuna, as he closes his eyes, wonders about the things you want. Where you’d want to go and the things you want to do. That kind of talk, however, is reserved for a time where there’s a deeper connection between the two of you. It’s reserved for a time where your walls are down and you’re no longer on guard, no longer having your walls built higher than heaven and deeper than hell.

For now, you two are two lonely souls celebrating Christmas, cuddled up to one another for the sake of warmth and nothing more during a sudden blackout.

It would be ludicrous to wonder if you’ve ever wanted to be loved and cherished, married to someone that would cradle your head and tilt it back to kiss you with the utmost devotion a human heart could give.

Now wouldn’t it?

a/n: I know that this is slowburn and everything, but it feels… superbly subpar? pls let me know if you guys think otherwise. this went about 85% of the original plot I had in mind so that’s a plus haha. I have full intent of picking up a bit on the romance aspect (of reader beginning to develop feelings) of this series in the next chapter, which briefly takes place after this one (I promise there’ll be at least one kiss)

—

taglist: (basically everyone that rb’d and commented on the first [for those that tagging worked on] ;; closed)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri

[amazingmsme]

Last Call for Mercy

AN: the much anticipated 600 strike fic is FINALLY here! I think we’ve all been dying to see Poseidon get his ass handed to him with some good ol’ fashioned tickle torture, & I’m here to deliver! That art by you know who (too scared to mention them in this fic) was such perfect inspiration for this fic! Grab a snack & settle in, ‘cause it’s kinda long (just over 4k)

Warning that it’s a little more intense & mean than my usual fics, but it’s Poseidon & he deserves it lmao. Kinda suggestive, but nothing more than that. (I will forever be inspired by the manwhore au) other than that, enjoy Poseidon getting what he deserves!

The wind whipped and howled, waves crashing against jagged rocks. The spray of the sea reached high, filling the air with the taste of salt. Dark clouds rolled in, quickly blocking the sun as rain poured from the sky.

Odysseus stood before Poseidon, calculating his next move. The God lay sprawled across the rocks, bruises and small cuts littering his skin from their previous fight. He looked smug, almost proud.

Odysseus couldn't keep this up forever, and he didn't want to. He was tired of fighting just to survive; it was all he'd known for the past 20 years. He was tired. So, so tired...

He had hoped Poseidon would be too. That when offered a truce: a final chance to leave the past behind, that he would take it. Of course, he could never be so lucky, nor Poseidon so reasonable.

He looked at his island one last time, coming to a decision.

"You're going to call off that storm." He spoke in a dead, flat tone. One that struck fear in the hearts of many and commanded respect.

Poseidon's triumphant smirk stretched further across his face, twisting his features with sadistic glee.

"Or what? You can't kill me," he taunted. Odysseus slowly shifted his gaze back onto him.

"Exactly."

Odysseus stalked closer, like a lone wolf closing in on a kill. Poseidon's grin faltered once he realized Odysseus was still coming towards him.

"Wait-" his eyes darted to where his trident now rested at the soldier's feet. "Wait!"

And then Odysseus smirked.

"Oh no. By the time I'm through with you, you're gonna wish I stabbed you instead," he said matter of factly.

Poseidon sneered, lurching forward threateningly. "What?"

But before he could say another word, the King of Ithica was straddling his hips, shoving his back against the rocks. He blinked in shock, at a complete loss for words.

"Cruelty comes in all shapes and sizes," Odysseus said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. "Even ones you don't expect," he went on to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders just to drag out the anticipation.

Poseidon could've thrown him off, but he was curious where the mortal was going with this.

"Do your worst."

"I intend to."

Poseidon would swear he only screamed so loud because he was caught off guard. I mean, really, who in their right mind would try and tickle a God at a time like this? Who would even think of that?

Odysseus of Ithica, that's who. Because of course he would.

Odysseus dug into his sides, scribbling over bare skin made slick from the rain. Poseidon reacted immediately, folding in on himself with a bark of laughter as he scrambled to shove the offending hands away.

"Whahahat do you thihink you're dohohoing?" he demanded, growling through his laughter. Odysseus snorted in amusement, pinching up and down his sides.

"Thought it would be obvious," he taunted, flashing a sadistic grin. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes in annoyance, prompting Odysseus to claw at his stomach.

"Y-you ahaharrogant bastahard! I ohohorder you to-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there," he cut him off. "You're not the one in control anymore. I am."

Poseidon leveled him with a harsh glare, determined to prove him wrong. "Like hehehell you ahare!"

Odysseus shrugged, sporting a sly, malicious grin. "Agree to disagree."

Poseidon's annoyed scoffed morphed into a snort as he kneaded his lower stomach, right above his waistline. His eyes flew wide open in embarrassment, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds escaping.

"That was a fun noise," he goaded, wiggling a finger in his bellybutton. "Let's hear it again, shall we?" Poseidon shook his head, ready to throw him into the ocean, but much to his dismay, a shrill screech pierced the air instead.

"Close, but I think it was more like this!" Odysseus demonstrated by squeezing his hips. Poseidon bucked and screamed through hysterical laughter. He tried his best to block the offending hands, but the King of Ithica was annoyingly fast for a mortal.

"Ohoho just shut up ahahalready!" he growled in response. That bastard had the gall to chuckle at him.

"Why should I?"

"I-I'll kihihill you!" But the force of his laughter severely negated the threat.

"Not a very convincing argument there, giggles."

"What dihihid you just cahall mehehe?" Poseidon growled through growing hysterics.

"Giggles!" he repeated proudly. To prove his point, he reached up to flutter against Poseidon's fin-like ears.

"Ihihi do nohohot giggle!" he denied through a particularly bubbly bout of giggles.

"Pft, yeah, keep telling yourself that, it won't make it true," he continued to taunt. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes. "Ohoho just shut up ahahalready!" he sassed. Odysseus arched a brow and began kneading his hips. He threw his head back in hysterics, bucking like a wild horse.

"You know what? Just for that..." Odysseus growled threateningly, trailing off. Poseidon sneered and reeled back, ready to slap him, to grab his hands, to throw him off, to do anything to stop what was happening. And then Odysseus grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm above his head.

They locked eyes and Poseidon shook his head, frantically tugging at his arm. How the hell was he so strong? He was a mortal for crying out loud! So what the fuck was going on? Then again, he supposed he wasn't putting up much of a fight, the way he was cackling and flopping around like a fish out of water.

The irony was not lost on him.

It didn't take long for Odysseus to wrestle his other arm into place. He held down both of Poseidon's wrists as he reached off to the side.

He had grabbed Poseidon's own trident, holding it high above him so the light could glint off of it perfectly. Each prong was sharpened to a point, and aimed right at him.

"Hold still, yeah? Unless you want to get stabbed," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke. Poseidon remained speechless as his brain struggled to catch up with itself. He heard a loud metal shing followed by the sound of crumbling rock, and suddenly he could move his arms.

He couldn't move his arms!

He tugged and yanked frantically, but his trident held firm. Each wrist rested in the space between prongs, but there wasn't enough room to slip free.

"That's more like it," Odysseus examined his handiwork, making sure the trident wouldn't budge.

"Are you out of your mind! Let me go!" His entire body grew tense when he felt hands rest atop his ribcage.

"You're a God, it shouldn't be that hard to escape if you really want to," he noted in a condescending tone. Poseidon glared up at him, arms straining as he tugged futilely.

"Just what are you implying?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Odysseus grinned wider.

"Oh I'm not implying anything." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, just barely pressing into the skin. Poseidon gasped and arched his back, desperately fighting off a growing smile.

"You insolehent prihihihick! Stohohop thihis at once!" he demanded through deep hysterics as Odysseus clawed at his ribs.

"That depends. You gonna call off that storm?" Odysseus asked, wiggling his fingers faster as he spoke, making it impossible for Poseidon to answer.

He shook his head and choked out, "N-nehehever!" Odysseus shrugged, not an ounce of sympathy to be found.

"In that case, I guess I'll never stop."

"You thihihink this ihis funny?" he sounded significantly less threatening than he had hoped.

"Hilarious, actually," Odysseus deadpanned, scribbling between each rib, inching closer to his gills with each passing second. Poseidon's laughter rose in pitch, and he struggled with renewed intensity. Odysseus smirked down at him.

"Aw, what's the matter? Is this a bad spot?" he asked, running his thumbs along his bottom gill.

Poseidon snorted, arms straining where they were pinned. His cheeks were flushed, long dark hair fanned out around him like rolling waves.

"Noho, please! Not there!" he begged, a forced grin splitting his face in two as he spoke.

"Oh, have you changed your mind?" Odysseus asked, cocking his head innocently. But his hands hovered above Poseidon's gills, wiggling just above the skin.

He sucked in a breath, leaning as far away as he could. "No-" he barely choked out the single word before he was lost to hysterics. Odysseus traced along the edge of each gill slowly, watching his reactions with a close eye.

Poseidon snorted and squirmed from side to side, lips twitching into a giddy, nervous smile.

"In that case, I think I'll stay right here." Poseidon's eyes widened in something akin to fear.

"Wait, don't!" he protested, arching his back with a giggly snort when Odysseus traced along both sides. He only had to use one finger to get him squirming and choking back laughter. Poseidon bit his lip, but sputtering giggles and shrieks still managed to slip out. "Stohohop!"

"Don't stop? Wasn't planning to, but whatever you say! Gotta give the God what he wants," Odysseus taunted. Poseidon shook his head, a blush quickly spreading across his cheeks.

"You knohohow dahamn well thahahat's not what I meheheant!" he argued. His laughter was uncharacteristically high pitched as he teased his gills, and Odysseus was eager to see what other noises this spot would produce.

"Mmm, actually, I don't," Odysseus corrected with a casual shrug and a shit eating grin. He jumped to the next gill, wiggling a finger just barely underneath the edge. Poseidon snorted and gasped, arching his back as he clenched his jaw. And yet, his laughter persisted.

It was much more shrill than what Odysseus was expecting, but he supposed that was because of where he was targeting. He made sure to be careful around the gills, keeping his touch light and fluttery. You'd think the lighter tickling was worse from the way he was acting. Odysseus considered the thought, watching the way the God writhed and giggled beneath him.

"Come on, it can't be that bad. I'm barely even touching you!" he noted smugly, ghosting his fingertips along his ribs and gills. Poseidon threw his head back and let out a wheezing laugh.

"Ihit's fucking ahahawful!" he screamed, sounding less angry than he intended, and more desperate than he cared to admit. But as humiliating and degrading as this all was, there was a small part of him that was grateful he wasn't enduring real torture. If the King of Ithica was crazy enough to pull a stunt like this, then there's no telling what he's capable of.

He would count his blessings where he could.

He was pulled from his spiraling thoughts when he heard Odysseus chuckle. "That's over dramatic, don't you agree?" he asked, tracing the rim of his gills at an agonizingly slow rate.

