reread the lotus casino scene im begging you. it lasts only 4 pages. stop holding onto the goddamn movie

Binding Vows: What Has Yuji Done?

Gege often depicts binding vows to be a sorcerer's last resort. I have seen multiple posts about what might happen if a binding vow was to produce negative effects, and I argue that Gege has already shown this. Yuji's poorly crafted binding vow with Sukuna has resulted in multiple deaths, and an exhausting final fight. Ultimately, Yuji will have to be the one to take responsibility for the enchain vow.

After Sukuna ripped their heart out and forced himself and Yuji into a state of suspended death, the two began negotiating a binding vow.

Sukuna always had the upper hand in the negotiations between the two. Sukuna gambles with years of experience over Yuji; without knowing it, he walks right into Sukuna's trap. At this point in the story, the reader knows just as much about vows as Yuji. Neither the reader nor Yuji would be prepared for the implications of Sukuna's negotiations and the younger's cockiness.

Both enchain and world slash were situational and extremely specific for Sukuna. Yuji didn't think to make his own demands. He allowed Sukuna to make all the stipulations of their vow and never added any details. To put it simply, Yuji allowed Sukuna to represent and construct demands for him in their mutual agreement, which you (the reader) should never do. He failed to even consider a description of harm, which made for a clunky vow that Sukuna exploited. Sukuna's specific, one time demand to take over Yuji's body whenever he wanted for a short duration exposes how little thought Yuji put into his own side of the bargain.

Sukuna was prepared to face any type of repercussions after switching, reenforcing my previous arguments that Sukuna has no qualms with gambling his own life to successfully see his plans through.

When Sukuna made a vow with himself, it was extremely specific. "Just this once, I will skip the usual two steps to cast this technique, and in return, I will perpetually aim it after the usual two prerequisites have already been met." Very specific and easy to commit to.

Kenjaku

Kenjaku spent an unfathomable amount of time building towards the culling game. He was able to bargain with all of that effort on the line, as well as his skill in jujutsu, to create a binding vow which allowed the culling games to exist. Yet, he still needed to also place a binding vow to end the culling games. For Kenjaku to ask jujutsu for the impossible, he needs to be willing to perform the impossible as well.

To accentuate my earlier arguments about knowledge being a key factor for binding vows: Kenjaku's understanding of barrier techniques and Tengen allowed him to create a glitch in the system that enforced a rule adding a way for the culling games to end. Kenjaku effectively cheated the system with intricate knowledge of its own construction. He demonstrates the extreme importance placed in one's technical knowledge of jujutsu sorcery when it comes to binding vows.

I believe that, in the end, Yuji will be the one to fix what his poorly crafted vow has cost everyone. Kenjaku's statement about Sukuna and Yuji being intertwined (the chain of curses) supports my reading of the enchain vow. The word chain produces an idea of the two of them being linked to one another. Because the enchain vow started the series of misfortunate events, the two of them linked by it will have to end it as well.

While the fact that Yuji's the one who will have to end Sukuna may be largely understood, I do not see many people connecting the enchain vow to the story's end. I have argued before that Yuji's self-sacrificial nature would lead his arc to end in tragedy. The enchain vow was made with the promise to bring Yuji back to life. To end the events that his poorly crafted vow has set in motion, I argue that Yuji's life will be the only acceptable price for enchain, which forever links him to Sukuna.

If one doesn't have practice with vows and intricate knowledge of jujutsu's rules, as is what happened with Yuji, they can become clunky messes that blow up in a sorcerer's face. In the creation of the enchain vow, Yuji allowed Sukuna to make the rules and failed to add his own stipulations, resulting in major costs for the entire cast. In contrast, Sukuna and Kenjaku demonstrate the expertise necessary for creating binding vows that yield powerful results. Because of how volatile vows can be, most sorcerers tend to only use them as last resorts.

Notes:

Yorozu used a binding vow before her death to create a new Kamutoke. Again, a binding vow as a last resort, or at the end of someone's life.

Hakari used a binding vow when he had no other options available to him. Yet another example of one being used when put in an extreme situation.

Kenjaku has died, yet misfortune continues to befall the cast.

6 Months- Part Three//t.c.

Warnings: just cursing, I think?

Another long one! Read this with your morning coffee😉

Cameron had a heyday spending Timothee's Hollywood actor money. Her books always sold really well, so she herself wasn't poor, but she still stuck to shopping mostly at Target or Old Navy because they had comfy and affordable clothes. She never splurged on luxury items. She had never touched anything like Cartier or Chanel. But Timothee was stupid rich. She had no qualms about spending his money. He had trapped her in this situation, after all, so she may as well get something out of him.

Timothee took her outside of the L.A. area to avoid paparazzi and other people that may quickly recognize him. He picked out a few staple jewelry pieces that costed thousands of dollars. She agreed to them, damn him for having great taste, she thought.

He accompanied her as she browsed and tried on clothes. He insisted on bringing a couple of bodyguards with them, even though she knew she couldn't outrun Timothee himself with his giraffe like legs.

They passed a lingerie store and Timothee stopped, nodding to Cameron and then the store next to them. He wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully.

"Is this your idea of flirting, Mr. Chalamet?" she asked, clicking her tongue.

He shrugged, "I'm just saying, you might find something in there that you really like." he put his hands in his pockets, taking a few steps forward, nonchalantly.

Cameron sighed, "Well it couldn't hurt to look...or maybe even try on some things. It's your money, Chalamet." She then strutted into the store, Timothee and the two guards following behind.

She tried on a black lingerie set, complete with matching sheer knee high stockings. It was so provocative and of course revealing. It was a big leap from her usual cotton Calvin Klein underwear. She'd never worn anything like this. She didn't even recognize herself in it. But it was nice to indulge a little bit. She smiled at herself in the mirror, truly liking what she saw in the reflection.

Cameron was startled as the curtain of the dressing room was thrust open. She gasped, instinctively covering her body as much as she could. In came the curly headed tall man that was overwhelmingly obsessed with her. "What the hell are doing?!"

"You were taking forever! Sorry, I'm just impatient, I guess." His eyes wandered down her barely clad frame, and he smirked, "Or maybe I just wanted to get a peak at what you're trying on."

"You're a real pervert, you know that?"

He chuckled, "A little bit, maybe."

Cameron rolled her eyes, "Okay, you've had your fun, now get the fuck out!" she pushed him toward the curtain.

Timothee took a hold of her wrists, pulling her in, ""Or what?" His green eyes narrowed at her, challenging her.

"Or this will be the first and only time you will see me in panties." she glared back at him.

He chuckled again and surprised her with a swift tug on her hair, "Cam, my sweet, I'll never hurt you, but I'll let you know that I can be a little rough. Don't test me too much." He then let her go, and made his way to the curtain. "You look fucking amazing, by the way. You should get that one."

"i don't take orders from you." she said cheekily.

"It wasn't an order. It's up to you. Is it always a knife fight every time you open your mouth?" he asked, shaking his head, looking at her.

Cameron shrugged, "Guess you'll see."

........

The guards had their arms full as they carried Cameron's new wardrobe into Timothee's house.

Timothee and Cameron walked inside together. "So, I have a dinner thing for work tonight. So it'll just be you and a few of the staff. The chef can make you whatever you like for dinner, and maybe you can take the opportunity to explore the house a little."

"I have all these new clothes and jewelry to wear and I can't go out with you tonight?" she teased, "What's the point of having me as a prize if you won't take me out and show me off?" Now she was having a little fun with him.

Timothee laughed, "No, you're not coming with me. Maybe soon, you can come out with me. Just not yet."

.......

He was gone for the evening and Cameron was left in the vast mansion, and not allowed out. She decided that she would indeed explore the place. She might as well since she would probably be living there for some time.

As she walked the halls, discovering a theater, a gaming room, and even an indoor pool and spa area, she couldn't help but start to really miss her family, and perhaps more so, her best friend, Nova. She was a party girl with a heart of gold, loyal as hell to the ones she loved. Nova was a spirited woman, always down for a good time, but even more, she was there for Cameron through everything, and vice versa.

After dinner, Cameron asked the sweet Mrs. Davis for a pen and notepad. If she couldn't have her laptop, she would write the old-fashioned way. She scribbled out some of her thoughts, realizing she hadn’t actually written about her life in years. This was a hell of a turn of events to restart journaling about.

She later watched some mindless television, and she made a mental note to make Timothee give her back her cellphone. She had to let her loved ones know that she was okay. Something more that some words typed out on a screen.

........

The next morning when she woke, there was a faint smell of alcohol in the air, and she felt something applying light pressure to her hip. She looked down and her eyes were met with a messy bed of mocha curls. Timothee slept soundly, his body sprawling down the length of the bed. His rested on her, but just barely. He was still wearing the clothes he left in last night.

"Timothee?" she said. But he didn't stir. She put her hand on his shoulder, shaking him and saying his name again, louder this time, "Timothee?!"

"Mm." he mumbled, coming out of his slumber. "Fuck." he raised up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I just wanted to check on you just to make sure you were okay, I shouldn't have. I was a little drunk, and really tired, I must have passed out in here." He got up off the bed, "I'm sorry Cameron. I'll leave you now."

"Timothee, it's okay. It's just...I'm not your property. You don’t have to check on me.”

"I know. I'll back off, I swear." he cleared his throat to rid himself of his groggy sleepy voice.

But Cameron kind of liked the way he sounded, it was sexy. She pushed that thought out of her mind, remembering what she wanted to say to him. "I want my phone and laptop back, now. Or you'll be seriously hurting, Chalamet. I know where you sleep."

"Okay, sure. You should call your mother. It would be good for someone in your family to hear your voice."

She thought it would be harder to get him to agree. "Alright. Um, can you go so I can get dressed now?"

"Yeah-yeah, I'm sorry again."

Once he left her room, she went to have breakfast, but he wasn't there. She ate alone. She found herself...missing him? What the hell was happening?

"Mrs. Davis," Cameron approached the older woman, "where is Timothee?"

"Oh, I think he's at the pool, dear, the indoor one." she answered kindly, then returned to her cleaning of the breakfast table.

Of course he has more than one pool, she thought. "Thank you. The food was delicious by the way."

Cameron used her memory to navigate her way through the mansion and found the spa area. She looked in, seeing Timothee sitting by the pool.

"Hey." she said, walking in.

Timothee looked up, pushing his hair away from his eyes, "Oh hey."

"What are we doing today?" Cameron asked, sitting down, looking at the water.

"Are we friends now?" he asked, a soft smile on his lips.

She looked at him, "What would you call us, Chalamet?"

Timothee huffed softly, "I don't know, Cam. I think I'm really fucking up my chances with you. I thought I'd be better than this. I want you to come to me, but I'm coming on too strong. I know I am."

"Ya know, I really haven't taken into account how broken you seem to be. I've been concerned for myself; I haven't thought about what you've gone through."

"Cam," he said, but she sighed. That name. “I'm sorry, I know you don't like being called that. It just slips out."

"It's okay." she smiled, "It's kinda growing on me a bit. As you were saying?"

"You don't owe me any empathy. I just wanna know you, that's all."

"Well, maybe you could ask me something about myself." she said with a giggle.

"Okay, um I noticed in your last book that you dedicated it to your grandmother. What's your relationship like with her?"

" Oh, well, she passed away recently." her voice took a on a melancholic tone.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I know that's hard. Were you really close with her?"

"Yeah, she was like a second mother. She taught me a lot of things. She introduced me to so many classic novels. She's the reason I started writing. She was an amazing woman."

"Sounds like it. Were you able to keep anything of hers, to remember her by?"

Cameron sighed, "She promised me this beautiful gold necklace she got from her mother as a wedding gift. It has a diamond pendant. It's stunning, but I don't really care about whatever value it has. I wanted it because it was hers, ya know? But my aunt Susan, her daughter, turned into a royal bitch after she died, and wouldn't let me have anything, much less the necklace."

"Shit, that sucks. Family really doesn't mean anything sometimes."

“Yeah, they can be as shitty as a stranger when greed takes over.”

They sat there together for a little while, both putting their feet in the water. The silence felt relaxing and comfortable for them both. Cameron looked over at Timothee, really looking at him. Before this, she had seen him in movies and like many people, young women in particular, she thought he was kind of cute. But now, here before her eyes, he was even more gorgeous. She took notice of each freckle on his face, the God damn jawline that could cut glass, and the curls,: she found herself wanting to run her fingers through his hair.

“So, I wanna ask you about your writing. Do you write from personal experiences? Was your grandma's passing the reason your book had such a sadness to it? Sorry if I'm interrogating you, I just think your work is fascinating.” Timothée looked at her with pure curiosity and admiration.

“We’ll kinda, I guess." she took a moment to collect her thoughts because she was caught off guard as she had been daydreaming before he spoke, "It's hard to express something creatively that you're not necessarily feeling on a personal level. And I like to write about things that I want to experience. But, most of the time, I feel like it’s just me stringing a bunch of interesting or fun words together to make sentences." she laughed, "You can really use a pen to write or a keyboard to type out the things you can never say with your mouth.”

“What’s your favorite thing to write about?” Timothée smiled and kicked his feet, lightly splashing the water.

Cameron took a breath, “Sex.” she said in a matter of fact tone, making them both laugh. “But really, I’d say romance. I love intimate moments between humans. Life can be such a mundane day to day experience with work and all the hustle and bustle, and we forget that we’re really on this earth to bond with each other.”

“You really do speak like a writer. I feel like I'm getting smarter just listening to you.” Timothee grinned.

“Hmm, you’re sweet. But you're very well spoken too. I've seen you in interviews before, you're actually invested in the films and the characters you play, it shows."

"Oh, so you know who I am?" he leaned back some, holding himself up with his hands on the floor beside him.

"I wasn't trying to stroke your ego, Chalamet." she giggled.

He chuckled, "Too late. I can't believe that the great Cameron Reese knows who the hell I am."

"A lot of people know you." she pointed out, trying not to get lost in his flirty gaze.

He leaned forward, speaking a little bit lower, "I don't care about other people."

"You make it easy to wanna be near you, Timothée, I hate to admit it.” she said, shaking her head at him.

Timothée grinned as he heard her say that. It felt like a small victory.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed. 

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view. 

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in. 

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there. 

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end. 

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high. 

 Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t. 

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself. 

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged. 

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys. 

Roy Cobb had been especially close with Campbell and he had no qualms about telling the newest replacements and anyone else who would listen exactly what he thought had killed his friend and it wasn't the sniper's bullet. 

"What killed him was her damn incompetence," he'd announced, deliberately loud enough for you to hear. "She should've let Roe or Spina treat him, then maybe he would've survived." 

"Nobody wanted her here in the first place either," a mortarman named Lombardi added. "They should've given us a third medic instead of some nurse!"

Doc Spina was way out of earshot but your friend Eugene, who had been nearby, had already begun to argue in your defense when you had marched over to the disgruntled group. 

These were men you had treated in the past, you realized as your tormented fury began to build. You'd risked your life to save these ungrateful assholes and you knew damn well that the moment they needed you on the battlefield, you'd have to do it again. and again. and again.

Cobb shot you a dirty look and muttered something involving the word “useless” and that was all it took. Heart pounding in your ears, you hauled off and punched him so hard that his nose began gushing blood, but the damage had already been done. 

Speirs had heard the commotion from his foxhole and seeing you storm off, tears of frustration and hurt pricking your beautiful eyes, sent an icy rage coursing through his veins that surprised even him.  

Who the fuck hurt you like that?

He was going to find out.

The wrath blazing like hellfire in his eyes as he stalked over was enough to make even grown men cower and the guilty parties quailed under his gaze. Ron dragged each one by the collar behind the nearest tree trunk, pinning them one by one with his forearm across their throats before they could blink. 

“From now on, you will treat (Y/N) with the utmost respect,” he intoned, his voice eerily calm as he applied just enough pressure on their throats to make them cough. “You will treat her as if she were me. And if I ever get wind that you’re mouthing off at her or otherwise mistreating her again, so help me God, there won't be enough left of you to mail home in a cigarette pack. Is that clear?”

"Y-Yes sir," they'd gasped out and grudgingly, he let them dart back to their foxholes one by one like mice.

He had more important things to worry about.

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Seeing you cry tore Ron's heart in two. You were sitting on that felled tree just behind the embankment, hunched over, face buried in your hands as your shoulders shook with silent sobs. 

You were so overcome by your own anguish that you didn’t even hear him approach. Instead, he appeared beside you like a sudden dark spectre against the white snow, making you jump. 

“Holy shit,” you yelped, hurrying to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Damn it, Sparky, warn a girl next time, will ya?”

Ron stood awkwardly beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and you swore you could see a small flush of pink creeping up his cheeks and it wasn’t from the cold. 

“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “I forget I do that sometimes. I just…I was… I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

He cursed inwardly. 

What a stupid thing to say, Ron, he berated himself. She’s crying. Does she look “okay” to you?

You tried to return the smile but only succeeded in a wan grimace.

“I’m not okay yet but I will be.” 

You sighed sadly and gestured to the red cross armband on your arm. 

