Puck realized he was in love with Katya when his hands faltered halfway through clipping her collar back into place. At first, he struggled to understand his own hesitation. He had caged & chained her countless times already, after all. That was part of the fun, wasn't it ? She ran, he chased. It was no secret that they both enjoyed the challenge the other posed. Katya delighted in pushing Puck's buttons, & he relished the chance to play rough. There was no need to hold himself back in front of one who had seen his all & lived.
He already knew he was addicted to her. That much made sense in his mind. Puck had always been obsessive by nature, but he'd expected the boredom to kick in sooner rather than later. He would look at her & feel only bloodlust. But such apathy never came. Instead, his infatuation deepened, blossoming into something else entirely.
It was guilt that he realized he felt, pinning her under his weight to wrangle the collar around her neck. Puck couldn't quite commit to tightening the leather, an ache building in his chest. His body felt heavy & defeated. He wanted her to stay without a leash or a cage. He wanted her to want him, too.
How lovely it would be to trust that the bed would still carry her warmth after lying with her, their tails intertwined. That seemed like a futile dream, however, & there was no thrill in keeping her here against her will anymore.
His grip on her loosened, & he pulled himself away. “ Fine. Go, then. ”
unprompted ( technically i did not reblog that, adam just likes to hurt me ) / @bloodtwin
there was something about their back and forth little play that was quite addicting to someone like katya.
katya, who was used to being unwanted, thrown away at every corner at every moment of her life the second she was no longer c o n v e n i e n t. thrown into rings to fight to the death because her life didn't matter. thrown into the hells. thrown into an absolute cluster fuck of situations that most people would never understand in their darkest nightmares.
and yet, here was this insane giant bhaalist that seemed to want her more than anything.
he chased her to the hells and backs, sometimes quite l i t e r a l l y. to forests across the map. to her own bed at her own tavern where she had totally not accidentally left the window open to see if he would crawl his way in when she tired of the floor and cage and craved a nice soft bed for her weary and aching bones.
and he did crawl in that window - life was predictable like that these days.
so when they're wrestling on the filthy ground of his room floor, she expects it. expects the scratches and the bites and the fighting for control as he lays his full weight on her, trying to get that damned collar onto her slender neck. it's comical, its fun - she could easily buck him off if she really tried to, but often she didn't. because she knew he wanted that and she liked to be a tease.
but when he suddenly stops and tells her to just go, her brain malfunctions for a moment.
she wonders if she suddenly forgot how to understand the common tongue, because surely those words hadn't left his lips. not him, not puck, not mister oh-so-sensitive back that she liked to tease with her tail. he would never utter those words, not in the months they had been playing this back and forth. so what was fucking happening right now?
had he grown tired of their games? of their fun little adventures where he would tie and lock her up and she would pretend for however long she could tolerate that anything he did would actually hold her? was he no longer having fun? had he grown bored of her own predictable nature of running, hiding and coming back?
silver eyes looked up, lost as she followed his movements, watching him as he looked miserable and slung himself off of her. what was that expression on his face? was this a new tactic to try and put her at ease before pouncing again? she frowned, smelling the air. something felt off as she sat up, legs criss crossed, her tail wagging behind her as she tilted her head, craning her neck to look up.
“ aww… what's wrong pup? someone piss in your favourite blood soup this mornin' or somethin' ? ” she asked, tone sarcastic as she continued to gaze at him, confusion all over her face.
it had to be something. because if it wasn't that. then what else could it be? had he really gotten bored of their games? bored of her? was he tossing her aside now, like everyone else had once her uses had been used up? the thought made her heart ache unusually in her chest and she didn't like the feeling - didn't know what it was. she was far too emotionally constipated to even think about it at that moment. she wanted to go back to tussling, to playing, it was easier that way.