"Nooo!" Poseidon denied, but it was unsure if he was answering the question, or protesting as the tickling began to speed up. He twisted side to side, unable to dislodge the hands exploring his ribs. He snorted and kicked frantically when a finger hesitantly wiggled underneath a gill.

"FUCK, dohohon't you dahare! I will kihihill you!" Poseidon threatened through breathless snickers. Odysseus cocked his head, sporting a sinister smirk.

He leaned down, invading the God's personal space until their noses were almost touching. "I don't think you will." Poseidon sneered up at him until it was forcibly replaced by a bright smile.

"You cocky little-" his words were cut off by a shrill scream that gave way to breathless cackles. Poseidon thrashed and tugged on his arms, but his trident held firm against the rocks. Odysseus fluttered his fingers on the inside of the gills, just barely reaching in.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Odysseus taunted, cupping an ear with one hand.

"NOHOHOT THEHERE! PLEHEHEASE!" he begged, snorting and wheezing in between bouts of hysterics.

"Wow, you do have manners," Odysseus feigned surprise. He decided to cut him some slack and switch to a new spot. After all, this was pretty fun, and Odysseus didn't want him to tap out too soon. He was thoroughly enjoying every second of his well earned revenge... And the power trip he got from it wasn't half bad either.

"But I guess you deserve a break. Besides, we still have other places to explore..." he trailed off as he rested his hands on his biceps. He lightly pressed into the flesh, watching carefully as Poseidon's breath hitched. He drug his hands down until he reached his bare pits.

"There is no we," he snapped through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, I'd say we're pretty close," he said, just to get under Poseidon's skin. It seemed to work, as he scoffed and glared up at him. "What do you think?" he prompted, cocking his head to the side.

"I thihink you're fucking crahahazy," Poseidon answered as his lingering chuckles faded. Odysseus seemed to soften at those words, placing a hand over his heart as they locked eyes.

"Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd take that as a compliment."

"Y'know, I liked you a lot better when you can barely speak," Odysseus snarked. He didn't give the God a chance to speak before he dug back in, clawing at his exposed pits. Poseidon practically screamed, thrashing around on the rocks as he tugged and twisted his arms in a futile attempt to free himself.

"That's more like it!" Odysseus cheered, raking blunt nails down the center of his hollows. He snorted and cursed at the sharp ticklish sensation.

"Nohoho ihit's nohohot!" he argued. Odysseus arched a brow.

"You just like arguing for the sake of it, don't you?" he asked, not afraid to call him out.

"Ohoho lihike you dohohon't!" Poseidon taunted back through his giggles.

"Yeah, but you're a God. Aren't you supposed to be above shit like that?" he reasoned.

"Absolutely not!" he growled in frustration. Who was he to tell him how a God should act?

"Oh, sorry, my mistake," Odysseus faked an apology, not once slowing his movements.

"Quit beheheing such aha smart ahahass!" Poseidon demanded. He continued to thrash and kick about, the sea surrounding them churning and sloshing. The choppy waves rose and fell in time with Poseidon's bellowing voice.

"No thanks, I'm good," he shot back smugly. "Now listen up, I got a question for you." When Poseidon didn't answer, he drilled his thumbs in the center of his pits, drawing devastatingly ticklish circles.

"Whahahat?" he cried out, frustration and desperation mingling. Why couldn't this mortal just shut his fucking mouth for five minutes?

Odysseus leaned in with a sadistic grin as he asked, "So, how does it feel to be helpless?" The question caught Poseidon off guard, nearly choking on his own laughter. "How's it feel knowing you can't escape?"

"Thahat's m-mighty presumptuous ohohof you," he challenged, even as he fought off his mirth.

Odysseus snapped his head down to look at him, eyes wide in shock as a bewildered smile tugged at his lips. "Wait, can you escape?" he asked, genuinely curious now. He'd seen Poseidon move around as if he were water, and for all he knew, maybe he was. Yet his body felt solid and firm beneath his touch.

Odysseus just might be hallucinating, because he could swear Poseidon blushed at the question.

"Ehehenough! You dohohon't thihink I'm tryihihing?" he snapped defensively, tugging in his trapped arms with renewed effort. The truth of the matter was, Poseidon technically could escape if he really tried. But using his powers to slip away so easily just felt wrong. He was a God for crying out loud, he should be able to free himself with his strength alone! And at this point, he was determined to do so.

Odysseus studied him before answering. "I think you could try a little harder," he goaded, skittering his nails over the tense muscles of his arms. Poseidon's voice jumped in pitch, bordering on shrill.

"Ohoho whahat do you knohow ahahanyways?" he challenged through breathless snickers. It was meant as a rhetorical question, really. So why then, did Odysseus feel the need to answer?

"I know you're pretty damn ticklish for a God," he shot back, relishing in the way Poseidon glared at him; cheeks flushed and mouth agape in shock.

"Excuse me?" he choked out, struggling to keep his laughter contained. Even in his delirious state, he had to admire the sheer audacity.

"You're excused," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke, smirking at the way Poseidon rolled his eyes.

"You're really not ahas funny as you thihihink," he managed to complain with minimal chuckles.

Odysseus looked down at him, tilting his head to the side with mock innocence. "Really? Then why're you laughing?" He punctuated the question by fluttering his fingers behind his ears.

Poseidon shook his head, scrunching his neck as real, honest to the Gods giggles spilled past his lips.

"Oops, my mistake. Why are you giggling?" Odysseus "corrected" himself, sporting a sly grin.

"Ihihi aham nohohot!" he insisted, despite the bubbly laughter lacing his words.

"Denial looks good on you," he quipped back, tracing along the edges of his ear fins. Poseidon's eyes flew wide open as a dark blush spread across his cheeks.

"Ihihit does nohohot!" he argued, trying his best to sound intimidating. Apparently it didn't work as intended, seeing as Odysseus was cooing at him.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," he goaded, gently pinching his ear, just to hear him shriek. Poseidon flinched away from the touch with a snort.

"Aw, you must be really ticklish here," he added with amusement. Poseidon shook his head frantically, bubbly giggles gurgling in the back of his throat, sounding as though he were laughing underwater.

"Nohoho! S-stohohop!" he pleaded. The light, teasing touch was downright maddening, and he couldn't take the relentless teasing.

"No thanks, I'm good," Odysseus casually shrugged him off. He scratched blunt nails against the thin skin of his fins, drawing out the most endearing snickers.

"Why you little- wait, dohohon't!" he protested when he saw a mischievous smirk flash across the mortal's face. But there was nothing he could do to stop him when hands latched onto his hips. He bucked like a wild horse, head thrown back as booming cackles escaped him.

"Don't what?"

"Your stupid trihihicks won't work ohon mehehe!" he yelled, thrashing from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the torturous hands squeezing his hips.

Odysseus heaved a sigh and shrugged, "Oh well, it was worth a shot." He moved down to knead his thighs, flinching at the scream that filled the air. He pulled back to cover his ears, allowing Poseidon a moment to catch his breath.

"Oho fuck you, I'm not being that loud!" he snapped defensively. Odysseus opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the sky lit up with a web of lighting as thunder roared overhead. Poseidon gawked up at the sky, a dark blue blush spreading across his cheeks as Odysseus doubled over in laughter.

"I think your brother would beg to differ!" he cheered mockingly, poking all over his belly. Poseidon snorted and curled in on himself, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't escape the unbearable feeling of fingers on his skin.

"Just shut thehe fuck up! I'll kihihill both of you!" he threatened. Odysseus rolled his eyes as another clap of thunder sounded above, mocking him. This couldn't possibly get any worse.

"I really don't think you could kill anyone right now," he taunted, squeezing down his thighs until he got to his knees, and a loud snort slipped out. He stayed there for a few agonizing seconds before turning around, straddling his legs. And that could only mean one thing.

"Wait! Nohoho!" he shrieked as Odysseus scraped his blunt nails down his soles. He scrunched his feet and kicked as much as he could, but his legs were pinned fairly well, and he was weak from laughter.

"Aw, you have webbing between your toes! That's honestly pretty adorable," he taunted with a fond smile.

"Wha- no it's not!" Poseidon sputtered, fighting off a blush and doing a rather poor job. "I live in the water, what the fuck did you expect?"

"Y’know what? I don't like your tone," Odysseus said, scribbling along his arches. He let out a giggly yelp, jerking beneath the touch.

"Ohoho fuck you! Just lehehet me gohoho!"

"I'll stop whenever you want, just call off the storm!" he insisted in a snide, taunting tone.

"I-I cahahan't!" Poseidon lied as he desperately tried to think of any other way out of the mess he'd gotten himself in.

"We'll see about that," Odysseus called his bluff, glaring down at him with playful malice. He held down his ankles and grabbed his toes, stretching them back. He began furiously scribbling the webbing between his toes, and the reaction was immediate.

Poseidon kicked his trapped legs, scrunching his toes as much as he could. Bubbly giggles and shrieks escaped him as Odysseus continued to rub the thin webbing. His nose was scrunched adorably as he snorted and shook his head frantically.

"Stohohop!" he pleaded once more, but Odysseus wasn't so eager to let him off the hook. At least, not yet.

"You didn't stop when I begged you, so why should I?" he justified the prolonged cruelty. A

"Behehecause I fucking sahahay sohoho!" he ordered in between helpless snickers.

That was the last straw. Poseidon was going to cave, one way or another; Odysseus would make sure of it.

He spun around suddenly, vengeance flashing in his eyes. "You still think you're in control?" he challenged, digging into his gills without warning. Poseidon was caught off guard by the change of spots, screaming and wheezing through hysterics.

"Nohoho! Y-you mohohonster!" he wailed at the top of his lungs. He arched his back, struggling to free himself. He threw his head back in frustration, cackles flowing freely from his smiling mouth.

Odysseus scoffed at the insult and rolled his eyes. "A tickle monster, maybe," he agreed with a snide chuckle. "But didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our-"

"Ahalrihihight! Plehehease!" he begged, finally admitting defeat. As much as it pains him to say it, he just couldn’t take any more.

Odysseus wore a satisfied grin as he stared down at him. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Now was that so hard?” Poseidon rolled his eyes, a fading blush still dusting his cheeks.

“Incredibly so,” he deadpanned. With a heavy sigh and a wave of his trapped hand, the raging ocean calmed. “There you go, you crazy bastard,” he huffed, sounding almost fond.

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” Odysseus said, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he stared at the distant shore. “No hard feelings?” he asked, holding his hand out in a show of truce, forgetting for a moment that the God’s hands were still trapped.

In his deliriously giddy state, Poseidon had forgotten he was supposed to be trapped as he begrudgingly shook the mortal’s hand. He shifted form and slipped past the metal prongs on his trident, flowing into his full height as he stood on the rocks.

Odysseus was frozen in shock, looking between Poseidon and his trident.

“So you could get out the whole time?”