Overwhelmed or not, you were needed.

“I have to be.”

“(Y/N)…May I…Er, if you don’t mind, that is…?” Unable to quite get the words out, he just nodded to the empty spot beside you, earning him a genuine smile from you that filled his chest with warmth. 

“Absolutely,” you replied with a small sniffle, lightly patting the place next to you on the log and effectively putting him out of his tongue-tied misery. “I’d like that a lot.”

When you're overwhelmed

And you've lost your breath

And the space between the things you know is blurring nonetheless

You hadn't exactly intended on telling Ron your whole life story but before you knew it, it all came tumbling out: how you'd grown up, what had inspired you to become a nurse, how much you loved what you did but hated what it did to you, and Speirs listened quietly, hanging onto your every word. 

But when you admitted the toll it took on you to know how little a difference you were making, he balked.

“No difference?” He repeated, his hazel eyes wide with shock. “Are you kidding? Do you…Is this because of what those assholes back there said?” 

You sniffled again with a deflated shrug.

“Assholes or not, I think they made their feelings pretty clear. It'd probably be better for everyone if I just put in for a transfer.”

When you try to speak

But you make no sound

And the words you want are out of reach

But they've never been so loud

Your words echoed in Speirs' head like enemy gunfire. 

Transfer…Transfer...Transfer…

Ron felt like you'd just slapped him clear across the face. Come to think of it, he would've preferred it if you had. It would've certainly hurt less than the realization that he would lose you before he'd ever even told you how he felt. 

He'd never been any good at romance. To be honest, he'd never really tried. Girls back home flocked to him like flies to honey but he'd just felt uncomfortable with the attention and tried to set them up with his buddies instead, all of whom were dying for a date. 

Ronald Speirs was a man of action; communication was not his strong suit, which was one of the myriad of reasons he admired you. 

You, who somehow effortlessly made friends wherever you went. 

You, whose smile spread warmth on even the coldest winter day. 

You, whose kindness made everyone that spoke to you feel not only heard but understood.

You who brought the light of springtime to his ever-present darkness, like Persephone to Hades.

He had never understood why you had made it your mission to befriend him since Day 1 when everyone else avoided him like the Plague but he was glad you did. His intimidating gaze and badass reputation didn’t scare you one bit and you had assured him with your usual friendliness that it would take more than some rumors to scare you away.

He couldn’t let you slip away now.

Trust in me, trust in me

Don't pull away

Just trust in me, trust in me

Taking a shaky breath and exhaling, the tiny clouds curled up into the frosty air in spirals as you stood up. After smoothing some of the ice off your clothes, you gave Ron one last, small smile. 

“Thanks for listening,” you said earnestly before remarking with a self-deprecating laugh, “I promise not to be so depressing next time.”

You had just turned to leave when an invisible force compelled him to reach out and grasp your hand at the last second.

“Wait…Please.” 

'Cause I'm just trying to keep it together

Because I could do worse and you could do better

The silence was deafening. You stared at Ron, too stunned to speak, and he stared right back, the green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes catching the moonlight. 

Had it been any other time, you might’ve found it almost funny to see the infamous “Killer” Speirs at a loss for words just from holding your hand but right now…Right now, you could feel a tornado of butterflies in your stomach and you could tell that he was feeling them too.

“(Y/N), I…” he started before cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m no good at this and I’m sure you’ve probably got someone special writing you from back home already but…”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously with his free hand and you tilt your head, silently, as you watch him. 

You’ve never seen him this anxious before, not even in battle. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know a man like Ronald Speirs could get anxious. If the roar of gunfire and artillery didn’t faze him, you had thought nothing could.

“If you’re serious about transferring out, then you should at least know that you’ve made a big difference here, to the men…and to me…” 

He cleared his throat stiffly. 

“Especially to me.” 

Your eyes must’ve been the size of dinner plates. 

Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

“You are without a doubt, the bravest…the most dynamic…the most selfless woman I know,” he continued as his hazel eyes locked intensely with your (E/C) ones.

“Everything about you…You’re just amazing to me. And I know you don’t feel appreciated and with how things have gone lately, I don’t blame you one bit but damn it, (Y/N), you have to understand that you are vital to this company, not just for what you do but for who you are. We need you here.” 

Ron took a shaky breath, exhaling into the frigid night air, before saying quietly, “I need you here.”

I will stay (right beside you)

Nobody will break you

He started to say more but before he could, you dropped his hand and launched yourself at him, knocking the breath out of him as your lips met for the first time. He gently took you into his embrace, causing both your hearts to race, the both of you smiling against each other’s lips. But in your eagerness to deepen the kiss, your teeth clashed slightly against his, sending you into a fit of giggles when you pulled away seconds later.

“Are you…Will you stay?” Ron asked tentatively, still holding you as if you were made of glass. “Please?”

At first, you were tempted to jokingly mull it over but the fear in his golden-green eyes immediately banished the thought from your mind. 

This was Ronald “Killer” Speirs. This was a man who had stared Death in the face without blinking, a man whose ferocity and resolve on the battlefield were practically legendary, a man who could take a life with the same ease as one swats a fly…and yet, here he was before you, putting his whole heart in your hands, a heart most people didn’t even know he had.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you reassured him, the moonlight dancing in your eyes as you gazed into his. “As long as you'll be mine, that is.”

Ron gingerly cupped your face in his hands, the silky smoothness of his soft baritone voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured as another slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve always been yours.”

And if your heart wears thin

I will hold you up

And I will hide you

When it gets too much

I'll be right beside you

Nobody will break you

Ilya's whole personality is 'I don't care, darling' personified. He's crafted not giving a damn into a fine art, and he's had hundreds of years to do it. However, if you're clever, it's not hard to find his weak points, and he very much has them. Pushing him, however, is a risk you should calculate before you do it for multiple reasons.

Ilya, when irritated, will remind you not-so-subtly that you are helpless against him using his sheer size and deceptive strength as an effortless intimidation. He's bigger and far more powerful than you and he will use it against you. It's cute that you try to get a rise out of him, but remember, little girl, you are helpless, small, and weak, especially compared to him. He could hurt you so badly if he had the inclination. Keep pushing at him if it pleases you. By all means, go ahead.

He's going to bear down on you with a smile that's far too wide and uncanny from his usual subtle, snide grin; he's all fangs and ferocity now. He will simply walk forward until you are against a wall, trapping you against a corner because you have no choice but to move backwards until your back hits cement. His fingers are long and pale and tipped with razor-sharp claws, and he will softly crook your chin far too gently for any semblance of comfort, all the way up to look at him, even leaning down just a bit to impress upon you the size difference between you.

"Is that so, little one?"

You can try to resist him if you'd like. Fight and swat and lash-- it tickles him. He's lightning fast, puckering your cheeks in his palms until blood poppies from the narrow indents of his nails on your sweet little cheeks. He'll clench in too deeply right below your tender cheekbones, just hard enough that the soft flesh of your jaw grinds against the sharp jut of your teeth and you can taste blood on your tongue.

Ilya also does this when amused, so it can be difficult to tell when he's genuinely angry versus when he's simply toying with you. If you're canny, you can tell. You just have to pay attention.

There's a slight flash to his eyes, and a little twitch to his mouth. You'll have his full attention, versus the strange indifference there usually is. If that's not enough, there's other tells as well.

With Ilya, the difference between anger and neutrality is subtle-- if you can call it subtle. When he is genuinely angry, he will grab your skin, and it will hurt rather than simply asserting dominance, with his fingers will dig into your skin until you cry out. When he shoves you against a wall, it is enough for you to actually see stars when your head makes contact, clinging to him because you cannot right yourself without him anymore. When his steely fingers find your throat, there will be no reprieve, and he will squeeze until your vision tunnels and your eyes flutter. You will feel the bruising when he grabs.

He revels in watching your breath catch in your throat and the panic settle in as your heart rabbits behind your ribs, trying to claw free of him with all the little strength you can muster but ultimately unable to do a damn thing. He enjoys watching your eyes pop, tears brimming and eyes wide and terrified as you claw at his wrist, trying to free yourself, but he's just so strong. You are weak and he is ruthless. He adores watching you settle into the conclusion that you can't fight him.

He likes watching as you can do nothing but make big doe eyes up at him and mouth a silent prayer for forgiveness-- and hope he cares enough to listen. He could strangle the life from you, you know. And he will. It's best you remember that.

Ilya has no qualms with violence against his lover. He will backhand you and then gently dab away the blood, sighing his exasperation and telling you that you are so terribly needy. What is it you need? Do you need attention? Do you need affection? Do you need to be fucked? Clearly you do, seeing as you are so emphatic about making a mess to wave him down.

Ilya sucks because while he will punish you for angering him, he likes it. It intrigues him. He will punish you with one hand and coax you with the other. He's hundreds of years old and almost entirely numb, so anything that makes him feel anything is quite novel, especially if it's some dear thing he has his eyes set on. If you are clever enough to find his sensitive spots, that's enough to pique his interest. Life is an eternal game to him, and if you can play it back, it delights him.

Keep in mind, he will return the favor. He will poke and prod at your sensitive spots. He's a fantastic manipulator. He wants to play, and you're his plaything until you truly endear yourself.

As for my other OCs, there's really only Snakefang, who is a complete sub and currently married to Nightmare, and Nagendra, who I haven't much talked about at all on here. I'm always happy to talk about either of them, I just assume that's not what people are here for lmao.

Anyways, this will be the third time I have rewritten this! First time I saved it on mobile and it just.. disappeared. Second time, I wrote it and published it, and it published a version from before when I switched to mobile that was about.. two paragraphs long. I'm going to take it as that's the Gods way of telling me it wasn't finished-- not that most people give a good goddamn about my OCs enough outside of being polite to care. But anyway, that's why the question is screencapped (I had a fuckin' feeling something was going to happen after the first time. I just fuckin' knew.)

40-Year Training Montage 5

In which the seller becomes the buyer.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Rakuza District, Kugane

During the conflict in the Ghimlyt Dark

Compared to the Kogane Dori, the merchants and craftsmen that frequented the streets of the Rakuza were considerably more insistent in plying their wares. Verad could hardly walk down the street from his room at the inn without men and women shuffling towards him, heads bowed and hands clasped together in humble, wringing motions that the people of Hingashi seemed to use often when entreating strangers. He didn’t like to ignore them, but if he didn’t, he’d impoverish himself buying their wares, or waste his day and theirs trading the finer points of what they sold, how they sold it, and most importantly, how to do it badly. As such, he’d learned to walk past without stopping, though doing so cut against his grain.

Having a rock thrown at the back of his head to get his attention, however, was a new sales tactic he couldn’t easily ignore. It wasn’t a hard impact at all, being merely a pebble thrown with sufficient force to make a good tap at the base of the neck, but it was surprising, and Verad turned sharply on his heels, saw the stray stone at the ground, and scanned the pathway to see whomever had thrown the thing. He needn’t have searched for very long. The beggar was waving his arms at Verad in plain sight on the side of the road. It was a wonder he wasn’t jumping up and down. It was an even greater wonder that there was a beggar at all; while Kugane surely had its fair share of impoverished working classes, the port seemed to put a great deal of effort into making sure they stayed out of sight of the foreigners. Seeing a man clad in only in the rags of a faded crimson jacket in a cut that the local nobility preferred to wear, a pair of those wide pants they preferred here, though torn at the knees, and otherwise barefoot was so rare it was worth a purchase in and of itself. It was a miracle the Sekiseigumi hadn’t chased him away from the district. “You! Yes, you!” The beggar pointed directly at Verad. His expression was wild, with beaming eyes and a grin so broad it matched Verad’s own. “Come here! I have a wonder for you.” He ducked into a narrow gap between two buildings that struggled to be called an alley.

It was too obvious a trap to be a trap. Too suspicious to be anything but trustworthy. How could Verad refuse? Caution demanded he place one hand on one of his daggers, but apart from that he followed where the beggar had led with nary a qualm.

The path was even narrower than he’d supposed, and Verad found his shoulders brushing up against the outer walls on either side of him once he had stepped within. If he had to fight, it would be a straightforward matter: step back and stab forward. Repeat until out of alley, then retreat to guards. Straightforward and uncomfortable. However, there was no sign of mischief: the alley was empty of all save the beggar, who stood two fulms from Verad with the same wide and manic grin. “Yes, excellent. Excellent! I knew you’d make the right choice.” He waggled his index finger at Verad, his elbow knocking against the wall through a hole in his jacket. “I’ve heard about you. I know all about you, ijin.”

The way the man put it sounded too pleased to be threatening, and Verad could recall no deep-seated grudges anyone from the Far East might have borne against him in the years before the Calamity, so all he could do was respond with a grin of his own. “Have you now? I am pleased indeed to hear that, but people hear about me all sorts of ways. How can I, Ul’dah’s Premier Distributor of the Dubious, assist a person with such exquisite taste as yourself?”

“Oh no, no, ijin, but I can help you, I can. I heard about you seven days ago, at the Kogane Dori.” Ah. That must have been his little scuffle with some of the local criminals. He’d fought in broad daylight in an open street, but no blood had been shed, nor had he displayed any great feats of skill, so nobody had commented on it after the fact. The locals didn’t like commenting on things if they were unnecessary. He hadn’t recalled any beggars, but perhaps the toughs had employed one as a lookout. “I think I went a bit over the top there,” he admitted, tipping his head, “But at least nobody was hurt. How can you help me with that?”

He tried to think. What were the possibilities? Surely those two gangsters had compatriots. Perhaps they were looking for an opportunity to give him a bit of payback after embarrassing their fellows. In which case, keeping his back exposed to the street with little room to turn in a narrow alley was a terrible idea. Without thinking of it, he twitched his head to the left, searching out of the corner of his eye for any shadows creeping up behind him.

At the gesture, the beggar waggled his finger again. “Yes, that’s it, that’s exactly it! That’s how I can help you. You are worried about another attack, aren’t you? Well.” He shifted his eyes from left to right as if there could possibly be anyone watching him on either side of the wall, and held his hand up to his mouth to direct his speech as he lowered his voice. “I can sell you just the thing to keep you safe.” Oh. So this is what that felt like. In an instant, Verad felt a deep empathy for everyone who had ever turned down one of his pitches. His grin narrowed down to a smile, though still a warm one. “I am all ears, good sir.”

“You are very good with your knives, ijin. Very good. You will hardly have to learn how to do anything at all. What I can give you is a secret technique. Something handed down for generations. The only copy of it in existence.” He rummaged around within the folds of his jacket, and again Verad was struck with being on the other side of a mirror. At length, the beggar produced a small pamphlet – a brochure, really, though a bit thicker than the kind one might find in Eorzea publishing. Hingans seemed to like their books small and narrow. “Look!” Verad took the pamphlet in one hand, and held it up to scrutiny. The light was dim with the buildings of the Rakuza casting a shadow over the path, so he had to squint. Then his eyes widened. “Twelve above,” he murmured. “This. This is…” “Yes? Yes?” The beggar leaned forward. “It’s Doman script. I can’t read it.” He handed the pamphlet back to the man. “Oh, yes. Humblest apologies. One moment.” More rummaging commenced, and another pamphlet appeared in his hand. “Here’s the Eorzean version.” “I thought you said that was the only copy?” “The only Doman copy,” amended the beggar. “I also have one in Thavnairian script. But they are all the only copies of their kind in existence!” “So none of them are the originals, then?” So this was the fun, for the customers. Seeing the rhetoric and poking holes in it to see how the salesman would respond. No wonder they had all paid him for “selling it so well,” despite buying nothing.

“No, no, the original is hard to come by. These are all copies. But they are the only copies. One-of-a-kind reproductions until somebody copies it again!”

“I do like copies,” admitted Verad. “You get somebody else’s mistakes or innovations on a copy, after all.” Now that he could read the text, he brought it up to his eyes again.

Now that he understood it, he flipped through a few pages. Everything on the interior matched the title. He wasn’t being offered something that was secretly a reprint of some mundane accounting text on proper procedures for the folding of kimonos for storage. A copy it may have been, but it was genuine. Still, that title. He lowered the text, peering down at the beggar, whose wide grin reached up to his eyes. “You’re quite serious?” asked Verad.

“I am.”

“This is what you’re offering me.” “It is!” “A ninjitsu text.”

“Exactly as it says! All yours.” Verad frowned and looked at the pamphlet’s cover again, rereading the title. “I appreciate it, but I think I am rather old to learn that sort of thing.” “No, no, not at all! It’s only a title. Besides, if you’re old, you’ve already done the training. You are fast on your feet, and you have a good sense of style! You could have stabbed those two men in the street, but instead you apologized. It’s perfect!” “How did you chance to come across this, anyroad? I can’t imagine secret ninjitsu texts get copies, let alone in international trade languages.” The beggar glanced to the side. “A good question, very good! You think it is fake, don’t you?” “No, no, I’m sure it’s not,” Verad lied, but the beggar pressed on, looking forlorn. “I told my master that the title would cause trouble. Anyone would believe it’s fake. But he insisted very much, and I must obey his wishes.” Verad was used to a variety of sales tactics, but soothing the salesman’s imminent breakdown was not one of them. He rarely used it himself, because he had no higher authority he could pretend would be cross with him. “So this is your master’s work? He translated an original?” “Yes, exactly that. The art spreads thin. There are clans that guard their secrets too jealously, and teach too few. And those they teach are too dim. So he is looking for the right people, and so I have been looking for the right people. And you are one of them, ijin!”