Poseidon’s smirk dropped as he realized the mistake he made. “Wait-” he tried to backtrack.

“And you were just letting it happen!” Odysseus added with a mocking smile, taking one last opportunity to tease him.

“Watch it, I can bring back the storm whenever I like!” he threatened, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as it should’ve been. “But I wasn’t going to resort to cheating in order to beat you,” he justified. Odysseus snorted in amusement, arching a brow skeptically.

“Cheating?” he repeated, making Poseidon scoff and drench him with a wave from behind. “Hey!”

“Using my powers to escape so easily would’ve just been cowardly and unfair,” he justified, because that’s totally the only reason…

“Yeah, cause you looked so brave giggling yourself silly,” Odysseus couldn’t help but tease, enjoying the choked sputtering the comment earned.

“Whatever, it was getting loose. I would’ve broke free any second.”

“Oh? Is that why you tapped out?” he goaded further, still riding high off of the power trip. Poseidon weighed his options, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

“You’ve wasted enough of my time already. You’re lucky I have places to be,” he said, turning towards the water without another word.

“See ya later,” Odysseus called after him with a small wave. Poseidon froze in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder to glare at him.

“No you won’t,” he corrected harshly, flashing a small grin his way before melting into the waves, leaving Odysseus alone.

“Yeah I will,” he said to himself, smiling out at the calm sea.

[heartlesscorpse]

Pyramid Head thoughts 🩸🔪 △

Catering this to myself and my hornee NEEDS and anybody else’s ig because I’m a dirty boy rn and I have too many thoughts in my head revolving around my man and I need to spill my guts before I lose this precious brain rot. Oh yeah this got some nsfw shit (it’s gonna be like further down so MDNI) so be sure to read at your risk, and don’t mind the occasional out of context shit bc that’s just my comments and me giggling so hard abt this fine mfer— this was pretty fun to make too ngl, I might do more in the future if I ever get anymore ideas from things or from people, Idk we’ll see.

Pyramid Head’s possessive asf over his s/o, when you’re living inside a hellhole of a town full of monsters and a cult run by a bunch of lunatics, who else is gonna protect your ass none other than this 7’0” deity??? Man wouldn’t even hesitate to kill anybody or anything that came way too close to you.

Man’s not even gonna let you out of his sight for a second, wherever the hell you’re going he’s coming with you, you’re a fragile little thing after all. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to you, not on his watch.

The size diff between you and Pyramid Head is endearing as well as arousing just thinking about how he could manhandle you into any positions he wants and watch you struggle to take him in. You’re just so short compared to him, he finds it cute. <3

It’s fun to carry you around everywhere he goes because of how short you are compared to him. Doesn’t matter if you get a say in this or not, he’s gonna carry you whenever the hell he pleases and he’ll never let go.

Pyramid Head would’ve associated you with the colour white and some times gives you white clothing because you’re pure and the only non-sinner in this shit hole of a town.

Who the fuck needs a bed when you have Pyramid Head??? Hell, he’d probably prefer you to sleep on top of him so he could hold you in your sleep and protect you from all the dangers of Silent Hill. Not to mention he’d like the feeling of how squishy you are in his embrace, particularly your thighs, he likes wrapping his hands on them and squishing them gently in your sleep. Might be a form of comfort saying “I’m here, everything’s okay”, or he’s just admiring them. Who would’ve thought a large monster living on violence and inflicting pain on sinners would be so gentle with you? (Unless you wanted him to roughen you up a little of course then by all means, he’ll fuckin’ do it.) >:))

Because Pyramid Head only exists in Silent Hill and doesn’t know a lot about the outside world, it’s rather adorable watching him get all confused with that head tilt of his whenever you explain certain things to him couples do on a regular basis besides sex, but he does show some curiosity on said topic and possibly willing to do those things with you as well.

Pyramid Head enjoys receiving attention from you, be it either hugs from behind or give him kisses on his helmet or the tongue— anywhere else is prolly gonna give him some other ideas of sorts, rnskfbsjfbw.

OH BOY the fucking dirty brain rot persists. If this man ever happened to be feeling horny he honestly wouldn’t hesitate taking your clothes off in one tear the second he has your consent.

Did I mention abt the size diff last time? Making you take in his cock nice and slow isn’t gonna do much, he’d want you to get over with the pain fairly quick so he’ll just push it in without warning lmao, of course once he’s in, he’ll allow you a brief moment to adjust to his size and once you’re all good he’s going to pound the fucking daylights out of you.

AGAIN WITH THE SIZE DIFF it’s just so satisfying and enjoyable to him watching you writhing and moaning underneath him like that, accounting to that just seeing you stuffed full of his come and utterly blissed out is adorable. (Like man I— let him rail me already PLEASEE)

And he’s for sure going to tease the fuck out of you to overstimulation until your mind is nothing but a puddle of mush and you’re begging for him. <33

Aftercare in the end is amazing, he’ll help clean you up by fucking eating you out with his tongue and then he’ll lay there with you in his arms, with a blanket big enough pulled over top to cover the both of you while you snuggle up in the mean time. A possible guarantee you’re gonna have a blast trying to walk in the morning./j

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

[taegimood]

ummm woah what’s that! points in the opposite direction as i scramble behind my open for business sign as if i didn’t disappear without a trace for months and have totally been here the whole time oh guess it was nothing anyway hi guys

i wouldn’t be me without eternal soobin brainrot so naturally i’ve emerged to throw this old now-finished draft at you for my first post back 🫡

so the best friends to fwb to lovers pipeline is my mf roman empire i’m so serious. like bestfriend!soobin always sitting next to you with his hand casually resting on your leg at all times, not even in a suggestive way, he just gravitates towards touching you 🥺 his safe place !! imagining his huge self slumped practically in half to rest his head on your shoulder, or him just mindlessly playing with your little fingers in his big hands glitches as he sits observing the room w that soft pout and big boba eyes combo yeah you know the one- clutches chest

so then later turned fwb!soobin who’s so used to showering w his friends iykyk lmao that now that he’s fucking you, in his mind you’ve crossed over that threshold of friendship where he expects to be able to join you for your showers even when it’s nothing sexual.. is genuinely confused if you tell him no 😭

“soobin i just need some me-time”

“….you can’t have your me-time with me?” *displeased pout*

like a needy puppy fr

but like you guys having such an interesting dynamic cuz you’re just still straight-up best friends (who are actually in love with each other but neither of you realize that even tho everyone else does cue yeonjun rolling his eyes into the camera like the office) so even tho the boys are all waiting for you both to wake up from your one joint braincell’s loop of stupidity and realize the truth, (beomgyu’s words), no one actually suspects that you’re out here skipping steps and FUCKING each other, because you guys just act so normal and chill together otherwise — the same way you’ve always been.

until later when the feelings start coming to the surface and you suddenly don’t know how to act around each other but that’s a whole other can of worms 🫡

so, when you’ve joined them for a short weekend schedule in japan, no one questions it when soobin meanders over to your hotel room after everyone is all settled in and getting ready for bed. eh, he’s just gonna go veg out there for a bit cuz he’s bored while she rambles about random stuff. classic soobin and y/n. they are wrong

you had just settled into bed when soobin slips into your room with the spare key card you had tucked into his pocket earlier, and you’re shuffling around and getting comfy when you hear the door open and close. you two hadn’t made a plan to mess around tonight, but you aren’t surprised, as it isn’t unusual for soobin to still seek you out for cuddles while he talks about his day.

you don’t even have to say anything as he slides into bed behind you, instantly wrapping an arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck with a sigh.

“needed a break from beomgyu’s pororo impressions,” he mumbles, and you snort at the thought. “how does he still have so much energy right now…?” you murmur back, sleep lacing the edges of your voice.

“i still think i’m right about him being an animatronic bot who reaches peak terror at night.”

the two of you giggle at soobin’s joke before falling into a comfortable silence, broken intermittently by comments about your day, about their schedule tomorrow, about the anime-themed shopping center you guys plan to sneak off to with kai afterwards.

with another sigh from soobin, this one more of contentment than exhaustion, he’s soon nestling further into you, your eyes slipping shut in sleepy bliss at the warmth of his body pressed to yours.

that is, until you begin to feel small kisses being placed softly along your shoulder.

“soobin,” you warn half-heartedly.

“‘m not doing anything,” he complains back quietly in an equally half-hearted mumble, as he continues clearly doing something.

you’re so tired, but you can’t deny the tingles that run through your body whenever soobin touches you, and tonight is no exception as you wordlessly turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, his features coming into focus in the near-darkness of the room as he pauses to gaze at you in turn.

his blonde hair all tousled from the pillows, the sharp line of his jaw, his soft shining eyes — and his lips that you can never seem to resist for very long.

case in point. it’s only a few passing moments before those lips are on yours in a deep kiss, languid and slow, his hand gently holding your chin that’s still angled back towards him, your own hand reaching behind to caress the back of his neck — and then he’s shifting backwards to turn you over fully, your back now against the sheets as he positions himself half over you, his tongue moving lazily with yours, warm and wet and tasting of him as he comfortably rests his weight on you.

you make out like that for a while, his wandering right hand leisurely squeezing and kneading your tits beneath your shirt, his lips occasionally finding themselves trailing down your neck, but always coming back up to find yours.

i can picture how needy he’d start to get, subtle at first in the way he’d shift his hips, in the way his breath would quicken — and then it would be obvious from the moans that escape him as his kisses grow heavier, more insistent.

“need you..” he’d groan breathlessly through his kisses, attempting to shove his sweatpants down with his free hand as his lips stay latched onto yours, too desperate and impatient to sit up properly and use both hands.

“someone might come looking for you,” but you’re tugging his pants and boxers down his hips for him anyway and his lips are on your neck as he pushes your panties aside.

“let them look.”

soobin wasting no time rocking into you with deep, needy strokes, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching onto him as his hips press you further into the mattress the more desperate he gets.

his hands are all over you, squeezing and caressing anywhere they can touch, and closer just isn’t enough as he holds you against him with breathy moans and grinding hips until you’re both cumming, his stuttered groan the giveaway before his final thrust is filling you up and your own climax washes over you like a wave. you can feel each other’s hearts beating as he stays there rested on top of your chest.

your best friend eventually lifting himself to hover over you in the dark, his warm breath fanning over your lips as you push the damp hair from his forehead, hand sliding down to caress his cheek, his jaw, thumb ghosting across his parted lips as he twitches inside of you — you bite back a smile.

this time, when he kisses you.. you don’t know it yet, but this time, it’s different.

soobin isn’t exactly sure why he can feel heat rising to his cheeks or a little somersault in his chest, but he’s glad that it’s too dark for you to notice the redness in his face when he asks,

“can i stay here tonight?”

[not-your-bro]

what i did and didn't (but mostly didn't) like about until dawn remake's character trait changes

hello friends and fans. i am super excited to welcome all my pals back to the latest episode of Laura Yaps About Until Dawn Remake. i've talked about the prologue here and here, and i plan on talking about other elements of the game (visuals, gameplay, narrative changes) whenever life and time allows.

before i go off about the character traits, thanks to @claarria for posting this handy side-by-side of old vs new. super helpful! i'll be using those images here.

and generally speaking, let it be known that i think the font change is so fucking ugly 💖 like god bless but it is so bad 💖💖 and they've made the layout so much less dynamic by just listing all the traits straight down, bullet point style?? it is all very microsoft powerpoint core and it sucks. anyway. onto the characters, in order of appearance.

sam

off topic but very importantly, how did they fuck up sam's face THAT bad?? ballistic moon sapped the life out of her and now there is literally nothing behind those eyes. HOMEGIRL WAKE UP 👏👏

one trait change here: adventurous -> brave. not wrong, but super redundant, because brave is one of the character stats in the menu, so like. at any point when i'm playing her, i can pop in the menu and see exactly how brave she is. it's pointless to put it here.

chris

one change: methodical -> loyal. and honestly. this one slays i can't lie. like yeahhhh 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

i know everyone loves to hate on chris now, but he pushes to help sam even when it puts himself at risk and he goes to the shed to get josh even though josh just traumatized the hell out of him lmao. boy is loyal asf and i'm more than happy to see it replace methodical.

jess

big changes here. i'm not jazzed to see confident go. i always thought smg included it purposefully, because this is how jess is trying to come across, even though she's actually insecure.

and imo trusting fits her far better than, say, driven. based on em's comment about her grades (and the fact that jess doesn't deny it lmao), i don't think she has much drive or ambition at this point in her life. she's always struck me as the kind of person who doesn't have a big dream or passion, and as high school graduation approaches she would feel sort of aimless? like she doesn't know where to go next.

i don't mean these as negatives, btw. jess is a top 3 ud character for me. i just don't think she's driven. and i think she is irreverent. and that's fine. 💖

emily

one change: persuasive -> forthright. like sam's change, this isn't wrong. emily is definitely forthright. but i don't like that we're shifting her further from mike (more on that later), and this change makes her use of words seem less purposeful. like she says what she wants just for the sake of it, instead of: she knows what to say to get people to do what she wants.

matt

matt's trait changes make for a much different impression. motivated and ambitious have been swapped with obliging and dependable, which shifts the focus from himself to others. we're drawing attention to an agreeable, go-with-the-flow personality, rather than the fact that he's got big dreams for himself (get that scholarship, bud).

i'm not sure i'm the biggest fan, because it kind of makes him seem like a doormat? it's possible that he never talks to emily about how she treats him, and he does film the prank on hannah even though he doesn't seem like he would. still...i guess i wish there was more of a mix here. he can be obliging and dependable, but he doesn't have to be, depending on your choices, and this really makes him feel like everything he does is for the sake of others.

mike

i appreciate ballistic moon pulling these shots back a little - some of them were really, like, up the character's nose lmfao. but bro those traits are unreadable against mike's skin 😭😭

anyway, mikey gets a complete overhaul. i've been over brave with sam. it's a waste of a slot. and it's not that mike isn't driven or charismatic. i mean, he is definitely charismatic, given his popularity in fandom. even i have this feeling of 'man, i should not be charmed by him' <- is definitely charmed by him. but i think we're losing a lot by separating him from emily, with whom he used to share 2 out of 3 traits (intelligent and persuasive). i always thought that said a lot about why they would be drawn to each other and start a relationship - but also why that relationship wouldn't last.

if i were to give mike any new trait, it'd probably be impulsive, which i think is a great fit for him. mike may be intelligent, but when it comes to decisions, he's a man of action - a doer, not a thinker. which is just as likely to lead to a bad outcome as it is a good one.

ashley

one change here (forthright -> sensitive), but god does it fucking suck. SENSITIVE?????? be fr. is ashley sensitive or is she traumatized nonstop for eight hours? she was upset when she was chained to a wall and thought she was going to die! when she thought her friend died! when she thought her other dead friend's ghost was trying to communicate with them! when she was put in a life-or-death trap a second time! that sure was sensitive of her!

if i could revert only one trait change, it would be this one. 0/10.

josh

must be said that josh's shot is much better in the remake. it could not have been worse, like i will never understand how anyone looked at that half-closed eye and open mouth and was like yeah that's a good first impression LMAO. so, cool with that.

tbh i also like josh's trait changes? this is another total overhaul, but honestly, at the risk of getting booed offstage, i'm happy with this. if i'm being real, complex was always a waste of a slot. like...yeah? i hope so? all of your characters should be complex to some degree. it feels like a weird shade to the other characters to point out one guy, specifically, as complex. so the rest of them are simple, then? 🤨 it's not that i would argue against josh being the most complex - i do think he is (though i realize my stance on that means little because i'm up this man's ass). it's just weird to draw attention to it.

as for the other traits, yeah, josh is thoughtful and loving. for sure. but i feel like these are sort of...level 2 traits. ykwim? and the new traits are level 1. if you hung out with josh in a casual way, in a group setting, remake traits would be more likely to spring to mind, to match that initial impression. i think you'd have to look more closely or spend more time to clock that he's thoughtful and loving, because outside of his sisters, i don't think he's particularly straightforward or overt in the way he conveys those things, and he wouldn't draw attention to them. maybe i'm leaning too hard on the version of him i've fleshed out in my mind, but josh is the kind of guy who would, like, remember one offhand comment matt made about liking a specific brand of beer. months later, at the next lodge trip, it's there in the fridge, and josh says nothing about it. but he remembered, and he got it. that's josh's brand of thoughtfulness. in my opinion.

none of these six traits are wrong, i just think the new ones are better 'first impression' traits for him.

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Eps 1-2

(Overview |Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5)

Inspired by @secriden's metas on Style here and to a certain extent also here and also from some comments about Style's apparently "swagless" and "rizzless" flirting, I went on a rewatch of the first two episodes (a rewatch which I thought was a GREAT idea to start at midnight and made me stay up till 4:30am even tho I had uni the next day lmao rip), a rewatch that served as a quest to find answers to some questions I was wondering about.

Mainly I was curious about two topics:

1) Style and his level of Being Annoying™

How annoying is Style right now?

Is he being annoying on purpose?

Why? Why not?

2) Style's flirting

Is he actively flirting right now?

Why? Why not?

I wanted to know what exactly Style was doing and why he was doing it. And I figured I might as well share my thoughts publicly as some people might be interested in reading about how I personally see Style's journey in these first two episodes that have aired as of me writing this.

So without further ado... let's get into it!

Episode 1

No. 1: Meet Cute Meet Angry

It's Style and Fadel's first meeting and they're already off to a very bad start. Style has just crashed into someone else's car, which is not exactly something you would generally wanna do just for fun, Style gets yelled at for it (valid), and then, when Style actively tries to fix his mistake, the person whose car he crashed into gets even more pissy about it and even actively denies Style his attempt of taking responsiblity for his fuck-up.

And yes, Style is in fact annoying to Fadel here, because first of all, of course you'd be annoyed when someone crashes into your car, especially when that driver is potentially drunk and even admits to not paying attention to the road while driving and second of all, because in this particular case the accident comes with exceptionally bad timing for Fadel and the murder evidence in his trunk. But overall, I don't think Style is any more annoying here than your avarage idiot boy.

In fact, I would even argue that here Style isn't so much annoying as simply just very fucking stupid. He is stupid for getting behind the wheel when potentially drunk (he says he only had a single beer, but we can't confirm for sure as we didn't get to see it) and he's even more stupid for texting while driving. And he is stupid for not seeing either of these things as that big of a big deal. Your avarage idiot boy.

We know his heart is in the right place though, because Style instantly tries to take responsibility for his mistake (because despite his idiocy, Style is smart enough to realize that he did in fact make a mistake) and despite getting yelled at and scolded throughout the entire interaction, he isn't actively trying to piss Fadel off. Instead, he actually tries to calm Fadel down by fixing his mistake, in the metaphorical sense as well as in the quite literal sense of fixing Fadel's car. Style was just very unlucky that he got the wrong person at the wrong time who does NOT have time for Style's idiot boy stupidity.

Fadel, who was already grumpy to begin with, drives off in an even worse mood and Style is left behind, not in the best mood himself either.

Fun fact: throughout the entire scene Style and Fadel use the polite pronouns phom/khun for each other. However, when Style yells after Fadel, for just this one sentence he switches to the rude first person pronoun guu:

สอนกูเป็นพ่อเลยนะ [sŏn - guu - bpen pôr - loiie - ná] teach - I/me - as a dad - [particle for emphasis] - [particle]

(If you're not familiar with Thai pronouns, see here)

No. 2: Fadel Brings His Car

When Fadel shows up at Style's garage to drop off his car, Style is actually in a very good mood. He's having the time of his life jamming to the song and when Fadel shows up, Style greets him happily, despite their first interaction having been rather rough. Style doesn't hold a grudge for the way Fadel talked to him last time and he has no reason to piss Fadel off or to annoy him. I mean, why should he? After all it was Style's own mistake and Fadel's anger was pretty justified. For all Style knows, Fadel was just having a bad night that time and isn't usually this grumpy.

I don't think Style is really being annoying in this scene, nor is he flirting, even when he asks Fadel if Fadel thinks Style looked cool while dancing and immediately follows up with flexing his muscles. I think that's just part of his personality. Style is loud and eccentric and he is unabashedly being himself. Which, yes, this type of personality can be annoying for some people (Fadel), but I'd say it's a fairly normal, avarage level of being annoying for a person with this sort of personality. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Style greets Fadel happily and I think him asking Fadel on his opinion on Style's dancing as well as his muscles is actually an attempt to start an amiable conversation with Fadel. When Fadel doesn't take up Style's offer of friendly banter, Style lets it go ("Fine. I'm not messing with you anymore.") and gets down to car business, still in a good mood.

Style just tried to be friends with Fadel, and it's Fadel who comes in with an attack, questioning Style's skills as a mechanic ("I just hope you can fix it like you said you could."). Style assures him that he can and asks about Fadel's car insurance. Fadel doesn't have it. Style asks how he's supposed to fix Fadel's car in this case and if he's supposed to pay the repairs himself, which I think is a valid question for the position of car mechanic that Style is now at this point standing in front of Fadel as.

Fadel launches another verbal attack at Style ("You want me to pay for the whole repair? You were drunk and on the phone during the accident. It’s your responsibility to pay for that. Good thing it was just a rear bumper. If it had been a man you hit, what would you do?") and this time the tone of his voice is also very angry and sharp. Style tries to calm Fadel down ("Relax.") and yields, agreeing to fix the car nonetheless. He asks for the vehicle registration, which is his job as a car mechanic, but Fadel doesn't have that either.