“Am I now?” Verad raised his eyebrow. Open flattery was much more familiar to him. “Not that I don’t doubt your appraisal, but you have seen me once, you said. Perhaps you did not observe long enough.”

“No, no, not at all! I have your measure.” He pointed upwards, at an angle, such that a grubby finger was an ilm away from the tip of Verad’s nose. “Skilled, stylish, silent – those men did not even notice you had those knives – and more than that, you play the fool. You cause trouble for those around you.”

The hairs on Verad’s neck stood up. He’d mentioned this, in passing, in conversation with Z’zhumii shortly after the incident. Had he been overheard? “Even so,” he said, his voice wavering. “This sort of thing needs years of training, or one of those crystal stones with all the memories in them.”

“What, jobstones? Tch! Nothing but a cheat. Just a bunch of memories. You have to give them to novices to speed them up. Just a cheat. But at your age, ijin,you already have a thousand memories. You can cheat the cheat, if it pleases you.” Verad was sure he needed memories of actually practicing ninjitsu for that to make sense, but there was a certain pleasure in thinking that way. He had competently applied himself to incompetency since crawling out of the Calamity with his memories gone and nothing but his memoirs to guide him and a vague sense he owed someone a lot of money. Somehow, he’d prospered in that state. Why not apply the same logic to something more practical?

Because, he told himself, this was probably a fake. Despite his own luck in finding forgeries and fakes that led to greater things for his customers, he couldn’t say the same would be true here. But it was an interesting curio. The only copy of its kind, for now. “Very well,” he said, nodding in resolution. “How much?” Nearly too much, as it turned out. He was sure the beggar ate very well that night, and could easily afford a new jacket, while Verad found that he could only afford the water at the Shiokaze for the evening.

The moon is a loyal companion.It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.Time goes on even when people do not. And they are quotation marks, inverted and upside down, clinging to one another at the end of this life sentence. Trapped by lives we did not choose. The blonde had taken her broken glass and made a stained glass window.One of the amazing things about Finnick Odair was the way with which he spoke to her when so many were scared of the way her mind had fragmented in order to deal with the games they had gone through. Mad people were often not allowed to have opinions, but he would listen to her as if they did. Listen when she went away into the recesses of her mind were he could not follow. Being with him made the district four mentor feel broken up and stuffed with sunshine. It had been a better day for her. And while they kept their love hidden, there was nothing to worry about in the victor’s houses. Mag’s snoring in some far distant error of the house too big for any of them. Annie couldn’t help teasingly stealing a piece of the pastry he had. Her lover’s sweet tooth was insane though he was still as muscular as that fateful situation with a trident. She would have no qualms burning the world down just to dig this man from the ashes.Hope.It's like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It's a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it's the only thing in the world keeping her afloat. She wanted him to make a list of all his favorite things, and she wanted to be on it. Her lips pressed to his forehead. She would always ask or let him inniate the other types even if he insisted she never needed permission. She knew triggers all to well and those that took advantage of him would not treat him with kind reverance like she did in little touches or kisses. Even if she wanted desperately to taste the softness of his lips and the sweetness of the food that Mags had left out for them. ever the mother to the end. Every butterfly in the world migrated to her stomach. He was a mess of gold hair, sea-salt blue eyes, and bitten lips, beautiful in a way only broken things could be. She remembered her first impression of him, tall, roughly handsome, and dangerous, like poison dressed up in an attractive bottle. He smelled of magic and heartbreak, and something about the combination made her think that despite what he claimed, he wanted to be her hero. “Considering i find notes of your poetry all around this house, my love, I think that might be your best yet. I am catastrophically in love with you and I will never recover. You will have to share your food and your blankets forever- should you choose of course- I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you,”

@percentstardust​

Girl or Boy? Ten Fingers and Toes.

Navigating life sometimes feels like walking through a minefield, just hoping and praying that with each step you take, you aren’t about to blow everything up. I can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like as a parent, let alone one who’s trying to navigate our horrifically gendered society without falling victim to any of those gender traps. From random strangers on the street, to the onesie options in Target, it’s nearly impossible to raise a child outside of these traps. So then the problem becomes, how does someone balance what society expects of them, what they want for their children, and what their children want? I think it helps to start at the very beginning and ask why people have preferences for the sex of their children to begin with. In her piece, The Gender Trap, Emily W. Kane (2012) tells us “most men preferred a son, with the women split fifty-fifty” (p. 28). How much of that is based on personal feelings and how much is based on what these parents believe is expected of them? There are so many factors in play, it’s almost impossible to say for sure. But if we can understand the why, we have a better chance at understanding the how. So I’d say it’s at least worth a second thought.

My parents are on the older side, but as a nonbinary person I had no qualms about coming out to them because they raised me in such a way that I knew gender was important but it didn’t matter to them. And when I asked my parents whether they wanted sons or daughters, the answers they gave me were about what I expected. My mom explained that she wanted boys because she “wanted more men like [my] dad in the world” and my dad simply said “we wanted 10 fingers and toes with one head.” My parents are remarkable for many reasons (most of which I don’t have the time to talk about right now) but they’re especially remarkable for this. Not that having no preference for a girl or a boy is something to be celebrated, but because it’s so outside the norm. Kane (2012) explains that “gender preferences also reveal the anticipatory construction of gender based on the… kind of relationship they expect to have” (p. 29). It can be so easy to get stuck in your head imagining what you want your life to be like, so we must challenge ourselves and ask why we want it that way. Is having a boy to play sports with somehow better than having a daughter to play sports with? Will teaching your daughter to cook be easier than teaching your son? If parents can take a step back and start to question these preconceived notions about gender, they can begin to dismantle the harsh lines society has drawn in the sand for them. They can learn how to avoid those gender traps and lead their children through life in a safe, loving environment.

One of my favorite quotes is from Toni Morrison’s Nobel Peace Prize speech. She said, “we do language” (Morrison, 1993, 21:00). It’s something that I looked at last semester in my English class and it’s something that I keep coming back to in this class. The phrasing is a little different now, but the idea is the same: we do communication. Communication is not something passive, it’s something that we participate in every day and it’s something that we must work to learn. If we were all born knowing how to talk about our gender perfectly then we wouldn’t have half as many issues as we do now. And in the same way we are active participants in communication, we are active participants in gender. We are constantly changing and shaping our own view of gender as well as the way those around us view it, both in a positive and a negative way. Parents have the ability to completely disregard the minefield and fall into as many gender traps as they would like, intentional or not. And in doing so, they are reinforcing stereotypes and they are telling their children that the way it’s always been is the way it’s supposed to be. Kane (2012) explains that in a much more sophisticated way, “the vast majority of their actions encouraged or allowed gender-typical outcomes” (p. 40). The easy route is just to continue the cycle and raise our daughters to be housewives and our sons to be aggressive money makers. We need to sit with the discomfort that comes with challenging social norms and we need to find our place in gender. Once we can do that, then we can have constructive conversations with other parents and with our children about what it really means to raise a girl or a boy. How can we do it differently from the parents of the past so that our children don’t feel stuck in a box for their whole life just like many of us did?

Bringing a child into the world is terrifying no matter how you look at it, but when you look at it through the lens of gender, it becomes even scarier. But as parents, it’s your job to protect your kids from the horrors of life and to give them the tools they need to face them when it’s their time. It may not be possible to raise a gender neutral child - our society is a “social backdrop filled with gendered images”, it’s simply not made for that - but it is possible to raise a gender safe child (Kane, 2012, p. 27). Give them a household where talking about gender is not taboo, where they feel free to explore their gender identity and expression. Unlearning centuries of society’s biases will not happen overnight. You will not be a perfect parent. As much as I commend mine, they weren’t perfect either. But they raised me in a loving, respectful home where I knew I was allowed to question things. Don’t try to approach this problem as one big issue because you will be destined to fail even if your heart is in the right place. Instead, start small. When asked if you want a girl or a boy, respond like my dad: “We want 10 fingers and toes with one head.” Strive for healthy children, not clay dolls for you to mold into children. Because just like you won’t be the perfect parent, they won’t be the perfect child. This is going to be a journey of understanding, of forgiveness, and of patience. We’re trying to change the world here, it’s not going to be easy.

Stuck in 1903

Part Two

Masterlist

Summary: Damon and Bonnie had come to your rescue, or so you thought, but it is Kai’s every intention to get close to you again

Pairing: Kai Parker x reader

Warnings: angst, smidge of fluff, mentions of smut, mentions of death, mentions of murder, bad friendships, mentions of poison, swearing

Word Count: 2052

Find Part One Here

divider by @firefly-graphics

If the Other Side continued to exist, then you would be there rather than this subordinate prison world which had been designed for one bad witch. Kai's own kind feared him, you had experienced him mentally draining your energy, he was a chore to put up with, but he could do much more than that, you had learnt from Bonnie. He fed off magic, physically stealing it from bodies and items that harboured any of it, which had poisoned his mind to hunt for power. Your friends had informed you that he had murdered his siblings, well some of them anyway, and had attempted to do so to more of them. And now you knew, with supporting evidence, never to trust Malakai Parker.

Without Damon and Bonnie you had to resort to fending for yourself, which was not at all difficult since this version of Mystic Falls that you were trapped in was quite literally a ghost town. The forever enveloping silence was torture, though the method of ignorance had not been designed for you; it was all for Kai, and that unsettled you. There was one more thing that you had been dreading - the possibility that you could not escape from the remote isolation without the aid of the guest starring siphon himself. This hell was built to contain him for eternity, but now there was magic that he could use to his own advantage nearby.

Your cheek rested upon the side of your hand, mushing the flesh whilst your elbow was poised upon the countertop of the kitchen island in the Salvatore house. All of your concentration validated your deep thoughts, of which you were broken from as a plate was placed directly in front of you, a pancake decorated with chocolate chips and syrup to form a smiley face. Damon was the culprit as he threw a tea towel over his shoulder, expectedly looking at you.

"I'm not hungry." You informed the vampire, who simply frowned at your lack of an appetite. "I ate yesterday, which was technically today." Beneath the table, you crossed your ankles, as you earnt a sigh from your well aged friend; he clearly was not impressed by your behaviour. But you didn't know what he had expected from you, you had been trapped here for longer than you could remember, and alone until you had discovered the man that had been outcast by his own family. At the time you had not known of his murderous tendencies, and had wanted nothing more than to get away from him, and you wouldn't like to admit it but you even missed him a little.

He was annoying and cocky, and withheld crucial information from you, though there was something that contradicted that all. Whenever any one of your friends had suffered the fate of death, they were always attempted to be brought back to life against the natural order of things. It made you wonder and doubt a little if they had even tried to resurrect you. In this separated reality, there was no jurisdiction so that you could know, though each time that either Damon or Bonnie looked at you, you could swear that there was guilt written in their gazes.

"Look I knew being stuck here with Kai must have fucked you up-" he should have bit his lip, his assumptions were anything but correct. And that was proven as you defensively darted out of your seat and jabbed your finger in his face, making him pivot his jaw back. There were many things that were 'fucked up', and supposing that you were one of them because you had died after sacrificing yourself to ensure that they all continued to live just didn't settle right with you. The context of the morbid situation did not help with condoning any reassurance at all, in fact, it gave a spine to your lack of faith in him and the others in the first place. Out of everyone, it was inherently worse to be here with Damon, all he had cared about was his precious Elena as well as himself, and after existing for well over a century, that was insurance that he was never going to change.

"It wasn't him who did that to me, it was roaming this damned place by myself, I had no one. And as crazy as it sounds, I think spending time with the notorious Malakai Parker helped me keep what was to spare of my sanity. If I'm not wrong, I may even say that I've found more being here than dealing with the bullshit y'all cause back home." Perhaps your words were a tad harsh, if Bonnie were in the room you were sure that she'd have a somewhat understanding of what you were saying. Though she was not, and thus you had to deal with the harshness of her best friend all by your lonesome. And it seemed that you had rattled him, apparently he couldn't handle the truth.

"Then why don't you run back to the sociopath? When we discovered that you were here, we found the pair of you attached to the hip anyways. And with him inside of you, I'd never seen you so darn happy, better here with him than tempting me to drink bleach from the way that you constantly complained when you were alive; I swear you were worse than Donovan." It was on your mind's own command for you to take a step back, and away from the toxin that Damon had so cruelly spat at you. Ans the way that he compared you to Matt made you angry; it was though he were ignoring that there were valid reasons for the blond to be the way that he was - after all, the monster before you had practically killed his sister. A laugh renegaded out from your mouth as you realised that you had been right all along, none of them cared. You were just a burden that stopped them from having a perfect life together. If this were a book, then this would be the beginning to your villain arc, and ironically enough Damon saw himself as one of the good guys. Now that was utterly ridiculous after every reckless thing that he had ever done!

"Have it your way then bloodsucker." All along, you should have trusted your guy, and from now on you knew that you would listen to it. And strangely enough, it was calling you to Kai, maybe it was because he was your last resort to escaping this imprisonment that had been meant for him alone. Turning on your heel, you heard Damon flop the towel down on the side and sigh, though you continued to walk, appeasing your better judgement elsewhere. "Wait." He tried to convince you to stay, belatedly understanding the mistake that he had made, but it was no use, you were already on your journey of getting as far away as possible from him.

The Mystic Grill, it remained to be familiar in your eyes as you entered. It was empty and void of drunken assholes and narcissists that you had wasted too much time on. The only person that you missed in the modern alternative was Matt Donovan, he was the only person that didn't treat you as though you were invisible or a nuisance. You wondered how he was coping with your absence, knowing him, he was probably relieved that Damon was gone. But you weren't, because he was here with you instead. Trailing your fingertips over the counter of the bar, out of the corner of your eye you saw a lonely glass of bourbon that was sat there as though it were lamenting you with mockery. You tried to hold your sentimental sob inside, but it was practically impossible. It tore through your body, bellowing out from your mouth as you stifled and fought through your tears.

A hand caressed the landscape of your back causing you to jump and flinch from the unexpected contact. One thing that you had learnt from evading and eventually experiencing the qualms of death, was that you could never be too careful. For no more than a second you had predicted that the intruder to your pity party was Damon, that he had followed you as you tried to distance yourself from him, but alas it was not, instead of being greeted by a fretless vampire, you were condemned by the sight of a powerless witch, of whom had purposely interjected your moment of cracked emotion and wore a brave smile for you. Wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeves, you couldn't help but snap at him. "If you're here to finish what we started then tough luck Parker, you've been here long enough and you have two hands, figure something else out."

His tongue darted out to swipe at his own bottom lip, as he raised his hand, showcasing his offering to you. "I was only going to see if you wanted a pork rind, you look like you could use one." Sighing, you dug your hand into the pungent packet that was littered with dust and crumbs, retrieving a few treats for yourself as you placed them in your mouth. "And now should be when the poison kicks in..." With your hand, you gave him a little shove as you tolled your eyes at his homicidal comedy. "Come on, that was funny! I'm funny!"

"If you say so, there's not very many people around to give you an honest opinion." It was true, the only other human like lifeforms impartially close by were Damon and Bonnie, and well, you weren't going to scurry back to them anytime soon. "And if you had poisoned me, then you would know that I would be fine and dandy in not so long, It wouldn't make a difference if that wasn't the case either, I mean I'm already dead, what could be worse than that?" Kai looked at you with shock; he didn't know that about you, that you had actually suffered a final breath. Now he thought about it, the grand scheme of things he didn't know much about you in general, though he was prepared to learn. He had often found death to be fulfilling, satisfying even, but he'd never thought about its victims being so beautiful. Yet here you were before him, by chance the one force that could motivate and help him find a way out of this jarring hole of reaping misery.

"You're here, that's all that matters." As soon as those words fled from his lips he realised exactly what he had said, and a blush framed his features. "I um - that wasn't what I - you know, yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck as you shook your head at this new side that you were seeing of Malakai. His parents called him Malakai, of course he was going to become a killer, but right now you saw nothing more than an embarrassed boy whose skin had flushed as an affect of his own words. From your experience, everyone was either the killer or the killed - you two were one of each. Like ying and yang, you fit perfectly, it was a balanced divide that was settled on whichever rhythm played out in the air. And to correspond with that thought you walked over to the jukebox, a song beginning to play which made Kai want to cover his ears. "I hate this song." He told you; he really did, if he could murder it, he would without a doubt.

"Then don't listen, just dance with me." You extended your hands out to him, to which he begrudgingly reached for. And as he snapped his eyes open, he realised that was all a memory, and that goddamn song was still playing. All he could think about was you, he had seen how upset you had been to die, and yet you were gone again, and it was all down to your so called friends. One was standing before him as he sat in chains, imprisoned against a chair. "Are you here to punish me?" He asked Bonnie, wanting nothing more than shut his eyes and see your face again.

Congrats on 500 Sav!! 🥺

In honor of the ✨and they were roommates✨ vine, may I request a FWB situation w/ Roommate!Bucky? 🥰 full free range for you to write whatever you feel inspired with that <33

Lee, I am obsessed with this. Obviously, I had to go rated R because well.....reasons. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI); oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, fingering, explicit language, spit kink, praise kink, Bucky Barnes being a cocky bastard.

By clicking "Keep Reading" you agree that you are at least 18 years of age or older.

You sat at the table in your underwear and tanktop, too hungover to even consider putting more clothes on. You were 98% sure your roommate had gone home with someone else last night anyway, so you were free to traipse around the apartment in as little clothing as your heart pleased.

The breakfast you made yourself just wasn't cutting it for you but there were unfortunately no better options because Bucky had forgotten it was his week to get groceries. You should have known that getting into a friends with benefits relationship with your roommate was a piss poor idea, but the man could be quite persuasive. Now, anytime the two of you had an argument, Bucky thought he could just make it better with his tongue.

While he wasn't wrong, it wasn't necessarily the best way of settling arguments or qualms regarding living arrangements and the like. In fact, it was the reason why you were eating dry Cinnamon Toast Crunch right now. Fuckin' Bucky.

The familiar squeak of the front door opening signaled to you that he was home just as you were finishing your dry cereal. Perfect, an opportunity to talk to him about your desperate need for groceries. Bucky came into the kitchen, brunette strands sticking to his forehead with sweat and cheeks flushed with a pink tint. Bucky stopped as soon as he saw you, slowly dragging his eyes along the curve of your breasts and bare thighs.

"Where have you been?" You asked, looking him over. "You know what, I don't want to know. We need to talk about groceries."

It was painfully obvious that Bucky wasn't listening as he simply walked closer, eyes still hungrily drinking you in. He tossed his phone onto the counter top and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

You crossed your legs one over the other, knowing exactly where his mind was at. The way he looks at you makes the wetness pool between your legs, but you can't give in to him this time. Contrary to what he thinks, you can't survive off pussy alone.

"Bucky, this is serious! We don't have anything to eat!"

A low chuckle came from his chest and you instantly regretted your word choice for this particular moment.

"What are you talking about, peach? M'breakfast's right here." Bucky spoke, finally looking you in the eyes as he sank to his knees one by one, the grin spread across his face was one you wanted to slap right off.

"Bucky." You tried to give him a warning tone but it was useless. Bucky knew exactly what it was he wanted and he knew he was going to get it.

His hands rested on top of your knees as he uncrossed your legs and pushed them apart, once again licking his lips once he spots the wet patch already forming on your underwear.

You huff, exasperated at his inability to think about anything other than sex.

"Fine. If I let you eat me out will you please have a conversation with me about groceries?" You begged, hips sliding forward on the chair as Bucky pulls your them to the edge.

"Whatever you say, peach." Bucky's fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips to help him slide them off.

Curse your stupid libido and Bucky Barnes' stupid handsome face.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, Bucky spread your legs wide for him as he blew cold air over your glistening cunt. A whine left your lips as you squirmed under his grip.

"I'd say she missed me." Bucky grinned as used two metal fingers to spread you, bottom lip becoming trapped in between his teeth once he saw you on full display for him.

"Christ, Bucky! Just do something alre--oh." Your thought was cut off by the flat of his tongue dragging upwards through your folds. Your hands immediately tethered themselves into his hair.

You could feel Bucky's grin against your core, but you were too blissed out to say anything about it. The man was a smug bastard, but God, did he know what he was doing.

Your head fell back against the chair as his tongue swirled around your bundle of nerves. Bucky worked his tongue skillfully against your cunt, alternating between short licks and full on dipping his tongue into your hole. It was nearly impossible to not rock your hips against his face and whimper.

When the feeling of his tongue left you, so did a whine. You pushed yourself up to see what it was he was doing, only to catch him collecting saliva in his mouth and spitting onto your already soaked core. It felt like all the air had been pushed out of your lungs and you forgot how to speak.

Bucky winked at you and dove back in to your cunt, devouring you like it was his purpose in life. Occasional hums would leave his lips, heightening the sensation you felt. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, Bucky began to shake his head back and forth.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, grabbing onto his head with both hands while you arched your back against him.

Bucky kept a tight hold on your thighs, ensuring that there was no way you could get away from him. While he took your clit into his mouth and sucked on it, he prodded his middle finger against your hole. The man loved nothing more than to tease you and get you worked up for him.

"Please." You whined, grinding against him.

"Such a polite girl for me, peach." Bucky hummed against your clit once more as he slid his middle finger into your tight cunt.

One of your hands went up and behind you to hold on to the chair as the other continued to grip onto Bucky's hair. The feeling was almost unbearable, but only in the best fucking way. The combination of his mouth alternating between suckling and swirling around your clit and the feeling of his finger curling up against your g-spot was pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Please, oh god Bucky, please! I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, legs beginning to shake.

"You wanna cum on my face, Peach? Hmm? Go ahead, baby. Cum all over my tongue."

His words paired with his skillful assault on your cunt were enough to cause the coil in your abdomen to snap. It felt as though your eyes were going to roll back completely into your head as you squeezed his head between your thighs, continuing to rock your hips against his face as he assisted you through your orgasm.

Your body collapses practically against the chair as Bucky gently lowers your legs back down to the ground. As your vision clears up, all you see is Bucky leaned back on his haunches before you, face glistening with your slick as he grins up at you.

"Alright, peaches. Let's talk."

waegrhetnyrhgn im going to hell.

✨join my sleepover!✨

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present. 

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞   ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞       ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞   ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞       ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞   ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞   ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞   ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞   ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞   ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞   ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞   ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing?    do you think it is a serious wound? ❞   ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞   ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞   ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞   ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞   ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞   ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞   ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞   ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞   ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞   ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞   ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞   ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞   ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞   ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞   ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞   ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞   ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞   ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞   ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞   ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞   ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞   ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞   ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞   ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞   ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞   ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞   ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞   ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞   ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞   ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞   ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞   ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞   ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞   ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞   ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞   ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞   ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞   ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞   ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞   ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞   ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞   ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞   ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞   ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞   ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about...    about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞   ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞   ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞   ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞   ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞   ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞   ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞   ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞   ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞   ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞       ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞   ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞   ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞   ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞   ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞   ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞   ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞   ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞   ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞   ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞   ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞   ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞   ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞   ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞   ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞   ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞   ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞   ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞   ❝ people change.    it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞   ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞   ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞   ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞   ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞   ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞   ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞   ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞   ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞   ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞   ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞   ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞   ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞   ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞   ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞   ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞   ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞   ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞   ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞   ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞   ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞   ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞   ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞   ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞   ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞   ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞   ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞   ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞   ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞   ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞   ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞   ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞   ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞   ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞   ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞   ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞       ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞       ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞       ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞       ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞   ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞       ❝ please, you must fight for me.    who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞   ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞   ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞       ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞       ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞   ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞   ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞   ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞   ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞   ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞   ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞   ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞   ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞   ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞   ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞   ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞   ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞   ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞   ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞   ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞   ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞   ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞   ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞   ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞   ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞   ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞   ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞   ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞   ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞   ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞   ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞   ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end.     that i will not allow. ❞   ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞   ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞   ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞   ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞   ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞   ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞   ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞   ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞   ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞   ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞   ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞   ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞   ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞   ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞   ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞       ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞   ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞   ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞       ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.)   ❞   ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞   ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞   ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.)   ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞   ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞   ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞   ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞       ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞       ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞   ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞   ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞   ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞   ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞   ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞   ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞   ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞   ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

there are few benefits to being death's shepherd

this is for analogical week day 1- fear/warmth!

okay, this is kinda a weird concept but i like it so it's fine

warnings- mentions of death (like a lot), mentions of murder (logan's killed ppl), swearing, uhhh roman dies but for like two seconds bc virgil is a necromancer, and that's all i can think of

lmk if i should add anything else!

@analogicalweek

If there was one thing Logan missed about being human, it was warmth. He could deal with the lack of heartbeat, the absence of food, and the changes to his appearance just fine; but the warmth… he didn't think he’d ever missed anything more. He supposed it was a fitting punishment, do unto others as you would have them do unto you and such. He’d certainly taken the warmth from more than a few people in his time on earth. At least they didn't have to live with it! He was stuck between the land of the living and the dead, forced to serve as death’s harbinger, guiding souls of the dead to an afterlife he’d never get to see. He was one of many; his fate was not unique, however rare it might have been. Different guides used different names- some just called themselves “Death”, which was far from creative, and technically inaccurate. They weren’t death, they were what came after. Some preferred titles like “Angel of Death”. Again, inaccurate, as the people cursed to end up like him surely never lead lives angelic in nature. From “The Grim Reaper'' to “The Destroyer”, Logan had heard them all, but only one ever seemed to fit. He was Death’s Shepherd. Guiding and protecting the recently deceased (recently is a relative term- his job was time consuming! So what if some of them were trapped in their bodies for a few months? They have a literal eternity to get over it!). It was dull, repetitive, and never-ending. Truly a fate worse than death. No pun intended.

Interesting days were few and far between, but when they happened, Logan was overjoyed. Today was one of those; his next assignment was in a known necromancer’s lair. Now, Logan didn't have any personal misgivings about the practice of necromancy- hell, he’d dabbled in it a bit in his long-gone lifetime- but it sure did make his job harder. See, the system the people in charge used to find the dead and assign them… it was not great. It was significantly delayed, and it had no precautions against wrongful assignment (AKA, people who didn't actually die, or at least aren’t dead anymore). It was little more than an annoyance for Logan, but he did enjoy meeting necromancers. They were always eccentric, and way more interesting than the people Logan met on a daily basis. Plus, with necromancers, you don't have to deal with a whole explanation. They know what you are. You get to skip the whole “being scared” bit, Logan’s least favorite part by a long shot. Even if this was a wrongful assignment, he’d probably get to talk to a necromancer, so it all evened out. He shook off the ever-present cold feeling as he put on his hood. He never was partial to the whole “long, black, flowing robe” aesthetic- he thought it was played out and just added to the fear people felt upon seeing the shepherds, something Logan desperately wanted to avoid. He opted for a simple black suit, tie, and hood. Nothing too extravagant, and entirely practical. He picked up his scythe and went to the elevator, ready to make his way to earth. 

~~~

After an uneventful elevator ride, Logan stood in front of his destination. That was the one thing corporate got right; their travel mechanisms were fast and accurate. 

He walked toward a large, metal door, taking in his surroundings. The house he was brought to could’ve belonged to Dracula himself (Logan had actually met the man before- he was quite nice, really), with its tall, looming doors and gothic windows. Whoever ran this place had no qualms with being known for necromancy. He decided he’d be polite and knock on the door. He raised the large iron door knocker and slammed it down. 

He got a response within seconds, the door ripping open to reveal a man in a purple cloak. “The fuck do you want- oh- you’re one of those… who’re you here for?” 

The stranger seemed to know his stuff, being able to identify Logan abnormally fast. “I’m looking for a…” Logan summoned his schedule book and found the name, “Roman Sanders. Is he here?” 

“Yeah, he’s here, but he’s not dead anymore. False alarm.” They both just sort of stood there for a few moments. Logan didn't need to go back yet, and he didn't want to. He quite enjoyed his time up top. But he also didn't know what to do with himself… the stranger seemed to be having an internal debate of his own, glancing back and forth between Logan and the ground. Eventually, the stranger spoke up again. “Do you, uh- d’ya wanna come in? I don't mind if you do.”

Logan didn't know what to do with that. He never really went out of his way to interact with others more than he needed to, but, seeing as he had nothing better to do, he obliged. “I… suppose I could.” 

With that, the stranger stepped inside and gestured for Logan to follow. Logan trailed behind him through a long hallway and into a surprisingly modest kitchen. He sat at a small dining table and watched as the stranger started making tea. 

“You want anything? I got coffee, tea, water, some sodas-”

“Oh, I can't eat or drink.” 

“What, are you on a diet or something?”

“...no, I’m literally not alive- I can't eat or drink anymore.” 

“...Oh.” the stranger sat on the countertop with his tea. “I’m sorry?” 

“No apology necessary.”

They sat in silence for a moment. It occurred to Logan that he hadn’t really had any human interaction in a few decades. At least not with anyone living. All the other people he talked to were dead… and scared. He’d forgotten how to fill the quiet. Thankfully, the stranger did it for him. 

“What’s it like?” he said, sitting down his tea and leaning forward. “I mean, obviously I know what you guys are, but I’ve never really gotten to talk to any of you. What’s the in-between like?” 

“I- well, I don't really know how to answer that. No one’s ever asked…” 

“Hmm. Favorite and least favorite part?”

“Favorite… if I’m being honest, everything about it kind of-” 

“Sucks?” 

Logan chuckled. “Well, I was going to say ‘disappoints’, but I suppose that works too. I’ve gotten used to most of it, but there is one thing that still bothers me.” He debated telling this random person vulnerable information, but decided that there wasn’t a way for it to be used against him in this instance, so he continued. “I’m so cold. My body doesn't give off heat anymore, so blankets and sweaters don't work. All those do is trap already present heat, but there’s no heat to trap. I miss warmth more than anything.” 

The stranger was quiet for a moment before muttering something Logan couldn’t understand. 

“Come again?”

“...I’m warm. I could… nevermind, it’s nothing-” Logan sincerely doubted that, but he let it go. He needed to be on his way soon. 

“Thank you for talking with me, it’s been a pleasure…” it had only just now occurred to Logan that they hadn’t exchanged names. 

“Virgil- I’m, uh- I’m Virgil.” 

“It’s been lovely meeting you, Virgil.”

“You too…”

“Logan.”

“Logan. Nice meeting you, too. Or whatever. I don't care.” Virgil’s friendly and hospitable air quickly changed, becoming standoffish and impersonal, for reasons left unknown to Logan. Virgil waved him off. “Go on.” 

Logan waved a quick and confused goodbye before taking his leave, out the door and into the elevator. 

~~~ 

“Roman?” Virgil called for his friend, walking through the upstairs hall and sticking his head into every room. “Where are you? I gotta kill you again!” 

Roman came speeding down the hall, almost ramming into Virgil before successfully stopping himself. “Again? I just got back, can't a man get a break?” 

“What if there was a reason this time?”

“What reason could you possibly have?”

Virgil tried his best to make the situation not sound stupid as all hell, saying “Okay, so you know the guys that come when you die? With the scythes and stuff?”

“God, how could I forget?”

“Yeah, well the one that came this time was… kinda hot? And we, like, talked and stuff and-”

“Say no more- if I must die for true love, so be it!”

“No one said anything about love-”

“You didn't have to say it- I know you. You talked to a random guy, something you never do. You are going out of your way to talk to someone you don't know! Who are you and what did you do with Virgil?” They both laughed at that. “If you’re trying to be social without me forcing you to, by all means, continue! I only ask one thing- can it wait until tomorrow? I’d like to actually sleep. Believe it or not, death is soooo tiring.”

Virgil smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.” 

He didn't know what it was about Logan that made him want to see him again. Maybe it was the surprise he showed when Virgil asked him questions. Maybe it was the little laugh he was obviously stifling. Maybe it was how upset he seemed when talking about being cold. 