And when Style then accuses Fadel of potentially having stolen the car, I think he isn't really actively trying to piss Fadel off with this, nor is he trying to be annoying. I think this is a direct response to Fadel's attacks. Because Style has been nothing but amiable and friendly to Fadel, has done nothing but try to do his job as a mechanic properly. I think Style does find it shady that Fadel doesn't have any of the paper work for the car and he does wanna avoid getting involved in any potential shady business (oh boy, just you wait...) but I think he also uses this moment to challenge Fadel back. I don't think Style is trying to start a real fight, because he is very quick to calm Fadel down and to yield again, agreeing to fix the car already, still in an attempt to be friendly with this strange, grumpy man.

Style doesn't hold a grudge, he tries to have an amiable conversation with Fadel, gets attacked multiple times again, does defend himself a little in a bit of a counterattack, but stays friendly with Fadel until the very end. When Fadel leaves the garage, Style's mood is more serious than it was in the beginning, but his good mood isn't completely ruined. I think part of him also kinda had fun challenging Fadel a little like that and talking back to him.

Pronoun situation: they consistently use phom/khun throughout the entire scene.

No. 3: Sensitive Nipples

I think this is the point where Style actively tries to be at least a little annoying. I think by now Style has figured out that Fadel is just naturally grumpy at all times. In both conversations that they've had so far Fadel has mostly just attacked Style with every sentence that has come out of his mouth. I think at this point Style is done with the constant attacks and with constantly being scolded and decides to mess with Fadel a little bit, because if he's already getting yelled at anyway no matter whether he makes an actual mistake (their first meeting) or whether he's trying to be friendly (their second meeting), he might as well have fun with it. Especially since part of him did have fun challenging Fadel last time. And this time he one-ups himself a little bit, even. Because this time he's not trying to be friendly and have an amiable conversation as if to make friends with Fadel. Why should he? As far as Style knows, this should be the last time he sees Fadel. Once Fadel has left with his car, they have no reason to meet again. He can afford to give Fadel a little bit of a "fuck you, see you never again" parting gift.

So Style teases Fadel, like when he pulls his hand away when Fadel makes a grab for the car keys, he challenges Fadel, and invites him to play along. You can see it in the look he throws Fadel after revealing the pin:

His facial expression kinda says: "Well? Whatcha gonna do about it? What is your next move?"

Style has now turned Fadel's constant stream of attacks into a game. And Fadel recognizes that actually:

The subtitles may put it as "I don't have time for this" but what Fadel says here in Thai is:

ผมไม่มีเวลาเล่นกับคุณนะ [phŏm - mâi - mee - whe-laa - lên - gàp - khun - na] I - not - have - time - play - with - you - [particle]

"I don't have the time to play with you." But Style doesn't care that Fadel isn't up for playing. He tries to get Fadel to play along anyway when he tells Fadel to get the pin off Style's shirt himself. It's a flirty move, but it's not meant to be actually flirty. It's another challenge in the game and this time Fadel agrees to play. And Style looks rather satisfied:

And then he goes even further when he tells Fadel to be careful with his "sensitive nipples". It's a flirty statement, but again, I don't think it's meant to be actually flirty in the traditional sense of "I want to get into your pants" but rather we're dealing a question of power, and attempt to get the upper hand even more. However, Fadel gets the last laugh by hurting Style. But Style now knows that Fadel will play along if Style is persistent enough. And Style has FUN playing with Fadel, messing with him:

Of course, when he yells this, he's being sarcastic because this exclamation is motivated by anger about Fadel poking him and also at Fadel's grumpy behaviour in general, but I do think he's telling the truth when he says he's having fun with it. It's in the way he huffs in amusement afterwards and smiles a little.

Pronoun situation: they consistently use phom/khun throughout the entire scene.

No. 4: Secret Deals

Style hadn't been expecting to run into Fadel again and now his best friend asks him to hit on the very guy he's been having problems with and wasn't planning on facing again. Style is very unhappy about this turn of events and really does NOT want to do it at first. Because as much as he was enjoying messing with Fadel in their last meeting, I think all in all he has decided he doesn't like Fadel. I think he's holding a bit of a grudge that Fadel dared to hurt his oh so sensitive nipples and I think Style is also very done with continuously getting yelled at by Fadel. Because in every single time they've met so far, Fadel has hardly ever said ONE thing to Style that wasn't in the form of yelling or scolding. So I think when Kant shows up with "hey can you flirt with the guy who's been verbally attacking you non-stop pls" Style is like nah i'm outta here.

But in the end he does agree to Kant's proposition because first of all, he sees it as an opportunity to finally get the car of his dreams and second of all, he was having fun riling Fadel up and playing games with him. And I do think Style is up for round 2 of that game. If only to get revenge for the constant yelling and the nipple pain.

No. 5: A Special Customer

And I think here is the first time where Style makes the decision to be annoying on purpose. Yes, he was already actively trying to be annoying in the "sensitive nipples" scene, but I think this scene is the first first time where he's not just trying to be a little annoying for his own amusement, but now there's a purpose to it, a goal.

Kant has asked Style to hit on Fadel, but Style doesn't walk into the diner with the goal of flirting with Fadel but rather Style walks into the diner with the purpose of annoying the shit out of Fadel. And it's 10000% revenge for the nipple. And also the constant stream of yelling. But mostly the nipple. And the fact that Fadel had the last laugh there. Joke's on Style, though, because Fadel will also win this one. But Style doesn't know that yet.

Style wants to get back at Fadel and so he really turns up his level of annoyingness. He invites himself into the diner when it has just closed, he makes Fadel serve him a whole bunch of beers and watch him get tipsy and he forces Fadel to stay at work way past opening hours.

Side note: They've been consistently using phom/khun with each other, except for that one sentence that Style yells at the end of their first meeting and that wasn't even to Fadel's face. Now, they start the scene with phom/khun, but Style calls Fadel nong a couple of times when he sits down and calls for more and more beers. He also calls Fadel nong, when he says "Won’t you join me, handsome?" What the subtitles translate as "handsome" in Thai is:

น้องสุดหล่อ [nóng - sùt - lòr] nong - most - handsome

When Fadel walks over and tells Style that he is drunk, Fadel uses khun to address Style and from that moment on Style is back to phom/khun as well.

Style was so done with Fadel that it's only when he's got a few beers in that he finally manages to do what he's actually supposed to be here for: to hit on Fadel for Kant.

He gets up, drops some flirty shit, then pulls Fadel closer. Fadel wants him gone. He pushes Style away and angrily tells him to go home. Style refuses. He came here on a mission and he'll go through with it, goddammit.

Fadel realizes that simply just yelling at Style won't work as a method of getting rid of Style and so Fadel changes his strategy. He starts playing along with Style's game. He leans down to Style, gets really close, pretends he's about to make out with him or whatever and Style thinks he's got him. Until Fadel drags him out of the diner by his feet. Fadel played Style's game and won. And Style is seriously angry now. We can tell not just from the way he rattles at the door and from the rage in his voice when he's screaming outside the diner, but also from his pronoun use in this specific sentence:

Because up until that point he was using phom/khun with Fadel in the scene, except for the beer ordering montage, where he called Fadel nong just to be extra annoying. Even when Fadel is dragging him out the door and when he is yelling outside the door, Style uses phom/khun. That is, until he says "I'm gonna take you out!" A more literal translation of what Style says here is something along the lines of "I'm making you my boyfriend!" and he is so angry, that he actually switches to the rude guu/mueng for this specific sentence:

กูจะเอามึงเป็นแฟนกูให้ได้ [guu - jà - ao - mueng - bpen - faen - guu - hâi dâi] I - will - take - you - be - boyfriend - I/my - for sure

Where the last few times whenever Fadel has left him standing, Style was kinda irritated and maybe a little offended (the nipples), Style is seriously pissed now.

Episode 2

No. 6: A Shower at the Market

Yes, Kant may have hired Style to hit on Fadel, but when Style spots Fadel at the market, I don't think he goes after Fadel with the goal of flirting with him. No. Last time they interacted, Style was left absolutely, seriously pissed and definitely also a little bit humiliated with the way Fadel just dragged him out of the diner by his feet. So when Style spots Fadel, he decides to be a little shit again. He is once again annoying on purpose, and not for his flirty mission for Kant. Style's goal here is to get revenge for what happened at the diner.

As I said, Style felt a little humiliated at the diner. I think it's interesting how immediately after that, the next time he sees Fadel he messes with Fadel in a way that paints Fadel as "the bad guy". Style purposefully flings the vegetables at Fadel's feet (a little satisfaction for Style) and then he even gets the attention of the other people at the market to then loudly yell accusations about/to Fadel. This is Style's attempt at humiliating Fadel to get back at the way Fadel humiliated him in the diner incident. We know this, because he explicitly says so: "You humiliated me. Now it’s my turn. We’re even."

Style is the one scolding Fadel now. After having been yelled at non-stop by Fadel, I think Style is very much using the opportunity to finally have an excuse to yell at Fadel as well. And the way he loudly and dramatically shouts at Fadel and shouts across the entire market? Oh, he is very much enjoying that he now finally gets to yell at Fadel himself, that he finally gets to scold him back, even if he had to create this opportunity by framing Fadel for something he didn't actually do wrong. Everything Style is doing here, every action and every word is motivated by revenge. Unfortunately for him, Fadel once again leaves the scene as a winner.

Oh, and by the way: Style is back to the polite phom/khun for this entire scene. Fadel also continues to use phom/khun.

No. 7: Anything for the Car

Fadel has left Style standing dripping wet at the market place, humiliating him once again and this time in front of dozens of people, even. Style is absolutely done with Fadel now. He's got no interest in any kind of interaction with Fadel anymore, not even to mess with him or try to get revenge again. And I'm sure least of all he would want to flirt with him. He even tells Kant "Ain’t no way I’m doing it."

Style is done, he doesn't want any part of this anymore. But Kant manages to convince Style. Style gives in and agrees to try once more because he does want to help his beloved bestie (who he believes to be head over heels in love for the first time) and because his beloved car is still waiting for him, too.

I think, though, that if Kant hadn't talked him into it again, Style would have actually left Fadel alone from now on. He hadn't really been getting anything out of his interactions with Fadel. All he was getting was getting yelled at, getting hurt, and getting humiliated on multiple occasions. I think at this point, going after Fadel is a waste of time for Style that is just not worth it. But then Kant shows up, practically begs him to continue bothering Fadel, and Style is like ughhh fine okay and goes to try again under the condition that Kant helps him figure out what Fadel likes so that Style has at least something to connect with Fadel over.

No. 8: Good Morning Krub

The last time Style talked to Fadel, Fadel left him standing dripping wet and humiliated in a market full of people. You'd think that Style would be accordingly irritated the next time he comes face to face with him and that Style would turn up his level of annoyingness again in order to get back at Fadel for it. But no. This time when Style approaches Fadel, he's not actively trying to be annoying, he doesn't approach Fadel with the purpose of being annoying.