Maybe it was that Virgil wanted to warm him up. 

~~~

When Logan looked at his assignments the next day, he at first assumed there’d been an error; it wasn’t out of the question. In Logan’s century of doing his job, there’d certainly been errors (perhaps even a concerning amount). But when he called to report it, he was told that yes, he does, in fact, have the same assignment as yesterday. Yes, Roman Sanders was actually dead this time, and yes, he had to go pick him up. 

Not that he was upset about this… he wouldn’t mind talking to that necromancer again- Virgil, if he remembered correctly. He couldn't stop thinking about him their conversation. He’d actually asked about Logan’s half-life! No one ever did that. The dead people he picked up were always so concerned about themselves, it was always “what happened to me” and “am I dead” and “where are you taking me”. It was honestly annoying. I mean, yeah, dying can be scary, but if they’d just fucking wait, everything would be explained. Logan was a shepherd, not a messenger! Nonetheless, Virgil was the first person that seemed to care at all.  

He was almost skipping when he reached the necromancer’s home, pausing to regain his composure before knocking. Virgil appeared within seconds, a bit out of breath. He looked like he’d been running. 

“Hey.” Virgil said, leaning on the doorframe and looking Logan up and down. Something seemed… off? Logan couldn’t place it, but Virgil was acting different somehow. Before he could think about it too much, Virgil was waving him in, skipping the pleasantries and bringing Logan straight to the kitchen. Logan rather appreciated that. He was never one for small talk. He sat in the same chair he had before, and Virgil took his prior place on the counter. 

“Soooo… Roman’s alive this time, too,” Virgil started. “I’m guessing that’s why you’re here?” 

“Yes, that’s right. I don't know why corporate thought he died again.” Logan relaxed his head in his hand.

“Oh, no, he did die again. He’s back now, though.” Virgil mirrored Logan’s movements, his crossed legs serving as platforms for his elbows. He rested his head on his knuckles and sighed comfortably. 

“Again? Within a day?”

“Yeah- he’s clumsy,” Virgil said, a bit rushed, before changing the topic. “You said something about ‘corporate’? Don't tell me there’s capitalism in the afterlife, too.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Logan sighed. “I’ve never been there.”

“What do you mean you’ve never been? I thought that was your whole thing?”

“My fate is little more than a punishment for those who led irredeemable lives. We don't get to see the afterlife, but we have to spend eternity leading others there. The closest we get is the gates.” Logan fidgeted with his tie, unsure how Virgil would react. He’d just said his job is only for horrible people… Virgil was going to think he was horrible! Which he was, of course, but it still hurt. 

“Irredeemable lives? What does that mean?” 

“You know. Mass murderers, billionaires, the majority of politicians,” Virgil didn't seem to react at all to Logan’s response. He just kept staring at him and looking away. Staring at him, looking away. Over and over and over. 

“Lemme guess…” Virgil’s brow furrowed as he contemplated. “Billionaire?” 

“God, no. Mass murderer,” Logan laughed a bit. “I killed a few billionaires in my living days- along with… many others, but we don't have to talk about that.” 

“I get it. So you’re… evil?” Logan didn't know why Virgil was smiling, but he knew he wanted to make it happen again. 

“...you could put it that way, yes”

“Dude, that’s so cool! I’m a somewhat evil man myself,” Virgil came down from his perch on the counter, taking the seat beside Logan. “Well, that’s what others seem to think, at least. I sorta just went with it. I’m not evil because I wanna do shitty things to people, I’m just in it for the aesthetic.”

Logan took a long look at Virgil and had to agree. It really worked for him. He didn't normally enjoy the classical goth style, with its ornate black dresses and frills- it was too lavish for his business-like tastes- but the way Virgil looked… he might have started to enjoy it a bit. He was in a long, tight dress- much fancier than the cloak he was wearing the first time they met. His sleeves draped over his wrists, forming long, flowy triangles. He was fucking gorgeous, and if Logan had blood, he’d be blushing.

“Hello? You there?” Logan jolted as Virgil’s hand grazed his, pulling back in surprise. He immediately missed the bit of warmth that Virgil’s touch had supplied, however little. 

“Fuck, you are cold,” Virgil looked at his hand, like he could see the chill on his skin. “And you feel like that all the time?” 

Logan nodded, avoiding looking at Virgil. 

Virgil stayed silent for a second before speaking again, in a soft voice Logan had to strain to hear. 

“I’m- I’m warm. I’ve got body heat and stuff…”

“Yes, I know that.” He couldn’t tell if Virgil was gloating or if he was guilty somehow. But then again, when had he ever been able to tell what others were thinking?

“I’m saying- and it could be a horrible idea and you can shoot it down if you don't like it, it’s kinda stupid- but…” Virgil kept tripping over his words, unable to get out whatever it was he was suggesting. “I’m warm and you’re- you’re cold, so if we like… held hands or shared a blanket or something, you could be warm. BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT TO! Totally your call. You probably don't want to, forget I asked-”

“I’d love that.”

“...are you serious?” The surprise on Virgil’s face almost made Logan laugh. 

“Of course.” he saw Virgil glancing at his hand on the table and flipped it over, his palm facing up. An invitation. Virgil tentatively reached his own hand out, stopping to look at Logan’s face for confirmation. At Logan’s nod, he placed his hand on top of his and laced their fingers together. 

It was instant, like a lightning strike flowing through Logan’s fingers, his arm, all through his body. Just a simple touch, something so small, but it was the most significant thing in the world to Logan. He stared at their joined hands, and he thought he might just cry. Maybe it wasn’t just the warmth he missed. Maybe he missed the affection, too. 

He looked up as Virgil lifted their hands, slowly bringing Logan’s up to his lips. His breath on Logan’s skin was already almost intoxicating, but when he kissed his hand, Logan could’ve fainted. Virgil evidently decided he wasn’t done, kissing up Logan’s arm and pulling him closer. He put his free hand on Logan’s cheek, holding him like a precious artifact- delicate, but firm.  For the first time in a century, Logan was warm. He could get used to this.

Ashe SFW and nsfw HC? Also ferdie too pls? Ty!

A couple of sweet good boys on a sunday let's gooooo

Ashe, Ferdinand (FE3H) x GN Reader HCs

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Ashe:

- Ashe is absolute precious boyfriend material, with all of the cozy and comforting trappings that come with it. Cute inside jokes and pet names that sound like nonsense to anyone else, shared clothing and swinging your hand slightly when he holds it- all of the wonderful little things that reinforce the effortless way you just 'get' each other.

- He does worry about you a lot, but he'll tend to channel that into productive solutions. He'll offer to teach you some techniques with a bow, or even certain little survival tricks he learned in his rougher upbringing. His first instinct is to be your chivalrous knight- to throw himself in front of you and protect you with his whole being. However, he can certainly be convinced to channel this instead into helping you feel confident in your abilities so you both have less cause to worry to begin with.

- Dates with Ashe are usually pleasant walks through town, or through a nice forest path he'd heard of from the locals. You two will bring some food you prepared together, and simply enjoy each other's company along with the sights. When you do feel like taking time for a bite to eat, he'll even regale you with his favorite chivalrous tales. He apologizes for getting so wrapped up in them- surely you must find them embarrassing or boring -but he's so passionate and engaging when he tells you these stories, it's hard not to get swept up with him.

Ferdinand:

- get ready to be ~spoiled~ my friend. Once you've captured Ferdie's heart, no gesture is too grand, no price is too high, and no effort is too great for the chance for him to express his adoration. He'll have flowers delivered to your quarters until you're surrounded by a veritable garden, and if he has to bring a personal chef to Garreg Mach to ensure your favorite dishes are always available, then so be it. If his absolute excessive doting is too much for comfort, he can be talked down a little bit, though you're going to have to be firm with him. In general, Ferdinand does best with a straightforward and communicative partner, as he doesn't always do well with subtext.

- While not necessarily into PDA (it seems ignoble to engage in physical pleasures in public), he has absolutely no qualms about calling you "darling" or "dearest" no matter what the company. He'll openly brag about you to anyone who will listen too- though he hardly sees why he should have to, since it's so obvious that you're the most stunning, brilliant, charming person in Fodlan and elsewhere.

- Ferdie frequently enjoys sharing a ride around the castle grounds on horseback. If you don't know how to ride, he'll gladly teach you, and in fact he secretly savors the chance to guide you by hand and provide for you. Of course, it's equally if not more appealing to have you share a saddle with him, held close to him by an arm around your waist.

- He's shy about admitting it at first but he loves when you brush and/or braid his hair- it feels so intimate and loving!

NSFW v

Ashe:

- we've chatted about Ashe's sexual tendencies a bit, so feel free to check the masterlist in my profile for more of this good good boy (he's in a bunch of the multi character posts), but let's see what else we can chat about.

- Ashe bruises fairly easily, so it's likely you'll leave a hickey or two on him without even fully meaning to. He's very sweet about it, shyly smiling and telling you that he doesn't mind if it's from you. The other Blue Lions (okay mostly just Sylvain) might tease him a bit if they notice, but in truth, this just makes Ashe think about how wonderful it was to have you and how he can't wait to be with you again.

- His cock is about average in length, but it has a wonderful shape to it that stimulates all kinds of unexpected spots. When fully erect, it has a nice, strong upward curve, and the head bulges a bit thicker and has an attractive dark pink flush to it. Ashe also has gorgeously defined arm and shoulder muscles, so he's more than strong and dexterous enough to pull off any position you'd like to try, despite his lithe frame. If anything, the gap appeal between how sweet and earnest he is and how pleasurable the sex can be is arousing in its own right.

- He's very shy about giving and receiving oral at first. He has this idea that giving oral is a complex and scientific process for him to master, and he desperately wants to get it right for you. Meanwhile, receiving feels like he's making you do something subservient for him, which he's personally not into (he's not into power dynamics in bed much in general). He can absolutely get over this, and in fact he can be quite good at oral once he learns to relax and just try things and learn together, but you're going to have to reassure him a bit.

Ferdinand:

- why have I written so little about Ferdie?? He's a joy, let's talk about fucking him.

- Ferdinand actually has a fairly impressive cock, and he has no idea. It's not like he's completely naïve- he's fooled around a bit with romantic interests in the past- but you're likely to be his first true sexual partner once he's realized his enduring feelings for you. So when you ease down the hem of his breeches and see his manhood standing long and thick and nicely tapered, you might be a bit pleasantly surprised.

- Related, Ferdie definitely gets off on praise. Steadily stroking his length while telling him how beautiful his cock is, how big it is, how you can't wait to feel him inside of you, will easily have him bright red in the face and panting for you in no time. If you liked, you could certainly get him to cum like this, making an absolute mess as he spills his load all over your hands with his head tilted back and his fists clenched.

- He's a bit clumsy with his hands at first, having not learned about sex to any great degree prior to you. He'll be immensely relieved if you're the type to tell him exactly what you want and what feels good for you, so communication is key when it comes to him. However, he has a wonderful natural sense of how to move his hips, and his thigh and glute muscles are well developed as any true equestrian's would be. Riding Ferdinand is especially enjoyable, since he'll intuitively match your rhythm so he's pushing deep into you at the best possible angle.

- Ferdinand is beautifully sensitive in a number of places. He loves having his hair pulled, and feeling your nails along his scalp and down the back of his neck raises goosebumps across his skin. His nipples are sensitive as well, and while he may be shy about you playing with them at first, the feeling is simply too pleasurable to resist. As he starts to realize the full potential of different types of sensations, his foreplay improves exponentially as well- he becomes more adventurous, kissing and gently nipping at your stomach, your inner thighs, anywhere he can reach really.

Dewey Decimal System

Max Cady x Reader in the library, no plot, just smut

Dedicating this little work to @droogiesanddiscourse who just today found out she's graduating with honors!!! I'm so proud of you bb!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

TW: smut, public sex, explicit/raunchy dialogue, Max Cady in general?

Word Count: 2.2k

“My baby’s so smart, knowing how to find any book in the library,” your boyfriend, Max, coos quietly to you as you saunter through the aisles and aisles of books, softly leading him with his hand in yours. “You know I didn’t learn to read until my stay in the big house, but I never did learn numbers all that well. I’m glad my little princess can navigate this, uh, what do you call it? Dew something?’

“The Dewey Decimal System!” you whisper in a giggle.

“The Dewey Decimal System...” he tried the words out on his tongue, “Well, I’m glad you can lead me in the right direction, angel.”

“Oop, right here!!” you point up at a tall shelf. Max’s body crashes into yours, nearly landing you both on the floor, as you stopped so suddenly.

“Goodness gracious, girlie, you must be excited to do some reading, huh?” his voice rumbles lowly next to your ear. His muscular arms wrap tightly around your midsection, pressing your backside against him. You can feel his arousal stirring already; he really has no qualms about doing nasty things to you, any time, anywhere. “Oh, baby, I’m already thinking about you reading to me... Hearing that sweet little voice say such naughty things, those pretty little lips forming unholy syllables...” And in true Max Cady fashion, his fingertips are already teasing at the edge of your skirt, threatening for his rough palms to attack your delicate thighs.

You feel a single finger creep up to your hip, teasing at the waistband of your panties, “I hope you aren’t particularly fond of these, ‘cuz they’re coming off now, honey.” And with that, his other hand quickly follows the first one up your skirt and before you could even protest, the man is on his knees and the lacy underwear around your ankles. He helps you out of them as is you were a toddler, getting them over your shoes.

He quickly snatches a book from the bottom shelf and flips it open to a random page before stuffing your panties in it and shoving it back on the shelf. “Max!!!” you whisper-yell.

“What?” he plays dumb, standing back up to press himself into your backside again. “You don’t want someone findin’ your panties? Knowin’ what we did in here? Mmm, well I wanna spread the word about you, baby... Besides, they can use it as a bookmark.” His hands grip your hipbones and he gives you a sloppy kiss on your neck, making a loud slurping noise.

“Max! Shhh!!”

“You’re so cute, all worried about getting caught. You think we’ll get in trouble if someone sees us, or god forbid if someone hears us in this quiet place?”

“Maaaaxxx...” you whine.

“Mm, yeah? You like that idea? Someone hearing the way I turn you into a whore for me? You don’t sound as innocent as you look once I get you goin’.” His hand slides around to your sex, teasing you roughly through the smooth fabric of your skirt, and when you let out a little whimper, it only proves his point.

"Alright, princess, why don't you grab us that book we're looking for?" Following his question, Max's strong arms easily hoist you off the ground, lifting you up, up, up to reach that top shelf and pull down one of Max's favorite books: 𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳. Oh, and don't think that he missed the opportunity to peak under that skirt...

• • •

As you and Max relax in two adjacent armchairs that he scooted close together, you recite prose from your boyfriend's favorite author. Just a few pages in, you're already at one of his favorite parts. You can read the sheer excitement on Max's face when he says, "Alright, darlin', you better speak up for this next part, you know how much I like the dirty bits."

You look around, making sure no one is nearby, and you start, "'At night when I look at Boris' goatee lying on the pillow I get hysterical.'"

"Louder," Max tilts his head forward, looking at you from under his brow bone.

You raise your voice only slightly, "'O Tania, where now is that warm cunt of yours, those fat, heavy garters, those soft, bulging thighs?'"

"I can't hear you..." he chimes devilishly.

"'There is a bone in my prick six inches long...'"

"And what's he gonna do with it?" Like he doesn't already know.

"'I will ream out every wrinkle in your cunt, Tania, big with seed,'" you look around again, checking for any poor passersby, "'I will send you home to your Sylvester with an ache in your belly and your womb turned inside out.'"

Max let's out a low whistle, "That Henry Miller suuuure knew what he was talking about, huh?" He leans forwards and rather directly slides his hand under your skirt, thumb quickly parting your lips to find that special little bundle of nerves.

You gasp loudly, and Max continues, "Yeah? You want me to turn your womb inside out like he did to Tania? Make that little cunt smooth with my big cock?" His voice is just loud enough that it still sounds intimate but anyone walking by could easily hear.

In an attempt to quiet your moans, you press on reading, "’Your Sylvester! Yes, he knows how to build a fire-‘"

"’But I know how to inflame a cunt!’" Max finishes your sentence for you before pulling you up out of your chair and into his lap, where his fingers quickly find their place between your thighs as if it is the most natural thing in the world to him. "Keep reading, princess," he whispers softly in your ear.

You become aware of his hard length pressing into your thigh, as you read the line, "’I shoot hot bolts into you, Tania, I make your ovaries incandescent.’”

Max lets out a deep moan that rumbles your eardrums and presses some kisses to your cheek and jawline.

“‘Your Sylvester is a little jealous now? He feels something, does he? He feels the remnants of my big prick. I have set the shores a little wider. I have ironed out the wrinkles,’” Max starts to rut against you in his lap. His hands take a firm grip on your hips and slide you back and forth against the erection trapped in his pants. You keep going, “‘After me you can take on stallions, bulls, rams, drakes, St. Bernards. You can stuff toads, bats, lizards up your rectum. You can shit arpeggios if you like, or string a zither across your navel.’”

His moans become quite noisy and his hands search for your flesh; one hand slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the soft skin of your tummy, the other getting an anchor hold on your hair and giving it a rough tug. You inhale sharply wincing at the pain. You can tell Max is getting needy for you; it would never cease to fascinate you how some little girl (anyone is small next to his towering muscular frame) could have so much control over him.

“‘I am fucking you, Tania, so that you'll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately-‘“

“Damn, that sounds like a good idea,” Max grunts out and unzips his pants, “I sure hope you aren’t afraid of being fucked publicly.”

His next few actions only take a few seconds, and before you can even realize it, you’ve been hoisted up and swiftly dropped down onto your boyfriend’s thick cock. You somehow let out a gasp and a squeal at the same time, and Max claps his hand over your mouth. The only other sound is the thud of the book hitting the floor and closing. Where Max wanted you to speak up before, now it’s time for the quiet game...

“How’s that feel? Daddy’s big cock stretching out those tight walls, huh?” Clearly, it’s a rhetorical question since his hand stays clasped over your mouth. It’s Max’s turn to tease you with his words. “You always take me so well, my little princess. You think if anyone walked by they would know that you’re filled to the brim with my prick? You’ve been trained well, baby girl, you can take me and no one knows I’m inside you, but I know how turned on you are, I felt how wet you were when I was touching you. You wanted this, and I bet everyone knows how much you wanted it, I bet that librarian in the next room knows you have your pussy stuffed right now.”

In all honestly, this guy Ryan had just started working at the library; he had hoped it would be more a bit more relaxing than his job at the local drive-in movie theatre. But Ryan recognized you and Max when you came in, and he really, REALLY doesn’t want another awkward interaction with your boyfriend, so he’s gonna leave you to do whatever you want in the back room of the library...

His hand still covers your mouth as you lean your head back onto his shoulder, looking at him out the corner of your eye. His other arm braces your hips, keeping you flush to him so you can feel every time his member twitches. “You feel me, princess? Feel that ‘bone in my prick’ and how bad I want you?”

You nod your head as much as his grip will allow, eyes never leaving his.

“If I can be frank, sweetheart, Daddy’s never been good at this whole cockwarming thing like you are. It always leaves me wanting more, and you know Daddy can’t resist having more of you... Whaddaya say we play horsey instead? I’ll bounce you on my lap like the dumb little baby doll you are, just like your old man did for you when you were a kid."

You let out an excited little whimper, and Max moves his hands to your hips. "Now I can't keep a hand on your mouth anymore. Think you can keep quiet for me?"

You nod your head excitedly and whisper as quietly as you can, "Yes, sir, Daddy. Can I have a kiss?"

"Aww, of course you can, angel," his lips meet yours in a wet, unrefined fashion, giving you the rough kind of kiss you need. Max also takes this moment to start bouncing you in his lap, just like horsey. With your lips pressed to his, it muffles any sounds that escape the two of you.

His thrusts are small and quick, but actually really satisfying at this angle. The girth of him presses against that special spot inside you. That combined with the thrill of possibly getting caught already has that feeling creeping up in your belly. Your nails dig into his hips looking for something to ground you as you find ecstasy in your orgasm.

But your climax isn't gonna stop Max from what he's doing. He continues to bounce you on his lap, whispering, "Mmm, finished so soon? You must like bouncing on my cock. Bouncy, bouncy..."

You bite your lip, still riding out your orgasm as he continually slams into your g-spot. When a drawn out little whine hums out of you, Max shushes you with a "Shhhh, shhh, baby. You're doing so good, such a good girl for Daddy. Just a little longer, I'm so close, princess."

With your brows furrowed and eyes closed tight, you brave yourself on the arms of the chair. You feel two calloused fingertips at your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, taking them in.

"There that'll keep you quiet for this next part," Max warns before absolutely plowing his hips up into you as fast as he can. His other hand maintains such a firm grip on your side, you think he'll probably leave bruises.

Max chokes back a deep grunt and pulls you down into his lap to spill his seed inside you. You feel his length jolting and that warm gooey liquid. You both sit there catching your breath, and Max wraps his arms around you in a loving embrace.

He gets you to look at him, placing another dirty kiss to your mouth. Then he pulls you off of him, stand up, places you back down on the chair, and gets his pants zipped up.

"Um. Max?" you whisper, a little tense.

"What is it, little darlin'?" He gets on his knees in front of you, placing his big hands on your thighs.

"Uhhh... I think there's gonna be a little mess on this chair," you get right next to his ear and oh so quietly tell him, "it's, uh, leaking."

"Aww, are you worried about leaving some of my cum on the chair?" he places a hand on your chin, "That was the point, baby. The librarian can handle it." Max gives you a wink before taking you by the hand and leading you out of the library.

Poor Ryan.... Scarred again by Max and his girl, and now he has to clean up after them.

Hi there!!! I wanted to let you know I love reading your work!! I would also like to request peanut butter with Kirishima, Bakugou, and Amajiki please!

to anon: ahh thank you so much anon!! that seriously means so much to me. i see you’re craving a bit of angst tonight, i hope that i can deliver, since i do like writing a fair amount of angst :,)))

warnings: love triangles, implied cheating, a lot of doubts, insecurities, and swearing. reader is gn! tread carefully with this one please

prompt: eijirou kirishima, katsuki bakugou, tamaki amajiki headcanons + “why are you lying to me?”

eijirou kirishima

kirishima didn’t want to believe it at first

he didn’t want to believe that you actually had feelings for bakugou, his best friend of all people

especially when bakugou knew how he was feeling about you

but how could he ever compare to bakugou? top of your class with such a manly quirk to back up his intense commitment to being a hero. his drive was impeccable, it was no wonder you liked him so much

he tried to keep his feelings on the downlow, wanting to support you and let you be happy with bakugou. it were your feelings, you were allowed to love who you wanted to love

so why was he feeling so distraught?

so utterly trapped by his emotions?

what the fuck was wrong with him?

it wasn’t as if anything between the two of you had changed, either. you were still his best friend, his study buddy, his person to go to whenever he got in his head

except now he couldn’t. he couldn’t look at you the same, especially when you talked about bakugou the way that you did

“hey, i think i might ask him out. what do you think, kiri?”

his entire world collapsed

you two had been studying for history together. it appeared that his brain had stopped functioning, your words processing in his mind. “what?” he asked you in a small voice, clearing his throat to better hide the way his voice had cracked. when his eyes met yours, you were staring at him curiously

“is everything okay?”

“me? oh yeah, no no! i’m okay. i think um, i think you totally should.”

“... really?”

kirishima was kicking himself, biting his tongue to keep his feelings from spilling all over his textbook. it wasn’t the manliest move to lie about his feelings, but he couldn’t simply hold you back from being with someone you liked that much

“yeah. i don’t see why not i mean, you talk about him all the time! so, i figured, if he makes you happy, go for it.”

“are you okay?”

“i- of course i am, i’m okay with you dating bakugou. it’s all okay with me!”

“why are you lying to me?”

“pardon?”

kirishima’s hand holding his pencil tensed, fidgeting ever so slightly as you continued to look at him intensely. nothing got past you

“kiri, seriously. is there something wrong?”

kirishima weighed out his options. he took in your features, your bright eyes looking serious and your mouth pulled into a pout as you watched him react. he held his breath, breaking your staring contest to glance back at his notebook below him

“do you really like him like that?”

“what do you mean?”

“i want you to be happy.”

“kirishima-”

“go date him.”

“huh?”

kirishima looked at you, a small smile on his face that held an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “i think he’ll make you happy. bakubro’s not a bad guy, he’s super manly. i know he seems a bit, y’know, but i think he could really make you happy.” he was nothing compared to him. he could never make you as happy as bakugou.

not wanting to fight, you nodded your head slowly. “if you don’t want to talk about it, you can just tell me that too,” you replied gently. that wasn’t bothering him, you knew that. and yet you decided to keep your head down

to this day, looking at the invitation to yours and bakugou’s wedding still brings a sick feeling of regret to his stomach

he should have told you

he just realized too late

katsuki bakugou

you and katsuki had your arguments back and forth about his work life not constantly, but enough for you to take notice of it

sure, you and katsuki had your qualms but you always made up in the end. you both came back to each other, no matter how angry you both got or no matter how much time had passed

you always came back to each other

tonight though, was awful. it was the worst argument you two had ever had

“what is it now, dumbass?” he growled aggressively, his eyes flicking to you with a certain annoyance that looked all too familiar to you

“where were you tonight? we had a date.”

“was at work.”

he didn’t even look up from his phone

you weren’t satisfied with his answer, knowing him and his schedule well enough to be aware that he had not been at the agency

“no, you weren’t at work.”

he scoffed with a shake of his head. “sure, believe what you want to believe.”

“can you listen to me while i’m talking to you? i’m standing literally right here.”

he let out a small “hm” at your remark, your fists clenched as you gritted your teeth. he was really pushing your buttons now

finally, right then and there, you had had enough of his bullshit

“why are you lying to me?”

bakugou’s head whipped up, face contorted in an ugly sort of snarl like an animal finally biting after being provoked for long enough

“the fuck do you mean i’m lying? why the fuck would i lie to you?”

“i know you weren’t at work! you’re done at five and you came home at eight. where were you?”

“i was going home and stopped a shitty villain, is that what you wanted to hear?” the way he spat words at you with such a venomous tongue made your blood boil. you decided to push further

“what villain?”

“fucking christ, really? do you seriously not trust me?”

you said nothing, fear coursing through your body as doubts plagued your mind. his gaze watched you steadily, tears wetting your cheeks as you crossed your arms. you decided to finally let him know

“i know, katsuki. i saw the fucking texts.”

bakugou seemed to be frozen in place, a slow realization washing over the anger on his face. he looked like a deer in headlights

you stood tall, your chin pointed up as you held faux confidence before him

had you not been enough for him? had you pushed him too far? maybe this had been your fault. no. this wasn’t the time to overthink. you had to protect yourself. you vowed to yourself no one would ever treat you like that again. mustering up all the courage you had, picking your shattered heart off the floor of your now one person inhabited apartment, you offered two words to him

“get out.”

tamaki amajiki

it wasn’t exactly a secret that tamaki was a person who tended to overthink things a lot

he would get jitters and his nerves would act up, causing him to be a little more insecure than the average person

he needed a lot of reassurances, to which you didn’t mind giving him. you loved tamaki, you would always be there to support him. you were his partner, he was your boyfriend. of course you would be there for him to lean back on

there were some times where his mind would spiral, especially when it was later at night and he couldn’t sleep

he stared up at the ceiling, his eyes going in and out of focus as he listened to the steady rhythm of your breathing. twiddling his thumbs, he sighed. you deserved better than the stuttering mess that he was. someone who wasn’t afraid to speak up during nights out with your friends, someone who was more positive and less doubtful

he was scared you would realize all of these things and just walk out of his life

you were so precious to him

he couldn’t have that happen

“tama?”

your voice pierced the silence of the night, his thoughts dissipating as the rustling of the sheets indicated you were sitting up in your shared bed

oh no, oh god had you realized?

“why are you up, darling?” you asked of him gently as the light of the lamp was flicked on

his cheeks looked red and streaked with tears

“hey, talk to me. what’s going on?”

not wanting to be a bother, he shook his head, pulling the covers up to hide his face from you

“n- nothing bunny. let’s just get some rest.”

“why are you lying to me?”

your voice wasn’t accusatory, you had merely asked the question. tamaki, however, visibly flinched at your words

“no, let’s not… it’s really nothing,” he mumbled beneath his blanket shield, turning over to face away from you. he couldn’t tell you about what he was feeling, not now. not when he hadn’t made up at least 80 different ways the conversation would play out. he needed to be prepared for all of them

“tamaki,” you reached out for his touch, your hand meeting his quivering form before he shrugged your hand off his shoulder

“go to bed, it’s nothing,” he said more firmly this time

this wasn’t what he wanted

why was he pushing you away?

tamaki’s hands squeezed the edges of the covers, eyes closing shut in a sorry attempt to block out what he was feeling. doubt and anxieties swirled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach

“i.. alright. we’ll talk about this in the morning?”

tamaki said nothing in response, your heart wrenching in your chest upon receiving silence

the two of you barely slept anymore than a wink that night, the shadow of your shared insecurities looming over you both

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox @honeykami @httpfirx @strawberrysalwa @hey-i-really-miss-you @smexy-goose @satis-kei

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

Mostrami Amore.

Summary: Cha-young tries to move on from a certain mafia boss. 

Author’s Note: Thank for to everyone who sent in prompts for Chayenzo, it resulted in this mess. I don’t have much to say, I considered making this into a multi- chaptered story but honestly I don’t have time for another ongoing story so if this seems rushed it was a little, I wrote it in one go today. Hope you enjoy this, I stuck in some of my favorite crack ship because I am weak and obsessed. Happy reading! 

p.s takes place after final episode but han seo lives because this is my world and I get to play God. 

Another postcard.

Their delivery becomes sporadic and she’s embarrassed at the giddiness that washes over her each time a new square is sent miles across a wide stretch of ocean, the view on the card most likely lackluster in comparison to the true rendering of Malta. She has spent many hours on her laptop searching for images of the small paradisiac island, yearning to see what he sees and feel just a tad bit closer to him. Most of her life has been spent in solitude with only her work acquaintances filling the void at times, so she expected herself to be more equipped to deal with his disappearance and subsequent absence. But nothing prepares her for those moments at the coffee shop, when she finds herself smiling across a table only to realize there is no miniature espresso cup in the hand of a very dangerous Italian Korean mafia member grinning back at her. 

The smile melts off her face and she swallows the bitter cool sludge in her cup, the beverage tasting exactly as he had described it without him there. 

Nights are the hardest, loneliness coils around her like a snake. 

There was never any other fate for them, she knew that when Vincenzo murdered all their enemies this was their only real outcome. He would always be a fugitive on the run and she an accomplice if he were captured and questioned, it was in both of their best interests if he vanished from the face of the planet. But knowing that does nothing to qualm the ever present feeling of isolation that clings to her skin as she sits alone on her couch, downing makgeolli at a vicious pace. Trying to wash his taste from her mouth, that kiss on loop in her mind and the phantom grip of his hand on her neck. 

It’s those treacherous nights without the plaza members that have become a second family to her and Han Seo following her like the lost puppy he is calling her “Noona” so freely and frequently until she forgets her own name, that she allows herself to feel exactly what she’s feelings. 

Heartbroken. 

Desperate. 

Lonely. 

Rage. 

The last one she hides like a dirty secret in the closet of her heart, she knew what she was signing up for. She has no legitimate reason to be angry, or so she tries to reason with herself. But. This was the same man who had bypassed the security of one of the richest men in Korea and ultimately killed him without leaving a trace. She had watched him do despicable things, blackmailing, threatening, seducing, and murdering others as he saw fit and yet, he hadn’t used any of those dastardly ways to see her. That chance meeting at the art gallery had been the last she had seen of him, Then a few weeks later another postcard with the same message she had boldly uttered at the airport, it feels insufficient after having him in her arms again. She knew in that moment that they would never be enough again. She hadn’t even argued when Mr. Nam claimed he would leave this one on his table instead, she merely nodded and walked away to peruse the new sexual assault case she has taken recently. 

It gets harder and harder to hear Han Seo regaling the wonders of his “hyung”,  her anger boiling deep below the surface like magma waiting to explode and transform into something tangible and destructive. 

“He told me that he has a room for me too. I wonder when he’ll let us visit.” 

She nods absently, staring out the window at the sunlight twinkling in through the blinds but then his words register and the gears in her head churn before running the sentence back through to carefully process them. 

“He---what? You spoke to Vincenzo?” 

The human puppy pouts his lips before tilting his head and dealing a hard blow to her ego and her heart, “Yeah, he sends me letters. I got so scared the first time! He said the letter would self-destruct after I read it and I really thought that was true and I dived across the room to escape but I bumped my head on the table and then...” 

He sent Han Seo letters.  

She had received the same fucking postcard for months on end with the same message she had said to him, and he had time to write Han Seo letters. He hadn’t sent her even one in the time he had been gone. 

“That fucking bastard!”  She explodes interrupting Han Seo’s recount of his near death experience and he looks wide- eyed and taken back by her outburst, she almost soothes him before another wave of anger rushes through her veins. She had accepted the bare minimum because she thought this was all he could give her but it seemed she was being too naïve. He was Vincenzo Cassano after all, he could make anything happen. She had seen it with her own two eyes. If he wasn’t reaching out to her maybe that was a message and she was too blind to see it. 

“Noona? Are you okay?” Han Seo looks absolutely terrified, eyes huge and quivering. She doesn’t bother answering, grabbing her cup of lukewarm coffee and stomping out of the office ignoring Mr. Nam’s calls behind her. She’s tired of being an idiot. 

She throws herself into forgetting him, the same way he seems to have forgotten her despite his words to her that fateful night on the stairs. 

I thought about you everyday. 

Actions speak louder than words and she is done accepting his crumbs. She has never needed anyone, had even accepted when her own father wanted nothing to do with her; she has basically been prepping for this moment her entire life. 

So she goes shopping with Miri, buying gadgets that she has no idea how to use but that the other girl makes sound like things that she definitely needs such as a new home security system, her break in still fresh in her mind. She grins at the pretty smile on the other girl’s round face as she explains the specification of the machines around them and she can see why Han Seo has such a huge crush on the girl, the pretty blush that blossoms on the other girl’s cheek after stating the fact out loud is adorable and she pinches said cheek much to her chagrin. 

“You should worry about your own love life.” Miri teases but the words sting like acid on her skin and she turns away to hide the grimace on her face, but she’s not fast enough and the other girl catches her wrist halting her movement. 

“What? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Mr. Cassano?” Miri whispers the last part, looking around to make sure that nobody overhears them. 

She forces herself to stifle her emotions, trapping them in the back of her mind refusing to let him have this kind of affect on her. 

“I wouldn’t know.” She tries for a emotionless tone but even she can hear the bitterness in her own voice and Miri’s eyes fill with pity and it makes her sick to her stomach, “Don’t. I am going to be fine. Let’s just go.” 

They don’t utter single word in the car ride home. 

After that it becomes painfully obvious that everyone in the plaza thinks something is wrong with her and are teaming up to make her feel better. It’s the packed lunches that keep showing up on her desk without fail, her clothes being steamed and pressed for free, the way that they won’t allow her to be alone and there are countless spontaneous family game nights all ending with her drunk and being carried home. 

Tonight Mr. Tak is the unlucky volunteer, dragging her limp body in her father’s house and she thinks of all the times that they drank here together and a certain person was the one hauling her body to bed complaining and grumbling but that distractingly fond smile on his face that he only ever seemed to shoot her way. Her heart thumped loudly as he loomed over her and leaned in close, getting her hopes up only to brush her hair behind her ears and softly tell her, “Go to sleep now,” and she had never been obedient all her teachers could testify to that but when he looked at her like that she was powerless to do anything else but listen. 