Yes, he bugs Fadel again and yes, he is a little annoying about it, but I think this time it comes as a byproduct of the fact that Style is talking to a man here who he in reality doesn't really wanna talk to and who doesn't really wanna talk to him either. And yet, Style doesn't really wanna be annoying here. After his talk with Kant it's like Style tries to almost start "fresh" again. When he approaches Fadel, Style kind of genuinely tries now (for Kant. And the car. But I think he's mainly doing it in support of Kant this time).

And yes, he's being kinda loud and obnoxious, but that's just Style's personality. He actually tries to have a civil, almost amiable conversation again, similar the way he tried during their second meeting when Fadel dropped off his car at Style's garage. Style tries to be friendly again. It's in the way he's kinda a little amused when Fadel goes "This ain't badminton" after Style asks him to go for a run together and again, Style tries to be nice and friendly about it when he says that doing things in pairs is more fun than doing it solo.

But then Fadel opens his water bottle and for one scary moment Style re-lives his market place shower trauma. And he voices his worry out loud. And this is where it gets a little interesting when it comes to Fadel, because Fadel actually has a hint of genuine amusement on his face when he asks if Style is scared:

Style says no, he isn't scared, he's just not prepared to get wet again. And now Fadel is the one to start the teasing. He steps closer and threatens "If you follow me again, you’re not just getting soaked next time." But there is no actual malice in his voice, there's no real anger in his tone when he says "You’re not just getting soaked next time". And Style recognizes that, he responds to the teasing, the challenge that Fadel has just laid on the table: Style asks "What are you gonna do?", looking curiously and expectantly at Fadel...

And Fadel crushes his foot.

Of course, Fadel does this to one-up Style again and to make it clear how he feels about Style bothering him again when all he wants is some peace and quiet, but interestingly enough, he doesn't make another threat again nor does he order Style to piss off. Instead, Fadel actually invites Style to join him on his run: "If you want to join me, catch up."

It's debatable how serious that invitation actually was, since he literally just hurt Style's foot, getting him out of comission and making it unlikely for Style to actually follow him. And with that invitation Fadel is certainly also rubbing in the fact that he's just hurt Style when he says "catch up", rubbing in an unspoken "you can't anyway when you're in pain". But nevertheless, phrasing it as an invitation for Style to actually join him on the run is a risky move if Fadel is set on running solo, because there is still a chance that Style's determination and persistence is big enough that he bites through the pain and follows Fadel anyway. By now Fadel knows very well that Style is slightly unhinged and Fadel has no way of knowing what move Style is going to pull, no way of knowing if the pain is big enough to keep him from following Fadel or if he'll come running after Fadel after all. There is a real chance that Style would actually follow Fadel and Fadel seems to be okay with that possibility. Style doesn't try to catch up, though. Style has other plans.

Pronoun situation: they both use phom/khun throughout the entire scene.

No. 8: 10 Things I Hate About You (Style's Version)

When talking to Fadel just now, Style wasn't actually trying to be annoying, didn't mean to be annoying. Then Fadel crushed his foot. So now Style of course has to go be annoying again. Style shouting his encouragement and cheerleding chants at Fadel across the entire sports field isn't Style trying to flirt with Fadel. It's him being annoying on purpose to get back at Fadel for the pain in his foot. And it works. Fadel is annoyed.

No. 9: Moonlight Chick– Oh Wait Wrong Show

After that recent period where Style was completely done with Fadel and was starting to seriously dislike Fadel, wanting nothing to do with him anymore, this is now the point where Style is starting to actually have fun messing with Fadel again. Style is no longer pissed or holding any grudges. And while he is a little bit annoying on purpose here, his behaviour isn't motivated by trying to get revenge on Fadel. No, Style is now playing with Fadel and thoroughly enjoying himself now.

And he's not playing with Fadel in the sense of he's playing some sort of battle of powers where he tries to one-up Fadel like in some earlier instances before, no. It's more of a friendly sort of playfulness, he's trying to actively engage with Fadel, almost as if trying to get him to loosen up a bit. Which is why Style also immediately yields when Fadel says he'll go to a different store. Style doesn't want Fadel to go, Style wants Fadel to stay, he wants Fadel engage with him too, wants Fadel to play along with him. Fadel humors him, allbeit begrudgingly so. And Style is quite happy about that:

Pronoun situation: they use phom/khun throughout the entire scene.

No. 10: First To Eat... You

Fadel has humored Style and has let him help him with the groceries. Now he wants him gone. Style refuses to leave. Fadel doesn't care to argue anymore at this point. He's tired and he just wants to open his restaurant. So when Style sits down instead of walking out the door, Fadel can't be bothered to argue anymore and moves towards the kitchen. He doesn't make a single attempt to throw Style out, and I think Style sees that as a good sign, because he drops his "I’d like to be the first to eat… you" line. I don't think he's actively trying to hit on Fadel with this line here. I think he is trying to test the waters, wants to know how Fadel will accept his advances. Because right after he drops his line, he carefully checks Fadel's reaction:

And when Fadel just walks away wordlessly, Style shakes his head and stares after him, as if he's thinking to himself "This is never going to work, this man is impossible to get through to":

This is reflected also in the scene with Bison shortly after this where Bison tells Style to actually go for Fadel if Style happens to fall for him for real. It's reflected in the way Style is all "yeah that ain't happening, he can't even talk to me nicely". And when Bison goes "Fadel is rough on the outside and on the inside" and tells Style to give Fadel a good beating, Style looks at Bison with a kinda sceptical and hopeless expression. Then Bison walks away and Style thinks about it for a bit and then sighs, almost as if to say ooof, okay fine, let's do this, let's try this.

I think the conversation with Bison was another push to make him genuinely wanna try the flirting thing. Not just for revenge, not just because he wants to mess with Fadel and rile him up, not just because he enjoys being playful with Fadel. But because he genuinely wants to help his best friend and his potential one true love. And maybe, as @secriden points out, maybe also because he's starting to get curious what it is about Fadel, what's behind his thick high walls, if there's anything that makes Fadel worth the time and the effort, makes him worth loving.

Pronoun situation: they use phom/khun throughout the entire scene. (And so do Bison and Style, btw.)

No. 11: Cooking Show

With all these questions and the curiousity in mind after the talk with Bison, when Style shows up in the kitchen I think he isn't actually trying to be annoying at all, nor is he trying to flirt. I think he's trying to make friends with Fadel. Style is again trying to get Fadel to loosen up, to open up, is trying to connect with Fadel in an amiable way through something that Fadel is clearly passionate about. That's where he's coming from when Style starts pretending to be a commentator in a cooking show.

And Fadel? Actually plays along just a little bit. He's not very enthusiastic about it, but he's not complaining either. Except the more into his commentator role Style gets, the more annoyed Fadel gets and in the end he almost rolls his eyes kinda like "will this guy ever shut the fuck up":

Pronoun situation: Style uses phom/khun. Fadel doesn't use any pronouns. In fact, he does say a single word at all in this scene.

No. 12: Spotter

I think this is the first time where Style approaches Fadel with the actual goal of flirting. He doesn't approach Fadel in order be annoying in an attempt to get revenge on him, nor to mess with him because he's having fun riling Fadel up, nor does he approach him in a playful manner for his own enjoyment. No, I think this is the first time Style actively tries to flirt.

It's in the way he takes note of Fadel's veins. It's in the way he says he wants to build muscles because "maybe one day I’ll look as good as you", while shamelessly showing off the muscles he's already got. It's in the way he talks about getting frustrated at night and needing to let off steam (ahem...) (somebody sure will be letting of steam by the end of the evening). It's in the way he puts his knee between Fadel's leg's, right by his dick. It's in the little encouraging nod and look he throws Fadel when he tells him he can call for Style at any time if he needs a spotter and that he'll be around.

And well, we all know this lowkey totally kinda works on Fadel.

Pronoun situation: still khun/phom for both of them.

No. 13: Sauna

Again, I don't think Style is being annoying on purpose here but rather Fadel just happens to be annoyed with him because Style shows up again and then just keeps talking and talking and never shuts up. Like yeah, of course that's annoying, but that's also simply just Style's personality. Style is talkative after all.

Style is being playful again, mixed with some genuine flirting (like when he gets naked right in front of Fadel's salad and when he gives Fadel permission to look). And I think next to the flirting, he is still attempting to involve Fadel in an actual amiable conversation and is still genuinely trying to connect with Fadel, trying to learn more about him (like when he asks about why he opened a burger joint specifically). Fadel tells him to shut up. Fadel does not wanna be involved in any amiable conversations with Style.

But Style doesn't give up and immediately goes on to the next topic (the meaning of Fadel's name). He also can't help tease Fadel a little (when he says Fadel isn't generous) but the teasing isn't really malicious, it's more playful, and somehow it works on Fadel, and Style actually manages to almost get into Fadel's pants under Fadel's towel. Well, until the man walks in, ruining the moment.

Pronoun situation: still khun/phom for both of them.

No. 14: Love at First Sight

Style is looking for Fadel and I assume he wants to follow up on where they left off in the sauna just now? But then Fadel corners him in the locker room and this is where it gets really interesting again because with all that talk about "love at first sight" and with the kisses he's planting on Fadel you'd think Style was actively flirting, but that's just not at all what is happening here.

When Fadel throws Style against the lockers, he openly declares war on Style. And it's not just through the aggressive shove and the choking alone, no. If you've been wondering why I've made a point in keeping up with the pronoun use, it's for this and this scene alone. Up until the point where Fadel runs out of the sauna, the two of them have almost consistently been using the polite pronouns phom and khun for each other, save for a few exceptions here and there in some particular instances. Fadel runs from the sauna, and the very first sentence out of his mouth after he's ambushed Style is:

ใครส่งมึงมา [krai - sòng - mueng - maa] who - send - you - [past tense marker]

Up until the point he runs away from the sauna, Fadel has only addressed Style using the polite khun. Fadel runs away from the sauna, then ambushes Style, shoves him against the lockers, chokes him, and as if that wasn't enough in addition to that he also changes from addressing Style with the polite khun to addressing him with the very rude mueng. Fadel has just openly declared war on Style. And Style? Style immediately fights back:

ไม่มีใครส่งกูมา [mâi mee krai - sòng - guu - maa] no one - send - I/me - [past tense marker]

He too changes from the polite phom to the very rude guu to refer to himself. He has done this before, but this time he actually does it right to Fadel's face. And they stick to guu/mueng for the rest of the scene. Both of them are finally done with the polite language.

Style isn't flirting here, isn't even being annoying on purpose. This is Style fighting. Fighting the battle that Fadel has just opened up. And when he kisses Fadel, he also isn't flirting. No, those kisses are a direct attack. And so is every word that Style utters in this scene.