“I miss him.” The traitorous words fall from her lips and vanish into the inky darkness of the night. 

A deep sigh from the left of her, “We know.” 

She feels vulnerable, the worst thing about having a weakness is other’s noticing too. She hates how weak she feels. 

“I am going to forget him.” 

The body supporting most of her weight tenses under her arm and she waits for his response, they all love Vincenzo- he had become their unexpected hero and leader in many ways. They would always take his side, she knows that. 

“If that’s what you need to do to be happy. Then, do it. Loving a man like Vincenzo isn’t easy.” 

She turns to look at him in genuine shock. 

“What? You thought I would tell you to keep waiting with no end in sight? You should know by now, you mean a lot to us too. Your happiness is important to us too, we’re a family.” 

“But we’re the Cassano family,” she challenges unable to accept that they could love her without Vincenzo attached, but Mr. Tak shrugs at the clarification, “We can be the Hong Family too.”

She feels her eyes swimming. 

“I should go inside.” 

She feels sober and more awake than ever, she stays up all night twirling the long strands of her hair in between her fingers. 

Thinking. 

Variety is the spice of life. 

She doesn’t know where she’s heard that but it’s those sage words that are the catalyst for her spontaneous decision. 

“Same as always? Silky with some body?” Her stylist peers into her eyes through the wide mirror and she hears herself say, “No I want a cut and some color.” Yu-jin raises one pretty tweezed brow but nods after a moment’s pause, “Okay. How short are you thinking?” 

And that’s how she starts her day with long thick hair that grazes her lower back and ends it with a short bob that tickles her neck. It feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulder, metaphorically and literally and she loves the face that she sees in the mirror, her eyes looking brighter than they have in months. She feels more alive, like a snake shedding its skin and becoming a newer and fresher version of itself. 

“Your hair?” That becomes the running theme for her day, shocked gaping mouths and hands reaching out for the hair that was once there.  She merely smirks at their palpable surprise, especially Seol-jin who doesn’t recognize her from behind. 

“I haven’t seen a pretty lady like you aro--Oh Ms. Hong! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I am so sorry please excuse me!” The interpretative dancer bolts away leaving her to watch him bemused, she skips to Jipuragi with a pep in her step laughing loudly when Mr. Nam drops his coffee upon seeing her and the brown liquid goes flying and douses him in a sticky hot mess. 

It’s an entertaining day to say the least. 

Moments later when he’s finished cleaning himself up and changing into the cheetah print track suit that he insisted to keeping in the office, he mentions that a new postcard has arrived. She nods at the information, looking at her laptop and it’s only seconds later that she finally looks up and sees that he’s waiting for her response. She doesn’t have one. 

Forcing a tight smile on her face she replies, “Oh that’s great. Just put it with the others.” 

He does. 

But she can feel his eyes on her, his concern heavy and tangible in the air. 

She pretends not to notice and keeps clicking away on her laptop, only glancing over at the card once or twice. But it’s only out of habit. 

Nothing more. 

She starts going on dates with random men. Men she meets in coffee shops, on the streets, in bars, hell one time even the bookstore. She never meets the same man twice and they never get what they want but it does make her feel desirable and that’s all she’s looking for. 

“Where are you going?” Han Seo asks her curiously, Miri by his side as she struts out the plaza new perfume on her skin. 

“On a date. I’ll see you both later.” They both gape at her and can only watch with wide eyes as she sashays away, heels clicking with every step. 

Word spreads like wildfire and no one takes it harder than Mr. An, who calls her a “jezebel” and cries at the front of the law firm for hours, she has to step over him to go get lunch shaking him off when he latches on to her ankles. 

The others just look at her with sad eyes, filled with both understanding and disappointment. 

Much to her surprise the lunch boxes keep coming and her clothes are still pressed and starched to perfection though. 

She also starts taking self defense classes, Korea is much more dangerous than she had first suspected and she has to be able to protect herself because nobody is coming to save her.  Not anymore. 

It becomes a great outlet for her built up anger and her instructor praises her for being a fast learner. She grins and nods before flipping him and twisting his arm around his own neck in a modified sleeper hold. When he taps on her arm she squeezes tighter instead of letting go and he goes limp for a moment before she comes back to herself and releases him hastily with a quick apology, “Sorry!”

He rubs his neck, panting for air and she feels guilty, there's a tinge of that but most of all she feels powerful, more so than she has for a long time. 

It’s crazy but she finds herself asking him for drinks after class and even crazier is that he agrees even with her marks still there on his skin, the area bruised and red. He looks at her like she’s challenge that he wants to conquer, she lets him believe that’s possible. It’s only a bit of fun anyway, she has no plans for anything serious. 

Drinks turn into a drunken cab ride home with his hand on her thigh, hot through the thin material of her tights and they don’t feel right- too small and not rough enough but she’s moving on and she has no time to reminisce. 

There hasn’t even been a postcard lately. Message, loud and clear. 

When she shoves the keys into her door, he’s glued to her body leaving wet kisses on the long column of her neck and she tries to suppress the nausea that swims in her stomach, everything feels wrong and she hates herself for feeling that way. Why shouldn’t she fuck whoever she wants? He is probably doing the same thing, everyday on his beautiful private island. Kissing women that aren’t her and whispering dirty Italian words into their ears as he rocks back and forth, nary a thought of that Korean woman he knew once upon a time. 

Fuck him. 

She rocks back into the purposeful grind of the hips behind her, feeling the hardness that digs into the soft flesh of her ass and finally the door opens and they both tumble in haphazardly and he thrusts a hand under her loose shirt fingering at her breasts before a dark figure moves far too quickly in her peripheral and she hears her date cry out in pain. 

She almost faints at the familiar sight of the one person she never expected to see, the hard glint of his cold eyes as he twists the same hand that had just been fondling her chest. The grip looks painful, the wrist contorted in an unnatural manner. 

“What the fuck? You have a boyfriend?!” Her instructor cries out, voice high pitched falling to his knees as Vincenzo kicks his feet out from under him. 

She rolls her eyes, of course he would come now when she is trying (and failing) to get over him. 

Vindictively she answers the question, ‘No.” 

But that makes Vincenzo twist the wrist in his grip even tighter and she can see the bones breaking so she takes pity on the poor man, he didn’t sign up for a murderous mafia leader after all. 

“Just let him go. You have no right to do any of this.” 

He doesn’t listen right away and absently she wonders if she’ll need to test out her new moves on him, it would be satisfying to deck him square in the face. She dreams of that as often as she dreams of their reunion. Her feelings are...complicated to say the least. 

Then with a grunt, he throws the other man away like he’s trash and growls out, “Get out of here before I kill you.” 

She tries not be get turned on by that. But it’s a hard sell, her body already getting revved up. He’s telling the truth. 

The man wastes no time, jumping to his feet and bolting out the door without one backwards glance. Asshole, he was really just leaving her with a clearly unstable and dangerous man. 

“We need to talk.” Vincenzo squeezes out between clenched teeth, and her blood runs cold but she stares him dead in the eyes tired of this game they’ve been playing, if he’s here to end things she wants to know. 

“Okay. Then talk.” 

She looks insanely beautiful, with her hair cropped so short bringing his eyes to the tantalizing length of her neck. His eyes close in on a spot of moisture on her neck, he feels his blood boiling imagining that bastard touching any part of her.  She’s glaring right back at him, her chest rising and falling and he can’t help but check her out, it’s been months since he saw her in person the photo of her doing aerial yoga above his bed couldn’t compare to the tempest that is Cha-young in real life. 

The flat plane of her belly is on display under the white crop top loosely stretched across her chest which leads down to her slim hips and legs wrapped in white spandex, leaving very little to the imagination not that he hasn’t imagined her in far less many, many times. Too many times to count. Spilling across the silk adorning his king sized bed with only her name on his lips. 

She looks fucking hot. 

That makes it even more frustrating because he can still clearly see that bastard wrapped around her like a snake and his hands going up her shirt---he has to take a deep breath before he breaks something. Or chases that asshole to break his face. 

There’s so much he wants to say to her, so much he owes her. 

I missed you. 

I love you. 

Come with me. 

“Who the hell was that?” He says this instead then watches her eyes glint over into nothing but pure murderous rage. Wrong move. But he couldn’t help it, green eyed raged taking away his decision making abilities. 

“That’s all you have to say? Get out.” 

He wasn’t expecting rose petals and trumpets when he returned but he definitely wasn’t expecting this, her cold glare or another man in his spot. He thought she would wait for him, just as he had done for her. 

“Are you serious right now?” He counters, flabbergasted. 

“Deadly. Get out.” 

He clenches his fist, and then stomps out. Turning back but only to watch the door slam in his face. 

What the hell. 

It had only taken a letter from Han Seo to get him on boat that would take him to an open field and hours later he was soaring through the skies on a hot air balloon, on his way back to Korea. It was insane and he barely had time to explain to his family but Luca nodded at him like this was the only choice and told him that he would take care of everything, and he trusted those words more than he had ever trusted anything in his life.

“Vai a prendere la tua donna( go get your woman).” 

He had nodded, gruffly patting the other man on his shoulder before hopping over into the waiting boat. 

But he wasn’t so certain anymore that Cha-young was his. 

She seems different. Colder almost, she leaves whenever I mention your name and she goes on dates now. I think she’s moving on hyung, what are you going to do? 

Those words had been the scariest thing he had never seen. Scarier than every gun that had ever been pointed at his head. He thought what they had was something special, something that could stand the test of time and distance. He stared at the huge pile of letters on his bedside, all addressed to her. He had written one everyday since they had been separated, but each time he was too much of a coward to send it. In those letters he could say things that he could never say to her face, things like how much he ached without her by his side and how her smile was the only thing that kept him going. In those letters he could regal the ways he loved her, and how deeply she had been branded into his soul, every atom of his body belonged to her and her alone.  He would kill for her, die for her, anything she needed or merely wanted he would provide it, all she needed to do was ask. 

He could only share those feelings in the letters. 

He walks for hours, until he ends up at his old apartment the familiar door greeting him and he sticks his hand in his pocket before he remembers that he gave the key away, with a sigh he starts to walk away before the door creaks open and he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in months. 

“Hyung!” 

A warmth spreads across his back as a solid weight almost knocks him off his feet. He reaches one arm around his body, awkwardly slapping the face that is pressing into his collar. 

“You really chose to stay here.” 

He feels the nod on his shoulder, “Of course. It made me feel closer to you hyung, I missed you.” 

He grunts in response, before turning around and tugging the younger man into a real hug. He had missed the annoying little leech too, he had missed everyone. 

They are still in each other’s embrace for a moment before Han Seo pulls away, sympathy etched deep on his face. 

“She wasn’t happy to see you.” 

“There was someone else there.” He hates the words even as they leave his mouth and Han Seo winces, looking pained for him before tugging him into the small apartment. Everything is just like he left it.  He looks around in awe. 

“I’m sorry hyung. What are you going to do?”

That’s the golden question, he pondered it all the way here and he’s no closer to knowing the answer to that. Usually she is the one that makes the move, she has always been the brave one between them. He back steps and says things he doesn’t mean and she sees through him and smashes down all his walls. That’s how this has always worked. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Let her be happy.” 

A loud scoff reaches his ears, “Sure. Is that why you sailed across sharked infested waters and trusted a hot air balloon company run my former thugs?”

He smarts at the sarcastic reply and glares before flicking the cheeky brat on his nose, "I liked you better when you were stupid you know. Now you're a little smart ass."

The younger man looks even more youthful as he grins back at him, rubbing at his nose before shrugging.  "I learned from the best."

He has no rebuttal for that so he tries to flick him again, giving chase when he darts off.

It feels good to be home.

He warns Han Seo not to tell anyone that he's here least they give away his location.

So he's not surprised the next day to find the cavalry at his doorstep hands filled to the brim with containers of food. There are tears, mostly from Mr. Nam who won't stop screaming his name and pinching his cheeks to see if he's real and Mr. An who wraps around him like a koala despite his very detailed threats. It's all chaos and so familiar that his heart aches but her absence is like a hole in his chest. Nobody mentions her but they all keep looking at the door, so it's obvious that she was invited but chose not to come.

Because she didn't want to see him.

"You're here to win her back right?" He doesn't know who even utters the words but when he glances up they are all looking at him expectantly.

He didn't know that was what he was indeed here for thought that she would happily welcome him back and they could pick up where they left off but she's made it clear that this won't be the case. This will be the most important fight of his life.

"Yes. I'm here for Cha-young."

He gets enthusiastic thumbs up and a loud giggle from the Yeon-Jin  and Cheol-Wook’s adorable baby, her little hands too uncoordinated to do a thumbs up but she waves excitedly  feeding off the energy around her.

He wonders how Cha-young would look with a baby in her arms, their baby it's a dangerous thought. But one that he can't get out of his mind once he thinks it.

They stay until midnight, forcing him to eat and drink too much soju until he passes out to dreams filled with a round Cha-young, belly swollen and protruding from her body. 

It doesn't take much to learn her schedule(Mr. Nam hands him a laminated copy) and he has to put on a disguise but he enters the shop seconds after her, hearing her order that god awful sewer water she's so fond of.

"An espresso for me." He leans in too close, almost brushing her shoulder and she jolts at the sound of his voice, turning to stare at him as if she's a mirage.

"You're still here?" She whispers and then shakes her head and looks away as if she's hadn't meant to say the words aloud.

It hurts him that she thought he would leave without telling her but he can't blame her, he has been anything but consistent. Instead of answering, he leans forward to hand his credit card to the cashier who glances between them suspiciously before accepting the card.

Their orders are ready in seconds and he follows her as she walks to their table, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar sight.

She turns to him with a glare, "It's just the only available table."

He moves to pull out her chair and she starts at him tight lipped before sitting down. She's in a tight black suit today, two long slits on the side of her pants going all the way up to her thighs. He gulps down his drink to get rid of the drool pooling in his mouth.

"You're upset with me."

She stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, it's not a look he receives often but she's always the outlier in his otherwise organized life.

"Astute observation." She quips back, sucking loudly at her coffee.

"Why?"

He considered how to go about breeching this subject and in the end had decided on going straight to the source, he had been under the impression that this was working for them.

Her face morphs into a person he hasn't seen for a long time, the Cha-young that would berate him and make him angry enough to curse in Italian.

"Do you think this little of me?"

He's completely lost, "What do you mean? What did I do that was so wrong? Wrong enough for you to cheat on me!" He's panting now, his voice has gotten loud enough to catch people's attention he can feel them watching their table, nosy and invested.

"Cheat on you?"

Cold as ice, her voice is. It almost makes him shiver.

"How could I possibly cheat on you? We're not together. You send me the same postcard with the same message every few months. I have no idea what you're doing in Malta, who you're with. You can't even be bothered to send me a letter, do you think this is a relationship? You think it's enough to pop up like this every once in a blue moon? You've told me nothing about how you feel about me but I'm supposed to be satisfied with whatever you throw my way?"

If he wasn't sitting down his legs would have already given out he's certain about that. Her voice is deadly quiet each word landing and chipping away at his confidence.

"I'm doing the best I can! You knew it would be like this after everything was over, why are you blaming me now? How about you, I don't know how you feel either!"

"I love you! Anyone with eyes can see that, I told you that at the airport too. And again when I took a bullet for you, you didn't think that meant I loved you? I was willing to die for you."

Shit.

It's not at all how he expected them to confess their love for each other, it's hard to believe the words that are coming out of her mouth as she bares her teeth at him.

"So why are you doing this? Why are there other men?"

Why aren't I enough? He wants to say but he's scared of her answer, terrified that she'll say that she can't do this anymore. That he just isn’t enough anymore. 

She stares at him long and hard.

Waiting for something. But he doesn't know what.

"You haven't changed at all. You're still a coward, I'm not interested in guessing anymore. I’m done playing this game.” 

She stands up and walks away, leaving her unfinished coffee on the table.

Unwanted just like him.

She doesn't see him for days and she accepts that her words had done their damage, she had cried until she fell asleep that night. Waking up with swollen red eyes that no amount of concealer would save but thankfully no one commented on her state.

She goes through her day on autopilot and before she knows it she's back home, ready to face her night alone  again. She pushes the door open, half praying he'll be waiting for her but her hopes shattered when she turns on the lights and finds no one.

"It's better this way." She lies to herself, pouring herself an obscene glass of soju. She's going to need plenty of alcohol to get through this pain.

Her head is woozy and heavy when she hears a sound, suddenly alert she stills in her chair before rushing over to get a frying pan walking on the tips of her toes she prowls closer to the clicking sound, finding herself at the window peering at a long lost friend. Placing the frying pan on her window sill she pry opens the window, screeching when the audacious bird flies inside landing on her table as if he belongs there.

"Hey Inzaghi! Get your dirty bird feet off my table!"

He looks at her nonchalantly, making himself comfortable on said table and she sighs before shutting the window and drunkenly swaying over to him.

"What are you even doing there? Do you want to be my bird now, I won't be a very good owner. I won't remember to feed you. I barely remember to feed myself."

Despite being a bird he finds a way to roll his eyes at her before standing up and only then does she notice something on his leg. She looks at him cautiously before moving closer and untying the paper on his leg, the pigeon barely reacts before flying over to her couch. She sighs in annoyance, she's going to have to clean everything after this bird leaves.

She unwinds the string holding the paper together, unrolling the paper scroll. There is a message written inside: the rooftop. 9 pm.

Glancing at her clock the time shines at her.

7:34pm.

"This could be a trap."

It very much could be, she has enemies now. It was a small price to pay for taking down Babel but she's always looking over her shoulders now, so this note could easily be someone luring her to hurt her or get back at Vincenzo.

Inzaghi coos loudly at her as if he can hear her thoughts. This time he finds a way to look exasperated.

She stumbles off to her room.

She needs time to think.

"So she told you that she loved you and you didn't say it back?"

"I was shocked. She was growling at me and looked ready to kill me at the same time." He reasons back, trying to show his hyung his point of view. The younger man doesn't look even a little bit convinced by his logic.

"Okay and? That sounds perfectly normal for you too. You should have shot someone and wrote it back in their blood on the table."

He recoils in disgust at the suggestion, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you actually insane, why the fuck would I do that?"

Han Seo stares deadpan in return.

He puts up a hand trying to stop whatever response he has, "Don't say it."

It doesn't work.

"Pig's blood. Don't forget I saw it all, I've never seen Ms. Hong look so excited before. You're both crazy."

Well, that had been different. It was an old tradition, she simply had an appreciation for the classics.

"And I bet you're defending her right now in your mind. Noona is just like you, that's why you're made for each other. She's the gasoline to your fire."

"You know that would just make an even larger fire right?"

"Yes. I'm smart now remember? I know what I said."

He sighs falling into the comfortable familiarity of the couch, a spring digging into his thigh.

"Why didn't you say it back?" His stills at the barely whispered question, his chest constricting as he recalls the passionate confession. He had frozen, like he'd always known she was the brave one between them. Always doing the unexpected and the time was no different, her words had knocked him off his feet.

"Because I was scared."

Han Seo huffs at his honesty. He doesn't know where the words are coming from but he's tired of keeping it all in.

"Because if anything happens to her it'll break me, I thought it would be better if I kept her at a distance. I thought this was enough. I thought this would be easier. When I think about her I want to drop everything and just be with her and that...was too dangerous. I had to keep my distance."

There's a pregnant pause, just the sound of their breathing filling the void.

"Was it?"

"What?"

"Easier. Is this better? Enough?"

He thinks about Cha-young getting married to a faceless man, exchanging vows and sealing it with a kiss, happy and in love on their honeymoon wanton moans and screams from their room, learning that they're having a baby and her round and glowing with someone else's child smiling brightly as she rubs her belly and it's too much. He wants to smash it all into little pieces.

"No. It's not enough. I need her, without her nothing is enough."

"That's what you should have said to her. Don't glare at me I'm right, but I have an idea. I saw it in an American cartoon."

And that's how he lets his younger brother convince him to send a note to Cha-young using Inzaghi, the pigeon had shown up one night and he'd been so happy he almost kissed the bird.

"How will he know where Cha Young lives?" He asks skeptical even as he ties the note to the birds leg.

"I showed him a picture of her house. According to the cartoon, birds just know.” 

He stares at the younger man, wondering why he's listening to this ridiculous plan.

"This is stupid. I should just text her, Inzaghi is never going to deliver this. He's just a regular pigeon." 

"This is more romantic." He answers matter of fact.

"How is a pigeon delivering a message in anyway romantic?" He challenges already knowing from the shit eating grin he won’t like the response. 

"The same way pig blood was." The brat counters and he doesn't get a chance to respond before Han Seo picks Inzaghi up and throws him out the window, "In the name of love!" He only barely stops himself from bashing his head into the wall, the younger man has to wrestle him to the ground.

It's stupid. They did all of this for nothing the cool breeze makes him pull his coat tighter around his body, exposed to the weather on the open space of the rooftop.

He checks his watch, 9:48.

She's not coming and the worst part is that he doesn't know if it's because that damn bird never delivered his message or if it's because she really doesn't want anything to do with him. The burden of not knowing hurts more than anything.

Expelling the air in his lungs he walks back to the single door that leads off the roof, twisting the doorknob in his hand and pulling it open.

Meeting the shocked face of one Cha-young.

They both just stare at each other before he speaks, "You came."

He can't believe it. Inzaghi had actually delivered the note, somehow the pigeon had found her house and she was here. He almost pinches himself to see if he'd passed out on the roof and this was just a dream.

"I didn't know Inzaghi was a carrier pigeon." She futilely tries to change the subject and he takes a step back, gathering the tattered pieces of his courage. The same courage that had propelled him to kiss her all those months ago on the stairs.

"I'm so happy you're here. I waited for you."

She stares at him like he has two heads before blushing, and avoiding his eyes.

"Come with me." He extends his hands and tries not to be too hurt when she bypasses it and steps around him instead.

At least she was here.

With a quick swipe of his hand he sends the message to his accomplices.

Now.

The lights come on, fairy lights decorating the roof top in a heavenly glow. She spins around in wonder, eyes nearly as bright she's so beautiful it's almost painful to look at her.

Then the music starts.

The soft notes filling the space.

When I walk down a road I don't know well....

She looks around in wonder, staring back at him she can’t believe what’s happening. 

Then the letters start falling from the sky, all the letters he had written to her alone and missing her thousands of miles away. His plaza family smiles down at him, throwing letters from a higher building.

Cha-young stares up at the sky in surprise, hundreds of letters landing all around her.

It had taken a few days for Luca to send them all over and then another day to get the guts to do this, there was no turning back now. He had never willingly made himself vulnerable to anyone else, but according to Han Seo it was the only way he was going to win her back. 

“She just wants to know that you love her too. Show her.” 

He watches anxiously as she picks up a letter, stroking lightly at her own name on the front looking at him with stunned wet eyes. 

“You wrote me a letter.” Her voice is revere and awe that he doesn’t deserve, not after everything he has put her through in the sake of protecting himself but he’s too elated to see her looking at him like that again, like he’s someone important to her. 

“182. For each day we were apart. I told you I thought about you everyday, and every time I did I wrote you a letter.” 

She stares at the letter in her hand, gently ripping it open and devouring the words on the page. Nerves shoot up and down his body as he watches her read his most private thoughts about her, her expressive face for once empty of emotions as she silently reads the letter. 

He waits. 

Breathless and terrified. 

“Why didn’t you ever send them? They were mine so why did you keep them?” He hears an edge in her voice that makes him wonder if she’s only talking about the letters. 

“Cha-young, I don’t think you understand.” 

She breathes out loudly, stomping over to him until they are inches apart and he has no choice but to look into the deep pool of her eyes. 

“I don’t! I don’t understand anything, I thought you had found someone else in Malta and the postcards were just your way of being nice. I thought you didn’t feel the same way I did, you were sending Han Seo letters but you wouldn’t do the same for me. What was I supposed to think? Why didn’t you try to help me understand, you were gone for six months!” 

There’s so much wrong with everything she said, how could he find anyone else when his heart beats for her? How could he forget her when everything he did reminded him of her, he saw her every night in his dreams. But he doesn’t make the same mistake this time, he says what’s important. 

“I feel the same way. I love you Cha-young. I thought this was better for you, that this could be enough. But I was wrong, I missed you every minute of every--” 

“Come home with me.” 

He stops, stares, gapes and then stares some more. 

“What? I wasn’t finished confessing though.” Actually offended that she interrupted his planned speech. He was about to recite one of his favorite Italian love poems for her and then ask her to dance. 

She rolls her eyes dragging him towards the door, “Don’t you think we’ve wasted enough time? It’s been six months and you have been here for too long, you have to go soon.” 

She’s right, he has a flight in two days for an identity he borrowed for his escape. 

“Listen to her, just go back to her place and have a good night!” That sounds like Cheol-Wook and then they all erupt into applause and start cheering and hollering, chanting their names and then to his embarrassment they start chanting, “Go have sex! Go have sex!” complete with the monks banging on their drums and he doesn’t think he will ever live down this moment, especially when he sees Miri capturing it on the new video camera he had gifted her. 

He flips them off as an eager Cha-young pulls him away their laughter following them all the way. 

The car ride is too long on the way over and she wonders how quickly she can undress them both as soon as they reach, there is simply no time to waste. 

But once they get to the doorstep he suddenly freezes, tugging her backwards into his chest. 

“This looks familiar doesn’t it?” His voice is dark and smoky and she immediately knows what he’s referring to, and she refuses to give him any reaction. 

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” 

“You let someone else touch you. Here.” He runs a hand up her neck, briefly squeezing, “And here,” she gasps at his hands suddenly on her breast, squeezing harshly at the tender flesh. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” She knows that she’s playing with fire, but that is their foundation. She has never aimed to cool him off or tone him down, she sees the dark side inside of him and loves it, encourages it and feeds on it herself allowing it to bring her darkness out too. 

He kicks the door open, shoving her side and she delights at the rough treatment. She hopes that she is filled with his bruises tomorrow. 

She doesn’t wait for his next move, pulling her shirt up and over her head before tugging off her skirt leaving herself in a barely there lace panties and a matching lace bra that is translucent, her nipples peeking through the sheer material. He stares at her transfixed, his hunger evident in his eyes and in the tent forming in his tight dress pants. 

“Take those off.” She commands and he smirks before obeying, peeling the pants off his thighs standing in his button down shirt and tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to her imagination, every delicious inch of him visible. She steps forward bringing their bodies in contact, before thrusting her hand inside the opening of his briefs. He feels hard and smooth, liquid pooling at the tip and she twists her hand collecting it to ease her slow strokes up and down. His voice hitches as she fingers his balls and without warning she tugs his boxers off, leaving him bare to her eyes. 

Mesmerized by the unencumbered sight of him, she drops to her knees using her hand to guide him to her eagerly waiting mouth. 

His flavor explodes on her tongue and she swallows more, grabbing his hips to drag him deeper into her mouth until she can feel him in her throat, but even after her eyes start to burn and she feels herself choking she doesn’t stop, bobbing up and down hungrily, sloppy wet sounds filling the room in a filthy symphony. At first he lets her control the movement, pliant in her hands but as she increases her speed and suction he starts groaning and huffing loudly and then she feels his hand on the back of her hand, keeping her in place and when she looks up at him he looks wrecked. Eyes dazed and his face red and flushed, she ingrains that image in her mind, for when he’s gone and all she has are her toys. 

She stares back defiantly before he draws himself out of her mouth, a single line of spit connecting them and then he thrusts back into her mouth roughly and she opens her mouth wider to accept the abuse, loving every second of it even as a her throat aches. He sets a frantic pace, his balls slamming against her chin and she doesn’t realize at first that his grunts have transformed into words, too much blood rushing to her head. 

“Mine. Mine, nobody can---ah fuck! Nobody can see you like this. Only me. You’re mine.” 

He fucks her mouth like it’s his to use and do what he pleases, and she’s wetter than she’s ever been listening to him claim her verbally and with the wet push of his dick in her mouth. 

She starts grinding on the floor like a cat in heat and without preamble he grabs her under her armpits and lifts her like she weighs nothing, his dick sliding free from her hot mouth, “I want to make you scream.” He says this like a declaration of love and she throws herself at him, kissing the words off his lips. His tongue swirls in her mouth and she wonders if he can taste himself in her. It makes her hotter and she grinds her barely covered pussy onto his naked length, groaning at the friction even though the thin layer separating them. 

He tosses her onto the bed and she doesn’t even remember them walking, his tongue and his wondering fingers had completely distracted her. 

She lays sprawled across the bed as he stares at her, like she’s feast he can’t wait to devour. 

“Nobody has been in here.” She doesn’t know if he’s asking a question or making a statement, but she feels that his jealousy is real. Seeing her with someone else had done something to him, guilt washes over her. If she had seen him with someone else she would have lost her mind too. 

“Nobody. I never brought anyone home before, that guy was a mistake. I was just hurt and missing you. I’m sorry.” 

He had abandoned her for six months and she didn’t owe him anything but his pain is her pain and they are stronger now, everything has been said. 

“Good.” 

Then he rips her panties away and buries his face between her legs, prying her wide open with his hands and lapping at her with his searing hot tongue. Immediately he has his wish and she screams, loud enough to fill the entire room. 

“Already screaming amore? It’s going to be a long night, I want to make you hoarse.”  

She doesn’t get a moment to respond before he’s back to licking and sucking at her most sacred part, fingers deep inside her as he thrusts and strokes alongside his tongue, his fingers and tongue moving in tandem and she tries to stifle the scream but a particularly deep fuck makes the sound erupt from her throat and her head feels dizzy from the overwhelming sensation. 

He has boundless energy it seems, as time drags by and she feels her body tightening up as he systemically destroys her, he never takes a break or pauses, slurping up all the liquid that drips from her and the sounds of him swallowing are beyond erotic. When a hand runs up her stomach and squeezes at a bouncing breast she can’t contain her moans of pleasure, crying out as his fingers pinching the tight bud of her nipple. 

“Please.” 

He coos in her, “So pretty when you beg.” Then he sticks his tongue as far as it can go and she hears the rush of blood in her head as her body shakes apart and her release gushes from her body, twitching when he laps it all up her oversensitive body recoiling from the overstimulation. 

She has never come like that before, most men have never put in the work necessary to make her come and she wasn’t one to fake it so her experiences with sex with someone else were few and far in between. 

This feels like nirvana. 

“You still with me amore?” The bastard looks so smug, looming above her naked arms on the side of her head, and she had no idea when he took his shirt off. 

“I can’t feel like my legs.” 

He chuckles loudly at the statement, grinning growing wider. 

“Well I can assure you that they’re still there and they will look great wrapped around my waist.” 

Raising to his challenge, although her body is still buzzing she wraps her legs around his waist, they feel like jelly but she finds the strength to follow through with her movement. 

“I was right they do look great.” 

“Well this would look great in me.” She counters, grabbing at his thick ruddy red dick jutting from his body and he rocks into her hand before knocking her hand away and taking himself in his hand. 

“Do we need a condom?” He asks her, looking like he is ready to stop at nay minute if she tells him that they do. 

“No.” 

She has been on birth control since she was a teen and there’s been no one for her since she met him, and she trusts that it’s been the same for him. 

“Thank goodness, I want to feel everything.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s easing into her, slow and steady. She lets him continue for a moment before she tightens her legs around his waist and pulls him in roughly, as deep as she can get him in this position. “Fuck, you’re so impatient.” 

“Shut up and fuck me already.” 

He grumbles at her calling her bossy, but she sighs when he draws out and slams back in with a quick snap of his hips. 

“Yes just like that!” 

He takes direction very well, repeating the motion until the bed starts to creak from their movements, he pistons in and out of her gone all semblance of gentle or slow, they have teetered into a speed that can only be defined as “break neck” and she feels her body sliding up the mattress as he pounds into her over and over again, she latches onto his neck eager to leave a branding mark on him and he groans at the suction, grinding harder into her and gripping her ass to force her to meet his vicious thrusts. 

Absently she feels him peeling her bra from her body, the only remaining item of clothing that has survived their coupling and she knows exactly when he sees the scar. The grotesque knitting of skin that had left a permanent scar on her shoulder, she almost covers it up but when she peels her eyes open he is staring at her mesmerized. 

“Don’t look.” 

He leans down to kiss it, the softest more precious kiss she has ever received in her life. 

He peppers more kisses all over, then strokes at it with a single finger. 

“I should have realized, this was your confession. I was an idiot. I will never be that stupid again, I love you so much. I would do anything for you. Anything.” 

He puts her legs on her shoulder, nearly bending her in half before resuming his thrusts but they are less frenzied now, it feels like lovemaking. Her eyes prickle when he kisses her scar with every downward thrust, whispering, “Beautiful, so beautiful. Every inch of you.” 

She cries out. 

With every thrust he kisses her scar, making her feel lightheaded and naked. 

When he moves them into a new position, her back to his front giving him better access to her scar, she loses herself as he whispers sweet nothings into her ears and litters the spot with warm kisses. 

She falls off the edge with his lips on her scar and him deep inside her, warm bursts filling her up before leaking out onto the bed sheets. 

“Today’s our last day.” 

Waking up next to him is torture, she tries not to ingrain that in her mind but it’s too late it’s already there. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes at her words and then nods solemnly in agreement. 

“Yes for this visit. But I’ll always come back for you.” 

She smiles brightly, “Don’t keep me waiting for too long.” 

They don’t leave the bed except to get breakfast and that ends with her laid across the kitchen table getting taken from behind after teasing him. He can’t seem to keep his hands off her new hair, twisting the short strands in his hands and yanking on them. She catches him looking at her heatedly more than once. 

Then they wind up in the shower, trying to clean up and getting dirtier instead, his hands tight in her hair and around her waist as he hoists her up to pound her into the wall. Making up for lost time. 

They get messages from their entire family, Vincenzo showing her a message from Han Seo asking if he’s going to be an uncle soon. She promises to embarrass him in front of Miri very, very soon. 

Both pretend they don’t feel the day fading away, bringing them closer to their goodbye. 

Tomorrow he will be gone again, but there’s no guessing now. She knows what she means to him now and that’s more than enough. 

She wakes up to an empty bed and a ticket to Malta, the ball is in her court.