The past few days I've seen several comments about whether Style is aware that Fadel is sus. Personally, I do think Style realizes (or is starting to realize at least) that Fadel is a lot more dangerous than Style had originally thought. And I think what clues Style in is the way Fadel is so set on Style having been sent by someone and persistent in his questions about who sent him. And also in the end when Fadel goes "don't say I didn't warn you", I think that that's also another moment of realization for Style. Like, Fadel is seriously pissed at this point and I think Style absolutel takes note of that. Not to mention how sus it was to Style already when Fadel didn't have the paperwork for his car or let him get close to his car the night of the accident. And now coupled with this ambush, I think all of it gives Style a hint that there's something very off about Fadel. There are only a couple more hours to go until episode 3 and I can't wait to see how this will continue.

[lis-likes-fics]

Lady Like You

Pairings: Joel Miller x prostitute!Reader Word Count: 4.7k words Prompt: Prostitution Warning: NSFW, smut, prostitution, swearing, oral (f & m!receiving), fingering, protected sex (technically), p in v, multiple orgasms, creampie... A/N: This is really late today but it's okay because at least I posted, lmao. I hope you enjoy and thank you!

It was late and cold when you stepped out of the housing unit. Technically, it was after curfew. Everyone was supposed to be in a housing unit by now, off the streets as patrol took watch to make sure everything was in order. But you had your own job, your own business to take care of.

You sunk into a dark alley between two units, taking cover as you pressed your back to the wall and pulled your coat tighter over your body. A scarce wind blew, but you were safe from the nipping of its breeze as you checked your cracked mirror to ensure you still looked presentable.

The last client you were with had roughed you up a little. After you fixed some stray hairs and reapplied your washed away lipstick, you smoothed your hands down your front and sighed, your breath blowing out in front of you. You could go home now, he was meant to be your last job of the night.

But the thought of going home to an empty apartment, an empty bed with no one to warm up to…you let out a long sigh and feel a pang in your heart.

Maybe one more job wouldn't hurt. As you think about who to visit, the only name that pops into your head makes you feel a little warmer in the biting cold of the winter air. Joel Miller. He was sure to be alone, he was always alone. You held a special place in your heart for him, though you weren't entirely sure why.

You turn around to walk further down the alley, walking quickly to avoid being caught as you hide from patrol. Glancing around the corner, you cleared it and made the familiar trek to your next destination.

You were safely inside before you could get caught by one of the mindless soldiers guarding the place. You walked up the countless stairs, taking your time to avoid tiring yourself out before you got to the right floor. As you stepped off and walked through the halls, you fixed your hair a little—more out of nerves than necessity—coming up to his room.

You knocked on the door, placing your hand back in your pocket as you waited for the door to open. You stood there a while, glancing around you and tapping your foot as you waited patiently. You would wait here all night if you had to.

You heard footsteps approaching the door after a moment, fixing a smile on your face as the sound grew closer. Multiple locks clicked and the knob turned. When the door opened, you gave a warm smile as Joel stood on the other side and took his face in your hands. You kissed him, a long, deep kiss which took him a moment to fall into. He leaned in, wrapping one arm around your waist.

You were the one to break the kiss, humming lightly before backing him inside to close the door behind you. He was warm, like a furnace to your freezing skin as you shuck off your jacket and toss it onto the chair at the kitchen table.

“It's late,” he said, taking you in with an indecipherable look on his face. “You're not supposed to be all the way over here this late. You'll get caught by patrol.”

“Have I ever been caught before?” you asked, raising a brow as you leaned against his chest for his warmth once more.

He raised his own. “Yes. You have, actually.”

You rolled your eyes this time. It was true. You were caught once, but you got out of it and the guard who caught you was now a regular client, so it didn't matter.

“Whatever,” you chuckled dismissively. “I thought you might like some company. Besides, it's cold outside and warm in here.”

He looked you up and down. Well, no wonder you were cold. You wore a dress, an ankle length black dress that would do little against the cold. You'd been working.

“Maybe if you wore some clothes, you wouldn't be so cold,” he muttered.

You brushed your knuckles over his cheekbone and sighed. “Do you want me to leave, Joel?”

He looked at you nice and long before shaking his head with a sigh. “No.” He tapped your side lightly, letting you go as he turned. “Go on to the bed. I'll be there in a second.”

You nodded, slipping off your shoes by the door and making your way to his room. It was small, as all the rooms were. His bed, just as small, was unmade but cozier than yours for the sole reason of having Joel in it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for the zip on your back and managing to pull it down your back so you could slip out of the dress. Your undergarments were simple, the only complexity laid in the color—a nice red set not as bright from having it for so long, fancy enough for it to be sexy but not too fancy that you looked overdone. Simple.

Joel came back into the room, his shirt already gone as he worked at his belt. You rose to meet him, pressing your lips to his as you took over the task of undoing his belt. You turned him around and sat him on the bed, moving to kneel down as you kept kissing his chapped lips. Your lips brushed underneath his jaw, and he sighed at the way you handled him. Gentle.

You pulled his pants down his legs and took his cock in your hand. He was half hard as you moved your fist up and down the length of him. You looked him in the eyes as you did it, his eyes which were so dark with whatever past is haunting him. You gave him as much warmth as you could, wanting nothing more than to distract him for one night from the pain of all that weighed on his shoulders. Just one night. As always.

You licked his tip, wrapping your lips around him to suckle gently. His breath became a little louder in an attempt to control him. His hand found your cheek, gently stroking his thumb over it. You leaned into him, fond.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, just to hold you while you took more of him into your mouth, feeling him hardening as you did. You looked him in the eyes as you laved your tongue along the underside of his stiff length. He pursed his lips, stifling a breath as he looked back at you.

You pumped him in your hand again, listening to his quiet breaths pass through his lips. You took him in your mouth, adoring him as you knew how, as he knew how.

As he watched you, unable to look away from your pretty face, independent of you on your knees with your mouth around his cock—he'd always thought you were beautiful—he wondered how you could have ended up in this position, selling your body at the end of the world. There was other work to do, but here you were.

He was always different from the others—he smelled differently, he tasted differently. Joel was musky and warm and welcoming (once you got past his intimidating nature, he was welcoming). Even now, he washed out the taste of the other men you’d been sucking on the earlier that night and let him surround your senses.

You suckled around him and tasted the precum on your tongue, knew he was close by the twitch of his cock. He placed his hand on your cheek and encouraged you away from him, the rise of an upcoming climax waning with a brief grunt.

You looked at him, expectant. Because he looked at you, expectant.

“What?” you wondered, wiping your mouth with your thumb. “What's wrong?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Nothin’.” He stood as you sat back on your legs. “Sit down,” he said, motioning toward the bed.

You sat, leaning back on your hands as you did. You watched him kneel, taking one of his legs and pulling it onto his shoulder. “You know,” you mumbled, smiling sweetly at him to hide the shyness, “you don't have to do this. I service you, you don't have to service me.”

He scoffed, pulling your panties down. “Anyone who isn't servicing you is a selfish prick. You should shoot ‘em on sight.”

You chuckled. “Well, there goes half my clients.”

He looked up at you. Pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, he shook his head. “Shouldn't have to put up with that shit. Lady like you’s too good.”

“Lady like me–” you breathed in deep as his hot mouth pressed against your cunt, sending a delicious chill through your body. “Lady like me just needs her cards. Not too good for anything.”

He suckled around your clit, slipping his tongue inside of you. You leaned your head back, breathing steadily as his nose pressed against your clit, hot and pulsing. He pulled you in some more, holding onto you tight as he ate you out, massaging your folds with his tongue and humming into you for the added pleasure.

“Oh, Joel,” you hummed, needing more of him as you wrap your legs around his head and pull him closer.

His strong hand wrapped around your thigh, traveling along the inside before he was teasing his fingers at your hole. He prodded his thick, coarse fingers inside you, two digits crooked within you to pull a release from you. Pumping his fingers in and out of you, he gauged the way you clung to them and lightly moaned.

“What have you done tonight?” he wondered, still touching you in the way he knew you loved as he asked gently.

You hummed, missing his mouth but relishing his fingers. “Light stuff, mostly. Just some—fuck—Just some mouth work for a couple guys. One paid for the extra bit, but he wrapped up and I cleaned up.” You ground your hips against his hand. “So, yeah, all that wet is just me.”

He shrugged. “Not concerned about that. You’re gripping my fingers so tight,” he thrust them deep inside of you, “I was wonderin’ who ain’t treatin’ you right.” He shook his head, bothered by the lack of gentlemanliness at the end of the world. “People ain’t got no respect anymore.”

Your chuckle was cut off by his lips finding your clit again. He sucked on it, using his tongue to massage the sensitive bud as he kept pumping his fingers. You felt the oncoming release buzzing in your legs, traveling up from your fingers and building a knot in your belly.

You pressed your lips closed, your breath heavy as you feel it nipping at your nerves. “Joel,” you breathed. “Joel, you're gonna make me cum.”

He just curled his fingers inside you, and your body rose up to meet him as he did. “Fuck,” you gasped lightly, breathing in deeply as the knot tightens until snap!.

You tried to stifle your moan as you came, digging your heels into his back as you did. “Fuck, Joel! Yeah,” you moaned.

He fingered you through it, only pulling them away when the clench of your pussy became more scarce so he could taste the result of his good work. He licked inside you, gathering the taste of you on his tongue before straightening his back with a groan.

“How's that?” he wondered, checking in on you. Your chest was warm, fuzzy with a certain fondness.

You nodded, catching your breath. “Yeah,” you hummed. “Yeah, that felt good. Really good.”

He nodded, standing to his feet and getting rid of his shirt as he pulled it over his head. He smoothed his hands along your shoulders, feeling your soft skin under his rough palms before unhooking your bra. You took his hand and smiled at him, too fond. “Thank you,” you said.

He stared at you for a moment, clearing his throat and looking away. “Shouldn't have to thank me for it.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Should come with the service.”

He watched your bra drop from your body as you stared up at him, unashamed. He grunted appreciatively, swiping his thumbs over your nipples. “Still,” you shrugged, “not everyone likes eating out as much as some.” You looked at him suggestively, he seemed unphased.

He stood you up, taking your chin in his hand and kissing you deeply. It was way much more intimacy than what came with his usual package, but you always adored every moment of it. Joel treated you so well.

“Don't thank me.” He turned you around to press your back against his front. His hands traveled your body, feeling you up. He bent you down onto the bed gentler than he could have, putting you on your knees.

He kept a hand on your back as he stood and walked to his shitty drawer beside his bed, feeling the expanse of your bare back as you felt out a gentle moan at the sensation. He opened the drawer and pulled a tiny package from the box inside.

“How do you want it tonight, sugar?” he asked, ripping the package open with his teeth as he moved behind you again.

You hummed. “Whatever you want. I'm not picky tonight.”

“You sure?” he mumbled, kneeling behind you on the bed and taking your hips in his hands.

You nodded. “I'm sure. What about you? You want me loud or quiet?”

“I want you,” he said, plain and simple. You ignored the warmth of your heart. He positioned himself at your entrance before teasing his tip into you. You bit your lip as he pushed the crown of his cock into you, stretching you out nicely as your pussy forms around him to accommodate.

With one nice thrust, he was fully inside of you with a gentle sigh. You joined him in that breath, letting out a long sigh as you enjoyed the stretch of him inside you. In and out, he thrust in a gentle rhythm that slowly built like his need for you. He held you still by your waist, though you rocked back to meet his thrust. His speed quickened a bit. You took him well, welcoming him inside your warmth, his cock pumping inside of you smoothly.

You spread your legs a little wider, gripping the sheets and letting your eyes shut as you moaned gently, appreciating the feeling of him so deep inside you.

You savor the feeling of his thrusts. You appreciated the measured rock of his hips back and forth as you squeezed around him.

But you were missing something, a closeness that didn't come with the rutting of his hips behind you. One of his hands smoothed from your hip and cupped your breast, thumbing your nipple as he did.

You reached a hand back to touch his leg, and he paused for a moment. You stood up on your knees, his body pressing against your back as you reached behind him to hold him close to you. He wrapped his arms around body in return, his nose teasing your neck and his lips grazing the skin. He began pumping into you again, molding your bodies together as he did.

He spread your legs wide and played with your nipples, pulling your body down to meet each thrust of his hips. You could feel his breath on your neck, his hands and his lips on your skin. He kissed the crook of your neck, and you shuddered at the feeling. You felt his teeth graze your skin, careful not to mark you as he did.

You reached for the back of his head, tangling your hand in his hair and encouraging his lips to your neck. He mumbled against your skin, “Thought you don't allow any marks.”

You leaned further against him. “I can make an exception,” you muttered.

He chuckled and shook his head, taking your permission with a smile as his teeth grazed your neck once again, this time making the commitment to scrape the flesh.

You moaned lightly, closing your eyes to feel the sensations mixing together. You sighed his name under your breath, wanting more but being unable to feel the rolling waves of pleasure growing beyond the kindle in your belly. And, though he was clearly aroused by you and your body, it was underwhelming. It wasn't enough.

“Joel,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. Grinding your hips back, it was useless. With an almost frustrated sigh, you pat his side and shake your head. “Joel, stop.”

His body slowed against yours. He leaned back, his cock slipping out of you in the process. “What's wrong?” he asked, letting out a breath as he held your waist and kissed your neck. “What happened?”

You shook your head, turning around fully to face him. “This isn't working,” you sighed, sitting back on the bed. He sat across from you, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, propping his elbow on his knee.

“Not you,” you shook your head. “Something’s just off.”

He hummed, “You wanna stop?”

You shook your head, standing on your knees and placing your hands on his bare chest. You smoothed your hands along the length of his chest, smiling sweetly at him. “Of course not.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. You kissed him, a close and gentle kiss lingering with an underlying lust. His hands found your waist, holding you against him.

He sat up, kissing you back just as much. Pressing your bodies together was nice, and you shuddered as you kept kissing him. His large hand flattened against your back. You pulled back just enough to speak, your lips brushing as you did.

“Let's try something different, yeah?”

He nodded, “Whatever you want.”

You held him closer by his shoulders and leaned back so you laid on the bed. He followed you, his hand falling to your thigh. You wrapped a leg around his waist. As you felt his cock slipping between your folds, you reached a hand down to take it.

Joel reached his hand to yours as he felt you pulling at his condom. “What are you doing?” he asked, surprised as he furrowed his brows.

“One of my clients supplies my pills as payment. The condoms are really just a courtesy.” You shrugged, your lips ghosting over his but waiting for his confirmation before you continued. “If you wanna keep it…”

He let go of your hand, and you smiled as you finished taking it off. “If you're sure,” he shrugged.

You discarded it as you wrapped both legs around his waist. He pumped his cock a few times before he was lined up with you again.

You stifled a moan as he entered you, stretching you again as he pushed in all the way. You both sighed into the other's mouth, feeling the pleasure raise goosebumps on your arms and send a shiver up your spine.

He pulled out of you, thrusting back in as you laid your head back and moaned gently. His lips pressed up under your jaw as he kept rocking into you, his hips thrusting steadily as he built a pace. You moaned at the graze of his teeth and the kiss of his lips.

It was different this time. You felt closer, your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms on his shoulders. The drag of his cock inside of you blossomed as the feeling spread through you. “That’s better, isn’t it?” he breathed into your ear.

You nodded, melting against him. You tightened your legs around him to bring him in closer as he ground his hips against you. You moaned his name, the feeling of his cock pressing inside of you. You relished the closeness, the intimacy. You held him close, just as he held you, grinding your hips up to meet his thrusts.

You clenched around him, moaning as he thrust into you and gasping a little when he pressed his hips into you deep enough. “Joel,” you moaned. “Fuck, that’s good.”

His nose bumped yours as he nodded, kissing you again with the same desperation he thrust into you with. “Good,” he said. “So nice and fuckin’ tight for me, sweetheart.”

“You’re also just–” you were cut off as your breath hitched, “–big.” He chuckled.

He pulled back to look at you, his lips parted as he took in the sight of you, your face scrunched in pleasure, your lips parted with bated breath. You cursed gently, moaning and gasping and mumbling his name. He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you again.

When you felt his calloused thumb press against your clit, your back arched into him. “Fuck,” you cursed, leaning into him as you moaned. This was much better, you wrapped up in him, him pressed up close to you. You moaned into his kiss and bathed in the pleasure dripping in your bones.

Short spasms shot through you as he circled your clit. His free hand held you steady as he did. “That feel good, baby? You like bein’ played with like this?”

You nodded. “Yes, Joel.”

“I bet you do,” he said breathlessly, a rough thrust pulling you closer to an orgasm as the pleasure shocked through your body.

“Joel,” you moaned. “Joel, I’m gonna cum.”

“You’re gonna cum?” he repeated, circling your clit a little faster. His thrust became a little rougher, deviating from the slow and measured pace he’d picked up as his own release taunts him.  “Go on, then. Cum on my cock, baby.”

You squeezed him, sucking him into you as you enjoyed the drag of him, hot and thick. He felt so good, buried inside you like this as he just kept rocking his hips in and out and in and out. You felt the pleasure rising within you, taking you higher and higher and higher until you couldn't go any further.

You gasped as your orgasm hit you, drenching your mind with the kind of bliss that fills you up, blossoms through your body like a wave rolling on. Joel’s sloppy thrusts faltered some more at the way you fluttered around his cock, gushing around him and sucking him in.

“Joel!” you exclaimed, rocking your hips up into him as you yearned to keep him buried inside you. “Fuck,” you moaned. “Cum in me. Please, cum inside of me.”

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, breaking off into a moan. He held you still, still stimulating your pulsing clit as he reached his own peak. He buried his cock deep, grinding as he spilled inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you milked his cock.

You both sat there, breathing each other’s air as the crashing waves turned to a gentle swell. He ground inside of you a couple of times, pulling tiny whimpers from you before he pulled out. You let out a heavy sigh at the feeling of being emptied out like that.

He petted your hair briefly, leaning forward to kiss you again, a nice and long kiss that lasted longer than it probably should have. You let your legs fall from his waist, but kept your arms right where they were. If he broke away from you for even a moment, you felt like you’d sink into the earth and die.

When he pulled away from the kiss, you brought him right back down. You were addicted to the taste of him, to the feel of him. You were addicted to Joel Miller. No matter how many clients you took, no matter how many men (or women) you fucked, you would always come back to him.

You laid there for a little while longer before finally, regrettably, letting him go. He stood from the bed, stretching his tight muscles briefly, before walking out of the room. You laid back on the bed, breathing and listening to the steps of his feet, felt the warmth of his cum still stuffed inside of you, smelled the scent of sweat and sex in the air.

Joel came back a moment later with an old (clean) cloth in his hand. You held your hand out for it, but he swatted it away and began cleaning you up himself. You chuckled and shook your head, falling back against the bed again and deciding to just surrender to him and his chivalry.

When he finished, he picked up the clothes shed on the floor, discarded the cloth he used to clean you up with and the condom you’d done away with earlier. He cleaned up. Then he went right back to you and sat on the side of the bed, next to you, laying back with your arms under your head. His knuckles brushed your sides absently.

He sighed, looking at your tired face with his own tired eyes. “You need a place to stay tonight?” he asked gently, scratching his scalp to give him something to do.

You went to shrug and ended up stretching out, taking in a deep breath that melded into a yawn. “It’s okay,” you whispered, turning on your belly and looking up at him from your arms. “I can make it back. The guards won’t catch me.”

He raised a brow. “And if they do?”

“I’ll make them forget they caught me,” you shrugged.

He chuckled lightly. “And if they don’t fall for your charms?” You laughed. He shook his head and ran his knuckles down your spine. You shuddered and closed your eyes, feeling his touch with a sigh. “I’d feel better about you stayin’ here with me tonight.”

You reached a hand out and rested it on his thigh, looking up at him thoughtfully. “I can take care of myself, Joel.” Your words were sticky with exhaustion, mostly brought on by him caressing your spine like that. He knew all the weak points.

He shrugged. “Too bad. You’re stayin’ here tonight. I don’t want you out in the cold ‘n’ dark. You could get hurt, or worse. I ain’t riskin’ it, and I’d rather have you here anyway.”

His words touched you more than they should have. You just nodded, giving into him like you feel you always do. “Okay,” you whispered.

He nodded, speaking just as gently. “Okay.”

He looked at you a little longer before standing, making his way to his coat on a char in the corner of the room. He dug in the pocket and started pulling out his ration cards. Flipping through them, he asked, “How much do I owe you? I’ll give you extra ‘cause of the marks.”

You just shook your head. “Put your cards away, Joel.”

He looked up at you, pausing. “You want ‘em in the mornin’?”

You shook your head again. “You don’t have to pay me,” you told him.

“I ain’t doin’ that to you–”

“Put your cards away, Joel.” Your voice held a little more bravado that time as you leaned up onto your elbows. He let his arms fall to his sides. You gave him a gentle look, softening your voice one more as you smiled. “I don’t come to you for the money.”

He considered you, thinking to himself for a long, hard minute. Then, with a defeated sigh to hide the warmth in his chest, he put his ration cards down and started walking over to you again. He picked up the covers, and you moved as he did so.

He laid back in the bed, taking his spot next to you as he laid back. You smiled as you snuggled up into his side, laying your head on his warm chest. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close. It was almost laughable, this position—seeing a hard and intimidating man like Joel Miller snuggling up to a girl like some guy with the countenance of a teddy. You laid next to him and let the fatigue take you, cozying up to him like you were made for his embrace.

Even though the world was ending, you were safe with Joel inside these walls, warm and content with him as the cold and brutal earth outside showed the first hint of a Christmas night with the falling of snow.

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